Murmur (Pierce Securities Book 5)

by Anne Conley

  Her phone rang, jarring her out of what was about to become a trip down memory lane, and she answered on the second ring after seeing it was Quinten. He’d risen and gone to work today after loving on her more than she deserved. She couldn’t even try to hide the smile in her voice.

  “Hi.”

  His low, smooth voice greeted her. “Hey there, Princess. I miss you. How are you doing?”

  She didn’t want to examine how the way his words hummed over the line made her feel. So she didn’t. Valerie put that feeling away to revisit another time. It was something she’d focus on when he was gone. After he’d demolished her heart.

  “I’m great. Imogene’s going to be here soon, and we’re going to clean up the mess from last night.”

  “That’s great. I’m glad you won’t be alone all day.” Never mind this was his fourth phone call this afternoon. She had to laugh at him.

  “I hardly feel alone. I’ve talked to you more today than some days when you were here,” she pointed out.

  “That reminds me… I wanted to update you on Hollerman’s investigation. The place where Evan had tracked the hack from your security system was Raines’ parents’ house. That was something we honestly weren’t expecting. Evan had figured it was a dummy IP the intruder had hacked into to throw us off the scent and make it look like Argyle was behind it. He got a search warrant this morning and found evidence there that definitely makes it him. And he’s up for psychiatric evaluation now, too.”

  Valerie didn’t want to know what exactly they’d found, so she didn’t ask. She changed the subject, not wanting to know what warranted a psych eval if Elliot’s other actions hadn’t. “Did you get another assignment? Will you be protecting pretty girls again?” she joked to hide her fear.

  Quinten chuckled, the deep sound sending a shudder of longing through her. “Yes and no. I’ve been assigned to help Andrew recover a stolen artifact from a collector for insurance purposes. It’s going to be boring as hell, but I’m honestly ready for a boring job. I don’t think I want any more excitement.”

  Valerie was relieved at his words, her mind still on what exactly the police had found in Elliot’s parents’ house. But she continued on the line of thought where they talked about ancient relics instead of the stalker who intended to harm her. Her heartrate was accelerated, and she didn’t even want to know about it. What would knowing do?

  In this case, ignorance would be bliss. Speaking of bliss… “When will you be home tonight?”

  He sighed. “As soon as I can. I’m finishing up the paperwork on your case and trying to figure out how to bill it, and I’ll be done for today.”

  Her ears perked up. “You are billing it, aren’t you?”

  He chuckled again, and she ignored it. “I’m just trying to figure out how many hours I actually worked the case versus how many I spent trying to figure out how to make you fall in love with me. It doesn’t seem right I would bill you for that.”

  “Well, okay,” she acquiesced, ignoring the words he spoke to make her feel better. “But you’re not doing all that for free.”

  “Agreed. Ryan and the guys need to get paid, too.”

  Her garage door opener sounded, and Valerie ended the call, thankful for Imogene to distract her from the eminence of Quinten back in her domain. Without the gentle giant in her space, everything seemed so different. So… lonely.

  After shooting an email to Miriam with a blind CC to Simon, which Quinten was pretty sure his brother never looked at, Quinten rose from his desk to leave. He was ready to get home to Valerie.

  Quinten’s skin was itchy. He had done everything as fast as he could today so he could go back to Valerie. He needed her. They hadn’t had “the discussion” yet, but he was totally moving in with her. He’d talked to Simon today about using his current home as a safe house for the firm, and Simon had only raised his eyebrows before muttering an agreement. He wasn’t happy with Quinten, but they’d closed the case as best they could and Quinten was working another case, so he couldn’t complain.

  He’d called Larry and found out the details of a rematch The Grynderr wanted with him. His first inclination was to tell Larry where to stick it, but after thinking about it a little bit, he realized he still didn’t have a clue what The Grynderr’s connection to all this was.

  So he’d told Larry to set it up.

  He was torn, honestly. Quinten was ready to be finished with this part of his life. But something niggled at the back of his brain, something he couldn’t put his finger on. He was hoping this last fight would answer some questions for him.

