by Desiree Holt
“It’s a long story.” She sighed. “Very long. But if you can just give me a place for tonight and help me with my car tomorrow, I’ll be out of your hair and you’ll forget I was even here.”
The next five minutes stretched out like hours for Kate as Quinn drove in silence, not answering, but glancing at her now and then.
“All right, look.” She cleared her throat. “That was presumptuous of me. Asking you to take me home with you. I realize that. If there’s a bus station anywhere around here, you can just drop me off there. They have great benches to sleep on.”
He swiveled his head to look at her, the outside lights of the motel reflected in the inky blackness of his eyes. “Been doing a lot of that lately, have you?”
“No. Yes. I mean…” If possible she gripped the blanket tighter, holding it around her like a shield. “When I was a kid…”
One eyebrow lifted. “Your parents let you sleep in bus stations when you were a kid?”
“No.” She bit her lip in frustration. “I’ve…just had experiences with them.”
“I’ll bet. And speaking of parents, maybe this would be a good time to call them. Let them know you’re stranded.”
I’m not stranded. I’m running for my life.
“M-My parents are dead.” The hot, prickly feel of tears pressed against her eyelids, and she blinked them rapidly.
More silence. Then he turned onto a two lane highway, still not answering her.
“W-Where are we going?”
“My house. You wanted me to take you there, so all right, I’m doing it. But as soon as you get your shit together, you’re going to tell me what the hell this is all about.”
Kate nearly sobbed with relief. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him, but she didn’t think he’d like that too much.
“I have empty bedrooms that no one sleeps in. You can even lock the door if you want to, since you seem so jittery.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“No, that’s okay.”
He unclipped his cell phone from his belt, pressed a number on speed dial, and began speaking in low tones. Kate didn’t even try to hear what he was saying. She knew better than to relax or trust a total stranger. That could lead to death. Hers. So what was she doing in this truck, letting a man she’d just met take her to his house—wherever that happened to be. Of course, how much worse could it be than putting herself back out there in worse shape than before for Peter to find? Quinn No-Other-Name didn’t seem like a killer to her, but one never knew.
She huddled into a corner of the seat. Right now, she just wanted to be warm and dry and fall asleep.
****
Well, shit.
Quinn gritted his teeth so hard he was afraid he’d grind off the enamel. How the hell had he let himself get into this mess? Of all the stupid things in the world to do.
Stopping like he had was a stupid thing to do. He’d been almost home after a long, draining evening, and was ready for a hot shower, a cold beer, and a soft bed. But there she was, stranded on IH 10, looking like a refugee from some Third World country.
Baggy jeans and a shirt ten sizes too big, looking as if she’d slept in them for a year. No makeup, no jewelry. Her small frame too slender, the kind that came from not eating properly. A wild mop of curls framing a thin, pale face dominated by sad and frightened eyes. Terrified and trying not to show it.
The car was such a disaster he couldn’t believe she’d gotten five miles in it, much less all the way from wherever in California she’d picked it up. One look at her, and he felt as if someone had baited a hook and reeled him in.
He’d let himself be talked into taking her home with him? He had to be out of his mind.
She was trouble. He could smell it a mile away. And not of the usual kind, either. He’d seen all the signs of trouble like hers before, and he didn’t need to get involved in it. If she wasn’t running from the cops—and his gut told him she wasn’t—then the people after her were of the worst kind. What the hell could someone like her get herself into, anyway? She looked like the worst thing she’d ever done was return a library book late.
But somewhere, somehow, she’d gotten crosswise of someone who was on her tail, people Quinn was sure weren’t the kind you invited home for dinner. Whatever they were, it was easy to see she was about to lose it altogether. So terrified of something, her fear was like a living thing wrapped around her. And apparently no one to help her and no resources but her own wits.
Yup, Miss Kate Griffin was carrying a hundred pounds of trouble around with her, and he had a feeling he’d just picked up part of the load.
