by Hope White
“This might help,” Billie said.
As she carried a tray with two mugs of tea into the living room, Quinn stood. “Wait a minute, your wrist.”
“It’s better,” she said with a smile.
“Uh-huh. Give me that.” Quinn took the tray and placed it on the coffee table.
This time she sat in a chair near Quinn, but not on the sofa beside him. A better choice in Quinn’s mind, since she was no longer within arm’s reach. Every time the woman touched him she set off a mass of conflicting emotions in his chest.
“It’s sweet sunshine white tea,” she said. “I didn’t know you drank anything but black tea and coffee.”
“Yeah, well...” His voice trailed off. He knew white tea was Billie’s favorite and it somehow comforted him to have it in his apartment.
“We need to talk about something,” she said.
“Uh-oh.” He reached for his tea.
“It still needs to steep for a few minutes.”
“Oh, okay.” He leaned back and waited.
“Go ahead, put the ice on.” She motioned to his face.
“Stop stalling. What did I do now?”
“You think I’m upset with you?”
“I’m anticipating the worst.”
She sighed. “Remember how I said I wanted to dig into Rick’s accounts and figure out why these guys are after me?”
“Yes, and I’m starting to think your idea about relocating is a good one.”
“I’ve changed my mind about that.”
“Terrific,” he said, sarcasm lacing his voice. Although a part of him wanted her to leave, become anonymous someplace and never look back, the other part knew she couldn’t run from trouble like this.
How was he going to protect her?
“I’ve been a coward and I’m ashamed,” she said.
“What are you talking about?” he said. “You’re the bravest, smartest, kindest woman I know.”
“I appreciate that, Quinn, but here’s the truth—I grew up and moved away as soon as I could because my mother suffered from depression. I blindly ran into Rick’s arms and I hid out in your guesthouse after Rick passed away. I have to stop avoiding the hard stuff and face it head-on.” She stood and paced to the breakfast bar and back. “When I think about what that man did to you out there...I’m furious with myself.”
“Why? You didn’t kick me in the jaw.” The minute he said the words, he realized he shouldn’t have.
She studied him with a mix of anger and regret in her warm brown eyes. “But it is my fault.” She started pacing again. He stood and blocked her, grabbing her arm and leading her back to the chair.
“You’re making me dizzy,” he said, trying to ease her tension.
She sat down and Quinn took his spot on the sofa. He knew she had more to say, so he patiently waited.
“After today—the welcome-home reception, the flowers and balloons—I realized I have a home here, a family I care about and who care about me. I will not let my husband’s bad decisions and his bullying criminal friends intimidate me into distancing myself from that family. I’ve been keeping people at a distance for far too long.” She glanced at Quinn. “I like feeling connected to people.”
His heart slammed against his chest as he searched her round, brown eyes. She couldn’t mean him, could she? Because only last night she tried to get him kicked out of the hospital.
“You know what I mean?” she said.
“Yeah, I think I do. So you’re okay with me being involved in your life until this case is resolved?”
“Absolutely, but I won’t allow myself to grow too dependent on you. That’s been my M.O.—lean too heavily on one person and then when he’s gone, it all falls apart.”
A not-so-gentle reminder that they both knew Quinn wouldn’t stick around forever. Although she didn’t realize it was for her own good, Quinn knew she deserved better. She deserved a good, honorable man with whom to share her life.
“What do you need from me?” he said.
“Treat me more like an equal and less like a fragile bird with a broken wing. Let me be a part of the fight to protect myself and my friends.”
“You’ll keep the security guard?”
“Sure.”
“You’ll share everything with me—information, memories, anything that relates to the case?”
“I will.”
“You sure this is what you want? You wanted me booted from the hospital last night.”
“That was, well, complicated. I was an emotional wreck. I’ve got things in perspective now. I’m ready to admit I need your help.”
“Score one, Donovan,” he said.
She smiled and his heart leaped.
She winked. “Be quiet and drink your tea.”
* * *
Billie awoke the next morning a bit achy and irritable. She’d slept on and off, plagued by nightmares about being chased by a faceless man and Quinn being attacked by a group of men with baseball bats. That one awakened her with a start and she sat up in bed gasping for air, first out of fear, then from the pain of bruised ribs.
She’d showered and finished dressing when she heard a soft tap at her door. Eyeing the peephole, she spotted Quinn’s bruised but smiling face. How could he be so chipper? He had to be hurting this morning after the assault last night.
Because of her. She gripped the door handle, anger coursing through her body.
“Billie?” he called through the door.
She flung it open. “Good morning.”
He greeted her with an intriguing breakfast tray. “Sleep okay?” he said, going to the kitchenette and placing the tray on the counter.
“Not the best. You?”
“Same. Aiden had the cook make you a vegetable omelet. There’s fruit, toast and sausage.”
