Quinn searched for the right words. “Maybe I didn't start with the right part of the story. Do you remember Lydia?”
Nate didn't answer with words. He didn't need to. Both brothers knew of her loss, but Quinn also knew he had a lot of explaining to do. Nate didn't know the half of it.
“She and I weren't just dating, like I told you. We were engaged. High school sweethearts, the whole story. Completely in love. Python killed her two weeks before our wedding.”
Nate sputtered and coughed. “Two weeks before? How did I not know you were having a wedding?”
“I didn't invite any of my family. I guess, subconsciously, I didn't want you guys to get hurt because of your association with me. At the time I told myself it was because you were hunting me and Val would never forgive me.” It hurt to confess that. Quinn hadn't always been close to his siblings, but he had always respected them. Not inviting them to his wedding felt like a breach of trust. But, then, at the time he had felt that having a brother chasing him down was also a breach of trust.
“What does that have to do with now?” Nate leaned forward, fully intent on what Quinn was telling him.
Quinn looked up at Nate and made eye contact. “Since I met Rosie, I've been thinking less and less about Lydia.”
Nate stared him down for a whole minute before his face broke into a genuine smile. “Man, you've got it bad.”
Quinn threw his hands in the air and let out a heavy sigh. “I knew this was the reaction I was going to get. I knew I shouldn't have said anything.”
Nate laughed. “So, let me get this straight. You're upset because the girl you may love disappeared off the face of the planet with no clue as to where she went?”
Quinn smiled back facetiously, rolled his eyes, and nodded.
Nate kicked his feet back up on the coffee table. “I can get behind that.”
“I am also upset because I'm tired, sore, and hungry, and my brother keeps putting his filthy shoes on my 900-dollar coffee table.” Quinn threw Nate a look that said he seriously suggested he remove his feet.
Nate resorted to leaning forward again. “Alright, whatever. Let me set you straight on one thing, though. You don't have a right to be upset that Rosie disappeared until you take a chance and do something about it.” Nate stood and stretched his arms. “On that note, I'm going home. If I don't show up at work tomorrow, Sam and Emily will send the search dogs.”
Quinn laughed wearily. “Sam and Emily are the search dogs.”
“Pretty much,” Nate agreed as he let himself out the door. “Sleep tight.”
“Get out,” Quinn threw a couch pillow toward the door just as Nate closed it. The pillow landed softly on the ground.
It didn't take long to lock up and fall into bed, nor was sleep elusive that night. In fact, Quinn had the best sleep he could have ever asked for. The only thing wrong was Rosie's continued disappearance. It nagged at him from the back of his dreams.
The morning dawned clear and bright, and Quinn woke with a new hope. He had handed it all to God, and his hope was that somewhere, someone would have a breakthrough.
Quinn was ready and back at the office in less than one hour. He couldn't bear to be away longer than what he needed, just in case something came up. He knew Margot would call him, but he would rather be there when things started rolling.
Margot admitted him back into her office and gave a sad smile. She shook her head, confirming that there was no more news than the last time Quinn had checked.
Quinn nodded at her, but didn't really take it to heart. A lot of cases ran cold for days before a major breakthrough. It was nothing unusual. He sincerely hoped he was right in telling himself that. He didn't want to give himself false hope, but it was all he could cling to at that moment.
At about noon, just when he was the hungriest, Quinn's phone trilled. He took it out of his pocket and squinted at the number. He didn't recognize it.
Purely out of curiosity, he answered the call. “Hello?”
“Quinn?” The filtered voice on the other line was familiar, feminine.
Quinn literally stood from his chair, so in shock was he. “Rosie?”
Margot turned from her typing and pressed the intercom button. She sputtered off a list of code so long it made Quinn's head spin. In seconds, she had motioned him toward Mr. Lorrander's office.
“Yeah, it's me,” Quinn answered as he sashayed through the door and found Mr. Lorrander and Johnson bent over a table, looking at maps. Quinn caught their attention and put a finger to his lips. He set his phone on the table and pressed the “speaker” button.