Dumb, Quinn. Dumbass dumb.
Only what else was he supposed to do with her? He couldn’t just dump her. Whoever those two men were, they’d obviously scared the shit out of her. And what was that all about?
He slid a glance at her. The rain hadn’t helped the situation. She sat pushed into a corner of the cab, bedraggled and shivering, wrapped in his ratty old blanket, looking for all the world like someone had thrown her away.
Double shit!
Worse than that, though, was this unexpected chemistry that exploded out of nowhere the minute he touched her. Back there on the highway, they’d nearly gone up in flames. He could see it shocked her as much as it had him. It was more than he wanted to handle. Safety in solitude. That had been his mantra ever since that awful bloody day. Now here he was, dragging trouble into his house. Into his carefully guarded life.
Four years had passed since Lisa and Nikki died, years in which he’d withdrawn more and more into himself. Memories of his dead wife and child twisted painfully inside him, images that he worked hard to keep at bay. He’d never forgiven himself for what happened to them. His work had put them in harm’s way, and he’d failed to protect them. The pain of losing them still wrenched his heart.
He’d managed to keep everyone at bay since then, jumped into a hole and pulled the dirt in after himself, yet one look at this ragamuffin and he wanted to do everything to her. Touch her everywhere. Plunge himself into her every place he could. Keep her safe, even though he didn’t know yet from what.
Was this a sign from the gods? His chance for salvation? For redemption? If he could save Kate Griffin from whatever was chasing her, maybe he could finally go to sleep at night without the image of those blood-covered bodies burned into his eyes.
The rain had stopped as suddenly as it started. Maybe it would wash out the confusion in his brain as it had washed the streets and roadways. He sure hoped so.
Chapter Five
She must have dozed, fatigue wearing her down, because she was suddenly aware of the truck slowing down. Looking out the window, she saw only the black night, the moon casting enough light to show her they were climbing a long driveway, at the end of which was a very large house.
The smooth glide of a garage door sliding up sounded over the truck’s engine, and in a moment they were inside, the darkness lit by the overhead light. By the time Kate managed to get her seat belt unfastened and unwrap herself from the blanket, Quinn had her door open and was helping her out. She felt a hundred years old, her limbs stiff and aching, the cold still penetrating to her bones. Her head ached, her eyes burned, and her stomach felt like a foreign object in her body.
Carrying her duffel and her tote, Quinn led her through a utility room into a short hallway and flicked a light switch in a darkened room. Immediately, a bedside lamp came on, casting its soft glow over the big queen-sized bed and the night stand and reflecting the patina of the polished wood.
He set her things on a bench at the foot of the bed and pried the blanket loose from her fingers.
“Shower’s right next door,” he told her in a gentle voice. “Is everything you need in that duffel bag?”
She nodded, speech suddenly deserting her.
“Okay. Come on, then.”
The bathroom was done in rich tones of terra cotta and had a separate
tub and shower. Quinn put her bag on the vanity, reached in a closet next to it, and pulled out fluffy burnt orange towels. Reaching into the shower, he turned on the water and stood there testing it until he had the right temperature.
“I’m going to take a quick shower myself,” he told her. “Turn right out of here to the kitchen when you’re finished. I’m going to fix us something hot to drink.
Again, she nodded. Quinn gave her a searching look, then closed the door and left her to the steam-filled room.
The hot water felt incredibly good. It reminded her that she’d had little chance for proper hygiene on her odyssey to nowhere. There was soap in the shower soap dish, and she scrounged the tiny bottle of shampoo she’d bought at a convenience store, hoping to have a chance to use it.
She had no idea how long she stood under the shower, lathering and rinsing, letting the hot spray beat down on her, blanking her mind to everything but the here and now. Eventually, the chill faded from her bones and her skin took on a rosy glow, but even the hottest water couldn’t do anything about the cold pit of fear still lodged in her stomach.
