by Anne Conley
“What the fuck is going on?” Quinten’s eyes searched hers, checking to see she was okay. She nodded at him, trying for a smile, but she was so angry. Argyle had already ruined her life once; did he have to do it again? She was done with him, so why wouldn’t he just go away?
“We’re just having a little reunion.” Argyle’s voice moved from behind her to next to her, and Valerie finally got a look at him. Prison hadn’t changed him much. He was still the oily man his drugs and perversions had created. She shuddered at the look of madness in his eyes. “Me and Brandon have been waiting for this a while, and since she’s taken up with you, she’s been harder to get to.”
“So you’ve been playing her all along? Working together?” Quinten sounded genuinely curious, and Valerie was getting a little weary he wasn’t just kicking ass and getting her out of here. That’s what would happen in her dream, anyway. The reality was, he’d just lost a fight and was probably seriously hurt. But he was still here, and that spoke volumes.
Brandon spoke, “Not exactly. I was genuinely pissed at Argyle for messing up her gorgeous fucking face. It took a while before we got over that. But when we did, it just seemed logical we would work together on this. I had the in as her lawyer, until you convinced her to fire me.”
Quinten schooled his features, actually leaning on the doorframe, mimicking a relaxed pose. Valerie wasn’t fooled, though. He was alert and ready. But his eyelids drooped, hooded, as if he were smoking a cigarette and peering at them through the smoke.
“I thought you guys used her up.” The sneer on Quinten’s face didn’t meet his eyes, which Valerie recognized as holding fear. That was something she could recognize. But Brandon seemed to buy Quinten’s act.
Brandon spoke, moving around behind the desk, resting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. “Nope. We were just making the most of her issues,” he chuckled.
Quinten rubbed his chin, as if deep in thought, but Valerie knew the pose. She’d seen him make it when he was deciding how to love on her, deciding what to fill their drink glasses with, deciding which book to read. It was his decision pose. He was deciding how to kill them. She hoped.
“Raines?”
Argyle laughed. “The perfect fucking pawn. He was entirely too easy. Started as a crush, grew to an obsession. He was so easy to manipulate. Although, you were a little kink in the plans, but we managed that, too.”
Brandon stuffed his hands in his pockets, as if sheepish. “Yeah. When I saw you were the bodyguard, and you said you still fought, it wasn’t super hard to set you up with The Grynderr.”
“I was already set up with The Grynderr, though.” It was as if she wasn’t even there, as if they were sitting around a table drinking scotch. All they needed were cigars.
“Yeah, but dude’s fresh out of prison, looking for a fight. We just gave him some money to get you all sorts of twisted.” Brandon talked like he was explaining a prank he’d pulled on Grandma, the pride in his machinations evident. Valerie recognized it, and Quinten was playing it. “You chased your tail in circles there for a while. Admit it.”
“So what’s the plan? You’ve got us, what’s next?”
Argyle giggled, and Valerie’s skin crawled. She knew that giggle and had hoped she’d never hear it again. This was where Argyle told his wishes for the night. You tie her up over there, and I’ll use my new cattle prod on her until she screams, then we both fuck her, you get the mouth, I’ll take the ass, and when she passes out, we can switch. Sound good?
She closed her eyes, the anger having passed a long time ago. Now, all she could do was stay in the present and hope Quinten knew what he was doing. She trusted him. He would protect her.
“You walked in on Valerie whoring around with that dude over there and killed everybody before turning the gun on yourself. It’ll be a piece of cake.” Argyle was gesturing toward Ryan, and Valerie couldn’t stop the rude noise from coming from her throat. “We can plant evidence to point the cops to the fact she’s been sleeping with you for weeks. Maybe even fucking delivery guys who came to the house. We’ll do all the setups after you guys are dead, right, Brandon?”
“What about Imogene? She hasn’t done anything.” Valerie was too stunned at their plan to think straight. Of course, killing her and Quinten wasn’t a shocker, even though it really should have been. But Imogene? She was one of the nicest people Valerie knew. And Ryan? He was just doing a job. To malign his character by setting him up to be cheating with her was insanity. She’d actually spoken to him about his wife, he was smitten. There was no way.
