On the Edge

by Heather Graham, Carla Neggers

  It would be all right. It had to be.

  It was evening when Quinn crossed the state line into Louisiana. They could have gone farther and made better time if they’d stayed on the interstate highways, but Kelly was afraid that if someone was looking for them, they would be too easily spotted that way. Quinn had agreed, so they’d stayed on the old two-lane highways, often being forced to detour due to road construction—once even getting lost. He found it hard to believe that only three days ago he hadn’t known she existed, because now she had become a very important part of his life—so much so that he was playing bodyguard to make sure she stayed alive.

  Kelly had fallen asleep over an hour ago and was now slumped against Quinn’s shoulder, her hands lying loosely in her lap. Quinn could smell his shampoo in her hair. He’d never thought the odor was sexy before, but on her, it was gold-plated.

  Somewhere back in Oklahoma, he’d offered to buy her some more sedate clothing, but Kelly had refused, saying she needed a disguise and the “trashy” look was as good as any. Quinn wasn’t going to tell her, but that “trashy” look, as she called it, looked damn good on her. One of Frank’s favorite country songs had been about a man liking his women a little on the trashy side. He remembered how much he’d teased Frank about the song, but now he got it. Tight blouses and even tighter blue jeans left nothing to the imagination except what Kelly would look like without them. He’d thought of little else all day, and it was driving him crazy.

  An SUV sped past him with the stereo blasting. Even though the windows were up on his truck and the air conditioner was going, it still woke Kelly.

  She sat up with a jerk, instinctively reaching for her gun, only the last time she’d had her gun had been at Ortega’s Mexican hacienda. She saw Quinn, remembered where she was, and sat back with a sigh.

  “Where are we?”

  “Welcome to Tuskeegee, Louisiana,” he said softly.

  Her eyes widened. “Louisiana…as in…beignets and café au lait Louisiana?”

  Quinn smiled. “That makes you happy?”

  “Oh, yeah…so now you know my secret.”

  “What’s that?” Quinn asked.

  “That I can be had for coffee and doughnuts…in any form.”

  Quinn threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, God…I don’t believe it. How stereotypical—a coffee and doughnut cop.”

  “What time is it?” she asked, refusing to rise to his taunts.

  “Almost seven. I think it’s time to stop for the night. We need to regroup. I’m going to call Daryl, see if I can find out what’s going on, and then we’ll get something to eat. I’ll even spring for dessert.”

  Kelly nodded, watching as he maneuvered through the small town traffic. She’d never let herself be this dependent before and wasn’t quite sure how to take his help.

  Sensing her discomfort, Quinn asked, “What’s wrong?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing, I guess.”

  “Come on, Sloan…it’s me you’re talking to.”

  Kelly sighed. “It sounds petty.”

  “So?”

  “So, it took me twice as long to become an undercover agent with the DEA as it would have taken a man. No matter what I do, I have to do it better and faster to be accepted. It’s not fair, but it’s just the way things are. I guess what’s bothering me is, the first time I run into really rough water, I wind up letting some man help me.”

  Quinn paused at a stoplight, then turned to her.

  “Honey…by the time I came along, you’d endured what…? Three days of torture, rescued yourself from a boat load of drug runners, killed two of them and mortally wounded the boss. You swam God knows how far toward shore to save yourself before I even came on the scene. Who the hell do you have to be? Superwoman?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Then screw the whole lot of them,” Quinn said. “All you have to know is that they won’t find anything different out from me. I offered to get you to D.C. The rest is your story, okay?”

  There was a knot in the back of Kelly’s throat as she managed to nod.

  “Then we don’t need to hear any more about who’s got the bigger set of—”

  “Stuff it, McCord,” Kelly said. “We both know the answer to that.”

  He was still grinning as the light turned green.

  “There’s a motel up ahead and a little café across the street. Looks like a good place to stop,” Kelly said.

  “See,” Quinn said. “You’re back in charge already.”

