Quinn dialed the number and waited for it to ring. Rosie could only hear his side of the conversation, but it sounded promising.
“Hey, Val, it’s Quinn. Yes, I know it’s dinnertime. I have a situation. No, it doesn’t involve Nate. Or Sam. Or Jewel. I need to ask if someone I know can stay at your house for a while. Okay. Okay. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Okay, talk to you then.” He hung up the phone and dropped it into the console with the garage door opener.
“So, she’s okay with it?” Rosie asked. She didn’t want to intrude and she hated feeling unwanted. She had been through enough of that in her life. She didn’t need it anymore.
“She’s fine with it. If you knew Valerie, you would know that she loves nothing better than people.”
Rosie smiled. Valerie sounded like a wonderful person. She couldn’t wait to meet her. On the other hand, she wished the circumstances were different.
NINE
Quinn watched Rosie’s emotions play out on her face. They were calm until she started realizing what had just happened. Then the shock and realization played as loud as a symphony. He wanted so badly to assure her that everything would be alright, but in all honesty he wasn’t sure if it would be. He had no clue who was chasing her or why, even though he assured himself that he would find out. No one should have ever had to be as scared as she was in that moment.
“They could have killed me, couldn't they?” Rosie asked abruptly.
Quinn didn't know how to respond to that. If he was going to be truthful, then he should tell her that they could have, but if they really wanted her dead she would be by now. If he wanted to comfort her, he would tell her that it would all be okay and that she would get through this. For some reason he couldn't come up with anything that was both truthful and comforting.
He sufficed with, “Yes. But you're not dead.”
Rosie glared at him for a moment before she softened. “Am I going to make it through this alive?”
Quinn set his jaw decisively. “If I have anything to do with this, you are. I have...certain connections that I can use. Once I drop you off at Val's, I'll go talk to them about your situation.”
Rosie gave him a sideways glance. “If you're a math genius, how do you have connections that can help me?”
Quinn swallowed, and finally came up with a way to tell the truth in a creative way. “I've done some work for some people who I know can help you.” He had done some work for them, he just neglected to mention that he didn't do the work as a math genius.
He pulled silently into Valerie's driveway and turned off the vehicle. He and Rosie sat quietly for a several moments before he finally dared to speak to her.
“Are you ready to go in?” Quinn asked. He waited for her answer, aware that it might take her a moment to adjust to her situation.
Rosie took a deep breath. “Sure. What can go wrong?” She sounded insecure about it.
Quinn helped her retrieve her bag from the back seat of the truck and walked her to the front door. He rang the doorbell.
Valerie answered the door in mere seconds. It was pretty obvious that she had been waiting beside it. It was an old and amusing habit. Valerie had done that since she was three.
“Hi, Quinn,” she offered, glancing momentarily at Rosie beside him.
“Hello, Valerie,” Quinn stifled the urge to laugh. “This is Rosie Callahan. The girl I was telling you about?”
Valerie nodded. “Well, you might as well come in,” she said, standing back from the door and motioning them inside.
Quinn made sure that Rosie stepped inside first, just in case she was thinking about running away or something. The woman looked absolutely petrified, and she had a right to be. After all, two men had been shot in front of her and a brick had been thrown through her window. He was surprised that she was still able to move. Most people would have been frozen with fear by now.
Valerie led them into the living room and sat down in a chair. “Please sit down and tell me the whole story,” she insisted.
Quinn and Rosie sat on opposite ends of the couch. Rosie folded her knees to her chest, which Quinn deduced was her personal defensive posture. He simply crossed his legs and folded his hands on top of them. At ease, but still wary. His usual posture.
“What is going on?” Valerie demanded to know. It probably came off more demanding because Quinn and Rosie were hesitant to speak about it.
Quinn looked at Rosie, who stared back at him with wide eyes. He shook his head slowly. “I don't know all the details. You do.” It was a lie, but it kept his cover. At the moment, that was what mattered.
