“Love you, too.” Carter disconnected. Leaning forward to place his cell phone on the coffee table, the medic alert pendant that hung on a cord around his neck bumped against his chest. He had conceded to himself days ago that it made sense to have the device on him when he was here alone, and he had put it on soon after Quinn’s departure.
Quinn. Suppressing a sigh, he massaged his closed eyelids. He wondered why he had bared his soul to her like he had tonight. It surprised him it mattered so much what she thought of him.
Carter sat back in tense silence. Seeing Bianca on television had his mind grasping again for some memory of that night. He recalled the gala, then driving them to his home afterward, even though they were scheduled to attend an afterparty. He hadn’t been in the mood to go. He remembered them entering his foyer, but the memory ended there, as if it were film on a projector that had stopped working, leaving the theater dark.
Barking erupted from somewhere else inside the large house, pulling him from his thoughts. When it didn’t stop and the dog didn’t come when called, Carter reached for his cane and went to investigate. He found Doug pacing in front of the tall windows in the solarium, his attention on the beach below.
“What is it, boy?” Carter approached the windows, too. Moonlight illuminated the stretch of pale sand, but he saw nothing except the whitecaps of breaking waves. He scanned the area again, certain there had to be a reason for the dog’s alert. A moment later, his skin tingled. He had been looking too far out. A shadowed figure was much closer to the property, at the gate closing off the high wood stairs that led up from the beach.
He squinted in bafflement. Quinn?
He couldn’t see her face or body, only the russet mass of her hair being whipped by the wind. Doug’s whine indicated he recognized her, too.
What the hell was she doing down there? She had left nearly an hour ago by car.
She had the passcode to the beachside entrance, which was the same code used to gain access at the front drive. Still, Carter went to the wall console and buzzed the gate where she stood so it unlocked. Then he took the elevator down to the bottom floor and went out to the rear terrace, Doug at his side.
“Quinn?” he called, cursing his slow pace with the cane. He was coatless, and the day’s mild temperature had dropped with nightfall. Doug raced ahead of him on the terrace, meeting Quinn at the top of the steps.
As Carter neared, his concern grew. Her face appeared pale, and what looked like droplets of dried blood flecked one cheek.
“Quinn,” he murmured, breathless from his trek. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“The car…I’m sorry,” she stammered, her reddened eyes meeting his for only a moment before she averted her gaze. Did she have an accident? Why did she return on foot instead of using her cell to call for help? But the questions died in his throat. Quinn covered her face with her hands.
Dropping his cane on a nearby chaise, Carter closed the distance between them.
“Hey,” he said softly, pulling her against him. He used his left hand to cup the back of her head and stroke her tangled hair. She shook like a freezing child, not fighting his embrace, instead pressing her face into his chest.
“It’s okay,” he said, his heart tugging as she tried unsuccessfully to contain a sob. Quinn had been a source of strength for him these last several days. Seeing her distraught caused a swell of protectiveness inside him. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to call for paramedics?” He indicated the medic alert pendant he wore, trying to show her, to do something that would stop her tears. “Look. I’m fully wired. You need them, I’m your man.”
He felt her head shake against his chest. “No,” she whispered.
Despite his need to know what had happened, he remained silent, holding her as firmly as his injured shoulder would allow, until finally she released him and took a small step back, wiping her eyes, appearing embarrassed. “The car’s about a mile down the road. I don’t know how much damage—”
“I don’t care about the car, Quinn. Are you okay?”
She nodded, her arms clasped around herself. “I-I think so.”
Gently, he cupped her jaw and tilted her face upward so he could get a better look at the small cuts on her cheek under the terrace lights. “What happened?”
She wavered before speaking. “There was another car. The driver crashed into me from a side street. He…wasn’t hurt.”
“You’re sure?” Carter frowned. “Where’s this guy now?”
She rubbed her forehead. “I-I don’t know.”
He listened in bewilderment. “He hit you and just took off?”
Quinn bit her lip, and he noticed her shivering had increased. Intuition made his heart beat harder. He didn’t like this.
“Let’s go inside where it’s warm. And then you’re going to tell me exactly what happened.”
* * *
Seeing the house from the beach, its interior drenched in warm light, had been like a beacon to Quinn. But as she had neared, dread over what to tell Carter had taken hold. She had been at the gate trying to gain her composure when he had buzzed it open. Humiliated by her breakdown, she now sat upstairs on the sofa. Carter had taken a seat in the adjacent chair, pulled so close their knees nearly touched. Leaning forward, he slid the crystal tumbler on the coffee table closer.
“Here, drink this. It’ll help.”
Hesitating, Quinn picked up the glass. As she swallowed, the aged scotch nearly stole her breath. Wiping her hand over her lips, she set the glass down again, feeling the alcohol’s slow heat slide down her throat and into her stomach.
“What’s going on, Quinn?” Carter asked, his brow creased. “Full disclosure.”
He had a right to know. The car had been leased through his production company. Police and insurance reports would have to be filed. She had to tell him. Quinn stared at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “The car that hit me…it was the one I saw outside here a few nights ago.”