  This time Kelly was the one laughing as she punched him lightly on the shoulder.

  A short while later they had a room at the back with two double beds. It wasn’t the Hilton, but for Quinn, who’d been driving all day, the chance to stretch out on that bed made it look like heaven.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  Kelly nodded. “How about you?”

  “I could eat a horse. I’ll settle for a plate of fried catfish and hush puppies.”

  “I promise I’ll pay you back for all this,” Kelly said.

  “I’ll total up the bill when this is all over. For now, just forget about the small stuff, okay?”

  The sincerity on Quinn’s face shamed her. He kept giving and giving without ever asking for anything back. She didn’t know whether it was a skillful ploy on his part or not, but it made a woman thankful—in a very big way.

  “Then let’s go eat. After that, I’ll call in and find out what’s going on.”

  Without giving Kelly time to think, Quinn took her by the hand, and together they crossed the street toward the small town café.

  It wasn’t until they’d come back from supper that their fragile peace was shattered.

  “Are you calling Daryl?” Kelly asked, as Quinn took out his cell phone.

  “Yes. If I call anyone else, then that’s one more person who knows I’m with you, and if they know what you’re traveling in, then that makes you even easier to find.”

  Kelly nodded, then kicked off her red boots and sat cross-legged on the bed as Quinn made the call.

  But the call didn’t go as planned. The phone rang and rang, and Daryl’s answering machine never came on.

  “What’s wrong?” Kelly asked, as Quinn disconnected.

  “Maybe nothing,” Quinn said. “But he didn’t answer, and his machine didn’t kick on. That’s not like Daryl.”

  “He could be at the bar.”

  “Not this early.”

  “Maybe he went out to dinner with some friends.”

  “This is Friday, right?”

  Kelly nodded.

  Quinn glanced at his watch. “And it’s just after seven. Unsolved Mysteries is on television. Daryl never misses it. It’s his favorite show.”

  Kelly leaned forward. “Should we be worried?”

  For a few moments Quinn was silent; then he nodded.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Who can we call to check on him?”

  “There’s this lady who lives across the hall from him. She should know what’s going on.”

  “Do you know her number?”

  “No, but I know her name.”

  He dialed information, got the number and dialed it. When the old woman answered, Quinn quickly introduced himself.

  “Mrs. Weatherly, this is Quinn McCord…Daryl’s friend from Fort Worth. We met last fall, do you remember?”

  “Oh, yes! Of course I do,” the old woman said. “It’s just so awful what happened to Daryl, you know.”

  For a moment, it felt as if Quinn’s heart just stopped.

  “What happened to Daryl, Mrs. Weatherly.”

  “He was beaten badly. He’s in Houston Medical Center. They airlifted him right from the scene.”

  “Where was he when this happened, Mrs. Weatherly?”

  “Oh, at that awful bar he goes to. I’ve told him and told him that he needs to stay away from lowlifes like the people there. Now see what’s happened? I’m just sick about it, you know. I don’t driv
e anymore, and I can’t even go see him.”

  “Okay, Mrs. Weatherly. Thank you for the information.”

  “You find out who did this to him, won’t you? You are a Ranger like Daryl, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am, that I am. And I can assure you this won’t go unpunished.”

  Quinn hung up, then threw his phone across the room. It hit the back of a chair, then dropped into the cushioned seat. Within seconds, Kelly was off the bed and grabbing his arm.

  “What? For God’s sake, talk to me! What happened?”

  “Daryl was life-flighted to Houston Medical. His neighbor said he was badly beaten.”

  Kelly felt sick. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

  “We don’t know that,” Quinn said. “And even if it is, it’s not your fault. It’s that son of a bitch drug runner.”

  “You need to leave. Go be with Daryl. I can rent a car and get myself to D.C. or call my captain. Either way, you’re off the hook.”

  Quinn gripped her shoulders with both hands, his voice shaking with anger.

  “I’m not going anywhere but with you,” he said.