For the first time in days she realized just how hopeless her situation was. Peter was still out there somewhere, relentless in his pursuit. She’d been lucky so far, sharpening her wits with each near miss, but sooner or later her luck would run out. She couldn’t keep running forever, but when she stopped, then what? And where would that be? She wanted to curl up in a ball, hide, and release the tears she’d been holding back.
The conversation that night still replayed over and over in her head, like a stuck CD.
“Relax, Miguel. It’s almost over. I’ll get rid of Kathryn this weekend, and then we’ll be home free.”
And then…
“I’m taking her away this weekend for a change of scenery. As far as anyone knows it will be to help her get over her depression. It’s common knowledge she’s been living on those pills. When she takes a few too many, who will think twice about it?”
His words, said so callously, still rain through her brain like individual cuts of a knife. A shiver of fear skittered over her spine. There were killers after her and that’s what she needed to keep focused on.
A knock at the door startled her from her unpleasant reverie.
“You about done in there?” Quinn’s rusty voice called. “I’ve got hot drinks out here.”
“Give me a minute,” she answered.
She towel dried her hair as best she could and ran a comb through it, thinking one of these days she’d treat herself to a professional cut. Then she pulled out the long night shirt that she’d bought in caseshe ever had a chance to sleep in a real place. It wasn’t until she looked at herself in the mirror that she realized just how revealing soft cotton could be.
Shrugging mentally—her choices were limited; this or nothing—she hung up the damp towel, stuffed everything including her fanny pack into her duffel, and opened the door. From the room he’d given her, she followed the short hall, which opened into a wide room that appeared to be the center of the house—living room, dining room, and kitchen all in one, with huge windows and a high ceiling. The wood floor felt smooth under her feet.
Folding her arms across her chest to conceal the outline of her breasts as best she could, she climbed up on the bar stool Quinn indicated at the long counter. He slid a mug toward her.
“Hot tea with lots of sugar and bourbon. My mother always swore it could cure anything. You need it after tonight’s soaking.”
She wrapped her fingers around the steaming mug, letting the warmth seep into her. “Do your parents live near here?”
His face closed up like a trap door. “My parents are dead.”
Kate’s heart felt as if someone had pinched it. She knew the feeling. “Mine are, too.”
“Illness?” he asked after a moment.
She shook her head. “Accident.”
“Mine, too.” But there was something in the tone that said it might be a little more complex than that.
Kate sipped at the tea. The sugar and the whiskey jolted her system, wiping away the last effects of the rain and warming everything but that cold place that wouldn’t thaw.
They sat in a silence, drinking from their mugs.
“Thank you very much,” Kate said after a while. “For, you know, stopping to help me and bringing me here. I guess I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll see what’s what with your car and you can figure out what to do from there.” His voice was flat and uninflected. “Are you in a hurry to get on the road again?”
“I-I think so.”
“You think so. Okay. Whatever. But you’ll need something a lot more dependable than what you had.”
“I know.”
More silence.
“Sleep as late was you want,” he told her. “You look like you could use it.”
She ran her fingers through her still damp hair. “I guess I’ve been pushing it a little.”
Quinn collected their mugs, rinsed them, and put them in the dishwasher. He stood there, apparently waiting for her to head for her room, so she slid off the stool.
“Well, goodnight, then. Thank you again.”
“Holler if you need anything.”
As she rounded the corner of the counter, she stubbed her toe on the limestone facing and pitched forward. Quinn caught her before she could fall.
Her toe hurt, although not a lot, but it was the catalyst that broke the damn. The tears came flooding from nowhere, held back for so long they were fighting each other for release. Her tears soaked his clean T-shirt, and her entire body shook with the force of her sobs.
Quinn said nothing, just wrapped his arms around her and let her lean against his chest. His arms tightened around her, but nothing could quiet the strength of the storm raging throughout her body. All the gates were down, all the rigid discipline gone, the true reality of her situation smacking her in the face.
