The Truth (Butler Ranch Book 5)

by Heather Slade

  “Can we go home?” she asked when he got in. “I mean back to the house.”

  “Yes.” He nodded, thankful it was only a couple of blocks away, gated, and under constant surveillance. Once they arrived, he’d ask her what she was feeling, but for now, he had to stay alert and focused. His phone pinged as they approached the gate.

  “Hurry up,” he muttered, willing it to open more quickly. If she was going to spend any time here at all, they needed to have a new one installed. He stopped just inside and waited for it to close behind them, and then pulled into the garage. He closed that too, and told Quinn to wait where she was. He got out and checked his phone before going in to check the house.

  Evacuate. Transport situation? the text from Paps said.

  Car. Safe now?

  Five minutes max. Backup just arrived.

  17

  “What’s going on?” Quinn asked when he got back in the car, opened the garage, and pulled out.

  “We’re leaving.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.” Mercer eased through the gate, and made eye contact with his backup.

  One SUV pulled out in front of them, and another followed. Mercer didn’t know what was going on any more than Quinn did, but it was bad, whatever it was.

  He followed the lead vehicle through the twisting, turning backroads of Montecito, until it pulled up to another gate, waited, and then pulled through. Mercer followed.

  “Hey, Eighty-eight,” said Razor, getting out of the SUV after the gate closed behind the Porsche. “Damn nice ride you got there. I always loved that car. Hey, Skipper.” He waved when she climbed out.

  She waved back and stood by the car.

  Good girl, thought Mercer as he approached Razor. “Give me the rundown.”

  “Surveillance picked up someone we didn’t recognize, paying too much attention to the house. Ran the car, facial recognition, and nothing came up.”

  “Could be nothing, but I still want her gone.”

  “No can do. She’s staying put, meaning with us, until further notice.”

  Mercer looked Razor in the eye. “Who’s in New York?”

  “Who do you think?” he answered, looking in Quinn’s direction.

  “Roger.” Mercer turned and waved her over. “We have to leave. I’m sorry we can’t stay longer.”

  “We, meaning me too?”

  Mercer nodded.

  “Good. Should I get in?” She motioned to the SUV.

  “I like her,” said Razor, putting his hand on the back of her neck. “She’s getting better at doing what she’s told.”

  Quinn rolled her eyes, but she also had her arms folded tightly in front of her. She was afraid, and those were her instincts doing what they were supposed to. “Do I have to lie on the floor?”

  Razor nodded, and she climbed in the back.

  “I hate this part,” Mercer heard her say. He closed the door behind her and walked to the back of the vehicle.

  “Who’s in New York?” he asked again.

  “Russians.”

  “Fuck. Where?”

  “Nowhere important yet, but if you’re here, she’s going to be too.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Carsick yet, Skipper?” Razor asked after they’d been on the road for a few minutes.

  “Can’t you take the highway? It goes straight, you know.”

  “You told me that made you sick the other night.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Razor smiled, but Mercer didn’t feel like smiling. Things were about to come to a head, and he didn’t want any of it to touch Quinn.

  “What about the car?” she asked.

  “What’s that?” Mercer asked.

  “The car,” she said again, louder than she needed to.

  “You can get up now,” Razor told her. “She doesn’t like sitting in the back seat, either,” he said to Mercer.

  “We’ll switch when we can.”

  “So the car,” she said again. “You just left it at that house.”

  Razor shook his head. “She doesn’t want to know anything else, just what’s gonna happen to the Porsche.”

  She asks the questions she can, thought Mercer.

  “It’s back in the garage by now,” he told her.

  “What kind of car is it?”

  “A Porsche,” Razor answered.

  “I know that much. What kind of Porsche?”

  “A 1962 Porsche 356B T6 Twin Grille Roadster.”

  Mercer could hear their banter, but his mind was racing, crafting a plan. Tonight he’d finish sifting through what he’d taken out of the cabin. Maybe, with Paps and Razor’s help, they’d find more on Calder that they could do something with.

  “A shit-ton of money,” he heard Razor say.

  He’d missed whatever Quinn had asked.

  “How much?”

  “Almost a half a mil.”

  “Oh.”

  “That shut her up,” Razor muttered to Mercer.

  “I can hear you, you know.”

  When Razor laughed, Mercer zoned out again, happy that his partner was giving him the time he needed to think.

  A few minutes later, Razor pulled to the side of the road. “Time to switch,” he said. “You drive. I’ll get in back.”

  Mercer nodded, got out, and opened Quinn’s door. He ran his fingers through her hair when she stood in front of him. “How are you holding up?”

  “Scared shitless,” she answered, surprising him.

  “You’re covering it well.”

  “I’m learning.”

  He kissed the side of her face, and then her forehead. “Do you know how amazing you are?”

  She shook her head and looked away from him, but he turned her face back toward him. “So fucking amazing.”

  Razor let out a whistle. “Come on, let’s go.”

  It wasn’t long before Quinn fell asleep, giving Mercer more time to think. Who were the Russians in New York, and why were they on Paps and Razor’s radar?

