Quinn Security

by Dee Bridgnorth

  When they got to Whitney’s small cabin that was unfortunately located directly behind the sheriff’s bloated mansion of a cabin—which was, quite frankly, way too close to Rick for comfort, though the arrogant man hadn’t made his way back to this side of the Fist—Lucy killed the engine of the Jeep and was immediately met with one very pissed-off Whitney Abernathy who had surged out the front door at the first sounds of their engines growling up the driveway.

  “What in the hell, Lucy-goose!” Whitney yelled, half-furious and fully relieved that her friend had returned unscathed.

  As she threw her arms around Lucy, she caught sight of Kaleb behind the wheel of the VW bug and asked, “What’s he doing here?”

  “I really needed my car and he gave me a hand,” she said, thinking fast on her feet.

  As Lucy continued to quell her friend’s concern, Kaleb was struck by how quick and composed Lucy was. She seemed calm and in control, and not at all like the zombie her Xanax had previously turned her into.

  She’d been on the drug for years. Decades. Since she was twelve years old. A child.

  He winced at the tragedy of how quickly doctors were to prescribe powerful medications, doling them out like candy, and to children no less.

  If he had anything to do with it, he was going to keep her off those things. If painful memories welled up, he’d be there for her, no matter how raw and messy her emotions became. He was determined to do anything to keep her straight and sober.

  He climbed out of the VW bug and used a respectful degree of caution as he neared the girls.

  Sensing him coming close, Lucy glanced at Kaleb over her shoulder just as Whitney was asking, “Why didn’t you pick up? I must’ve called about ten times. And where are your clothes? I thought you were getting some of your things.” Then Whitney did an almost cartoonish double-take and exclaimed, “Where in the hell is your shirt?”

  “I can’t stay with you,” Lucy told her abruptly, but Whitney was still staring, gap-jawed, at Kaleb as she began forming her own ideas about what was going on. “I think I’d be safer with—”

  “Holy hell, you predatory scoundrel!” Whitney yelled as she advanced on Kaleb with the protective fierceness of a mama bear defending her cub. “Lucy doesn’t need the kind of comfort you’re trying to offer her! Now, you get the hell off my property before I call my daddy!”

  “Whitney!” Lucy yelled, trying to calm her irate friend down.

  “Git!” she barked, raising her hand at Kaleb who was also trying to calm her, though, truth be told, Whitney was scary. He’d taken a few stumbling steps backwards just trying to claim some safe ground where she wouldn’t be able to take a swing at him. “You leave her alone!”

  “She needs protective services!” he maintained, and this time—third time was usually the charm—she seemed to hear him.

  “Oh, you think she needs Quinn Security?” she snorted as though the very existence of the company he’d formed with his brothers was the biggest joke she’d ever heard. “I suppose that’s why you took your shirt off for her, so she could gush at your flexing muscles!”

  “Whitney, calm down,” Lucy tried to reason and thank goodness, her fiery friend had finally run out of steam. Whitney cut her astonished eyes to Lucy and once she had her furious friend’s attention, she explained, “I think I really would feel safer with Kaleb.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I’m not.”

  Kaleb had to work very hard to suppress the grin that was threatening to curl the corners of his mouth. This was news to him, that Lucy would actually like Quinn Security to keep her safe, that she wanted Kaleb to protect her. He couldn’t have been more thrilled and he only wished he wasn’t standing there bare-chested. Considering his reputation, Whitney hadn’t been entirely wrong to leap to the conclusion that she had. He hated when people were right about him in that respect.

  A sad, sympathetic smile came over Whitney’s suddenly pained expression and she pulled Lucy in for another hug.

  “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you here to make you feel more comfortable?” she asked.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Lucy, urging her friend back. “Let’s get a drink after my shift, okay?”

  With that, she handed Whitney the keys to her Jeep, gave her another little hug, and joined Kaleb to climb into her VW bug.