“Hi. Um, how are you?” Rosie said it calmly, but it sounded rehearsed. Like someone was watching.
Quinn took a deep breath, bowed his head, and steeled himself for what came next. The one question that had to be asked rang through his head and finally made it out of his mouth. “Rosie, you need to tell me, are you under duress of any kind?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Rosie spoke confidently. “I'm great.”
Quinn couldn't get the words out fast enough. If he was right, and she was still in trouble, then they didn't have a lot of time. “What about the kidnappers? Did they...”
“Meet me at Woodfield Mall, grand court. One hour.” The line went dead.
Quinn looked up at Johnson and Lorrander.
“She's not fine,” Johnson spoke first.
“She sounded just fine to me,” Mr. Lorrander scoffed. He was always such a pessimist. Someone needed to feed him a few happy pills on occasion.
Johnson put a hand up, as if to stop his own boss from talking. “She isn't. The first thing we taught her once we reached the safe house was sign and countersign. She had three different countersigns she could give us if we asked her how she was. She could use okay, fine, or great. Okay meant she really was doing okay. Fine meant she thought something was wrong but couldn't place her finger on it. Great, the countersign she just gave you, means she's in real trouble.”
Fantastic, Quinn thought to himself. He did not need any more problems or worries in his life. That included an almost-girlfriend who had been abducted by unknown enemy forces.
“What do we do?” Quinn asked.
He knew better than anyone that he shouldn't be on the case for this. But,then again, technically none of them should have been on the case. The only reason it came within the CIA jurisdiction at all was because Quinn had brought Rosie to his superiors. He had caused this mess. It was all his fault.
Just like Lydia.
The realization hit Quinn like a ton of bricks. What if all of this could have been avoided? What if it really was all his fault? He could have saved Rosie from all of this if he had just stayed out of it.
Mr. Lorrander cleared his throat, bringing Quinn back to the reality around him. “You should meet with her,” Mr. Lorrander commanded.
Quinn almost smiled to himself. He had hoped that would be the answer. “Alone?”
“I'll go with you,” Johnson was quick to volunteer. “Maybe between the two of us we can figure out exactly what is going on around here.”
Quinn really did smile then. At least Johnson was reliable. “Can I see that footage of the kidnapping again?” He motioned toward the wall behind Lorrander's desk.
Johnson looked to Lorrander, who sighed and picked up a remote. He opened a CC-TV hidden in the wall behind his desk and pressed play.
It hurt to even watch the footage, but Quinn forced himself through it. He watched intently until a moment where Rosie whipped her head around, sending her hair flying in all directions. Her face bespoke her pure agony, and it ripped Quinn's heart open.
“Pause it,” Quinn instructed.
The image froze, and Quinn made his way to the television. He stared intently at it, before he took a single step back and pointed. “There. Her earrings. We can get GPS into something that looks like that, can't we?”
A mischievous smile lit up Johnson's face, and he once aga
in turned to their boss. It would seem that he had decided to join Quinn's side of the argument.
Mr. Lorrander pursed his lips for a minute. “Yes. Alright. I'll send a third agent as well. Johnson won't be of much help in a fist fight.” Lorrander raised an eyebrow and nodded toward Johnson's sling.
Quinn breathed a sigh of relief and came back around the desk. “How quickly can we get that? I need to leave, like, now.”
Rosie hung up the phone she had been given and handed it over the back of her seat to Harry.
“Beautiful,” approved Jack, the driver.
Sean leaned forward and smiled, in that annoying way that Rosie was getting used to seeing. “I'm glad you come to see things our way.”
Rosie rolled her eyes. “I'm only doing this because I have a low threshold for pain.”
Sean patted her on the shoulder, making Rosie cringe. “That's alright,” he cooed. “You'll come around.”