“A pap hit you?”
She knew the anger in his voice was concern. “It wasn’t a photographer. And he was here watching me, not you. I know that now. Probably establishing a pattern, my comings and goings. I’m…sure Jake sent him.”
Carter sat rigidly as he waited for her to continue.
“The driver hit me on purpose.” Fresh anxiety coursed through her. “When he got out of his car and started coming toward me, I knew something was wrong. I locked the doors, but he had something—it looked like a small baton. He used it to shatter the window.”
When she had gone into the powder room to try to clean up, she had seen the small cuts on her cheek from the flying glass.
“Did he hurt you?” Carter’s jaw clenched. “He didn’t try to—”
“No. He pulled me out of the car, though. I thought at first that…” Her voice thickened, and she stopped. When the man had thrown her down on the beach, she had been certain she was going to be beaten, raped or worse. She forced herself to continue. “I took a self-defense course in San Francisco. They taught you the most vulnerable places—the eyes, groin, knees. I got away from him, but the only path was to the beach.”
She stole a look at Carter, her stomach tense. As he listened, his eyes were stormy, his mouth a hard line.
“I-I tried, but I couldn’t outrun him. But instead of attacking me, he took my cell phone. He deleted my messages and threw it in the water, along with the car keys.” She shook her head, still in disbelief. “Then he just turned and walked away.”
“What were in the messages, Quinn?” Carter pressed.
She hung her head, unable to bring herself to tell him what the messages had said. How, in the last message, Jake had described in lurid detail the things he had done to her and gloated that she had liked it. He had also threatened to bring her back home by force and imprison her in his house.
“It would be enough to get a restraining order this time.” She clenched her hands together harder. “Jake came to my mother’s last
weekend to try to get me to go back to San Francisco with him and stop the divorce. I told him if he didn’t leave town, I’d give the messages to the Rarity Cove Police.”
But she knew what had happened tonight was about more than just getting rid of the messages. Jake had intended to scare her, to let her know he was still in control. Carter was speaking to her, she realized dully.
“You said this time,” he repeated, a tightening around his eyes. “I’ve heard things about Medero. Was he abusive to you? God. You didn’t lose the baby because—”
“No.” Her brain was in tumult. She couldn’t tell him about her sex life with Jake. It hadn’t been abuse at first—the dominance and submission games, the roleplaying had all been consensual. The abusive part had come when Jake had repeatedly violated the boundaries she’d set, pushing her limits. When he had given his best friend permission to have her.
“It’s not what you think,” she managed.
“Then tell me.”
Quinn was angry with herself that she had let it slip that she had tried to get a restraining order once before. She had desperately wanted to dissolve her marriage to Jake with minimal drama. It was the reason she had kept quiet about Mike Buczek. But following the break-in at her apartment, she felt she had been left with no choice. Fortunately, the press hadn’t gotten wind of her filing with the court.
“I tried to get a restraining order after we were separated,” she recounted. “I’d already moved out of his house and into an apartment in the Mission District, where I lived before. But Jake was watching me. I’d see his car outside almost nightly, when he wasn’t on the road with the team.” At the memory, her stomach clenched. Jake’s Maserati had been impossible to miss. “One night, I went out onto the street and confronted him. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. He left.” An ache entered her throat. “But the next night, I came home to find my belongings destroyed, most of the clothes in my closet shredded.” She passed a nervous hand over her eyes. “My…bedding had been urinated on. I knew in my heart Jake was behind it, just like tonight.”
Carter shook his head, a mounting anger in his eyes.
“The judge denied my request,” she said on a small sigh. “Jake had an alibi—the night of the break-in, he was out of town for a game. There was no evidence connecting him. There were no prints, and the DNA profile from the urine wasn’t a match. The judge treated Jake like a hometown hero who was being inconvenienced.” Quinn took a breath, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “Jake approached me outside the courtroom afterward. He again claimed his innocence and voiced his concern for me. But he also warned me my neighborhood was dangerous and that I should come back home before something worse happened. I took it as a threat.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Two weeks ago.” Weariness settled over her. “I put my things—what was left of them—in storage and booked a flight home. I didn’t know what else to do. I only knew I had to get away from him.”
“And then Medero showed up here.” Carter ran a hand over his mouth, his features hard.
“He’s back in San Francisco now.” Quinn picked at her nails. “The Breakers are in the playoffs.”
“But what about this guy tonight? If you can describe him to the police, they may be able to pick him up. If they find him, he might fess up that Medero hired him.”
“I doubt he’s from around here. More than likely, he’s already gone.”
Aware she needed to explain, Quinn nervously raked a hand through her hair, tangled from the ocean breeze. “If you follow sports, you probably know Jake had a bad childhood. The press loves his story.” Thinking of how she had at first been so deeply moved by his background, bitterness pooled inside her. “He grew up in poverty in Sacramento, and ran with a gang before sports gave him a way out. The man who hit me had the same tattoo on the inside of his wrist that Jake has. It’s a gang sign. I found out after Jake and I were married that he still keeps connections to them.”
Carter appeared resolute. “We have to call the police.”
