Break in the Storm (WeHo Book 2)

by Sherryl Hancock

  Break in the Storm

  Sherryl D. Hancock

  Copyright © Sherryl D. Hancock 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Originally self-published by Sherryl D. Hancock in 2016

  Published by Vulpine Press in the United Kingdom in 2017

  ISBN 978-1-910780-36-7

  Cover by Armend Meha

  Cover photo credit: Tirzah D. Hancock

  www.vulpine-press.com

  Acknowledgements

  Once again, thank you Google for all your wonderful options and abilities. Google Earth is a life saver! Also to my wonderful wife without whom all of these stories would just be computer files that no one would ever read! I love you!!!

  For my mom who has been my biggest fan since I started writing books. She’s the person who taught me to love storms, even sitting outside in our backyard in San Diego when it would rain just so we could feel it.Thank you Mom for all the love and support you’ve shown me all through the years, I don’t think I’d still be writing if you hadn’t supported me by reading every single page I wrote and ‘loved’ it every time.

  Chapter 1

  Quinn Kavanaugh sat outside the bar on the patio smoking a cigarette, waiting for the man that would be considered her boss. In truth, Quinn didn’t consider anyone her boss, and if anyone attempted to force the issue, they were usually sorry they did. She wasn’t what most people would expect from a girl from Belfast. She was by no means a ‘wilting flower.’ In fact her Irish blood was likely the cause of her short, fiery-red hair, with a style that lent itself to the likes of the actress Ruby Rose. The many tattoos that appeared on her forearms, biceps and even one on her neck also gave Quinn a rough, ‘not to be messed with’ appearance. She wore jeans and biker boots, as well as a black denim sleeveless vest with the Harley Davidson logo on the front pocket and dark sunglasses. Her motorcycle helmet was on the table next to her. Adding to the tough appearance was the black thick banded watch with studs, and plethora of silver rings.

  To lesbians, Quinn was considered butch. To most other people, she was considered off-putting and a bit dangerous; which was what she wanted. She was, in fact, dangerous. She was lethal if she needed to be, but she tended to save her deadly skills for the job, not for every day. Even so, it amused her endlessly that the waitress seemed both afraid of her and attracted to her at the same time. It happened a great deal, even with straight women. It was the draw of the ‘bad boy’ persona, regardless of her sex.

  “Out here hunting for cancer I see,” came a voice from behind her, which had her grinning immediately.

  Glancing up, one emerald-green eye framed by a dark red brow narrowed. “Don’t give me that American shit,” she growled, her accent clear as a bell.

  Mackie laughed, moving to sit down across from her, pulling out his own cigarette.

  “Thought you quit?”

  “I have,” Mackie said, rolling his dark eyes, “hundreds of times, you try being married to Cassie Roads.”

  Quinn threw her head back laughing. “Gladly, mate!”

  John Machiavelli, also known as Mackie, was married to the tiny little powerhouse of a singer that was Cassie Roads. He’d met her while acting as her body guard and had fallen for the tiny fireball. The woman was forever driving him insane with her antics. It was a source of amusement for those that knew the couple. Quinn had commented on more than one occasion that she’d happily attempt to tame the girl if he couldn’t handle her. Cassie had threatened to take Quinn up on her offer a few times, when Mackie wouldn’t give in to her on something.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Mackie said as he lit his cigarette.

  When he didn’t say anything else, Quinn narrowed her green eyes behind her sunglasses. “I’m really not gonna like what ya got for me this time, am I?”

  Mackie chuckled, shaking his head. “Probably not.”

  “So yer gonna make it up to me, ain’t ya?”

  “You’ll get to name your price.”

  That statement had Quinn’s mouth dropping open, then she began to grin. “Holy shite, man, am I gonna be guardin’ the queen?”

  Mackie laughed outright at that, then shook his head. “No, but you’re not gonna like it, all the same.”

  “Tell me,” Quinn said, taking a long drag off her cigarette.

  “She’s a singer.”