  Meanwhile, he had a woman to get home to. Jesus, that thought made Quinten feel all warm and gooey inside. He knew it was stupid. He knew he was acting like a pussy-whipped idiot, but this was what he’d always wanted. He loved Valerie. She was the air he breathed. He was pretty sure he couldn’t live without her in his life.

  She just needed to realize she felt the same way. If it wasn’t reciprocated, the whole thing was pointless. Quinten had only thought he was heartbroken before. He knew if Valerie kicked him out, he would break into a million pieces.

  As he sped as quickly as Austin traffic would allow to the outskirts, where she lived, Quinten drummed on the steering wheel in anticipation.

  A few days later, Valerie was enjoying her new habits with Quinten out of the house all day. She would wake up with him and they’d have coffee with the birds, then she would fix something for him to eat for breakfast, usually fruit and yogurt. After he left for work—leaving her with a lingering kiss and the promise to return—she would work out and spend most of the rest of the day in her workshop. Valerie discovered she enjoyed cooking for two people, even if it was heating up Imogene’s soup or a casserole, and she would have dinner on the table when he came in the door in the evenings. She knew not every day would be like this, but he’d made an effort to give her a schedule, and he was being extremely reliable about it.

  When Quinten came in the door tonight, lines around his mouth and eyes showed a strain that wasn’t normal. Valerie’s gut clenched, but she didn’t say anything, waiting for him to talk in his own time. In the meantime, she plated food and poured him a glass of iced tea to drink with dinner.

  “I’ve got another fight.” He had taken a bite and tossed the words out nonchalantly, but his eyes were focused on her, watching her reaction.

  “I thought you were finished fighting?” She only questioned, not wanting to accuse him of anything. Valerie honestly had nothing against the fighting, except that Quinten might get hurt. She rather enjoyed the macho aspect of it but would never admit how sexy she found it.

  “It’s The Grynderr. He’s insisting on a rematch, and Simon wants to set a trap. I don’t like it at all, but something’s bothering me about the whole situation. Something I’m missing.”

  That brought her up short. She didn’t want him working her case anymore. There couldn’t be someone else out there wanting to do her harm. Nothing else had happened since Elliot had been jailed. Why borrow trouble?

  Valerie didn’t say anything, not really knowing what to say. They had a committed relationship with each other, Quinten had made that clear. But she would never be the type of woman who told him what he could and couldn’t do. Ever.

  Finally, she managed to get something out. “What do you think is the connection?”

  His eyes bored into hers with an intensity that gave her chills. “I have no idea. As far as I can tell, I’m the connection, but that doesn’t make sense. Simon initially arrested the guy years ago, and he gets out of jail and wants to fight me. I’m protecting you. I’m in the middle. But it might not even be about you, so I could just be paranoid.”

  She swallowed, then took a sip of tea before straightening her shoulders. She’d been looking for something to help her with her new process. Valerie had decided she was ready for the public, just not exactly her public. This would be perfect.

  “I want to go see you.”

  Quinten reac
ted almost immediately, his hand fisting his fork. “Absolutely not.”

  “Yes. Jenene and I were talking about this. I think I’m ready.”

  “Then I’ll take you on a picnic in the park or something. You don’t need to go watch a fight. It’s not the right place for you.”

  The danger of the location spoke to all sorts of things inside Valerie, but she knew he wouldn’t understand. She hardly understood it herself. Just discussing it was making her blood heat in a way that wasn’t scary or anxious.

  “You can’t dictate what I do, Quinten. I’m not doing it to you.”

  He sighed, evidently trying to rein in his emotions. “I know, and I appreciate it. But this place isn’t safe on a good day. Throw in an ex-con who may or may not have nefarious motivations, and I don’t want you within a three-mile radius of that place.”

  “You told me to embrace my fear. This is me healing. Don’t try to keep me from this, please.” Reaching across the table, she clutched his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly.