Rosie wanted to tell him that she would not, under any circumstances, come around. She wanted to tell him he could find someone else to do his dirty work for him, that she quit. However, Rosie also knew the moment she did that was the moment she was no longer of any use to them. That couldn't happen.
Rosie slid her eyes closed. Prior to this experience, she had thought God was a delusion. Now, she realized He was the only thing keeping her alive. Now, for some reason, it finally seemed logical.
Rosie lifted her eyes to heaven and let out a deep breath. She hoped silent prayers worked.
Quinn stood in the center of Woodfield Mall's grand court, slowly and inconspicuously turning in a circle. It was a nice meeting place. Public, crowded, lots of escape routes. Whoever was pulling the strings on this mission, they were good.
Quinn eyed each passenger in the glass elevator and every weary shopper settled on the steps before he finally relaxed. Everyone seemed to fit in, including the man behind the Guest Services desk.
Quinn put a finger to his ear and pushed for a second. He had never been a big fan of earpieces. They had always made his ear itch. Unfortunately, he worked for a company that used them regularly. He had quickly learned to get over it.
“Anything?” Johnson asked, his voice filtering loudly into Quinn's ear.
Quinn continued his circle, looking for any sign of Rosie or any suspicious characters. “Not yet.”
“I don't see why we're on this crazy mission,” whined Guthries, the only man Lorrander had actually assigned to be there.
Quinn grimaced, but didn't say anything. As much as he wanted to bite Guthries' head off, he knew it wouldn't be wise. Guthries was his only chance of finding and catching the man behind this.
Quinn stopped mid-turn and allowed himself a small smile.
Rosie slowly made her way through the throngs of shoppers. She looked a little wary, and more than a little tense, but overall she looked unharmed. A smile lit up her face as she neared. She extended her hands toward Quinn, who took them and pulled her into a hug.
Rosie held on tightly for a long moment.
Quinn allowed her the reprieve, not pushing to know what was going on or why she was in trouble, simply enjoying the embrace. She probably needed it, from what Johnson had told him of the safe house incident.
“I can't stay long,” Rosie said without explanation. She backed away, out of his embrace, and plastered a giant smile on her face. Barely moving her lips, she continued. “They have a lip reader.”
Quinn had to smile at her intelligence. No lip movement, no lip reading. It was absolutely genius. “Me or you?” he asked, hoping she caught that he was asking who the lip reader was supposed to be paying attention to.
“Me,” Rosie confirmed.
Quinn wrapped her once again in a hug and spun in a half-circle. He set her back on the floor. “Not now. Talk quickly, it will take him about three minutes to get into position again.”
“I'm supposed to tell you goodbye.” Rosie pushed a curl behind her ear. “They want you to think that you'll never see me again, that I've decided to join them of my own free will.”
“Them?” Quinn asked. That implied more than one, which would also fit with what Johnson had said. He hoped he got more information to go on, though.
Rosie nodded. “Them.”
“What if I said no? What if I decided to take you out of here?” Quinn flexed his jaw, trying to hide the emotion running behind every word he spoke.
“They have a sniper. I've been assured no one will be hurt, but only if you allow me to leave on my own. Don't even have me followed.”
“We could get out of here. We could just run, outrun them if we have to.” Quinn was surprised to realize he meant every word he said. If it meant Rosie's safety, he would do anything, no matter how crazy it sounded.
Rosie shook her head. “Even I know there are too many civilians in here. You're not thinking straight. You're here to save lives, not endanger them. Please, just trust me.”
Quinn sucked in a deep breath. It was too much to ask. “How can I trust you when you haven't told me the whole truth?”
Rosie took a step back and any semblance of a smile fell from her face. “What?”
“Like the first time we met, in the rain, and you told me to trust you. Why can't we be like that?”
Rosie began to tear up. “I never said that, and it was sunny that day. Besides, we were on a train. Seat 12B and 12C, remember?” She paused, and her eyes grew large. Her mouth seemed to gape, asking for words to fill it. “I mean...wasn't it?”