  “Jesus…” Quinn breathed, shaking her head, “you know I hate fuckin’ industry people.”

  “I won’t tell your girlfriend that.”

  Quinn was dating a well-known movie star, Valerie Henning.

  She shrugged it off. “She knows.”

  Mackie rubbed his chin, not sure how that worked, but unwilling to ask. He needed Quinn for this job, so he needed her thinking good, positive thoughts.

  “Look, you’ll meet with BJ Sparks, he can explain everything.”

  “BJ Sparks?”

  Of course she’d heard of the man, he was a legend in the music industry. BJ Sparks was an all-around master of music. He ran Badlands Records, and he was also the lead singer of his legendary band, Sparks. He was responsible for many highly successful bands and solo artists. BJ Sparks was not someone you turned down a meeting with, he was a legend.

  “He’s the one requesting you,” Mackie said.

  “Why?”

  “Because he needs a woman, and he needs one that can kick ass if the need arises.”

  “Holy Hell,” Quinn said, “what did this singer do, piss off the Taliban or what?”

  “No,” Mackie said, his face a mask of contempt, “but her previous body guard was a Navy Seal.”

  “What happened to him?” she asked, though unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

  “He’s been removed.”

  “Voluntarily?”

  “Nope.”

  Quinn nodded, this was not a simple protection job, and she could feel that there was more than what Mackie was saying. A Navy Seal was well-trained and usually pretty lethal. If he was no longer this singer’s body guard, there was a reason, and part of her didn’t really know if she wanted to know the story. A sense of dread crawled up her spine, and she found herself nodding her head.

  “When?” Quinn asked.

  “Tonight, eight o’clock at his house,” Mackie replied, relieved that Quinn wasn’t asking too many questions, and that she appeared to be willing to listen. “I’ll text you the address.”

  “Who’s the client?”

  “Xandy Blue,” Mackie replied.

  “Never heard of her.”

  “You will,” Mackie said. “BJ just took over her contract.”

  Quinn looked back at Mackie, impressed.

  Later that night Quinn arrived at the home of BJ Sparks and his wife, Allexxiss. As Quinn was led to BJ’s study, she looked around amazed. The house was an incredible combination of warm wood paneling and opulent antique pieces. The walls were hung with various paintings, many of which were made up of wild kaleidoscopes of colors. Quinn noticed in the study that there were various framed artworks for album covers, along with the platinum records and signatures of all the artists. It was an impressive sight, as was BJ Sparks himself.

  BJ strode into his study, wearing black leather pants, boots and a half open black an
d green patterned shirt. His hair, a dark auburn was slightly shaggy, and his light blue-green eyes trained on Quinn Kavanaugh immediately. She was from his homeland of Northern Ireland and he recognized it in her immediately.

  He walked directly to her, extending his hand out. “I’m BJ.”

  “Quinn,” she replied, nodding and masking her awe sufficiently.

  “Let’s sit.” BJ gestured to the comfortable chairs near a large fireplace.

  BJ noted that Quinn did not sit back and relax; she seemed to be on alert, and he wondered if that was a constant state for her. He’d read the file Mackie had provided. She’d been Irish military, part of their Army Ranger Wing and had worked with US Special Forces. She was heavily trained in hand to hand combat, sharp shooting and use of weapons such as knives. Looking at her, BJ determined he’d be afraid of her if she was his enemy.

  Quinn waited, realizing that BJ was sizing her up. She was used to that, people rarely knew what to make of her, she liked that.

  BJ knew that Quinn was waiting him out and it impressed him. Most people were either nervous in his presence or so awestruck they didn’t think to be strategic.

  “So Mackie says that you’re good at your job,” BJ said, leaning back comfortably in his chair.

  “Haven’t lost anyone yet,” Quinn replied confidently.

  “Good to hear. Mackie says he’s worked with you before.”

  “I just don’t usually do this end of it.”

  “This end?” BJ asked.

  “Industry people.”

  “Like me?”