“Collateral damage. We’ll set her up to have walked in on the killing and get shot in the doorway.”
“Jesus,” Valerie breathed. She wondered where her fear was—her constant companion for the last three years. She could really use some of it now. It was her protection, something familiar she knew how to deal with. Someplace for her to go when it all got to be too much. Without it, this whole situation was just… madness.
“No one would believe it,” Quinten growled, the first indication of how angry he was since he’d gotten there.
Brandon let out a smug laugh. “I happen to know a good lawyer.”
Without warning, Quinten launched himself in the air and over the desk, feet first. Valerie watched it unfold in slow motion as his muscles unfurled, his leg straight out in front of him, face fierce with determination, movements precise. He landed a solid kick on Brandon’s chest. A distinct cracking noise filled the room, and then nothing but wheezes followed it. Quinten had landed on his back on the desk, rolling off to the side before popping up across the desk from Valerie and Argyle.
Argyle bellowed a maniacal laugh as he grabbed Valerie and rolled her chair in front of him. Her next aware thought was that whatever he pressed against her head was cold. And hard.
A gun.
Quinten’s eyes were on her, searching to make sure she was okay, which she was, but suddenly, she was scared.
Here was the fear.
Remembering Quinten’s words, she embraced it, feeling it flow through her, numbing her body, fingertips first. The gray clouded her vision as her heart raced, filling her body with the shattered visions of an anxiety attack.
Masculine yells filled the air, but she didn’t know who they came from. Argyle? Quinten? Someone else?
Ryan was struggling against his restraints in the corner.
A man she knew but couldn’t place—a good guy—came in the doorway, gun drawn and badge displayed.
Then her ears rang with a tremendous booming sound, and an acrid stench filled her nose.
Warmth. Stickiness. Flowing across her face. Familiar, but not welcome. She’d felt this before and didn’t like it. Whatever it was, it brought back memories she didn’t want to visit.
The fear was doing its job, protecting her. Valerie vomited, leaning her head forward and retching all over her lap.
Or maybe that was death.
Was she dying? It felt so good to have her head like this. This way she couldn’t see the man she loved die when Argyle shot him, too.
The man she loved.
She loved Quinten Pierce and she’d been too afraid to tell him. Regret leadened her limbs, tinged the grayness. He’d never know how she felt about him.
Then she passed out.
Quinten panicked when Hollerman fired his weapon. His brain knew Valerie hadn’t been hurt. He’d seen Hollerman shoot at the range, and the dude was a dead shot. But his mind worked against him, seeing her covered in blood right before going limp on the chair.
When Argyle dropped, he vaulted the desk to get by her side, wrestling with the duct tape holding her hands to the arms of the chair. He ignored Brandon, still moaning behind the desk, clutching his chest where Quinten had kicked him.
“Valerie? Sweetheart? Talk to me, Princess.” He wiped blood and other stuff he wasn’t going to think about from her hair and face. Holding her face in his hands, he pleaded with her, “Come on, wake up. You’re okay.”
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Simon came rushing into the room behind him, took one look around, and swore. Turning to Hollerman, he demanded to know what happened. They spoke in hushed murmurs, but all Quinten was aware of was the sight in front of him, trying to make sense of it.
Argyle lay limp and lifeless on the floor behind Valerie, who also lay limp and lifeless in the chair. Both were covered in blood, although Argyle was currently missing a huge chunk of his head.
“Come on, Princess. It’s over.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.
So warm.
“So I took the kill shot. I won’t tell the precinct that, though. As far as they’re concerned, I walked in on a situation, identified myself and tried to gain control but was unable to. When her life was in imminent danger, I took the only shot I had to stop him.” Hearing Hollerman’s words helped his brain process more information, but the truth was, Valerie was still unconscious.