“Great, thanks. You’re staying, right?”
Quinn shot a quick glance at the door, then looked at Billie. “Of course.”
“There’s only one plate... I get it. You were going to drop it and go.”
“It’s just...” he hesitated “...I’ve been up since five so I’ve already eaten.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure you have someplace to be,” she said. “Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”
She sat at the counter, hoping he’d leave yet wanting him to stay. How was she going to keep her emotional distance from this man if she kept giving him mixed signals?
“Actually, I’m supposed to meet with my P.I. friend in a few minutes. I could have him come to your suite.”
“Okay,” she said, trying to act aloof. She cut into her omelet and took a bite. The delicious taste made her forget about her aching ribs for a few seconds.
Quinn called Nia at the concierge desk and told her to direct the investigator to Billie’s room. Billie noticed how nice he looked in his dark blue suit, crisp white shirt and colorful tie. The tie was no doubt Quinn’s personal statement. He was an astute businessman with an innovative streak.
“He’ll meet us here,” he said, walking toward her. “What’s that look?”
“What look?” She bit into a piece of cantaloupe.
“You’re looking at me funny.”
“You look nice today.”
He glanced sideways at her. “Thanks?”
“I meant it as a genuine compliment.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, like he didn’t believe her. “The investigator I’ve hired is Cody Monroe. We met in Afghanistan.”
“In the service?”
“Yep.”
“And you both happen to live in Snoquamish County?”
“No, he’s from Seattle.”
“That’s a long commute.”
“I’ve booked him a room here. He’ll be usin
g an empty office at the resort as his home base.” Quinn sat next to her at the breakfast bar. “He’ll want to talk to you, ask a lot of questions about Rick. You good with that?”
“Sure.” She forked her omelet. “Can you trust him?”
“Absolutely.”
Someone knocked on the door. “That’s probably him.”
Quinn went around the corner to answer and Billie sighed, trying to convince herself that having a stranger dig into her life and marriage would help them figure out who was after her.
“Hey, buddy, good to see you,” Quinn said.
“What’s this? A fancy suit and tie? You almost look respectable.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come meet Billie.” They turned the corner. “Billie, this is Cody Monroe.
Cody was in his thirties with short, cropped hair and a boyish face.
She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
“Want some coffee?”
“That’d be great,” he said.
“I’ll pour,” Quinn offered.
Cody pulled a tablet complete with keyboard out of his backpack.
He set it on the counter and sat on a stool across from her. “So, Billie, you ready for some questions?”
“You don’t waste any time,” Quinn said.
“No, sir, not when lives are at stake.”
* * *
Two hours later Quinn wasn’t so sure hiring Cody had been his best idea. He was asking good but hard questions, questions Billie was starting to push back on.
“And the late nights, some nights when he didn’t come home, where did you think he was?” Cody asked.
“What are you insinuating?”
“I’m trying to determine if you picked up on something and didn’t realize it at the time.”
“He didn’t go out a lot, but when he did he said he was with friends from his former job at the plant.”
“And you believed him?” Cody pushed.
“I had no reason not to believe him.”
“You didn’t get a sense that something was off?”
“I figured Rick was depressed from being laid off and not having a job for so long.”
“Did he bring any new acquaintances to the house?”
“No, just the usual guys, Stuart and Calvin.”
Cody typed on his keyboard. “Are they local?”
“Somewhat. I think Stuart still lives in Lake Stevens, about forty minutes from here.”
“I’d like to speak with them. Do you have their last names?”
“Anderson is Stuart’s name, but I don’t know Calvin’s. I’d heard he moved to Idaho after the plant closed.”
“Did your husband work anyplace other than the plant?” Cody asked.
“Not regularly. We moved here for the plant job, and after he was laid off he got odd jobs here and there, but nothing consistent.”
“Do you remember who hired him for these odd jobs?”
“Is it important?”
“Yes, ma’am. Men working odd, sporadic jobs are targets for criminal enterprises.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because these men, like your husband, are desperate.”
Quinn took a slow, deep breath and wandered to the window overlooking the gardens. Rick Bronson had been desperate enough to put his life and his wife’s life at risk. And that, too, was Quinn’s fault.
“What’s wrong?” Billie said.
Quinn glanced over his shoulder. She was intently studying him. “Me? No, nothing. Thinking about work stuff.” He redirected his attention outside. It was a beautiful, sunny morning, so opposite his dark mood.
If only Quinn hadn’t needed to close the plant and put people out of work. But he and his partners couldn’t afford to let it function in the red due to mismanagement and a changing economy.
He’d helped many of the employees find jobs, some in other counties at one of his properties. But some locals didn’t want to move and would rather accept unemployment than make a life change. Rick Bronson probably figured he’d made his life change of the decade by moving himself and Billie from Idaho to the small town of Echo Mountain, Washington. From what Billie had said, Rick Bronson blamed himself for making a bad decision in relocating for a job, and that blame transformed into depression and hopelessness.