  Quinn hesitated for a moment, then sardonically said, “Your type of industry, yeah.”

  “You think we’re all a pain in the ass?”

  Quinn’s look didn’t waver. “I think industry people are higher maintenance than regular people.”

  “Our lives are different than regular people.”

  “Granted,” Quinn said equably. “But it tends to make protecting them harder.”

  “I’ll give you that one,” BJ agreed. “But I can tell you Xandy isn’t like that.”

  Quinn nodded, not looking convinced.

  “She’s scared.”

  That pulled Quinn up short. She hadn’t expected to hear that and a grimace crossed her features as she nodded.

  “The bodyguard?” she asked.

  BJ nodded, not looking happy.

  “Mackie says he was a Seal?”

  “Yeah,” BJ said, disgusted. “He was.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  BJ looked indecisive for a moment, but then nodded. “I’m gonna leave the details up to Xandy, if she wants to tell them, but suffice it to say that he attacked her.”

  “Sexually?” Quinn asked, narrowing her eyes.

  BJ looked back at her, his eyes answering for him.

  “Son of a…” Quinn muttered, in disgust. “That’s not the experience I have of Navy Seals.”

  “Nor I.”

  Navy Seals were usually very disciplined, with a great strength of character. It disheartened her to hear that one had been so far off the mark. With Special Forces, it was a source of pride that they were always on the right side of things, be it the law, the country or in any situation with the opposite sex. It rubbed her the wrong way that his man not only had gone against that conditioning, but that he’d taken advantage of his position as a bodyguard..

  “So, you’ll take the job?” BJ asked.

  “I will.”

  “Name your price.”

  Quinn grinned. “Well, there’s this sixty-nine Charger I’ve had my eye on…”

  “Oh,” BJ said, smiling broadly, he was a car man himself, much to his wife’s chagrin. “Into American heavy metal are you?”

  “Among other things.”

  “Well, then,” BJ said, standing. “You should have a look at my garage.”

  “Lead on,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement.

  Cars were one of her major vices, motorcycles being the other. Having the opportunity to see a collection that was as renowned as his was an unexpected pleasure.

  Walking into the well-lit garage, Quinn was sure she’d died and gone to Heaven. Spread out before her was the most incredible set of vehicles she’d ever seen.

  There was a rich bright red 2011 Aston Martin V12 Zagato, its sleek lines just screamed power. Quinn walked over to the car, her eyes taking in every inch.

  “Zero to a hundred in four point two seconds,” BJ confirmed.

  “Bloody hell…”

  “She’ll do three hundred five,” BJ added.

  “So hot…” Quinn whispered.

  She turned then to the next car, a Porsche 918 Spyder in racing yellow.

  “Is this a Spyder?”

  “Yup... my latest acquisition.”

  “That put a dent in yer wallet I’ll bet,” Quinn said, her eyes never leaving the sleek low-slung vehicle.

  “Just over a mill.”

  Quinn whistled appreciatively. “She fast?”

  “Not as fast as the Aston,” BJ replied, enjoying the young woman’s reactions to his cars.

  “But fast.”

  “Yeah, six hundred and eight horses are usually pretty fast.”

  Quinn nodded. She moved on to the other cars, encountering BJ’s ‘American heavy metal.’ BJ also owned a black 1969 Mustang Boss 429, a red 1970 Plymouth Hemi Barracuda, and a 1968 Corvette Stingray in British Racing Green. It was an astounding collection of cars. On top of that he owned some motorcycles.

  “Is that an Indian Head?” Quinn asked, pointing to the red and tan Harley Davidson.

  “Yep, nineteen forty-one,” BJ replied proudly.

  “Nice…”

  He also had a Ducati 1199 Panigale R; one of the fastest production bikes on the market.

  “The wife gives me a lot of grief over that one.”

  “I imagine.”

  The last of the bikes was a custom chopper; a cruiser style bike in shades of blue and green with flames licking out from the edges and “Sparks” written in script on the tank. It was an awesome sight to behold.