  Chapter Six

  LUCY

  After stopping off on Main Street for Kaleb to hop into his pickup truck, Lucy followed him in her VW bug, heading west all the way out onto Highland Highway towards Yellowstone National Park. When they reached Damned Repair, the automotive repair shop on the outskirts of town, Kaleb hooked a right and Lucy followed. The repair shop looked dark and dismal, its crushed and stacked vehicles towering behind the chain-linked fence, the only sign of life in the yard was an old dog that barked loyally as they passed.

  The road opened up and soon she saw the large Quinn Security building on her left. It was of Amish cabin design, but with all its decks, stories, and grand picture windows, the state-of-the-art structure seemed to loom over the wilderness, looking out and keeping an eye on this quiet corner of the Fist.

  Kaleb’s pickup truck slowed as the paved road, buckled from harsh weather, faded away into dusty dirt. She noticed a Dead-End sign as she downshifted and soon they came to five identical cabins that flanked both sides of the road. Kaleb made an immediate left, pulling up the driveway of the first one, and Lucy came up beside his truck and parked.

  As she stepped out into the night air, she realized how dark it was on this side of town. She was used to the dim street lights along Main Street that glowed through her apartment windows throughout the night, the headlights of an occasional car passing. What a difference five miles made. The constellation of stars overhead was flawless.

  “This is me,” said Kaleb, which was obvious enough, as he neared the front door of the two-story cabin.

  He still wasn’t wearing a shirt and since the adrenaline hadn’t drained from Lucy’s veins—had she really been pressed against him out on that ledge, had she really jumped on him, relieved the moment she’d landed safely on the sidewalk?—she felt the distinct impulse to wrap her arms around his bare waist all over again just to feel his hot skin through her clothes.

  Clothes!

  God, she’d been in her apartment and she hadn’t thought to grab a single article of clothing. How had that escaped her when it was the very excuse she’d given Whitney? She didn’t even have a toothbrush. She really hadn’t thought this through. Even the idea to stay with him had tumbled out of her, uncensored by any sense of reason or rationale.

  And yet she felt sharp, mentally. She felt guided by her instincts and quick judgment. She wasn’t foggy or slow-witted, and she realized that despite the drama and adrenaline of narrowly escaping the sheriff she hadn’t even thought about her anti-anxiety medication the entire drive over here.

  It had to be Kaleb. There was something about him, about this new side of him that she was seeing that had put her deeply at ease. What else could it be?

  Kaleb unlocked the door, stepped inside, and after flipping on the foyer light, held the door wide open for her to enter. He was thorough, twisting and turning every lock once he’d shut the door.

  She eased through the foyer where a shoe rack sat, a rack for coats and jackets above it. The cabin smelled of freshly cut pine, crisp forest air thanks to a nearby open window, and the distinct scent of leather that Lucy usually only encountered in Acorn Fashion and Accessories since its shelves were stocked with designer purses. There was an earthy musk in the air, as well, a faint scent that she’d also noticed on his skin when she’d clung to him.

  The living room was furnished with a leather couch and two matching armchairs on both sides, a wooden coffee table that looked handcrafted, and a real bearskin run that she identified as grizzly. It spanned the polished wooden floor in front of a cold fireplace. Over the mantle were framed photos of Kaleb a
nd his brothers, she observed as she did a slow lap around the room, Kaleb having disappeared up the stairs.

  As she listened to his footfall on the second floor, she took a closer look at one of the photos. It was of Kaleb, dressed in a funny seventies-era outfit with bellbottom jeans and a tight orange tee shirt. His dark hair was all shaggy, and he was grinning proudly beside a man that she guessed was his father. They were somewhere in Yellowstone, she guessed. Even the quality of the photo had that faded, amber hue that authentic seventies’ photos tended to have. Maybe he’d thrown an Instagram filter on it and had it printed somewhere in Jackson Hole, she thought. Must have been the case since in the picture Kaleb didn’t look so much as a day younger than he did now.