  Quinten’s features melted. “You know I would do anything to help you, Val. But please, just think about this. It’s so dangerous. If it’s a trap, I won’t be able to help protect you because I’ll be in the ring.”

  “You work with an entire group of people whose job it is to protect people,” she pointed out.

  “But they can’t protect you like I can.”

  Part of her knew this was the perfect thing to do, but there were other parts of her that were on Quinten’s side with this. Valerie was bothered the ordeal wasn’t over; there was the possibility of someone else out there who wanted to hurt her. But the fact he was fighting with the sole purpose of finding out for sure gave her hope he was serious in his feelings for her—that they weren’t just doing this because it was fun for now.

  And there was something positively yummy about him going back into the ring he’d returned from in order to fight to protect her.

  “They are part of your team, Quinten. Just like I am. We can do this together. You fight. I’ll watch. Together, we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

  “I still hate it.”

  Imogene made the best lobster rolls Valerie had ever had, so that’s what she asked her to make for her lunch date. She dressed carefully in a wrap dress that flattered her figure and high heels that screamed success. She hadn’t seen her mother in over a year, and Valerie was determined to make it a pleasant visit.

  Without the mask.

  Nobody had seen her without her mask since the trial, except Imogene, Rudy, Brandon, and now, Quinten. The District Attorney had insisted on her going bare-faced for the court proceedings, thinking it would garner sympathy with the jurors and make her a more likeable victim. She wasn’t so sure. The opposing council had made her out to be a complete bitch and a lousy wife who asked for her disfiguration. The length of the jury deliberations had been testament to the fact they almost swung the other way.

  But today, she was going without it again. Before the accident, her mother doted on her looks, calling her beauty her most valuable asset, firmly believing her face would get her anything she ever wanted. And Valerie believed her, because it was Mother.

  She wore makeup but not an extravagant amount. Jenene had talked her away from the contouring, the near spackling foundation, in an attempt to let her “natural beauty” shine through. Valerie would probably never consider herself beautiful, but today, she considered herself presentable. And that was all she wanted.

  After the incident, her mother had plied her with products to reduce scarring: expensive creams, dermal abrasion kits, silicone gel sheeting, and even going so far as to suggest laser surgery. And Valerie had used all the products, but because she had all her mirrors removed, she had no idea how they worked. Every night when she got into bed, her fingers still felt the raised bumps and sunken ridges, and she knew she still had the scars. Especially the one that split her face—the one she was learning to embrace.

  Quinten didn’t seem to mind it, though. He made a point of looking at her face and smiling every chance he got, even touching the raised ridges on her face when they made love. He made her feel so special and beautiful. A part of her was afraid it was all an elaborate trick, even though she trusted Quinten and truly didn’t believe he would do that. But her mind was so used to considering herself ugly, it was hard to think otherwise. But she was working on that.

  After the incident, her mother couldn’t look at her without a shade of horror in her eyes, even with the mask. That was why Valerie hadn’t physically seen her in so long. But it was time. Imogene had been first, besides Quinten, to see her after the police left, then Rudy.

  Now Mother.

  Valerie took a deep breath and wiped her sweaty palms down the front of her dress as a firm knock sounded at her door.

  It was time.

  Her mother swept into the room as soon as Valerie opened the door, eyes glassy with unshed tears. Embracing her daughter in a bear hug, she whispered in a hoarse voice, “Don’t ever go this long without inviting me over again.”

  Valerie pulled away, but her mother held on to her shoulders with a vise-like grip, unwilling to let her go.

  “I’m so happy to see you again, Valerie. You have no idea what it does to a mother to not be able to see her own daughter.”

  Valerie’s throat closed up as she curved her lips into something foreign. She would not cry. This was not something sad. It would not be a sad lunch. It was a celebration.

  Grasping for levity, she said, “Look, Ma, no mask.”

  Her mother smiled widely at her, the watery moment dissipating. A chuckle escaped, and she followed Valerie to the kitchen, where she’d set the island for a casual lunch.