  “The guys over at Orange County Custom did that one for me,” he said, watching Quinn admire the bike.

  “It’s awesome!”

  BJ nodded, quite happy that she was able to appreciate his collection. “So what are you driving?”

  “Right now,” she said, rubbing her eyebrow, “a sixty-nine Mach one.”

  “What engine?” BJ asked, immediately interested.

  “Three-ninety CI, big block.”

  “Nice, so you drive American muscle too.”

  “Well, that and a Harley.”

  “Which Harley?”

  “A sportster, Iron eight eighty-three,” Quin said, grinning as BJ looked surprised. “Not exactly a girly bike.”

  “Nope, nothin’ wrong with that,” BJ said. Then he pinned her with a look. “What’s that Charger running at that you’ve got your eye on?”

  “Bout fifty k.”

  “Sold.”

  Quinn narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do I think I just lost a deal here?”

  BJ didn’t respond, his eyes sparkling as he smiled.

  That night, back at Valerie’s place, Quinn had to explain it to her.

  “You made a deal based on you wanting to buy a car?” Valerie asked, shocked. “Seriously?”

  Quinn grinned, knowing that Valerie would never understand.

  “Are you crazy?” Valerie shouted.

  Quinn laughed. “Sometimes.”

  “BJ Sparks could afford a lot more than fifty thousand, Quinn.”

  “I know,” Quinn said, getting annoyed that Valerie was now talking to her like she was an idiot.

  It was a bad habit of Valerie’s and it got on Quinn’s nerves no end. Quinn had met the up-and-coming movie star at a party; they’d gotten along and had ended up back at Quinn’s place in bed that same night. They’d now been together for a few months. Valerie was a control freak and wanted Quinn to
move into her mansion in the Palisades, but Quinn refused. It was a constant argument with them.

  Valerie was a classical dark-haired beauty with an edge to her. It landed her roles in movies such as the ‘dark seductress’ or the ‘hard core bad ass.’ With long flowing black hair, dark eyes, and a lithe body, she was a lesbian’s dream physically, but a nightmare when it came to her angry fits and dramatic tendencies. Valerie and some of her friends were the main reason that Quinn didn’t like working for industry people. They thought the world revolved around them and it got really old really fast.

  “Don’t give me that look,” Valerie snapped, knowing Quinn was getting angry, and wanting to stave off the fight likely to ensue.

  Not that she minded fighting with Quinn; the makeup sex alone was worth the fight, but it had been a long day and she just wanted to relax. Reaching for a glass, she poured herself a drink, offering Quinn one as well. Quinn shook her head.

  “So who are you guarding?” Valerie asked when she’d settled on the couch with her drink.

  “Some singer named Xandy Blue,” Quinn said, moving to sit on the couch a couple feet away from Valerie.

  Valerie noted the distance, which meant that Quinn was still pissed at her.

  “What’s she like?”

  “Got me,” Quinn shrugged. “I’ve never heard of her.”

  Valerie sighed, shaking her head as she pulled her phone out to Google Xandy Blue. “You’ve never heard of anyone in music that doesn’t play rock.”

  “And?” Quinn queried with a raised eyebrow.

  Valerie just shook her head again, scooting over on the couch and handing Quinn her phone.

  Quinn looked at the picture Valerie had pulled up. She had to admit the girl was definitely beautiful in a wholesome, bubble gum kind of way. Xandy Blue had a perfect heart shaped face, peaches and cream skin, honey blond hair, and big cornflower-blue eyes.

  “Guess we know where the ‘Blue’ part came from, huh?”

  “Ya think?” Valerie said, snidely. “Could she be more of a pop princess if she tried?”

  Quinn didn’t respond, knowing that Valerie disdained anyone that wasn’t new and edgy. She also dismissed them as having no real talent and just trading on their looks. Though, Quinn was fairly sure that if Xandy Blue was talentless, BJ Sparks wouldn’t be interested in signing her. So there had to be more to the girl than just looks.