The Marshalls Boxed Set (Texas Heroes: The Marshalls Books 1-3)

by Jean Brashear

  “I’m sorry you didn’t win, Josh,” she began.

  “Aah, don’t worry about it—there’s always next year. Grant will just have to get the playgroup moms organized, won’t he?” Josh’s smile was not forced; he seemed genuinely pleased for her. She laughed at his irrepressible good humor, and he laughed with her, whirling her faster.

  “Good Lord, you two, they can’t even hear the next award, you’re making so much noise,” Ben Watkins grumbled. “Come on back to the lounge and leave the poor nervous ones out there in peace.”

  His beaming face told a different story altogether.

  Josh set her down, grabbed her hand and carted her away.

  She stopped for just a moment to look back toward Quinn.

  He sent her off with a smile.

  He didn’t belong with that group, so he would take advantage of Josh’s presence beside her to look around a bit, though not for long. He had no intention of being out of reach.

  As he surveyed the area, Quinn scanned the nooks and crannies where someone could hide. The warning prickle hadn’t abated. The creep was somewhere nearby. As he surveyed an unlocked storage room, a shadow blocked the door. He tensed and whirled to face the intruder.

  “Sir, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to leave this area,” the young security guard said, hand resting lightly on his weapon.

  Quinn turned his hands, palms out, as he walked to the door. “It’s okay, I’m just looking around.”

  The guard narrowed his gaze and took a step back. “Well, sir, you’d better go on back to your group or I’ll have to escort you off the premises.”

  How to explain a prickling warning to a fresh-faced kid working for barely above minimum wage? Quinn decided not to try, just smiled his most reassuring smile and turned toward the award-winners’ lounge, hoping the nervous kid would keep his weapon in his holster.

  A roar of babbling voices hit him as he entered the room. Grateful once again for his height and Josh’s, he scanned the area, spotting Josh easily. His brother’s arm rested around Lorie’s shoulder as he charmed a reporter, but Lorie’s look didn’t bode well. Cursing softly that he’d misjudged how long her euphoria might last, Quinn pushed through the crowd toward her, his gaze never leaving her haunted face.

  When she spotted him, the leap of hope in her eyes warmed him. He all but tossed people aside in his haste to get to her.

  Lorie couldn’t seem to discard the uneasy feeling that dogged her. There’d been a man… Surely she must be imagining things, but she’d been brushed by a man who’d made her skin crawl, who sent a flash of nausea roiling through her insides.

  But when she’d turned, only two women had been visible.

  She shook her head, trying to dispel the discomfort. The room was so crowded—lots of people rubbed against her in brief, accidental touches. Just this one time, a chill had shuddered over her. Nightmarish flashbacks spun before her. She needed air…couldn’t stand any more people pulling at her, asking questions, staring with sympathy or curiosity. The walls crowded in—

  “Lorie.” Quinn’s voice. Oh, thank God, there he was.

  Closing her eyes in relief, Lorie let him pull her close. Josh gently took the statuette from her fingers and she vaguely heard him speaking in whispers, urging Quinn to take her out slowly to avoid attracting attention. Josh turned back to the crowd to cover her exit gracefully.

  Publicity. Always have to think of the press, she thought bitterly. She knew she should be grateful for Josh’s concern, but she wanted out of here. Now.

  “Hold onto me, sweetheart, if you need to,” Quinn soothed. “I’m getting you out of here as fast as I can. Hang on, love. I’m here and you’re doing great.” They made it through the door and out into the hall.

  “Quinn, he—this man—” She couldn’t think straight. The noise from the room hit a shrill crescendo. Lights pulsated in a whirling carousel.

  Darkness stole over her.

  Lorie sagged and Quinn lifted her into his arms, looking around for some out of the building. He saw an exit sign and headed toward it. Someone from the catering staff ran past him and opened the outside door. Quinn threw a thanks over his shoulder and whistled for a taxi.