Her insides quivered. She thought of the crashed Mercedes. Her wallet and other belongings were still inside it, unless they had been taken. For all she knew, the car that had hit her wasn’t drivable and could still be there, as well. If it had been left behind, there could be fingerprints or other evidence. The man had touched the door handle of her car, too. He had been a gang member, so there was a good chance he would be in the system.
“I know we need to report this.” Still, Quinn briefly covered her eyes with her hand.
“It’s going to be okay.” Leaning closer, Carter slipped a hand under her hair and gently cupped the back of her neck.
The secrets she had brought with her from San Francisco were beginning to seep out. Feeling almost nauseated, Quinn waited in silence as Carter used his cell phone to call the Rarity Cove Police.
Chapter Fourteen
Quinn watched as the two police officers who had been dispatched to the house used their cell phones to snap selfies with Carter. Despite his smile and easy demeanor, she could see the faint lines of fatigue visible around his eyes. She knew he didn’t want to be photographed while appearing frailer than his public persona, and she felt horrible for having drawn him into her problems.
Prior to their arrival at the house, the police had located the crashed Mercedes, although the other car had disappeared. The officers had returned her personal items, which, miraculously, had been left untouched inside the car. Quinn had described her assailant and his vehicle to them in as much detail as she could. And while she had haltingly stated her belief that the man had been hired by her soon-to-be ex-husband, she had no proof. She had noticed the officers exchanging glances when she’d given them Jake’s name.
As Carter escorted the policemen to the door, Quinn went to check on Doug, who had been placed in another room until they were alone again.
“You okay?” he asked when she returned with the dog.
“I’m so sorry about this.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He turned back toward the entry hall as the door opened again. Mark and Samantha entered, their expressions indicating they had seen the officers outside. Tail wagging, Doug went to greet them.
“The police said you were in an accident.” Samantha looked worriedly at Quinn. It appeared they had been out somewhere, since Samantha wore a cocktail dress underneath her coat, and Mark was in a business suit.
“I’m fine.” Quinn lowered her gaze.
Mark came over and embraced her. “What happened?”
“What’re you doing here?” Carter’s question kept her from having to explain.
“We had a Chamber event,” Mark said. “We thought we’d come by on the way home to check on you. The police were leaving as we pulled in.”
“Quinn got T-boned,” Carter supplied.
“We saw a tow truck down the road.” Laying her purse on the table, Samantha slid out of her coat. “There was a silver Mercedes in the brush. It looked pretty banged up.”
“That would be me.” Quinn attempted a weak smile, but it faltered. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going upstairs to put some cool water on my face.”
She went up the staircase, bypassing the elevator. On the landing, she turned into the first bedroom, knowing Carter had the master suite on the other side of the hall. The room was elegant, with an ironwork bed and antique furniture. She closed the door behind her. Sinking onto the mattress edge, she released a weary breath. Her body felt sore from the wreck’s impact, and she pressed her fingers to her closed eyelids. What Jake had done—risking her life to make a point—proved again that whatever it was he felt for her, it wasn’t love.
She hadn’t meant to break down in front of Carter like she had. His kindness to her made her throat ache.
A knock sounded on the door. Quinn looked up to see Samantha standing on its threshold.
“Carter suggested I che
ck on you,” she said, her eyes soft. She looked sophisticated in her evening attire, her raven hair pulled back into a bun to reveal diamond drop earrings.
“What happened tonight wasn’t just a random car accident,” Quinn confessed quietly.
Samantha sat beside her. “I gathered that from what I heard between Carter and Mark. I think Carter sent me up here so they could talk.”
“I’m sure Jake—my husband—was behind it. We’re legally separated, but…” Quinn faltered. “It’s gotten messy.” An understatement. She shook her head. “I don’t know what you must think of me, bringing all this insanity here.”
“I know more about insanity than you think.” Samantha touched her arm. “Quinn…we don’t really know each other that well yet. But if you need a friend, I’m here.”
* * *
“Do you think he did something to cause the miscarriage?” His features taut, Mark kept his voice low. “That would explain the separation so soon after losing the baby.”
Carter was seated on the sofa. He had taken the opportunity of Quinn’s absence to fill Mark in on what had really gone down tonight. He had told him pretty much everything he knew, including the break-in at Quinn’s apartment that had spurred her exodus from San Francisco. “She says no. I asked her flat out if he’d ever abused her.”
But her evasiveness, the way her eyes had averted from his, bothered him.
“If he was behind what happened tonight, that’s pretty abusive.” Mark paced a few steps. “Her car took a hard hit. She should be checked out by a doctor.”
“I agree.”
“What do you know about Medero? Beyond the whole pro ball thing?”
The professional sports world and Hollywood overlapped. Although their paths had never crossed directly, Carter had heard of Medero’s presence at LA parties and high-profile nightclubs. “There was some talk about him beating up a sound editor at a wrap party a few years ago. Medero supposedly got rough with a woman, and the guy stepped in. Nothing came of it, though. No charges were filed.”
Low Tide: Rarity Cove Book Two Page 11