He turned to his older brother, desperate. “Help her, Simon. You have to do something.” He felt so helpless, and for once in his life, Quinten didn’t know what to do.
His brother walked to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I called an ambulance as soon as I heard the shot. I’m sure she’s fine.” His face broke into a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. She’s probably just in shock.” Just in shock. Shock killed people.
Quinten nodded, scooping her up into his arms. “I’m taking her outside. She needs air.” Then he walked out the door and down the narrow flight of stairs to the gym floor. Shock was serious. He needed blankets, pillows, elevation of her feet. His mind raced.
When he hit the bottom step, Valerie’s hand reached up to his face.
Blessed relief.
“Quinten?”
“I got you, Sweetheart. You’re okay,” he whispered, because that’s all he could manage.
Simon had followed them down the stairs. “Get her home. I’ll call you in a while, after we get stories straight.” He handed Quinten car keys, since he hadn’t brought anything out with him except Valerie.
“What happened with The Grynderr?” Not that it mattered now, but if he had anything to do with this, Quinten needed him to pay.
“Hollerman had a unit waiting for you to kick his ass so they could take him to the station.” Simon smiled grimly. “Of course, that didn’t happen exactly the way we’d planned…”
Quinten nodded. “Thanks, bro.”
Without another word, Simon turned to go back inside.
Quinten cuddled Valerie to his chest, needing to have her as close to him as possible, making his way to his car and home. There were blankets and shit at home. He could combat shock there.
Home.
“We’re going home, Baby. We’re going home.” He walked her around to the passenger side and slid her into the seat, but she grabbed his shoulder.
“Quinten?”
“Yeah, Princess?” Even covered in dickhead’s blood, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He cradled her neck, palming her cheek in his hand.
“I realized something back there.” She bit her lip, as if trying to work up nerve to tell him something. He reassured her, using his thumb to wipe her bottom lip, that full, plush bottom lip he dreamed about. “I am completely in love with you.” Her words made something well up inside him. “When I thought Argyle was going to kill you, that’s when I realized I was about to lose the man I loved. It… did something to me. I can’t explain it.”
He kissed her then, unable to stop himself. As his mouth moved over hers, it promised a lifetime of happiness.
“I love you, too, Princess. Let’s get you home.”
Six months later
Valerie fiddled with her mask, looking across the ballroom filled with people, marveling at how far she’d come in such a short period of time. Less than a year ago, she’d been paralyzed with fear at the thought of leaving her house, and now she was the co-host of an event much like the ones she and her parents had been famous for years ago, but this was on a much smaller scale.
During one of Pierce Securities’ monthly picnics at her home instead of Ryan’s, she had met Jordan and his girlfriend, Mia, who ran Grounds for Redemption, a coffee shop in town that helped out women who were victims of violent attacks. They got to talking, and logically, Valerie agreed to help Mia and her partner, Misty, with some fundraising.
Which led her here. Sandwiched between Simon and Bonnie, Valerie was doing her best to keep her heart from pounding out of her chest by periodically brushing against Simon’s sleeve or clutching her water glass. She’d drunk so much water she’d probably have to get up and pee, but that was her way of coping. At least it wasn’t wine, or else she’d be drunk.
She’d only met Quinten’s sister a few times, but the woman’s dark brown curls and charcoal- rimmed eyes were so familiar, she was almost like an extension of Quinten, in some respects. And Simon was still Simon, gruff and no-nonsense, smaller and lighter than Quinten, but with the desire to protect oozing out of his pores.
Quinten, to his credit, had agreed work the charity event as a local celebrity waiter, gaining tips as donations, in addition to the silent auction items and of course, ticket prices. He was here as The Haymaker, waiting tables in a tux, like all the other men, but he wore a pair of boxing gloves around his neck to hint at his celebrity status. He looked dangerous, even as he walked amongst the other celebrity wait staff in his mask. Austin’s mayor was here, with an enormous key to the city around his neck, the Chief of Police wore a badge on his tux, and some local musicians had instruments strapped to their backs.