  As the taxi headed uptown, Lorie stirred. Quinn wished she hadn’t made him promise earlier to take her by the apartment. Surely it was the last thing she needed tonight.

  Damn it, this would be so much easier if he hadn’t resolved to reinforce her sense of control over her life. He’d much rather order her to go to bed and stay there. Or better yet, to pack her bags for Texas.

  But he’d keep faith with her, and maybe he’d get lucky. Maybe she’d agree to stay in the cab while he went upstairs and got whatever it was that she needed.

  Slowly, her blue eyes opened and for a sweet, slender second her expression held nothing but welcome, warm and tender. He drank it in, heady and rich as wine. He lowered his head, tempted beyond bearing to kiss her. Her body softened against him, and he drew her close.

  Then the cabbie spoke up. “Here we are, sir.”

  Lorie tore her gaze away, stiffening as she recognized their location. Quinn could see the fear rush back in, crowding out the precious moment that sang with promise. She struggled to sit up, and he let her go.

  “Just a minute,” he told the driver, then turned to her. “Would you let me get whatever it is you need in there?”

  She continued to stare at the building as though dread held her by the throat. Her expression made it clear how much she’d like to accept his offer, but she shook her head and stiffened her spine.

  “I have to do this, Quinn.” Then she looked at him again, her voice so low he could barely hear. “But if you’d be willing to come with me, I’d be grateful.”

  He placed one hand on her cheek. “You’d have a hard time shaking me.” He tried to smile, one he didn’t really feel.

  She answered with a tremulous one of her own, then reached for the door handle.

  Frank was already there. He shifted nervously as though he didn’t really know what to say to her.

  With her customary grace and care for others, she touched his arm and smiled. “Hello, Frank.”

  Frank cleared his throat. “I’m awfully glad to see you, Mrs. Chandler. Congratulations are in order, I hear.”

  She seemed confused for a moment, then recognition dawned. “Oh, yes. Thank you, Frank.”

  Frank glanced at Quinn, clearly concerned.

  Quinn reassured him with a squeeze of the shoulder. “We’re just going up for a minute to get some things.”

  “If you need any help…”

  “Thanks.” Quinn turned to Lorie, who hadn’t made a move to go inside. He clasped her hand in his much larger one. “Sure you want to do this?”

  “No, but I’m going to.” And she began walking toward the door.

  As the elevator glided smoothly upward, its hum was the only sound between them. Quinn wasn’t sure what to say to put her at ease. Small talk wasn’t his strong suit, even if the occasion called for it.

  When she laughed, he was startled, then saddened as it drew out, mirthless and bitter. “What is it?”

  Hurt and fear filled her gaze. “Nothing, only I just—I remembered something I was thinking about the last time I came up in this elevator….that night…” Her voice trailed off.

  He remained quiet, giving her the choice to continue or not.

  She looked down at the floor, speaking softly. “I was daydreaming about my bubble bath, and what it would be like—” Her gaze rose to his. “—if you were in it with me.”

  A lightning-quick image of the two of them immersed in a deep tub, slick, wet bodies sliding and flowing together, flashed through his mind. Followed by a powerful bolt of desire.

  He saw an answering flare of passion in the sapphire depths of hers.

  Before the sick fear crowded it out.

  Her voice shook as she continued, looking away. “I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn’t pay
attention when I walked to my door. If I’d—”

  “What if doesn’t do anything but hurt you,” he said more roughly than he meant to, but damn it, he didn’t want desire for him to be connected to fear and terror in her mind.

  He clasped her by the shoulders, willing her to listen. “Don’t—” He fought to back his intensity down. “Please don’t let what happened make you forget how you felt, Lorie. We will have that time together, I swear it. I want all that and more, and now that I know that you do, too…”

  He paused to swallow hard. Battled against the intensity of how he felt. “Now is not the time, I know—but our time will come. I swear to you by all that’s holy—we will have our time.” Tenderly he cupped her face in his hands. “I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

  She slid her hands up his arms, and her lips parted as if to speak.

  Just as the elevator door opened and snapped shut their dreams.