  “Don’t pull off in Harmony,” Razor told him.

  “Where am I going?”

  “Little place called Cambria Motor Lodge.”

  Mercer knew it. It had been updated not too long ago, but the layout of the place was ideal. It backed to the highway and was well-lit, and the frontage was wide open to the Pacific Ocean.

  Mercer looked over at Quinn who had shifted in the seat, but was still asleep. “I wanted to go through the contents of the box today.”

  “Paps is elbows deep. Plans to get to the bottom by the end of the day.”

  “Did he find anything?”

  Mercer could see Razor’s nod from the rearview mirror.

  Razor went inside so Mercer didn’t have to, got the room key, and then pointed to where he should park the SUV. “Your transport should be here any minute,” he told him.

  Mercer nodded, not paying much attention. They moved cars around like checkers in their line of work. He didn’t really care what he got, as long as it was safe, and he could get Quinn wherever he needed to take her.

  “What the hell?” Mercer muttered when he saw the pale yellow Porsche pull in the space next to them. “How’d you manage this?”

  “Practically flew the damn thing up here.” Razor motioned to Quinn. “She likes it.”

  “You like her.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Me too,” said Mercer, leaning over to wake her up.

  “We’re here,” he said, stroking her cheek with his finger.

  She sat straight up and looked around. “I always do that. I’m sorry.” She looked out the back of the SUV. “Are we back in Cambria?”

  Mercer nodded, and then saw her eyes light up when she looked past him and the car registered.

  “It’s here!” She clapped her hands and looked at Razor. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, how do you know I didn’t arrange for it to be here?”

  Both Quinn and Razor laughed. He didn’t get the joke, but he wa
s too happy to see her smile to care. He got out, walked to her side of the SUV, and opened her door.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “For what? Evidently, you know I didn’t have the car delivered,” he joked.

  “Not for the car, Mr. Mercer, for loving me enough not to let me go.”

  Razor tossed him the key to the Porsche, got in the SUV, and waved. “Be in touch shortly.”

  The room was small, but had everything in it they needed—a king-size bed, a fireplace, and a shower. On the table near the window, there was a bottle of wine, and two glasses, and a plate with fruit, different types of meats and cheeses, and bread, which looked as though it had just been delivered. Next to it was a menu from the Sea Chest, which was a short walk from the motel, with a note attached telling them to call a certain number when they were ready to order dinner.

  Mercer turned around and saw Quinn sitting on the bed, staring into space. “Everything okay?” That was the best he could come up with? Of course everything wasn’t okay. Her life had been turned upside down and sideways in the last few days.

  “I’m fine, Mr. Mercer,” she smiled. “I just want to take a shower.” She got up and looked in the bathroom. “At least there are robes.”

  His first thought was that he didn’t intend to let her wear clothes after their shower anyway, but he took a couple of steps back from that. While he’d loved having her naked body next to his last night, they needed to talk about where their relationship stood before he ravished her. Plus, he’d gotten a text from Razor, saying both her and his bags would be delivered within the next hour.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

  “Clothes,” he answered.

  “I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t need any right away.”

  Mercer raised his eyebrow. “We should talk, Quinn.”

  “No, we shouldn’t. And I prefer ‘precious’ over ‘Quinn.’”

  “Yesterday you told me not to call you that.”

  “That was before I knew how much you love me.”

  “You didn’t know that before?”

  “I did, but today I felt it in a different way. I get it, Mercer. It’s hard because I’m still pissed that you lied to me, but I know why you did—because you love me so much.”

  “I do.”

  “So show me.”

  —:—

  “You told me that sex hadn’t been this good for you before. That’s not really what you said, but something like that. Something about a love so deep that you can feel the other person in your heart. When it’s that right, nothing else will ever be again.”

  “That’s right, precious. What we have, has never and will never be just sex. It’s love.”

  “I know.” She trailed her fingers over the tattoo on his chest, knowing the true significance of it for the first time. Mercer was her guardian angel and her protector, just like she’d said so many times.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  She smiled. “You.”

  “Are you hungry yet?”

  She nodded. “Starving, actually.”

  They spent the afternoon first in the shower, and then in bed, taking their time exploring each other’s bodies. Each time he’d ask before if she was hungry. They ended up feasting on each other rather than the food that sat on the table, waiting to be eaten.

  “Where is the restaurant?” she asked.

  “Just down the road, but they’ll deliver.”

  “We could—”

  The look on Mercer’s face told her that whatever she was going to recommend, was out of the question. Which meant a walk on the beach was probably out of the question too. When she turned around, Mercer was studying her.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Is my mother somewhere safe?”

  “She is.”

  “Somewhere she doesn’t have to hide out in a room?” The question sounded harsher than she’d meant it to. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Mercer was looking at his phone. Maybe he hadn’t even heard what she said.

  Quinn pulled the curtains back and peeked outside. The Porsche was covered up like it had been in the garage. Razor must’ve done that when he dropped off their bags.

