by Hope White
“I didn’t know it was dangerous.”
“Sounds like everything involving Billie Bronson is dangerous until this case is solved.”
Quinn peered around the corner into the living room. “Yeah, sounds about right.”
“Tell Alicia to swing by Waverly Harbor and I’ll introduce her to Nicole,” Alex said.
“How is your lovely fiancée?”
“She’s great. Her personal-assistant business is really taking off.”
“And the wedding plans?”
“Good.” He paused. “They’re good.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I was just thinking how close I came to losing her.”
“But you didn’t. You taught her how to defend herself and she survived.”
“It could have gone a completely different way,” Alex said.
“But it didn’t, and you’re getting married.”
“And hopefully you’ll be right behind me.”
“Come again?”
“You couldn’t ask for a better woman than Billie.”
“Well, there’s always Nicole.”
“Very funny. Look, bro, I don’t want you to lose Billie because you think you can protect her by yourself. Help the police do their jobs here, Quinn. Don’t play superhero.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Gotta go.” Quinn abruptly ended the call.
He found himself doing that every once in a while when on the receiving end of a lecture from his older brother. Quinn respected Alex, but he didn’t like being bossed around by a guy who barely knew him. Until this past year, Alex and Quinn had spoken infrequently and argued most of the time when they did.
Then Alex needed Quinn’s help. Correction: Alex’s murder witness, Nicole, had needed help and she contacted Quinn. It was the first time Alex had seen little brother Quinn as an adult, a competent man that Alex would willingly choose to take into battle.
Yet just now big brother told Quinn to ask the police for help next time before charging into a dangerous situation to protect Billie.
Hadn’t Quinn said the same thing to Billie when he’d rescued her in the mountains? He told her it was okay to accept help, and it was...just not for Quinn.
He wandered into the living room and set down a tray with a teapot and three cups. “I’ve got milk and sugar. Alicia, need more coffee?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.”
Quinn poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the recliner. Billie’s cheeks were flushed red and a smile played at her lips.
“Okay, what are we talking about?” Quinn asked.
Billie looked at Alicia.
They burst out laughing.
* * *
An hour later Quinn walked his cousin out to her car. “Now I know why we never see each other,” Quinn said. “My reputation can’t handle it.”
“Lighten up. It makes you seem more human when people know about the crazy stuff you did as a kid.”
“I’d say it makes me look downright insane.” They reached her car and he opened the door.
She hesitated before getting behind the wheel. “She’s really nice, Quinn.”
“Yeah, too nice for me,” he joked.
Alicia wasn’t smiling. “Don’t let her do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t let the stepmonster ruin this for you.”
“I don’t know what—”
“She doesn’t matter, Quinn. All that horrible stuff she said to you, it’s meaningless, done. Let it go.”
“I thought I had.”
Alicia gave him a hug and got in the car. “Behave.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Always the jokester.”
“Say hi to Alex for me.” He shut the door and watched her drive off.
He and Alicia had seen each other only a few times as adults. This time felt different. They’d made a real connection and he suspected Billie was responsible for that. Billie and her positive, hopeful energy.
Practically jogging back to his apartment, he flung open the door. “So are you still talking to me?”
The living room was empty.
“Billie?”
She popped her head through the kitchen doorway. She was on the floor.
“What’s wrong?” he said, rushing to her side.
She kneeled in front of a cupboard, pulling out boxes of dried food. “This pasta expired in 2012. And this one—” she held up a box of rice “—December of 2011.” She pulled out cans and placed them above her on the counter.
“Billie, come on, we don’t have to do this now.” He offered his hand, but she ignored it.
“You could get sick from two-year-old canned chili. We can’t risk that. Your life is dangerous enough because you’re watching out for me. You shouldn’t increase your risk by keeping this stuff around.”
He sat down next to her on the floor. This was not about expired pasta. “You’re absolutely right,” he said. “Thanks for going through my cupboards, but we have other things we should be focusing on.”
She glanced at him with her big, brown eyes. “This is important, Quinn. Rancid food in your stomach could cause all kinds of problems—parasites, and cramping and all kinds of illness.”
“Billie?” He touched her hand, resting on her thigh. “Why do we have to do this now?”
Her gaze drifted to his hand. “Because I can do something here, I can throw out expired food. It’s the only thing I have control over. I couldn’t control what my husband did or someone trying to run me down and nearly killing Bree. I can’t control the fact that an SAR member, someone I trust with my life, is involved in this conspiracy.” She glanced at her other hand, clutching a can of soup. “But I can toss the chicken and dumpling soup before it kills you.”
