“It looks good on her.” Mr. Kent toasted her with his glass. Quinn smiled politely, then returned her eyes to her mother, who was about to stand up from the table. Quinn indicated for her to remain seated.
“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten. And if you don’t mind, I’m going upstairs to my room. It’s been a long day.”
“All right, honey. I want you to stay long enough tomorrow to see off the Kents and the Pickwells, though. They’re leaving.”
She said she would be there. Bidding them good night, she left her duffel where it was and went upstairs. What she had to tell Nora could wait until tomorrow, after her guests were gone. Her mother appeared too happy for Quinn to pull her away. The morning sun would reach her windowsill soon enough.
With some guilt, she skipped her evening yoga practice, the day too much of an emotional drain. Despite the still-early hour, she changed into pajamas and readied for bed, planning to give in to her exhaustion. After leaving the doctor’s office in Charleston, she and Carter had gone to the Rarity Cove Police Station to pick up the police report from Saturday night. Then they’d returned to the beach house and, over dinner, taken the first step of filling out the online forms for requesting a domestic violence restraining order. Carter had also scheduled a phone call for tomorrow between Quinn and an attorney in San Francisco, whom his own counsel in LA had recommended. The attorney would assist her through the court’s various steps and would also try to get a temporary emergency restraining order that would go into effect until a formal hearing could take place. The attorney was from one of the top firms in San Francisco and was far more than she could afford, but Carter had insisted on covering the cost. The first time she had attempted to get a restraining order, she had done so without counsel. Perhaps this time she would be successful.
The truth behind her marriage wasn’t the only thing she would have to talk to Nora about in the morning. Quinn had to forewarn her of the photos that would be published next week.
She had been lying to Nora about her relationship with Carter. Even before their heated kiss, he had become much more than her employer. Working together required close physical contact, but over these last weeks, they had also developed an emotional bond.
Carter was getting better. He wouldn’t be needing her for much longer.
Still, as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help it. She thought of his lips, hard and searching, over hers.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Going to bed so early had been a mistake. Quinn was awake and restless by midnight. Not wanting to wake the household, she left her bedroom and trod quietly down the hall in bare feet. She had been reading a book on her iPad and could use it to pass the time, but she’d left the device in her duffel.
Avoiding the creaks in the staircase, she went to the settee where she had left the bag. As she rummaged through it in the darkness, she heard a noise and looked up, her eyes drawn past the dining room to the kitchen and door leading out to the back patio. Her throat went dry. Someone was outside.
At nearly the same second, the doorknob clicked as it turned. Quinn’s heart clenched.
The door eased open, and a large man entered. He wasn’t one of the male houseguests, and he carried some kind of sack. Breath trapped in her lungs, Quinn shrank back against the wall, out of sight. She could scream to alert the others, but what if he had a gun?
I warned you.
Whoever the intruder was, Jake had sent him, she was sure of it. She just didn’t know why.
She willed herself into action. Reaching over the settee’s arm, Quinn searched blindly again through her duffel, her fingers finally curling around the canister of pepper spray she had purchased weeks ago. Back pressed against the wall, fingers trembling, she managed to release the canister’s safety as footsteps approached. She prayed the intruder wouldn’t hear her shallow breathing or the hammering of her heart.
He passed over the threshold into the living room. At the moment he saw her, Quinn sprang. Finger on the canister’s button, she sprayed him in the face. She screamed as the man howled, dropping the sack and stumbling backward as he clawed at his eyes. Quinn picked up a vase from a table and threw it at him. It bounced off his forehead, knocking him down as the vase shattered. A small trickle of blood ran down his temple.
“Stay on the floor!” She held the pepper spray pointed at him. Her voice sounded high and unnatural, adrenaline pumping through her body. “Don’t move, or I’ll spray you again!”
“Are you crazy?” He writhed on the oriental carpet runner amid the broken china, his face screwed up in pain. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, with a receding hairline. Above her, Quinn was aware of panicked voices and footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Is this some kind of setup?” the man demanded from the floor, trying to open his eyes. “Are you fucking robbing me?”
“What the hell’s going on?” Mr. Kent was the first to reach them. Clad in pajamas, he stared down at the intruder as he flipped on the overhead light. Mr. Pickwell, Nora and the other women rushed down behind him.
Seeing the man, Nora cried out in alarm. Then, “Arnie, there’s a baseball bat in the foyer closet—go get it!”
Mr. Kent was a large man himself, but he moved fast. He returned with the bat and stood over the intruder, waving it menacingly as Nora dialed 911.
“Someone just broke into my home!” She gave the street address to the operator. “We’ve got him down, but you need to hurry! Please!”
None of this seemed real—the houseguests and her mother in distress, all of them in nightclothes, while the man on the floor squinted up at them with reddened eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Now that the lights were on, he didn’t look at all like someone Jake would send to do his dirty work. He appeared confused, even scared. What had he been talking about earlier? Why would she try to rob someone who had broken into her home? Quinn attempted to swallow but couldn’t, her throat like sandpaper. Mrs. Pickwell touched her shoulder. As the woman guided her to the couch across from the settee, Quinn realized she was shaking.