Even as the newer, stronger Kate Griffin, it struck her that she hadn’t thought beyond staying on the move, keeping ahead of the men tracking her. She had no destination, no plan other than what she’d been doing. And she couldn’t do it forever. Sooner or later, they’d find her and it would all come crashing down.
The fact that she’d fallen apart in front of a complete stranger didn’t even seem to enter into the equation. She just let the emotional hurricane rage over her until it was finally spent. Her throat was raw and her eyes felt like burning coals, but still the tears came.
She was barely aware of Quinn picking her up and carrying her into another room, laying her down in acres of bed and pulling her against him. His hand stroked her hair, and he murmured soothing, crooning sounds to her while her breathing steadied and the last of the tiny shivers died away.
Kate lay curled into Quinn’s hard, muscular body, sheltered in the circle of his arms. She was too exhausted to even care that he must think her a nut case and be cursing his Good Samaritan tendencies. She only knew that this was the first time she’d felt really safe since she’d fled Peter’s office.
She had no idea how long she lay there like that, Quinn’s hand stroking her as one would ease a child, still murmuring to her. Eventually, her breathing evened out and she fell asleep.
****
Quinn hadn’t known what else to do with her. The racking sobs that had ripped through Kate’s body stabbed at him like tiny knives. There hadn’t seemed to be any solace he could offer her, anything to ease whatever was driving her with such destructive force. At last, with gasps and shudders, the storm abated.
He lay on his bed with the slender body tucked against him, staring into the darkness. He knew nothing about this woman except that whatever was wrong had her completely terrified. From what little he’d seen of her behavior tonight, he was sure she wasn’t a person given to hysterics. She’d apparently been holding herself together with spit and baling wire, and tonight her discipline had come to the end of the line, he
r collapse triggered by a reminder of what she was running from.
The two men? Quinn had watched carefully to see if they followed the truck, but miles down the road, there’d still been no sign of them. Or anyone else they might have contacted. No, they were probably just what they seemed—tourists here for the race. But to Kate, they represented something more terrifying. Now that she’d edged her way into his life, he felt a need to help her, but not until he knew what was going on.
He had the skills and the contacts to help her, but he had his own fears to wrestle with. Fear of letting someone into his life again. Fear of feeling again. Fear of pulling his emotions out of cold storage and having them ripped apart again.
Yet how could he turn her away, knowing he was throwing her back into the path of danger?
Finally, his head aching from the thoughts banging around in it, he shifted his body long enough to skin his jeans and T-shirt off. But when he lay back down, pulling the covers over them and spooning her against him, he realized stripping down to his boxers was a mistake. She felt too good next to him, her small body fitting his perfectly. She wore nothing under the soft fabric of the sleep shirt, a recipe for disaster. Her nicely rounded ass pressed against his groin, making him harden reflexively.
He banded his arm around her middle to keep her close and felt the softness of her breasts resting on him. She smelled clean and fresh and tempting.
How had he gotten to this point, anyway? All night, from the moment he saw her on the side of the road, he’d had an eerie feeling someone or something was pulling his strings. Maybe his hermit life was getting to him mentally. He didn’t know. The only thing he did know was his common sense had just taken a nose dive. There was no way he was letting her leave. Tomorrow, he would find a way to get it all out of her. Make him tell her what was wrong. Then he’d put a plan together to help her.
“Are you satisfied?” he whispered to whatever unseen presence was screwing up his life.
Gritting his teeth to make his body behave, he finally fell asleep.
****
Kate woke slowly, still sluggish from sleep. When she tried to move, the first thing she discovered was a man’s arm thrown around her waist, tanned skin covered with fine dark hair. One muscular leg was lying across both of hers. Behind her, male warmth cocooned her body. The delicious scent of soap and the outdoors teased at her nostrils and sent shivers through her body. She was in bed with a man?