  Lorie pulled away. Squared her shoulders and stepped out, walking quickly to outrun her thoughts. What had just passed between them left her shaken and wanting. She was desperate to get this over and done with so she could quit dreading it. So she could move forward.

  Quinn approached behind her, but Lorie couldn’t look at him right now. More than anything, she didn’t want to taint what he’d just given her with the terror roiling through her at this moment.

  She’d think—oh yes, she’d think—about what he’d said. She didn’t want to forget one single word or the way his words had made her feel. A delicious shiver ran through her. Her heart lifted to think that such promise and passion lay ahead.

  But as the door swung open, she tucked those thoughts away to keep them safe from the memories just over the threshold.

  What she spotted in the first instant started a fire of rage and anguish storming through her. She shook off Quinn’s hand and ran toward the long table, desperate to erase what she saw.

  “Oh, no—No!” She didn’t even hear the half-screams of rage, the almost inhuman moans she made as she swept across the table with her arm, sending the photograph and candles flying. Even the clatter of the candlesticks and the sound of breaking glass didn’t register as she brushed frantically, trying to clear the surface of all the hated debris.

  The sensation of her fists hitting the wood barely sank in, only dull thuds in her hearing, pain hardly registering as she brought them down again and again.

  Only Quinn’s voice got through to her.

  “Sh-h, Lorie. Don’t—you’re hurting your hands. Come on, come over here with me,” he soothed as he drew her firmly away toward the phone.

  She shivered uncontrollably, tearing her gloves away so she could feel Quinn with her fingers. She clawed at his coat, shoving it aside so she could get closer to his skin. Her chest burned with rage and terror, her mind rebelling at the thought that her tormentor had been here again.

  She could barely hear Quinn talking to Frank, his voice hard and rough.

  Only one thought persisted.

  She’d never be safe, she understood that now.

  Unable to untangle the terror weaving a web over her thoughts, Lorie retreated to a place where it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

  Quinn felt it as soon as it happened. He felt her leaving, wanted to call her back.

  But first he had to get her out of this place of nightmares.

  He shouldn’t leave until Colello arrived, he knew that. But his concern with procedure fled in the face of her devastation.

  To hell with proper procedure. He’d deal with Colello later.

  He spoke calmly and softly, as though to a child, not knowing whether or not she would hear. “Come on, Lorie. We’re leaving now.” Whatever she’d come for would have to wait.

  Like a docile child, she looked up at him, her eyes devoid of feeling. A sweet, vacant smile flitted across her face, and she slipped one hand into his.

  His heart slowly breaking, Quinn led her through the door and away from the landscape of terror.

  The next morning Quinn watched from behind the cameras, still unable to fathom that Lorie was on the soundstage even though he’d escorted her here himself. When she’d awakened early this morning and calmly announced she was returning to work, his roar of outrage had scared Grant half to death.

  But nothing could shake her determination. He would have simply refused to let her go, held her down by force if need be, except for the one tiny moment when her unnatural calm had broken long enough for him to see the pleading glance behind it.

  He exhaled sharply. How could he know what was right? In that one moment, he’d understood her need to get her life back to normal.

  Normal. Whatever that was.

  But he’d understood what she wanted and so, despite his deep misgivings, he’d backed off and helped get Grant ready to go to Jeremy’s, where Quinn had arranged for a security guard to remain outside.

  And here they were, Lorie walking around like an automaton, vacantly smiling and nodding at anyone who spoke to her, with no real sign of connection. Gone the glimmer, the sparkle her presence had lent the stage. He could see it in the faces around her. Oh, she knew her lines and recited them perfectly.

  Recited, being the operative word. Not a glint of expression or emotion within her. Even Josh was getting frustrated, though he demonstrated enormous patience with her.

  “Usually she and Josh throw off magic when they’re together on camera.” Ben Watkins had come up beside him while Quinn was lost in his thoughts. “Damn shame,” the director sighed. “Can’t seem to figure out what it takes to pull her out of this. I don’t think she’s ready to be back at work, Marshall.” The disapproval in his tone was gentle but firm.