  Kelly retrieved Quinn’s phone, checked to see if it was still in one piece, then handed it to him.

  “Fine, but call Houston first and check on Daryl.”

  Quinn’s hand was shaking as he took the phone. Instead of making the call, he sat down on the side of the bed and dropped his head.

  Kelly slid onto the bed beside him, then laid her hand on his thigh.

  “What’s wrong?”

  When Quinn looked up, there were tears in his eyes.

  “I guess I’m scared he won’t be able to answer.”

  Kelly sighed. “One thing at a time, McCord. Just make the call.”

  5

  “Houston Medical. How may I direct your call?”

  “Daryl Connelly’s room, please.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. He’s in ICU. I’ll connect you with the nurses’ station.”

  ICU? Quinn’s stomach knotted. “Yes, thank you,” he said, and waited to be connected.

  “Fourth floor…ICU nurses’ station.”

  “Ma’am, my name is Quinn McCord. I’m with the Texas Rangers and inquiring about the status of retired Ranger Daryl Connelly.”

  “He’s critical, but stable.”

  “Is there anyone who can tell me what happened to him? Was he robbed? Did he—”

  “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have that kind of information. There was a police officer who gave his name to be contacted as next of kin.”

  Quinn frowned. “Mr. Connelly doesn’t have any next of kin.”

  “But I’m sure that—”

  “No, ma’am. I’ve known him most of my life, and he’s never married. He has no living relatives…anywhere. Do you have the officer’s name?”

  “You need to talk to the doctor. I can’t give out that kind of information.”

  “All I’m asking for is the name of the police officer on record. That’s not privileged information, and you and I both know it.”

  There was a long moment of silence. Then Quinn could hear some whispered conversation in the background, but the nurse wasn’t talking. Just when he thought she’d disconnected, she came back on the line.

  “Yes, well, all right. His name is Travis. Will Travis.”

  Suddenly all the panic Quinn had been feeling dissipated. He knew Will Travis. The hospital must have taken the information down wrong. Whatever was going on, Will would have Daryl’s best interests at heart.

  “May I please have his contact number?”

  Quinn wrote quickly as she rattled off the number, then disconnected. The moment he was off the phone, Kelly grabbed his arm.

  “Quinn…talk to me.”

  “Daryl is in ICU. He’s critical but stable.”

  “Do we know what happened? And please tell me it has nothing to do with me.”

  “I wish I could, but right now I can’t, because I don’t know. However, I’ve got another call to make. There’s a cop who came in with him. Maybe I’ll know something more after I talk to him.”

  “I shouldn’t have stayed. I should have let my captain come get me that first day,” Kelly said, then looked away.

  Her eyes were wide and swimming with tears, but there was a jut to her jaw that told him she would be a fierce enemy if crossed.

  “Yeah, good thinking,” Quinn said. “And if you had, there’s a good chance someone would already be planning your funeral.”

  “Better mine than Daryl’s.”

  Quinn laid down the phone and then cupped her face with his hands. Kelly twisted away, but he caught her again.

  “Look at me, damn it!”

  Kelly turned, meeting his gaze without flinching.

  “You don’t have to like this, but I’m going to say it. What you’re doing matters to all of us. Illegal drugs are, in their own way, as dangerous as bombs. We’re in a war, honey, and you’re on the front line. If Daryl and I got involved, it was because we wanted to.” Then he took a deep breath, his voice softening. “And I’m still in this with you, because, frankly, you’re driving me crazy. I slept beside you for three nights and wanted to hold you in my arms instead of hugging my side of the bed. You’re smart and you’re funny, and I think about you far more than I should. Selfishly, that means I want to keep you alive and in one piece.”

  Kelly was speechless. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say, and yet it echoed something in her that she’d been trying to deny.

  “I don’t know if I can match those wonderful words, but I do know that I am profoundly grateful you were fishing the day I washed up on the beach.” Then she laid her hand on the flat of his chest, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart. “Having only these few days on which to base my feelings for you, you come across as hardheaded, single-minded and something of a wiseass. However, I was always partial to macho-type Texans with dark eyes and nice buns.”