Mia had come up with the idea of making the event a masquerade. It was an idea she’d had when Valerie said she wasn’t ready to invite all her old big-wig friends. This event was meant to tap into a different market: local Austin business owners. She was wanting to start smaller and work her way back up to the epic proportions she was used to. But when Mia suggested some of the more middle-class patrons would enjoy the opportunity to dress up for a masquerade, Valerie had agreed. And it gave her the opportunity to wear her own mask in this sea of strangers.
Simon had bought a table for the firm, and it was filled with all the people who worked there and their dates: Evan and Page, Ryan and Krista, Miriam and Jake, Jordan and Mia, Andrew and his date, Deena Rae and her date, and Detective Hollerman, who sat with Zack, a blind man who somehow worked for them, although Valerie still couldn’t figure out exactly what he did, but Bonnie seemed very interested in him. And Quinten seemed very interested in not letting them talk to each other. Simon had given Jenene the seat next to him in case Valerie had a meltdown. But so far, she was utilizing familiar strategies to cope, and it seemed to be working.
Valerie watched Bonnie and Zack and Quinten with interest because every time Bonnie tried to instigate a conversation with Zack across the table, Quinten would show up with drinks, refills, or a plate of food, seemingly to purposely interrupt the two. They appeared to have a history, as Bonnie was asking about his parents and such, but Quinten didn’t seem to want them talking.
To distract herself from her own issues, Valerie made a point of watching them closely when she wasn’t watching her man float around his corner of the room, deftly serving people with tight-lipped smiles and murmured words. She knew he wasn’t comfortable in this type of setting, but he was doing his part for her.
“Would it be totally rude of me to switch seats with Dex? I’m not trying to snub you, but I’ve been trying to talk to Zack all night.” Bonnie was leaning over to ask her question in Valerie’s ear.
“Sure! Not a problem! I’ve been watching your brother make a pest of himself.” She wondered who Dex was but figured it out when Bonnie switched seats with Detective Hollerman. She laughed into her napkin. She had never thought to get her savior’s first name.
Bonnie and Zack relaxed into each other, seeming to fall into an old rhythm with one another, so Valerie went back to watching Quinten move.
She love
d watching him move.
Things had settled down since Brandon and Elliot had been put in prison. The Grynderr was having some legal difficulties as well, and Valerie was content in knowing none of them would ever bother her again.
She and Quinten had managed to live in a harmony she hadn’t realized she wanted. He came home from work every night, and she worked on her charity work during the day. She’d even taken a few trips to the Crisis Center to meet with the women and try to offer them some comfort. Without her mask.
She was growing and healing, and Quinten was beside her every step of the way—figuratively if not literally. He hadn’t been to the Crisis Center, and probably wouldn’t go, because the women there had been battered by men, and Quinten’s presence wouldn’t help them much. But he supported her the best he could.
Bonnie and Simon had come over a couple of times for dinner, and they’d all been very nice. She and Bonnie had a lot in common, and Valerie got along with Quinten’s baby sister better than he really wanted. After tonight, Valerie wanted to invite the woman out for a girls’ night so she could get the scoop about Zack. She finally had someone to “dish” with besides her therapist.
Valerie smiled to herself as Quinten set her dessert plate in front of her with a wink. “I had this one made extra special, just for my girl.” His voice in her ear sent a wave of goose bumps across her flesh as he made his way around the table with the other desserts.
Valerie was just getting to the good part of her molten lava cake when a ruckus across the table caught her attention. She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth to see Bonnie absolutely lose it with Quinten.
“Are you serious right now?” She was standing, pushing Quinten, who wasn’t moving. Zack sat in his seat, covered in plates of lava cake that Quinten had apparently dropped in his lap. “You did that on purpose! There is no way, all night long, you’ve been accidentally keeping us from talking. Now that I’m next to him, you’re being a bully!” Bonnie cocked her arm and punched Quinten across his face. He reacted by grabbing her arms and pushing her away from him firmly.