A hand touched his shoulder. He glanced down into Billie’s curious eyes. “Where are you?”
“What?”
“You’re orbiting Jupiter, my friend,” Cody said from the other side of the suite. “I’m headed out. Billie, the more you can remember, the better. You probably know more than you think you know.”
“Perhaps.”
Quinn didn’t miss the tentative tone of her voice.
“I’ll be back at dinnertime.” Cody headed to the door.
“They’ve got a full menu in the resort’s restaurant,” Quinn said. “Flash them the card I gave you and they’ll get you whatever you want.”
“Thanks. You guys be careful.” Cody left the suite.
Billie stood there, studying Quinn.
“What, my bruises are that bad?” he said.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Yikes, a man’s worst nightmare, being caught thinking about football when his girlfriend hopes he’s thinking about her.”
“Were you thinking about football?”
Quinn wandered to the coffee maker and poured a cup. “No,” he admitted. He glanced at her. “Why did Cody warn you to be careful? You’re not leaving this room.”
“Actually,” she grabbed her fleece jacket off an upholstered chair. “I’ve blocked so much of the last year with Rick out of my mind that he thought it might be helpful to go to my old house. He said it might stimulate memories.”
“No, absolutely not.”
“Quinn—”
“You’re safe here, in this room, with a guard right outside the door.”
“Not necessarily. They know where I am so doesn’t that make me a sitting duck?”
He clenched his jaw, frustrated by her sensible argument.
She closed the distance between them and touched his arm again. He simultaneously tensed and relaxed when she did that. How was that possible?
“The sooner I remember things and help Cody do his job, the quicker we can put an end to this,” she said. “I feel like I’m holding things up by hiding out here. I need to be proactive about this, Quinn. I’m done living in denial and letting things happen to me, remember?”
“Yeah, but Billie—”
“Please. Support me on this. Help me become a stronger person.”
It’s not like he could deny her once she asked for something. Great, now who had the control in this relationship?
“We’re taking security with us,” he said.
“Of course.”
“And you won’t go anywhere without me right beside you.”
“Agreed. I’ll call my former landlord and see if we can get into the house today. It’s about half an hour from here in Arlington Heights.”
She pulled out her phone and made the call. Quinn sipped his coffee. He didn’t like this plan for so many reasons. That wasn’t his intellect talking—it was his heart. The last thing he wanted to do was put Billie in physical or emotional danger and he knew returning to the house she shared with Rick would be an unpleasant experience for her.
“We’re in luck,” she said. “I explained what’s going on and Mrs. Wonderman said she’s happy to help. Since the house is for sale, she gave me the code for the lockbox.”
“When can we stop by?”
“There aren’t any showings scheduled for today.”
“Fine, let’s go.” Quinn was
n’t thrilled with the idea of going hunting for memories. He didn’t want Billie exposing herself to the world, and he certainly didn’t want her recalling painful memories from her marriage, or pleasant ones for that matter. Ah, there’s the truth.
“You’re doing it again,” she said.
He motioned her toward the door. “Doing what?”
“Disappearing into your head.”
“Lack of sleep makes me spacey I guess.”
They opened the door and he explained to today’s security guard, Joe Miller, that they were on the move. Quinn made a quick call to Aiden and requested a car since the police would impound his vehicle for evidence in yesterday’s hit-and-run.
Nia had car keys waiting for him at the front desk. The staff at Echo Mountain Resort was the most efficient of any of his teams.
The security guard suggested Billie and Quinn take the backseat where tinted windows would conceal their identities.
They left the resort, Joe behind the wheel of the SUV.
“It’s too quiet,” Billie said.
“Joe, can you turn on the radio?” Quinn asked, although he suspected she’d prefer conversation with Quinn instead of music.
“Sure, any requests?” Joe said.
“Soft rock or country,” Billie said.
Melodies of a soft rock song filled the car, and Quinn tried to relax, but couldn’t. He anticipated Billie’s emotional reaction when they got to the house, one that Quinn wasn’t equipped to deal with.
Billie thought she ran from the hard stuff? Quinn had been running ever since his mom died and Sophia took over. Once you get in the habit of running, you never seem to be able to stop. That’s why he’d bought so many properties all over the northwest and planned to expand his business down south. It would keep him on the move, which suited his lifestyle. It’s not as if he was tied to anything in Washington State.
Thirty minutes later they turned off Highway 2.
“Turn right at the next street,” Billie said.
Joe followed her directions and she pointed. “The blue house.”
The security guard pulled in front of a gray-blue house with a for-sale sign in the yard. The front screen door was off its hinge, the grass was overgrown and there was a crack in a front window.
