And put an end to this destruction for good.
CHAPTER 8
The smells in dingy, dumpy motel rooms never varied.
Regurgitated beer pretty much smelled the same in the Valley as it did in Riverside. The same could be said for the stench from cheap perfume and cologne, ditto for how stale cigarette smoke managed to linger and foul up the already rank air no matter how much air freshener you sprayed out of the can.
Not that anyone ever thought to pick up a can of anything that might make the rooms smell better.
Because of that, five-year-old Quinn learned a long time ago not to complain about something so trivial. There were other, more essential things to deal with, like getting a decent meal on a regular basis.
She’d even gotten used to playing on all the threadbare carpeting, dirty from years of over-use, or sitting on the stained, shabby furnishings, out of date by decades. That never seemed to change either. It seemed seedy motel owners rarely set aside money to redecorate.
Then there were the constant piles of dirty laundry that seemed to follow them from place to place because Ella consistently reminded her daughter household chores were not her thing.
At least the cheap motel rooms were better than sleeping in Ella’s beat-up old Monte Carlo, Quinn reasoned. She craned her neck to stare up at the television set which almost touched the ceiling because it was attached to a stand bolted high onto the grimy wall.
But Quinn wasn’t tall enough to reach it even if she stood on a chair. Instead, she had to lie back on the bed or sit and hold her neck at a funny angle looking up at the thing where some soap opera diva held court to the masses and had for hours.
Because the TV stayed on practically twenty-four-seven she picked up the remote to lower the volume. Since this time of day yielded no cartoons, the soap didn’t hold Quinn’s attention for very long.
Besides, Ella was enough of a drama queen to deal with on a daily basis without watching more of it play out on the tube.
Left alone for almost five hours now and bored, Quinn picked up her tousled, dark-haired, Starlight Carousel Barbie and went over to the window. She climbed up on the slice of a ridge above the AC unit so she could keep an eye out on the parking lot.
Surely Ella would be coming back soon. She’d been gone since noon and Quinn’s stomach was beginning to rumble with hunger. The dried corn flakes she’d eaten for breakfast that morning a mere memory now, Quinn absently stroked the tangled hair of the doll whose tattered blue dress had long since lost its sheen.
Not spotting any sign of Ella, she crawled off the sill and went to grab the only other toy she owned, a stuffed, bug-eyed, polka-dotted frog, she’d nicknamed Broggy. It too, like the doll, was a bit frayed around the edges. But Broggy’s sad shape didn’t deter Quinn from taking it wherever she went.
Out of habit, she crossed to the dresser and opened each drawer, going through the contents of one before moving on to the others, making sure there were no crackers left. But just as she already knew, the box was empty. She tossed the carton into the over-filled wastebasket and went back to the window—to wait.
Holding Broggy tucked under one arm while clutching Barbie in her other hand, Quinn kept a vigilant watch out for Ella. She could only hope that when Ella came back the woman would be alone and not dragging one of her male friends from wherever she’d found to spend the afternoon.
Quinn chewed on her thumbnail, little worry wart she was, and bit her lip. It was getting dark outside. How much longer would she have to wait for something to eat?
All at once she spotted Ella’s familiar gait walking between the cars in the parking lot. It was hard to miss that drunken sway. But as soon as Quinn spied the white sack she carried in her hand, the one with a well-known fast food logo on it, she let out a whoop, almost tumbling off the window sill.
When the key fit into the lock and the door opened, Ella burst in. “Hi ya, kiddo. Look what I brought you, a burger and fries for supper.”
Ella threw the sack in Quinn’s direction. The little girl dropped Barbie and Broggy and made a dive for the food. She had already crammed her mouth with two bites when she looked up and realized Ella wasn’t alone. A grubby looking guy with dark eyes and dark hair rubbed at a grease-stained shirt that barely covered his belly.
“Why don’t you take your burger into the john for me, Quinn honey? Give me and Reuben a little alone time. How about it, baby doll?”
Quinn began to wrap her burger back up and put it into the sack.