Rosie turned her frightened gaze to Valerie. “My boyfriend was a censor for the American government.”
“Was?” Valerie inquired, leaning forward in her seat..
“He's...deceased,” Rosie offered. “He was shot by God-knows-who. Then another man I knew was also shot. Right in front of me. This evening a brick was thrown through my window with a threat written on it. That's how I ended up here.”
Quinn knew that the story she had just told was the extremely shortened version, most likely so that she didn't have an emotional breakdown. He could understand. In fact, he rather admired her tenacity in this predicament.
Valerie furrowed her brow compassionately. “You poor thing!” she breathed. Then she raised her voice a little. “Can you give me a second so that I can talk to my husband?”
Rosie nodded as Valerie stood up and walked out into the hall. Quinn could hear her feet padding toward the stairs. He hoped she didn't start yelling again.
“Thanks for getting me out of there,” Rosie said quietly. So quietly, in fact, that Quinn almost missed it. She seemed to have a knack for doing that.
“You'll be fine here,” Quinn assured her. “Just lay low for a few days and then you should be okay to go out in public again.”
“You mean I'll get to go back to the children's ward?” Rosie asked hopefully. She sat just a little straighter.
Quinn nodded. She must really love those kids. “In all actuality, the hospital is probably one of the safest places you've ever been.”
Rosie sighed heavily. “How did you keep your head on straight when I couldn't even think?” she asked him.
Quinn knew she was referring to when he had tackled her and then rushed her away from her house. “I used to run with the wrong crowd,” he said. “Believe it or not, I was into art forgery, theft, cons, the works. I got caught, I got it right with God, and here I am now. I could keep my head on straight because I've been in that situation before.”
Rosie nodded and fell silent as Valerie re-entered the room, this time with Stephen in tow.
“Rosie, this is my husband, Stephen,” she introduced him. “I told him about your situation and he has agreed to let you stay for a while.”
Rosie uncurled her legs and stood up. She walked toward Stephen and extended a shaking hand. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said weakly.
Stephen grasped her hand with both of his and smiled. “Ms. Callahan, it's my pleasure. I cannot allow you to go on with the way things have been happening. It's my insistence that you stay here as long as you like.”
Rosie smiled for the first time since William Mason had been shot. Quinn took a deep breath, knowing she was in good hands. He stood to his feet, as well. He had her settled, so now he had to go settle an argument with his boss.
“I have some important phone calls to make,” he said, starting for the hall.
“I'll walk you out,” Rosie offered. She followed him closely.
Quinn knew that Valerie must think he was crazy. It was nearing midnight, and he had said he had official phone calls to make. She had to be wondering who he was calling, but at this moment he didn't care. He had done what needed to be done. Rosie was safe. For now.
He walked out the door and turned to face Rosie. “Don't go anywhere for a day or two, okay?”
She nodded, her head leaning to rest against the open door. “Thank you for saving my life.”<
br />
“Hey, chivalry isn't dead, right?” Quinn gave a good-natured half-smirk and shrugged it off.
Rosie smiled wanly, her eyes blinking slowly, sleepily.
Quinn didn't know why, but at that moment he fought the distinct urge to kiss her. It was strange, because he hadn't felt that way about anyone since Lydia, and because the feeling was so strong. He took a step back and smiled at her.
“I'll drop by later,” he promised.
Rosie nodded slowly and watched him go.
Rosie wasn't sure why that strange look had passed over his face, but she knew that she had seen it. She suddenly wondered what his motives were in helping her, but quickly pushed the thought aside. If anyone in the entire world had pure motives, it was Quinn Wesley. She shouldn't be second-guessing the good fortune that had come to her.
She closed the door and made her way back to the living room, where Valerie was just setting two cups of coffee on the table.
“Have a seat,” Valerie offered.
Rosie curled up on the couch and sleepily picked up the mug of coffee. She slid her hands almost all the way around it and inhaled the warm aroma.
“Do you like Quinn?” Valerie asked, sipping her drink.