  “Let’s get dressed.” Mercer set his phone down and walked over to where she stood by the window.

  “Why? I mean, we can’t go anywhere, right?”

  “Wrong. I’ve made arrangements for us to be able to have dinner out.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Do we need a reservation?”

  “Everything is taken care of.”

  “Let me ask a different way. Do we have time for another shower?”

  Mercer smiled, pulling her toward the bathroom as she slipped the robe off her shoulders.

  —:—

  Hiding wasn’t something Quinn would be good at. She hadn’t spent her life looking over her shoulder like her mother had. He’d sent a text to Razor, asking if he could make arrangements for him to take her somewhere for dinner. He’d answered within seconds, saying he’d take care of it.

  I’ll arrange for transport too, he’d added.

  That sounded good. Bringing the Porsche here for Quinn had been sweet, but completely impractical.

  Plan to relocate in the morning, he’d added, which was also welcome news.

  He knew that bringing them to the motel had been necessary, but it couldn’t work for more than one night.

  Mercer knew that, between the time Razor dropped them off and tomorrow morning, a safe house would be set up for Quinn. Until they took her there, Mercer would have no idea where it would be or what kind of freedom she’d have while she was there.

  What he really wanted was for her to be able to go back to the house in Montecito. The place had been designed as a fortress, albeit one with outdated technology. Maybe tomorrow he’d offer to oversee a security update on the property, so eventually, she could stay there until it was safe for her to return to New York.

  By the time his phone pinged, Quinn was antsy.

  “Are you okay, precious?” he asked before he opened the door for them to leave.

  “Can I have my phone back?” she asked.

  “Of course you can,” he answered.

  “Will it work?”

  “Why wouldn’t it?”

  “Tabon told me that it stopped working when I landed at the airport in San Luis Obispo.”

  “I’ll make sure it’s working, Quinn, and if it isn’t, we’ll get you a new one.”

  He watched as she went from antsy to agitated.

  “I don’t want a new one. I want my phone.”

  “You got it.”

  Quinn looked into his eyes. “Do you promise?”

  Mercer nodded. It was an easy promise to make. Copies of the photos she’d taken at the cabin had been downloaded.

  18

  “It’s got to be you, me, or Paps on Quinn’s detail,” Mercer said to Razor the next day. “I don’t trust anyone else.”

  “What about Burns?”

  Someone Mercer hadn’t considered, but certainly a possibility, although would he be up for it, both in willingness and in ability?

  “Last resort, how’s that?” Razor added. “By the way, Naughton saw Burns in Harmony this morning.”

  “Is it something we need to be concerned about?”

  “Not sure.”

  Mercer asked for an update on Calder.

  “Paps thinks he’s getting ready to move. He’s picked up some chatter on another vineyard scheduled to be hit, but hasn’t been able to pinpoint who, what, or when.”

  The news wasn’t a surprise. Mercer’s gut told him Calder was going to do something for his coup de grâce after the relatively spectacular failures his last two attempts at sabotaging a winery had been.

  The bond issue had gone nowhere with Los Caballeros, and while the fire at Butler Ranch had cause
d damage, there were enough vineyards spared that, combined with the insurance on those that were destroyed, the family wouldn’t take too great of a financial hit.

  Based on what he’d learned from Paps, Calder had to be seething, particularly over Butler Ranch. Once again, Doc had bested him, whether he was still alive or not. It was Doc’s team—Paps and him—that called the fire in early enough that it was contained quickly.

  Acting on a tip from Paps, the California Bureau of Investigation had arrested Vatos for arson, although the news would not be made public until tomorrow at the earliest. By then, the local sheriff’s department would be the agency of record for the arrest. While Vatos was too well known in the area for the CBI to spin a story that would stick for very long, for the next twenty-four hours at least, word on the street would be the fire was started by a migrant farm worker.

  “Can I come out?” Quinn asked, peeking through a crack in the hotel room door.

  “Good morning, Skipper,” Razor answered, motioning for her to join them.

  The house they’d arranged for Quinn to stay in was between Cambria and Paso Robles, on a large ranch in the hills off Green Valley Road.

  The property was owned by one of Randolph Hearst’s grandchildren, who’d been abducted as a teenager. Years after her release, she’d had a compound built with the same security one might see at a prison, only this kept the bad guys out rather than in. Not only was the place secure, there were miles of dirt roads where Quinn could learn and practice driving a manual transmission car. The woman had named it Happy Valley Ranch, and Mercer hoped it proved to live up to its name for as long as they needed to keep Quinn holed up there.

  “It can’t be that difficult. Have you ever learned yourself?” Quinn asked, teasing Razor in the same way he teased her. She’d mentioned something about him making a good big brother, and the two of them had sibling rivalry down pat.

  “By the way,” Mercer heard her say. “Thank you for arranging dinner last night.”

  Razor had contacted the owner of the Sea Chest, and convinced him to open a private room in the back for them. They’d had to enter through the kitchen, but once they were inside, it was private and romantic.