“Hey, the kid can watch if she wants,” Rueben suggested as he already began to strip off his clothes.
Ella giggled and told him, “That’d cost extra, now, wouldn’t it? Go on Quinn, get a move on, I don’t have all night. And thank Reuben here for the burger.”
“Thanks,” Quinn muttered as she dutifully moved toward the bathroom, taking her food with her. She pushed the door shut and turned the lock.
The sounds they started to make penetrated the thin door.
Quinn sat her sack down on the edge of the tub and took out her burger again, which by now was stone cold. As she did her best not to listen to the mattress sounds the adults were making in the other room, she wished she had thought to grab Broggy and Barbie so she’d have something to play with and wouldn’t be alone.
Because there was no telling how long Ella would be going at it with dirty old Rueben.
Quinn rolled over in bed and groaned when she saw the time on the clock. Two-fifteen.
Usually when the hellish dreams from the past took hold this time of night, they never wanted to let go. She rolled her neck and shoulders a couple of times, hoping to get her tense body to relax, did her best to shake off the walk down memory lane.
Good thing she was used to going without much sleep. Out of habit, she swiped her hair back and bundled it into a ponytail before crawling out of bed. She reached for the robe she’d borrowed from Kit.
Maybe a two a.m. snack would get her mind off those miserable days of yesteryear with Ella the junkie.
As she made her way downstairs, resentment simmered along her nerves. How old did she have to get before those nasty memories stopped trying to weasel their way back in? Would it always be a battle to shed those years she’d spent with Ella doing without, going hungry? How long before she quit remembering the sounds and the smells?
Rounding the last of the stairs into the spotless kitchen she’d helped clean up only a couple of hours earlier, she spied Reese sitting at the table hunched over his laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard.
She went to the pantry, dug out a box of Cocoa Puffs, found a bowl and a spoon. “It’s a little late to be sending out the bat signal in computer code to mystery man, don’t you think?”
Reese visibly jumped at her voice. “No, he makes sure we can’t reply to his e-mails. I’m working on…something else.”
No way was he going to tell her he was sending an e-mail to Nick Tyler telling him not to bother showing up after all. He’d gotten the man’s personal e-mail addy from Jordan Donovan, who’d gotten it from a musician friend who had asked a music industry insider for a favor.
He had to believe if he went to the source it would keep Tyler from getting curious and keep him the hell away from L.A. and the daughter he didn’t know.
Reese took the time to look up and study Quinn’s face, her eyes. Those deep chocolate pools said it all.
“How long have you been bothered by dreams, Quinn?”
She stopped in mid-pour as the cereal fell into the bowl in a heap before reaching in the fridge for the milk. “Who says I had a dream?”
Defensive, Reese decided as he got up and took down a bowl for his own cereal. “You tossed and turned in your sleep less than twenty-four hours earlier. Now here you are up in the middle of the night—restless.”
“Look, I’ve got a lot on my mind, okay? I’ve been kicked out of the job I love, lost the only home I’ve known since I was sixteen. If you ask me, that’s plenty cause for l
oss of sleep.”
Reese wasn’t buying it. He took a deep breath. “You don’t want to talk about it? Fine, but don’t stand there and evade the question or lie to my face.”
Did the man always have to be so…damned know it all? She grumbled and took a seat at the kitchen table. “God, do you always have to sound like a lawyer, cross examine everyone? I don’t want to talk about my fucking dreams, how’s that?”
“Good enough, at least it’s an honest answer. So you’re up at two in the morning because you had a craving for Cocoa Puffs?”
“Geez, a woman can’t get a bowl of cereal without getting grilled. Do you ever go off the clock and act normal?” Looking at the stubborn set to his jaw, two could play hardball, Quinn concluded. “Why are you on your laptop this time of night? Signs of a workaholic? Hiding something? Scratching your online porn itch? Stretching your billable hours to the limit maybe?”