“Sit down, honey,” she said, gently prying the canister of pepper spray from Quinn’s grip. “It’s going to be okay. The police will be here soon.”
Mr. Pickwell had picked up the cloth sack—a pillowcase, actually—that the man had carried inside with him. He looked through the items it held, his features hardening.
Although she was still on the line with the emergency dispatcher, Nora asked, “Is that his? What’s in there?”
“You don’t want to know, Nora.” Frowning, he looked at Mr. Kent. “Keep that bat on him, Arnie. If the sick son of a gun moves an inch, use it on him.”
* * *
“Who is he?” Nora demanded. She and Quinn stood in the driveway with one of the responding police officers. After being briefly treated by paramedics who had also arrived at the scene, the intruder had been handcuffed and placed in the backseat of a patrol car. Wearing a coat over her pajamas, feeling drained and edgy, Quinn was aware of the neighbors who watched curiously from their yards, having been drawn outside by the sirens and flashing lights.
“According to his driver’s license, his name’s Samuel Dunbar,” the officer said. “He’s from Charleston. Says he’s an accountant.”
The B&B’s houseguests had returned inside, although Quinn could see them watching from the window. Nora pulled her bathrobe more tightly around herself. “This makes no sense! Why would an accountant break into my home?”
The officer hesitated, looking at Quinn. “He’s claiming you and he were emailing each other—said you invited him here. Even told him where the key was hidden on the patio.”
Outrage tightened her lungs. “That’s not true. I haven’t emailed him. I don’t even know him!”
“Officer, I don’t know what’s going on, but if my daughter says she’s had no contact with this man, she hasn’t!” Nora’s voice rose. “Now I need you to do your job and find out why he would come here and make these wild c
laims!”
“Why don’t you go back inside with your guests, Mrs. Reese? I need to talk to your daughter alone.”
“No. I’m staying right here.”
“Go inside, Mom,” Quinn said, dread filling her. “It’s okay.”
Nora stood there for another moment, then turned and went into the house. The officer indicated for Quinn to follow him to the rear of one of the police cars. The trunk was open, and the pillowcase the man had been carrying was inside. Its edges had been rolled back to reveal its contents—rope, a ball gag, condoms and several sadistic-looking sex toys. Quinn blanched, feeling sick.
“What else did he tell you?” she asked, a strain in her voice.
The officer was older than the others, with graying hair and a slight paunch. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “He said you put an ad on the Charleston pages of e-Rendezvous.com, under Women Seeking Men.”
Quinn’s heart began to pound. She was familiar with the website, which connected people for dating and sexual activity. It included a personal ads section. Although the site was national, it segmented users into geographic areas.
The officer’s face reddened a bit. “He said you exchanged emails earlier today, and you were, um, pretty specific about what you wanted. Said you gave him your address. He claims you wanted to role-play. He was supposed to break into your home and…” He glanced uncomfortably at the contents of the patrol car’s trunk.
Quinn worked to hold on to her control. “I’ve never had any communication with him, and I didn’t post any ad. This is my mother’s home. It’s a B&B, and we have guests. Why would I plan something like that here?”
His voice gentled, a possible indication he believed her. “Look, we’re going to check into the ad when we get back to the station. Try to get this whole thing figured out. We’ll also contact the website and get the ad taken down.”
She bowed her head, humiliated.
“Miss Reese, we’re a small department, and word gets around. You’ve become something of a frequent flier with us. I know you’ve had two other incidents within the past couple of months. Seems like you’ve got yourself some trouble.”
Quinn sighed, her breath fogging in the cold air. She figured the officers who had come to Carter’s home had been talking to others on the force.
“You’re in the employ of Carter St. Clair?”
“I’m his physical therapist. I’m also going through an ugly divorce,” she admitted. “I know my husband’s behind this. I’m trying to get a restraining order against him.”
“Jake Medero,” the officer said knowingly. He lifted his cap and scratched his head before replacing it. “Well, if there’s evidence he really did post the ad, there may be more than a DVRO in his future. Since he did this from another state, it could be grounds for what’s called felony interstate stalking. Depending on the outcome of our investigation, that could get the feds involved. A conviction comes with a prison term of up to five years.”
“How hard is it to prove?” There had been no way to tie Jake to the car accident or her attacker on the beach.
“Our force here is too small for resources like that, but the experts can most likely track where the emails were sent from.”
“My email was spoofed?”
“No. Otherwise, you’d be seeing replies in your inbox. My guess is someone set up an email account and claimed to be you.”
Another officer who had been across the street, talking to neighbors, joined them.
“We’ll leave a car here for now,” he said to Quinn, indicating the arrestee in the patrol car’s backseat. “In case he’s not the only one who shows up.”
He can have you. They all can.
Quinn’s lungs squeezed. She now understood Jake’s texts. This was his perverse way of exposing her to her mother. He had finally accepted they were over and had gone into full revenge mode.