“Okay, then let’s do this.” Quinn shifted beside her and helped her pull more cans and boxes out of the cabinet. He wanted to focus on their investigation, but figured another half hour wouldn’t make a big difference. It seemed obvious that throwing stuff out would ease Billie’s anxiety and give her a sense of control, something she’d been lacking since the day she was assaulted on the trail.
She paused for a second and glanced at him. “Thank you.”
“For what? You’re saving my life, remember?” Offering a charming smile, he continued analyzing expiration dates.
He meant it. She was saving his life, and not by throwing out expired stews and soups. Billie was saving Quinn’s life in ways she couldn’t possibly imagine.
They sorted and tossed expired food for the next forty-five minutes until she seemed satisfied that Quinn wouldn’t get sick from eating canned pineapple dated August 2010.
He escorted her to her suite and Joe, who’d been standing guard outside Quinn’s door, followed close behind.
“Sorry I overreacted this morning about the phone call,” she said.
“You didn’t,” Quinn said. “I would have made the same assumption.”
“You’re just saying that to be nice.”
“Ouch,” he said, gripping his chest. “My ego took a serious hit.”
Joe chuckled behind them.
“I meant it as a compliment,” she protested.
“Okay, well, thanks for that,” Quinn said.
“But don’t call him nice ever again,” Joe added.
“Okay,” she said with a smile.
She swiped her keycard and opened the door to her suite. She hesitated before stepping inside.
“What is it?” Quinn asked.
“I’m embarrassed that it’s such a mess.”
He motioned her into the room. “It’s a hotel r
oom. Housekeeping is supposed to clean the room, not the guest.”
Quinn wandered to the window and gazed across the surrounding property. If someone knew Billie was staying in this room, it would be easy enough to pick a spot in the forest bordering the resort and watch her through a telescopic lens. He made a mental note to have Hank send a few guys out there to check.
As Quinn scanned the property, he heard Billie shuffling papers behind him. “I’ll have housekeeping swing by in the next hour to clean up. Get your paperwork together and we’ll go through it at my place,” Quinn said.
“Where is it?” she said.
He turned to her, noting her frantic search of the desk. “Where’s what?”
“A topographic map. It was right on top of this pile and it’s gone.” She took a step back from the desk and glanced at Quinn with fear in her eyes. “Someone was in my room.”
Quinn put his forefinger to his lips, tiptoed to the closet and kept talking. “You probably misplaced the map. Check the box.”
He whipped open the closet door. Empty.
Motioning her to stay back, he went into the bedroom, but it was empty. If the intruder were still in the suite it could end the speculation about the SAR member’s identity.
He swung open the bedroom closet. No one was hiding in there either. He checked the window in her bedroom—securely locked.
Quinn went into the living room. “No one’s here,” he said, checking the sliding door to the patio. It opened with ease. “But this is how they got access to your room.”
He glanced at Billie. She’d wrapped her arms around her middle and stood very still. “Someone was in my room...” she hesitated “...touching...my stuff.”
Fear colored her normally gentle eyes and it tore him apart.
“Hey, honey, it’s okay.” He crossed the room and pulled her into a hug, angry that an intruder made her feel so vulnerable. “We’d better move you.”
She searched his eyes. “Move me where?”
“My apartment. It’s got a security system independent of the resort, plus motion sensors outside. You’ll be safe there.”
“Where will you stay?”
He shoved back the pain lancing through his chest. “I’ll secure a room down the hall.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, reaching for his hand.
When she made contact he thought he’d fall apart. This amazing woman was touching him, but couldn’t stand the thought of sharing living space. That didn’t bode well for a future together. A future? Wait, what was he thinking about?
Someone knocked at the door. Quinn slipped his hand from hers and opened the door to Aiden.
“I stopped by to check on Billie. Is everything okay?”
Quinn motioned Aiden into the room. “We had a scare this morning. She got a crank call so the security guard brought her to my apartment. While she was at my place, someone got into her room and stole documents.”
“Got into her room, how?”
“Sliding door.”
“That’s not possible. You can’t unlock it from the outside.”
“Which means—” Quinn glanced at Billie “—someone was in your room earlier and unlocked the door with plans to return later. Make a list of all your visitors since you’ve been staying here.”
“Maybe someone in housekeeping left it open,” Aiden offered.
“More likely it was someone from SAR. Detective Issacs said the leader of this theft ring is on the SAR team.”
“Not possible,” Aiden countered. “We know everyone in SAR. They’re good people, Quinn.”
“I didn’t believe it either at first,” Billie offered. “But now...” She glanced at the sliding door.
“Perhaps you forgot to lock the slider last night,” Aiden said.
“I haven’t touched that door since I’ve been here. I didn’t want to risk it.”
“So what do we do?” Aiden said.
“I’ll set her up in my place. Can you get me a room close by?”