  After studying a few more framed photos—some were black and white, others in color but equally faded, it seemed the Quinns really liked to dress up in period clothes and pose for the camera, one photo even looked like an Old West saloon shot—she did another slow lap around the living room, this time noting all of the mounted animal heads on the walls.

  Humph, she thought, eyeing a regal-looking buck that seemed to be watching over the room from its post high above the couch. There was trophy game where she would’ve expected pinned posters of bikini models. This certainly wasn’t the bachelor pad she would’ve pegged Kaleb living in, that was for sure. Maybe there was more to Kaleb Quinn than met the tipsy eye in places like Libations.

  Kaleb returned wearing a gray, v-neck tee-shirt that fit him well. He’d kicked his shoes off and was barefoot, and had even changed his jeans she gradually noticed. They were practically identical to his prior pair.

  “Are you thirsty?” he asked, as she sat on the couch, a bit uneasily. She’d lowered down onto the edge as though she wasn’t sure she could commit to getting comfortable. “Hungry?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

  “You sure?” he asked, his dark eyebrows drifting up to his hairline. “You must’ve gotten me coffees and cokes a million times over at the diner. The least I can do is return the favor.”

  It made her smile, and that was enough encouragement for Kaleb to pad off into the kitchen, out of view. He returned a moment later with two glasses of water, ice cubes clanking and floating on top.

  There were a handful of shellacked wooden coasters on the coffee table and he was careful to set their glasses on two of them, as he sat at a respectful distance from her on the couch.

  “The sheriff’s going to know it was me who cleaned the bathroom,” she commented nervously before taking a shallow sip of water. “I’m sure he suspects I killed Leeanne.”

  “Probably,” Kaleb allowed without sugarcoating the situation one bit. “But he’ll think you ran off to Whitney’s. Whitney will fiercely defend you as soon as he shows up.”

  “Then she’ll tell him that I came here with you,” Lucy said, her eyes widening at the realization. “Oh God, he’s going to show up here at some point.”

  “If and when he does, I’ll deal with him.”

  She stared at him for a long moment then reminded him. “Rick hates you guys.”

  Kaleb shot her a sideways grin as though he was proud of that fact and told her, “Don’t worry about it.”

  She suddenly felt the rattled urge to pop a pill, take the edge off, cloud her mind over, let the warm hazy feeling of craving a bed wash over her. Had her hands begun shaking? She glanced down at the cool glass of water in her hand. It was steady, but she didn’t want to risk it. She returned the glass to its coaster on the coffee table, distracted, as Kaleb explained.

  “The last thing I want to do is worry you, but Lucy, I have to wonder if Leeanne’s killer had meant to attack you.”

  She’d wondered the same thing, though she hadn’t fully faced the possibility. It was too terrifying to consider.

  “I don’t have any enemies,” she told him.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” he allowed. “But considering what happened to your parents…”

  “Their killer was caught,” she was quick to inform him. Hadn’t she already explained this to him? “He’s in prison.”

  “What was the motive?” he questioned, but she didn’t know.

  She’d been only twelve at the time and it wasn’t like the police had been committed to informing her of every detail they’d unearthed during their rushed, hasty investigation. As far as she knew, which admittedly wasn’t much, they’d moved forward with the arrest based on hard evidence. They might not have needed to bother with establishing her parents’ killer’s motive. Their case had been airtight.

  “I’m not sure,” she finally said. “But I could probably find out. Read the old police records and case file. The DA over in Jackson Hole would have a printed copy of all the testimonies.”

  Kaleb didn’t look satisfied with that, but he didn’t question her further.

  Instead, he leaned back on the couch and took a thoughtful sip of water.

  She watched him, expecting him to share with her what was on his mind, but as his contemplative silence continued, she was once again struck by how different he seemed from the playboy she’d superficially gotten to know throughout the years based on serving him day after day in the diner.

  “You’re different,” she commented.

  “Different?”

  “Than who I thought you were,” she clarified.