The older of the officers handed her his card and said he would be in touch. As they closed the trunk and got into their car, Quinn stepped back. The man who had answered the ad stared at her from the backseat as the vehicle pulled out. Face hot, she looked away. One other squad car departed, while another one turned its lights off but stayed behind. The show over, the neighbors began filing back into their homes. As much as she didn’t want to, Quinn turned and went inside, her stomach tense. Nora sat on the couch, a laptop in front of her on the coffee table, while the houseguests stood nearby, their eyes on anything but its screen. Nora looked at Quinn, her face and neck flushed a vivid red. Awkward silence filled the room. In that moment, she wished her mother hadn’t gotten the B&B’s wireless router repaired.
Nora got up and, hand pressed over her mouth, rushed past Quinn.
“Mom?” Quinn called as her mother went up the steps. The guests glanced away, except for Mr. Kent. Clearing his throat, he came to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I…heard the police talking about e-Rendezvous. I mentioned it to your mother, and she got out her laptop.”
“I didn’t place that ad.” Embarrassment choked her. “And I-I swear I’ve had no communication with that man.”
“I believe you, dear. I’m sure your mother believes you, too. She’s just confused and in shock.”
“I’ll go check on her,” Mrs. Kent offered. She stood and went up the staircase, Mrs. Pickwell following. Meanwhile, Mr. Pickwell had closed the laptop, as if that would erase what was on the Internet. Quinn didn’t ask to see it. Instead, her limbs like dead weight, she retrieved her duffel from the settee and took it up to her room.
Once inside and the door closed, she got out her iPad and booted it up, her pulse pounding in her ears.
Based on what the officer had told her, she found the personal ad quickly, under the heading Petite, Pretty Sub Seeking Hardcore Dom. She wanted to vomit. Still, Quinn clicked on the link. Her heart sank at the photo of herself. It was one Jake had taken of her on his cell phone, early in their marriage and in the privacy of their home. Quinn wore a sheer negligee, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. When she had voiced concern about the image, Jake had deleted it…or so he had said.
Thinking of her mother, the houseguests, seeing it, she drew in a shaky breath. Quinn pulled her gaze from the image of herself and read the ad.
My dom and I have broken up. Looking for a new master. Total power exchange. No safe words. No limits.
The email address for inquiries wasn’t hers.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Quinn had waited until the women left her mother’s bedroom. Now, standing outside its closed door, she drew in a breath and knocked before entering. Nora sat on the bed, sniffling as she grasped a crumpled tissue. Quinn hated to see her mother cry, something that had occurred often during her divorce and after Shelley’s death. It felt worse than it did in her memories, since this time she was the cause of it.
“Mom, are you all right?”
When she didn’t respond, Quinn sank onto the bed beside her and touched her knee. “You know I didn’t post that ad, don’t you?”
Her mother merely shook her head. “Who would do something so vile?”
Her shame felt like a steel weight. A quaver entered Quinn’s voice. “It was Jake.”
Nora looked at her, disbelief on her face.
“I should’ve talked to you about our marriage sooner so you would understand why I left him, but I...couldn’t. I didn’t want to upset you.”
“What’re you talking about? Jake still loves you. Why would he post something like that, saying you’re looking for men to abuse you?”
“I’m trying to tell you.” Quinn’s mind fluttered with anxiety. “When I met Jake, he swept me off my feet in every way. But he isn’t who he seems.”
Nora stared at her, a flush rising on her skin. Her mother had never been comfortable talking about sex, and Quinn hesitated. “You know we got married too quickly. I didn’t know him at all. There were things he wanted, sexual things, that I went along with. I…wanted to please him, but
some of the things were too much—”
“What kinds of things?” Nora nervously clasped at her throat, as if she were suffocating. “That ad said you had broken up with your dom. I know you think we’re backwoods around here, but I know what that means. You’re telling me Jake was…that you let him…”
“Mom.” Quinn tried to calm her. “This is why I couldn’t tell you. But I left him. It wasn’t the kind of situation I wanted. Jake…he’s dangerous.”
Nora closed her eyes. Quinn remained silent, letting her think through what she had been told.
“He knew where the key to the back door was,” her mother admitted finally. “It just came up in conversation. I was telling him how safe our town is. I told him I keep a key under the flowerpot on the patio, in case a neighbor needs to come in and check on things when I’m traveling.”
According to the intruder, the email had told him about the house key.
“How could he do this? I believed him. I believed he cared about you. I feel like a fool.”
At her mother’s upset, Quinn’s heart ached. “Jake took the photo of me on his phone. I asked him to delete it. I thought he had. I’m so sorry. The last thing I wanted was to embarrass you.”
“The houseguests, the police—they all know about this.” Although her voice was soft, Nora’s eyes held a glazed look. “You know how this town is. People gossip. You might just be passing through on your way to better things, but I still have to live here.”
Guilt flowed through Quinn as her mother wiped at her eyes.
“The police are working on getting the ad taken down. They’re keeping a patrol car parked across the street…” She hesitated. “In case anyone else shows up.”
Nora began to cry harder.
Quinn’s throat tightened. “If you’re afraid to be here, I’m sure Mark can put you up at the St. Clair until this blows over. If I tell him not to ask questions, he won’t. As soon as the guests leave in the morning, I can—”
Low Tide: Rarity Cove Book Two Page 18