  Sophia Dunaway wore a beige business suit, immaculately cut, with a strand of expensive pearls at her throat. She moved with a grace that was bred into her, as well as taught from a young age. Such as comes with being born with lots of money. She was nearly identical to Valerie in looks and height. Both with blonde hair and emerald green eyes, they were tall and lithe.

  Sophia’s eyes softened when she looked at Valerie over her sandwich. “You look lovely, dear. You’ve always been beautiful, but you are truly magnificent today.” She cut a bite of sandwich with her knife and fork, just as Valerie had suspected she would. “I mean that,” she said, right before putting the bite in her mouth.

  Valerie took a bite and chewed. She couldn’t let the comment go, though, so she spoke around her food, not caring if it was gauche. “Mama, I don’t want to be beautiful anymore. I want to be smart, strong, crafty, anything but beautiful.” She swallowed. “I have spent the last few years dealing with the loss of my beauty, and with it, everything I am. I want to be someone different.”

  Her mother looked down at her plate, concentration etched in her features while she cut another piece off her sandwich and thought about what she was going to say next. Finally, she just put her knife and fork down and reached across the island for Valerie’s hand, clutching it tightly.

  “Of course. I understand that. You’ve always been smart, Valerie. And generous, and loving. You’ve been a joy to me. I hope you understand that. I never meant to imply you’re simply a pretty face.”

  Valerie nodded her acceptance of her mother’s words, even though they’d never been spoken aloud before, and they sort of threw her for a loop. One final squeeze, and Sophia dropped her grip on Valerie’s hand and went back to her sandwich, putting a bite in her mouth and chewing.

  Valerie took another bite and thought about what her mother said. Sophia hadn’t been a hands-off mother per se, but she’d had her share of nannies. She tried to remember who it was who had specifically hammered home the looks thing with her. Maybe it was her dad? Either way, all she could remember were comments about her beauty growing up. No matter who they’d been from.

  “So the battered women’s shelter is building a new fence around their property, thanks to your donations,” her mother spoke up after a few bites
of the sandwich. “This has got to be one of the best lobster rolls I’ve ever had. What does Imogene put in it? I’ll have to get her recipe for Manuel.”

  They had a nice, leisurely lunch, and the serious talk was done. Valerie longed to talk about Quinten, get another woman’s point of view, but she just wasn’t comfortable talking about what they’d shared. It was still too raw, there were too many questions that needed answers. Valerie’s face never came up again, and it seemed natural, not like it was an elephant in the room. Round two was a success.

  Time for round three. Valerie was about to go all in.

  Quinten pushed through the weighted super squats, feeling the stretch all the way up to his ass. It burned; it hurt to tear down the muscles and let them rebuild themselves bigger and stronger. It made him feel like he was doing something productive. He was finally happy. Building a stronger body, about to be done fighting—again—and he had a good woman to go home to every night.

  Andrew was doing some legwork on their new case, and Quinten was taking a break from chasing down paper leads, trying to clear his mind. But, of course, it was on his fight tomorrow night. He’d spent a week on this new case, going home to Valerie every night, but something was niggling at the back of his mind, still. Like he’d taken a trip to Costa Rica and left the oven on.

  He huffed out a grunt as he stood the final time and dropped the weighted barbell to the floor with a clank. On shaky legs, he strode over to the leg machine Jordan had bought for the gym.

  “Pierce?” Detective Hollerman stood in the doorway, waiting to get his attention. Quinten briefly wondered how long he’d been standing there but dismissed the thought. Hollerman was almost on their payroll, anyway. Who cared if he creeped around the office?

  “Yeah,” he grunted as he began his leg curls.

  Hollerman came in and sat down on a bench across from Quinten, patting down his pockets. “I’ve got something I want you to listen to.”

  Quinten stilled himself as he listened to his friend. Hollerman pulled out his phone and swiped the screen, trying to find what he wanted. Then, he set the phone down, and a phlegmy voice came from the speaker on the phone, filling the stale air of the gym.