  An intrigued grin tugged at the corner of his mouth and he asked, “Who did you think I was?”

  “A flirt,” she said easily. “A playboy with a one-track mind.”

  “Oh that,” he laughed.

  “It’s not just an act, Kaleb,” she reminded him. “You’ve definitely taken just about every girl in the Fist to bed at one point or another.”

  “Except for you,” he pointed out and the grin on his face slipped away, an air of seriousness falling over him.

  Her shy smile fell away as well and she couldn’t cut her eyes away from having locked with his.

  “You’re not going to hit on me now, are you?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood that felt like the precursor to a kiss.

  He was seated too far away from her for that, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t jump on him like she had down on the darkened sidewalk earlier that night.

  Maybe it was because he’d completely reeled in his tendency to flirt with her, but she felt drawn to him. Magnetized.

  “No, I’m not going to hit on you,” he assured her and for a flickering second, she felt the weight of disappointment tug on her heart. “I’m going to keep you safe until Leeanne’s killer is caught.”

  There it was again, the overpowering urge to throw her arms around him. But she wrestled it down and cooled herself with a series of nervous gulps of water, then asked, “How?”

  “I’ll be your bodyguard,” he said easily as though it would be the most natural thing in the world.

  But when Lucy thought of bodyguards, she thought of superstars like Rihanna and Beyonce, men in starched, dark suits with sunglasses and microphones in their shirt cuffs. Did Kaleb even own a gun?

  Whether he did or didn’t, she couldn’t imagine needing a bodyguard in the Fist. This was a sleepy, safe town. Its population was slightly more than three hundred. She knew everyone by face if not name. And if Kaleb followed her around everywhere, she’d be the brand-new talk of the town, even worse than she had been when she saw the wolf-man out on Eagle’s Pass and everyone jumped to the conclusion that she was some kind of drug addict.

  “What?” he asked when she hadn’t said anything.

  He was trying to read her expression, which she suddenly realized had turned drawn and probably pale.

  “My bodyguard?” she said skeptically. “I don’t know, that seems like overkill.”

  “It’ll be temporary,” he promised. “I practically live at the diner anyway, so it’ll be easy to keep an eye on you there. You’re here now,” he pointed out. “It’s not so bad, right?”

  She looked around the living room and agreed, “No, it�
��s not so bad.”

  “So, you’ll stay here at night. Easy.” When she didn’t respond, he assured her, “I know you go for runs with Whitney sometimes—”

  “I’m also a Trail Runner at Yellowstone,” she informed him, unsure of whether or not he was aware that she volunteered at the National Park, walking the various trails and reporting back to the Trail Office whenever she came across a hazard that might injure the hikers.

  “So then I’ll tag along,” he said.

  This was all so easy for him, it seemed. He didn’t have to think twice about it. And it was starting to feel like he was doing her a favor. But why?

  “What’s all of this going to cost me?” she asked as soon as it dawned on her that his protective services couldn’t be free. “I generally get by on the skin of my teeth.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  She stared at him, thrown.

  “Seriously,” he told her.

  She felt suddenly shaky and this time the feeling had shot through her entire body. She couldn’t calm the feeling, not through willpower or clasping her hands tightly together. They were trembling and she felt a swell of anxiety radiate from her chest. Was she breathing? It felt like she’d stopped breathing, like two cold hands were wrapped around her throat, squeezing.

  “Hey,” Kaleb said, concerned. “Breathe.”

  But she couldn’t. She keeled forward, gripping the couch with both hands, nails digging in, as she fought to get air in her lungs.

  Instinctively, she grabbed for her pills in her pocket but as soon as she had the bottle in her trembling hand, Kaleb took it from her feeble grasp—she couldn’t feel her hands anymore, they were limp and numb—and pulled her into his arms.

  As he held her, an earthquake of emotion erupted inside of her. Why wouldn’t he let her take her medication? Did he want her to suffer? She could barely get enough air in her lungs to stay conscious!