  Quinn grinned as he took her in his arms.

  “So…we finally agree on something,” he said softly, as he traced the arch of her eyebrows with the tip of his finger.

  Kelly shivered as his mouth brushed her lips. Then his hand slid beneath her hair. He cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer until there was nothing between them but heat. The kiss went on and on, until Kelly felt as if this time she was truly drowning and she was ready to let it happen.

  But it was Quinn who was the first to pull back.

  “Hold that thought,” he said. “I’ve got to call Will Travis. He might know something we need to know, and the last thing we can let ourselves do is lose focus. It could get you killed.”

  “Right,” Kelly said, then handed him his phone.

  But she was shaking as she waited for him to call the other number. If Quinn hadn’t stopped, they would have been rolling naked on the bed. If someone had told her she would so easily fall into bed with a man she’d just met, she would have called them a liar. Yet it was happening. She didn’t know whether to attribute it to a real and growing attraction between them, or chalk it up to being in such close quarters with a very sexy man. Either way, it would be only a matter of time before they made love.

  Quinn dialed the number the nurse had given him, then leaned over and kissed Kelly one more time as he waited for the call to be answered. He was admiring Kelly’s Cowgirls Do It in the Mud T-shirt when he heard a man’s voice in his ear.

  “This is Travis.”

  Quinn quickly shifted focus.

  “Travis…this is Ranger Quinn McCord. Daryl Connelly introduced us a couple of years ago at his barbeque, remember?”

  “Yeah, yeah, McCord. I’ve been expecting your call.”

  “What?”

  “I’m assuming you know about Daryl or you wouldn’t have this number. Daryl couldn’t do much talking when they found him. He was beat all to hell. But as soon as he recognized me, he started saying the same thing over and over. ‘Tell Quinn that it’s up to two mil and
I didn’t tell.” Does that mean anything to you?”

  “Jesus,” Quinn muttered. “Yeah, it means something. Put round the clock guards on the old man and don’t let anyone in that room except authorized personnel.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Travis asked.

  “Does the name Dominic Ortega mean anything to you?”

  There was a brief silence, then a heavy exhaled sigh.

  “Oh, yeah. How did Daryl get mixed up with him?”

  “He knows something that could get him killed. Just keep him alive, okay?”

  “I’ll do my best. Is there anything else I can do from this end?”

  Quinn glanced at Kelly, then said, “Can you hang on a minute?”

  “Sure,” Travis said.

  Quinn covered the receiver, then looked at Kelly.

  “It was Ortega. He found out about Daryl, which has to mean he knows about me, too. I don’t know how, but—”

  “The motel,” Kelly said. “Ask your friend if there’ve been any disturbances at the motel where you were staying.”

  Quinn eyed her curiously. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re real good at what you do?”

  “Yes.”

  Quinn returned to the phone. “Travis, can you check and see if there’ve been any disturbances at the Sea Gull Inn?”

  “What does that have to do with—”

  “Just do it. I’ll hold, okay?”

  “It may take a few minutes. Why don’t I call you back?”

  “I’ll hold,” Quinn said.

  “It’s your nickel,” Travis said, and put the call on hold.

  “What’s happening?” Kelly said.

  “He’s checking out your theory, and for what it’s worth, it’s a damn good one.” Then he began to pace. “You know…the only way Ortega’s people would be looking for me is if the men on that boat had gotten my tag number. They had no reason to assume you were with me, and yet they took the number…just in case. I’m thinking they’re just eliminating the suspects, so to speak, in their search to find you. More thorough than I would have guessed.”

  “Ortega isn’t a man who likes failure.” Then she got up from the bed and began to pace. “I can’t believe Ortega isn’t dead. I buried that knife in his chest up to the hilt.” She spun, her face twisted with anger. “How come the bad guys are the hardest to kill? Tell me that, Quinn. How come?”