They were butting heads again, Reese thought. “Who’s the workaholic here, Quinn?” He put up the free hand that wasn’t holding his bowl as if he wanted peace. “How about we head to neutral corners for two seconds, okay? Let’s start this round over.”
“Hey, I just wanted a lousy bowl of cereal. You’re the one who went into lawyer-mode and started the twenty-questions routine.”
“Out of concern,” he added. “Jesus, hasn’t anyone ever just worried about you, Quinn?”
“Nope, just Kit and Baylee. And I like it that way.”
“Because you like shutting down anyone who tries. Oh, believe me, I get it, loud and clear.”
She threw out both arms in gesture. “Maybe it’s because I don’t want to get hurt. How about that? I opened myself up once and look where that got me.”
“Goddamn it! Do not compare me to that piece of shit Cade Boyd.”
She’d hit a nerve with that little slip of the tongue. “No, no, I didn’t mean to do that.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “Look, it’s just that I’ve never been able to rely on a single soul except for Baylee and Kit. It’s a habit. Opening up, you get hurt.”
“Oh, baby, no one wants to get hurt. But you, you’re like a cactus. Don’t get too close to Quinn Tyler, or those spikes of hers are liable to cut deep and leave a gaping hole.”
She huffed out a breath, getting madder by the minute. “What brought this on, because I won’t talk about the past? I let you push me last night to open up, but this is… just back off! Maybe if I’d had a Hallmark moment growing up…” Her voice trailed off before picking up steam again. “Why do you have to poke at me about stupid old dreams, Reese? What makes you think I’d want to talk about them if I were having them?
“Because. Both Kit and Baylee were tormented for years by their dreams. Both ignored them until they couldn’t. If it weren’t for Kit’s dream about Alana and Jessica we might still be wondering how this whole thing got started.”
He wondered if he should even bring it up and then decided to hell with it. “Besides, you were crying in your sleep last night. Calling out for a kitten you couldn’t have, forced to leave a place you didn’t want to leave, people you didn’t want saying goodbye.”
It had broken his heart at the time, watching those big fat tears roll down her cheeks even while she slept.
She blinked in surprise. “What? That’s…”
“You were tossing and turning and wanting the kitten. You were also saying something about Broggy, whatever that means. You sounded like a small child, Quinn, not more than two or three years old.”
“But…it’s just a dream I’ve had since I was a kid, that’s all.” She eyed his face, noticed he wasn’t buying it.
“Okay, maybe it’s my first memory or something. I don’t know. It’s stuck like glue to my brain though.” She went into detail about the farm and the animals and the tall man. “I remember crying that I had to leave that beautiful, clean place. Even at such a young age, I knew for certain I did not want to crawl back in that car with Ella.”
“And earlier, just now?”
“Boy, you won’t let anything go, will you?”
He sent her a curvy grin. “I’m like a dog with a bone. Maybe talking about it will help you sleep.”
“Oh, please. Therapy is something I tried…once…a long time ago. Talk, blah, blah, more talk, doesn’t help a whit.”
“So you shouldn’t mind telling me then.”
She hunched her shoulders, giving in, and murmured, “I dream about those years when Ella had it bad with the drugs—and men, back in those sleazy motel rooms around all kinds of other junkies. I’ve seen ugly things, Reese, things a normal child shouldn’t see, or even know about.”
He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, placed a kiss on the palm. “You need a distraction.”
She whooshed out a laugh. “Is that what you’re calling it? Why allude to the deed? Why not just get down to it? ”
“Because seduction, the buildup is, a diversion you’ll thank me for later.” With that, he lifted up her chin with one finger, leaned over, took her mouth, managed to tug out a low groan from somewhere inside.
Her blood heated. Juices spiked as she gave back every bit as good as she got. Layer by layer, lust built in her belly. She shimmied onto his lap, felt the hard lump in his jeans. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for weeks now.”
“Ditto.” He pulled her robe apart, took a moment to stare at the perfect breasts before cocking his head and taking a pebbled point into his mouth.
At that moment, Reese’s cell phone rang.