  Quinn bit back the harsh retort that sprang to his lips. “Then help me out and tell her you’ll work around her for awhile. She thinks her career will be in danger if she doesn’t show up for work every single day like the good little cast member she’s been,” he ground out bitterly.

  Ben sighed. “There’s no question it won’t be good for the show. We could definitely profit from her win last night. Interest in her is white-hot.”

  Rage sparked and Quinn whirled on him. “There’s one guy whose interest is so white-hot he almost killed her, you sonofabitch.”

  “Whoa, hold up here, Quinn. What the hell’s going on?” Josh acted quickly to pull them both away from the eager listeners all around.

  Quinn stood his ground, glaring at the director, daring him to make another callous remark.

  Ben was the first to break eye contact. “Your brother wants me to tape around Lorie for awhile. I simply pointed out that our ratings are going through the roof since the attack.”

  Quinn’s hands closed into fists, but Josh clamped his own hands over Quinn’s arms. He muttered under his breath about idiots at the network, then inserted himself between Quinn and the director. “That’s true, Ben, but you know we’re ahead of schedule right now, even with Lorie missing two days. What about the new storyline you’d planned with Juliette and me? Couldn’t we space out the shots we have with Lorie so her absence won’t be noted for a while, and go on to the new storyline sooner than planned?”

  When the director hesitated, Josh sweetened the pot. “Hell, Ben, I’ll even volunteer to go on camera in the buff. You know I’ve always refused to do it. Let word of that get around and see what happens. I may not have won last night, but you know a lot of ladies would tune in to see my bare backside.” He rolled his eyes at Quinn, then turned back to the director. “We’ll get you ratings—just leak it out to the fan clubs and on the Internet that Brad’s going to be seduced by Juliette’s character and he’ll be shot au naturel. See if that doesn’t take some of the attention away from how much time Lorie actually has on camera.”

  Quinn could see the director measuring Josh’s proposal. Ben pulled at his upper lip with his teeth, sucking in his cheeks and turning to stare at Lorie.

  Josh apparently knew the director well enough not to push
him for an answer right then. He drew Quinn away, calling back over his shoulder, “Think about it, Ben.”

  The brothers were headed toward the door leading to the hallway when Ben’s voice intervened. “Places, people.”

  Josh sighed, and Quinn knew he probably regretted not being able to leave until this scene was shot. A wry grin twisted Quinn’s lips at the oddity of Josh being the one to keep him out of trouble, for a change. He was just about to remark upon it when a quick movement at the edge of the set caught his eye.

  Lorie was backing up and didn’t seem to notice a nest of cables right behind her.

  “Lorie, watch out—” Quinn sprinted toward her, but a stagehand standing nearby was much closer. The man grabbed her from behind to prevent a fall. When he touched her, Lorie went from catatonic to berserk in the blink of an eye.

  “Don’t touch me!” Her scream brought everything to a standstill, and in that moment, she seemed to Quinn to be the only thing moving against a painted backdrop. She fought like a madwoman while everyone around her stood, stunned at the transformation.

  The stagehand froze, too, barely defending himself as she scratched, clawed and kicked, her hair flying out of its carefully sculpted shape into the nimbus of an avenging angel.

  “Let go of me, you bastard!” she screamed. “I won’t let you hurt me again!”

  The man tried to back away, but he couldn’t get free.

  Quinn reached her side and pulled her off the man staring at her in confusion and disbelief. “Lorie, listen to me. Lorie, it’s me, Quinn,” he spoke as calmly as he could while trying to subdue her without hurting her. He moved in front of her, remembering her telling him that the stalker had initially grabbed her from behind.

  He wedged himself between her and the stagehand and grabbed her head between his hands, raising his voice just a bit to get her attention until she quit clawing at him.

  “Lorie, he’s not here. It’s not him. Stop—it’s me, Quinn. No one’s going to hurt you.”