Rosie gave her a quizzical glare. What kind of question was that? “He's a great friend,” she answered nervously.
Valerie rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows that. What I'm asking is, do you like like him?”
“I don't see why you need to know,” Rosie said, almost defensively. It was late, she was tired, and she didn't have to put up with this. She wasn't a pushover.
“I'm asking because he obviously likes you. He doesn't save just anyone's life. And he doesn't call me to ask if he can put up just any friend at my house. So, Rosie Callahan, do you like my brother?”
Rosie thought about it for a moment. He was good-looking and he had a good heart. She hadn't felt so strongly about anyone during the weeks after Martin's death. In fact, she hadn't felt this strongly about Martin. But she didn't know if it was just from the stress of almost being killed three times in a row, or if it was really because she liked him.
Finally, Rosie shrugged. “I'm not sure.”
Valerie nodded. “And that's okay. I just want you to be aware that there is a possibility that he likes you. And he hasn't liked anyone since Lydia.”
Rosie frowned. “Who's Lydia?”
Valerie put a hand to her mouth. “I shouldn't have said anything about her. I don't have the right to tell you. You should ask Quinn.” She stood up. “There's already a bed made up in the guest bedroom. Up the stairs, first door on your left.” She hastily exited the room.
Rosie was left sitting there, dumbfounded and alone. She finished her coffee, took her mug to the kitchen sink, and fell asleep in the guest bedroom. Her dreams that night were not pleasant.
TEN
Quinn drove back to his apartment before he even picked up his phone. He knew that he would probably need to lie down while he had this conversation. He wasn't very happy about having to call his boss and tell him about Rosie, but he knew it was for her own protection and it had to be done.
Once he reached home he sprawled out on his very comfortable queen-sized bed and dialed a number on his phone.
Mr. Lorrander picked up on the third ring.
“It is past midnight, Mr. Wesley, this had better be important.”
Quinn sighed. “It is. I found her.” He didn't elaborate, since he knew that Mr. Lorrander would hound him with questions anyway.
“Good. Have you determined whether she is the victim or perpetrator?” Lorrander asked.
That question irked Quinn. It should be obvious by now. “She's the victim in this, sir,” he said in annoyance.
“Are you absolutely positive, Mr. Wesley?” Mr. Lorrander asked in an almost-mocking tone. “Are you also sure that you aren't getting attached?”
Quinn wanted to growl at the man. It was way too late at night to be asking him questions like this. He needed sleep. He was always grumpy when he hadn't had sleep.
“I am positive, sir,” he said, sounding like a bear who had just woken up from hibernation.
“Then keep an eye on her. She needs protection, doesn't she?”
Quinn shut his eyes to regain his composure. “Sir, we've been over this. Send someone else.”
Mr. Lorrander laughed a bit. “Mr. Wesley, are you falling for this girl?” The tone of his voice insisted that he was dead serious.
Quinn tapped his fingers nervously by his side. Was he? To be honest, he thought he might be. He vaguely wondered if Lydia would approve of Rosie. But, what did it matter now? Lydia was gone. Had been gone for years. It was time that he went on with his life.
“I don't know,” he answered honestly.
Mr. Lorrander laughed, almost a scoff. “Well, Mr. Wesley, that is a new one on me. I thought perhaps it was impossible for anyone to catch your attention.”
Quinn could picture the man's face. He was probably scowling and trying not to smile all at the same time. Quinn wasn't really sure how Lorrander did that, and at this point Quinn really didn't care.
“Mr. Lorrander, I told you, find someone else,” Quinn said heatedly. And then he did something he had never done before. Quinn hung up on his boss.
He had to admit, it felt kind of satisfying. He no longer had to listen to his boss' torrential questioning, and he finally got to get some sleep. Except now his brain was going at an ungodly pace. Thoughts were flying through his head quicker than he could grab hold of and process them.
He groaned. This Rosie girl had really messed up his reasoning system. Not even Lydia had gotten him this confused, and that thought made him even more confused.