Quinn stared down into her distressed features and ignored the pang tugging at his heart. “See? Like that. Why do you do that?”
Rosie swallowed. Hard. “Do what?”
“Say something so intelligent and then take it back. Why? What's your secret? Obviously, whoever is controlling this meeting knows, so why don't I?”
Rosie said nothing. She swiped at a tear and took a breath. Then, carefully and with extreme choosiness, Rosie spoke. “These people have been watching me since I was born. They know because they may know me better than I know myself. I can't tell you, Quinn. You would think I'm a freak.”
Quinn nodded, realizing he had pushed it too far. He reached forward and pulled her into a hug once again. “Okay...okay. But I expect you to live long enough to tell me one day.” He paused before he spoke his next sentence, allowing the levity of his words to sink in. “Where are the earrings you were wearing when they nabbed you?”
Rosie buried her face in his chest, hiding from the lip reader who was now most definitely in a position to see her. “Left jacket pocket.”
Quinn pick-pocketed the earrings from her jacket pocket and replaced them with the GPS trackers the agency had given him. His life as a thief and convict had prepared him well for this job.
“What was that about?” Rosie asked.
Quinn smiled at her. “GPS. All you have to do is press the backs past the second niche, and it will engage. We'll be able to find you and extract you.”
Rosie looked up at him and smiled, genuinely. She lifted up on tiptoe and slowly, gently brought her lips toward his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. She lightly kissed his cheek.
Quinn smiled back at her as she hesitantly backed away. The only thing he could do was shove his hands in his pockets and watch. As much as he wished he could get her out of there, it wasn't possible. Not at that moment.
Rosie raised a hand in farewell and then turned to hastily exit.
Quinn found himself raising a hand, as well. Even if she couldn't see it, something about the gesture made him feel there would be another meeting. Another time where they were together. It gave him hope.
“Quinn,” came Johnson's voice over his earpiece.
Quinn snapped back to reality and glanced around. “Yeah.”
“Guthries has a possible suspect, upper level, heading for the ramp.”
Quinn knew the final decision was his. He could abandon it or overstep it, but the smart thing would be to observe. “Follo
w and watch. Do not approach.”
“Copy,” Guthries agreed.
Quinn looked up toward the ramp, trying to spot Guthries. He couldn't see anything.
Static sounded in his ear. A commotion could be heard on the upper level.
“He made me,” Guthries said loudly. “He's on the move.”
Quinn turned, trying to see where he was.
Suddenly, Quinn spotted him. A man, racing along the pathways, pushing others out of his way. Guthries wasn't far behind, but he didn't appear to be catching up, either. Their mystery man was speedy.
Quinn quickly assessed the man's trajectory as he scurried down one ramp and turned to the other. The man was careening toward Icing and McDonald's, apparently oblivious to everyone but the agent chasing him. That could be used to their advantage.
In one swift move, the man vaulted over the lowest part of the ramp and landed on the lower level floor, only yards from where Quinn was standing. The running man had so completely forgotten about Quinn that he began to run straight toward him. Mistake number one.
Quinn smiled and cracked his neck. Bring it on.
The man approached, occasionally glancing behind him to check on Guthries' status. Guthries didn't let up, driving the man closer and closer to Quinn.
Five steps. Three steps. One.
The man was on Quinn, and then Quinn was on the man. A single judo move and the man was on the ground. Quinn flipped him over and stuck a knee in his back.
The man groaned.
Guthries came to a skidding halt beside Quinn and glanced around at the growing crowd.
“Get rid of them,” Quinn instructed. His entire focus, all of his rage, was centered solely on the man whose face was buried in the floor. He didn't care what Guthries did to disperse the shoppers, he only cared that they left.
Guthries produced a badge from somewhere and showed it around. “Federal agents. Move on.”
The crowds moved, but they also stared as Guthries and Quinn slapped cuffs on the man and stood him up. Together, Quinn and Guthries escorted the man out of the mall.
Rose-Colored Glasses Page 14