“Sure. I’ll juggle some stuff around. We’ve got a big tour group coming in tonight and need to book rooms in this wing.”
“No,” Quinn said.
“I’ve got no other place to put them.”
“I don’t care.”
“We’re talking four grand worth of revenue,” Aiden countered.
All Quinn could think about was hundreds of strangers added to the mix of an already volatile situation.
“Quinn,” Billie said. “I will not allow my situation to compromise the resort’s financial stability. Let Aiden book the rooms.”
Quinn sighed. He knew that Billie didn’t need one more thing to feel guilty about, and turning away thousands of dollars would certainly make her feel even worse.
“Fine, but first, let’s get Billie moved into my apartment.”
* * *
Billie spent a solid four hours going through paperwork the intruder hadn’t taken and analyzing the list of SAR members for any red flags, as Quinn put it. Aiden had provided the list, and also emailed a copy to Detective Issacs.
Quinn had a whiteboard delivered to his apartment and suggested Billie list all the SAR members and write down everything she knew about them. She hesitated when writing Will’s name on the board, not wanting the gentle single father to be involved in this.
She’d been praying for Will regularly since his wife died, hoping he’d find strength in God’s word and not let grief over losing his wife turn into bitterness.
But sometimes grief had a way of turning into anger or resentment. Will was friendly most of the time, but once in a while he seemed withdrawn. Sometimes she wondered how he managed being on the SAR team while raising two little girls and running his computer business. Luckily his career allowed him a flexible schedule working from home.
Speaking of which, she glanced across the living room at Quinn. He was sitting at the kitchen counter working on his laptop, keeping his distance to let her concentrate.
After lunch, Quinn encouraged Billie to take a nap in the guest room, and she didn’t argue. The constant adrenaline spikes, coupled with her minor injuries from the fall, sapped her usual resilience.
Two hours later she awakened, wandered into the living room and found Quinn asleep on the sofa in a sitting position, his hands folded comfortably in his lap. Not wanting to wake him, she tiptoed into the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Good nap?” he said.
She peeked her head around the corner. “Pretty good, yeah. I’m getting water, want some?”
“No thanks.”
She wandered into the living room, sipping her water.
“I touched base with Cody. He’s being released today,” Quinn said.
“That’s great news. How’s he feeling?”
“A little sore, but that’s to be expected.” He nodded at the flow chart she’d made earlier. “Any obvious suspects from the SAR list?”
“Not really. No one person stands out as suffering from undue financial stress more than another. They’ve all gone through their share of challenges these past few years.”
“Thanks to the plant closing, I know.”
“Well, and other things, not just the plant.” She fingered the rim of her glass. “Quinn, thank you for offering your apartment while you stay down the hall.”
“My pleasure. I understand your need for distance.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s hard being around me so much. I mean, you know the reality of our situation, what kind of man I am—”
“Yes, Quinn, I do. But I don’t think you have a clue.”
“I’ve lived with myself for thirty-four years. I think I know myself pretty well.”
“Oh really.” Billie smiled. “Tell me more.”<
br />
“You love teasing me.”
No, I just love you.
Billie felt her smile fade as reality struck her hard in the chest. She glanced away.
“I’m guessing a lot of women jumped at the chance to share living space with you,” she said.
“I’m not comfortable talking about this.”
“Come on. How many actually got a key?”
“One. My wife. That’s it.”
She snapped her attention to him, shocked. He must have read the disbelief in her eyes.
“Reputations aren’t always reflective of the truth,” he said.
“When you invited women to your lake house in Waverly Harbor, I assumed they spent the night.”
“They didn’t. I always drove them home.”
“What about the one from Seattle?”
“Katrina? I drove her to the Waverly Inn.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Many of them were business associates, others I enjoyed spending time with, but I’d never let any of them get close enough to destroy me.”
“Quinn, you make it sound like all women are your mortal enemies.”
“Not all women.” He glanced up and his expression softened, snagging her heart.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t articulate a pithy, clever retort.
“Hungry?” he said, standing.
But her brain was hooked on what he’d just said: Had he confessed that he didn’t consider Billie the enemy? That she was different than the rest of the women in his life? She was still trying to process the fact he didn’t let any of his female guests spend the night.
“I can order burgers and fries from room service,” he said, consulting a resort menu.
Shouting in the hallway echoed through the door. Quinn eyed the peephole. “Sounds like they’re headed down for the luau.” He glanced at Billie. “Aiden texted me that it’s Hawaiian night in the dining room.”
Hawaiian night with live entertainment, kebabs, fresh fruit and coconut pudding. The resort hosted one six months ago and it had been a big hit. Billie acted as one of the greeters and thoroughly enjoyed watching the guests celebrate with their families.
“Would you rather have fish?” Quinn asked.