Quinn rolled over and realized he was probably going to be awake all night for the second night in a row. He needed to figure this thing out. He was a nervous wreck waiting to happen.
Rosie awoke and had to remind herself where she was. Not at home in her own warm, cozy bed, but in Valerie's house. Quinn had brought her here. Because of a brick.
Everything finally clicked into place and Rosie sighed. She had survived the night.
She thought to the part of the last evening where Quinn had saved her life yet again, and she had to smile. There was something off about that man, but she couldn't place her finger on it. His self-defense skills were through the roof for someone who was supposed to be a math geek. Not to mention that she hadn't heard one technical-sounding word come from his mouth. Ever.
Slowly, she pulled herself out of bed and got dressed. After trying to get every tangle out of her curly hair, she pulled it into a ponytail and examined her appearance in a mirror. Not bad for someone who had almost been killed twice in the past two days.
She made her way down the stairs and somehow found the kitchen. Valerie was already there, pulling cinnamon rolls out of the oven.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she greeted Rosie.
Rosie smiled groggily. “It isn't that late in the morning.” She hoped Valerie caught on and restricted their conversation to one-word sentences.
Unfortunately, she didn't. “True,” Valerie laughed. “I just haven't said that in a long time. The one good thing about brothers is that you can never tease them too much.”
Rosie lifted an eyebrow. Why was Valerie so chipper? It just didn't make sense. How could anyone be chipper at a time like this? Or, for that matter, at this time of morning. It was just Rosie's luck to get stuck in a house with a morning lark.
Valerie made a face. “You are really not a morning person, are you?”
Rosie raised her other eyebrow. “No. Never have been.” She pulled herself onto a stool by the counter and laid her head on her hands. She may be awake, but that didn't mean she didn't want to go back to sleep. Her entire body ached from her late-night adrenaline rush.
“Will coffee help?” Valerie asked sympathetically.
Rosie nodded, not even bothering to lift her head from her arms. Valerie had no idea ho
w good coffee sounded at that moment. Rosie couldn't remember a morning where she had not had coffee. If anything, she needed extra coffee this morning. She was way too stressed out and she couldn't stop herself from reliving her near-death experiences over and over and over. It didn't take long before Rosie felt a warm cup of coffee touch her fingertips. She looked up and gave the best smile she could.
“Thanks,” she told Valerie.
Valerie was already grabbing plates and putting cinnamon rolls on them. “Oh, no problem, sweetie. I understand you've been through a lot and coffee helps some people calm their nerves. I personally think that's an idiotic idea, considering it's a stimulant, but for some people it works.” With a shrug, she slid a plate across the counter to Rosie and then sat down with her own.
Rosie took a tentative bite of the large roll and was pleasantly surprised. “You made this?” she pointed to the roll in her hand and then took another bite.
Valerie nodded. “Yeah. I don't think the cinnamon rolls from the can taste very good and it's cheaper to make them yourself, so here I sit with a pan full of them. Are they okay?”
Rosie laughed. A genuine, real laugh. “They're amazing. You should open up a shop. Do you do donuts too?”
Valerie rolled her eyes. “I wish. I don't have those down yet, so I usually leave them up to Krispy Kreme.”
Rosie nodded. What else was there to say? She wasn't very good at keeping up conversations without prompts. Maybe it was a skill she needed to work on. Or maybe she was just an introvert, through and through.
The front doorbell rang and Valerie stood up from the table. “I'll be right back.”
Rosie felt herself tense as Valerie walked out, but she relaxed when she returned a moment later, Jewel on her heels. Rosie definitely remembered Jewel. Thanksgiving and then the hospital. Rosie thought back and was thankful to find the memories still vividly there. She must be feeling better than the other day.
“So, you see,” Jewel was saying as they entered, “I have this gigantic dilemma. And I was wondering if you knew anyone...” she stopped as her eyes landed on the woman at the kitchen table.
Rose-Colored Glasses Page 8