“It’s three in the morning!” Quinn grumbled. “Doesn’t anyone sleep anymore?”
“Which means I better answer.” He reached for the phone. “Reese here. What? When? Okay, but you handle it until we get there. Yeah, I’ll let Jake know. He’s probably got his cell turned off for the night.”
Quinn grabbed his hand. “What?”
“Donovan says someone broke into the Book & Bean, went so far as to get inside and pour gasoline near the back door, even lit a match, took off though when something spooked them. He says there was a brief fizzle of a fire because the sprinklers kicked in, doused it. The place reeks of gasoline though. We’ll have to clean the shop up before Kit opens in a couple of hours.”
“This is ridiculous. We’re in defensive mode here. We need to go on the offense, not just sit back and wait for those assholes to keep hitting us.”
“Might be the second time in the last forty-eight we’ve agreed on anything. I’m done waiting for the phone to ring to find out what disaster they’ve planned for us next.” He got to his feet, walked to the bottom of the back staircase before turning to tell her, “And we’re going to finish what we started here, Quinn. Count on it.”
“Damn right we are,” she muttered when he left to go upstairs to get Jake.
When he got back to the hotel suite, Collin did his best to open the door and be as quiet as possible. But in his inebriated state, half high, half drunk, he knocked over a lamp trying to find the light switch.
His brother, who had been passed out himself only hours earlier, pounced. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Collin snorted the laugh of the very intoxicated. “Hey bro, had somethin’ to take care of, took longer than I thought, that’s all. You go back to bed now, get some sleep, it’s late.”
Cade picked up on the inflection of the lie, mainly because he knew his brother. “Where’d you go, Collin? I want to know. Now! Don’t try to bullshit me.”
“Scott and I took a little drive, that’s all.”
“Scott? The cops are crawling all over The Enclave and you go joyriding with Scott!”
“He’s always up for an adventure, you know that. Besides, the cops have torn up our home, our cousins had to find other places to live, too. I dropped by his house in Santa Monica. We’re family; family covers each other’s asses. He covered mine tonight.”
“Then tell me where you were.”
He started fidgeting. “Look, I’m tired.”
Cade took a step toward him. Fearing the worst, he caught the unmistakable whiff and narrowed his eyes. “You reek with the smell of gasoline. What did you do, Collin?”
“I made sure the Book & Bean is toast. Okay? You wouldn’t do anything so… That left it up to me and Scotty.”
“You and Scott set fire to the Book & Bean? You idiot! Boston put in a security system with surveillance. That’s why I told you to wait.” He slapped Collin across the face, hard. “Pack! Now! We have to get out of here in case anyone followed you back here.”
Cade picked up his cell phone, dialed his cousin, Scott Geller. The minute Scott picked up, Cade went into a frenzied rant. “Since you let Collin talk you into insanity, you need to get your ass over here. Now! You’ve compromised this whole thing. You’ll have to rent another car. Use a rental agency at LAX. And don’t leave a paper trail either.”
On the other end of the phone, Scott, the middle son of Frank Geller, did his best to explain. “Hey, I tried to talk him out of it, but you know Collin when he sets his head on something. He just won’t be persuaded to listen to reason.”
“Yeah, right, sure you did. Boston put in a security system with a camera. There’s video out there now.”
“I didn’t get close enough for that. Collin is the one who went inside, set the fire. We took off right after.”
“I don’t care who did it, we’ve got to move just in case you guys were followed and Collin led them back here. Why do I have to do all the thinking?”
“I thought if I went with him, it would go faster.”
“Just get over here with another car. You know the drill, make sure you aren’t followed.”
CHAPTER 9
“Stupid idiot obviously didn’t see the security camera,” Reese pointed out to Jake and Dylan as they watched the tape of Collin jimmying the back door lock in the dark of night, then stepping inside the bookstore. “What the hell does he keep looking around for anyway?”
The three men continued to stare at the computer screen while Collin made a big production of walking around behind the counter, bending down, searching right then left.
Ending Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 3) Page 11
