Quinn Security

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Unperturbed, Dante escorted Elizabeth towards the broken door and as he helped her to step outside, Dean had no choice but to make room.

  Elizabeth was doing an excellent job of actually ignoring Dean, but Dante was far worse. He sneered at Dean with a slimy smirk of his face and had the audacity to say, “Excuse us, a lady is passing through.”

  “Elizabeth,” Dean barked. “A word?”

  She turned and angled her big, green eyes up at him. She looked like a porcelain doll, the way she’d done her makeup and he hated to think she actually looked pretty. He bet she would be way prettier with no makeup on, in a pair of jeans and an old tee shirt.

  “Yes?”

  Dean slid his furious eyes at Dante and said, “A private word?”

  Dante admonished him, “Has no one told you that interrupting is rude?”

  “It’s okay,” Elizabeth told him as she released the dark lord’s arm and clicked her high heeled way over to Dean. “What is it, Dean?”

  He took her by the arm, which she didn’t seem to appreciate, and led her further down the sidewalk so that Dante wouldn’t be able to overhear.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing with him?”

  “Excuse me?” she laughed, aghast at his attitude. “What business is it of yours?”

  “It is my business. You’re in danger,” he asserted in a firm tone.

  “I don’t know who you think you are. You don’t know me and I certainly do not know you. You’re overstepping your bounds and Dante is right. It’s very rude.”

  Dean leaned in and tightened his grip around her upper arm.

  “You’re hurting me,” she seethed.

  “Good,” he fiercely returned. “That guy is dangerous. You need to stay away from him.”

  “Who do you think you are?” she repeated.

  “I’m the guy who’s going to have to save your life if you don’t listen to me.”

  She glared at him, entirely unconvinced, and asked, “Shouldn’t you be mowing a lawn somewhere?”

  “Look lady, I’m a bodyguard—”

  “Ha! A bodyguard,” she laughed.

  “That’s right,” he told her. “And the main reason that’s how I make a living is standing up the sidewalk from us.”

  She screwed her face up as though he was insane.

  “He shot me in the shoulder a few months back,” he informed her.

  “That’s why he asked you how your shoulder was in the diner?”

  His answer to her was speechless. He pulled down the shoulder of his black tee shirt and showed her the circular scar Dante’s silver bullet had made.

  The skeptical expression on Elizabeth’s face melted into one that looked both intrigued and mystified.

  “Dante shot you?” she questioned. “And he’s walking around free as a bird?”

  “He has his ways,” he said.

  “Elizabeth!” Dante called out. “The first rule of real estate is never keep a buyer waiting!”

  “I have to go,” she told Dean, but when she turned he drew her back into him by her arm.

  He must have used more force than he’d meant to, because Elizabeth fell against the firm wall of his sculpted chest.

  As she eased off, pressing her palms into his chiseled abdomen, he could feel her lingering as if she liked what she was feeling.

  He asked her, “Real estate? Dante is buying real estate?”

  Her demeanor changed and as she held her head high, she said somewhat indignantly, “I inherited a humongous plot of land here in Devil’s Fist and I’m in the midst of selling it to Mr. Alighieri.”

  “Land?”

  “My father, Thomas Halsey, left it to me in his will,” she informed him.

  “You’re a Halsey?”

  “You seem surprised,” she commented.

  “The old Halsey land has been a mystery in this town for as long as I can remember,” he told her. “No one ever met Halsey. He never came to town.”

  “Well, that sounds like my father,” she allowed.

  Again, Dante called out, “My lady!”

  “Just a moment!” she returned over her shoulder.

  “Couldn’t have just been your father,” Dean told her. “The old Halsey land has been unoccupied in Devil’s Fist for centuries.”

  “What?” she asked breathlessly.

  He had her full attention now, but Dante wasn’t willing to be patient for even one second longer He started over towards them, his shiny loafers padding against asphalt, and inserted himself into their conversation as he offered Elizabeth his arm.

  “Shall we?” he asked her.

  Elizabeth couldn’t tear her intrigued gaze away from Dean, even as Dante turned her around and began leading her up the sidewalk.

  Dean watched her go, but wasn’t willing to let her out of his sight.

  He followed.

  Chapter Four

  ELIZABETH

  Libations bar was quiet and didn’t smell quite as offensive as it had the night before.

  There was a single bartender behind the counter, a salt-of-the-earth type who was lazily drying pint glasses and wiping down the countertop as Dante escorted Elizabeth inside.

  As they neared the bartender, he seemed to pause and stiffen seeing Dante Alighieri, which Elizabeth found highly curious. It reminded her, to a far lesser degree, of Dean Quinn’s reaction to the handsome, successful man. Why did certain individuals in Devil’s Fist seem to have a problem with Dante when Elizabeth herself found him wonderful?

  “What can I get you both?” asked the bartender, though his tone sounded dry and uninviting. As Elizabeth thought about what she might like to drink, the bartender was kind enough to offer, “I’m Jack Quagmire and I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “No, we haven’t,” she confirmed. “I’m Elizabeth Halsey.”

  “Halsey?” asked Jack as his dark eyes widened. “As in, the old Halsey land?”

  That was how Dean had referred to her father’s land as well. “Does everyone know about my dad’s land?” she asked.

  “Every single resident,” he assured her with a smile that showed her however irked he was to have Dante Alighieri in his establishment, it wasn’t bad enough to prevent him from marveling the legend standing on the other side of the bar counter. “The old Halsey land is almost as revered as Yellowstone National Park itself.”

  “Really?” she said, lighting up. It was touching to know that her father had had some kind of presence in this little town despite the fact that he’d never set foot in it.

  “Of course,” Jack said. “The old Halsey land is precious. And it’s great to meet a Halsey,” he smiled, but after a moment the brightness of his expression faltered. “What are you doing with this guy?”

  “The name’s Dante,” said the gentleman beside her, “but you know that.”

  “Ah,” Elizabeth grinned up at him and did her best to smooth over the rising tension between them. “This is the good man who has agreed to take the old Halsey land off of my hands.”

  Jack looked almost as horrified as Dean had out on the sidewalk.

  Dante suggested to her, “Why don’t you pick out a table for us and I’ll surprise you with a cocktail I’m sure you’d like?”

  “Very well,” she agreed then told Jack, “it was nice meeting you.”

  She turned and briefly surveyed the room and its decorum. She wasn’t one for the rustic look, but she had to admit that Jack had done a nice job with it. It was hard wood as far as the eye could see, she observed as she started towards the large, picture windows that face out onto Main Street. There were mounted animal heads on the walls—deer and bison and even a bear—and everything about the place boasted small-town charm that was specific to Wyoming.

  She picked a high, round table in front of the window and climbed up onto one of the chairs, crossed her legs, and froze at the sight of Dean Quinn coming up the sidewalk across the street.

  Had he been watching her?

  He was
n’t looking this way now, but there was something about his meandering gait that didn’t seem natural. As he lingered in front of an ice cream shop without perusing the options, she studied him.

  There was a time in her life when she definitely would have been drawn to a man like that. Dressing casual suited him without a doubt. With a muscular build like that, he would probably look good wearing just about anything. And his tattoos that covered nearly every inch of his arms were sexy. The dark ink accentuated his muscles, that was for sure. But Elizabeth wasn’t in high school anymore. Far from it, in fact. The last time she’d become interested in a bad boy like Dean Quinn she had been barely sixteen and the biggest draw of letting the kid from the wrong side of the tracks court her had been that it made her father furious. Those were her rebellious years. She hadn’t done anything particularly bad back then. It had only been natural teen-aged obstinance, a sour attitude that she’d easily grown out of by her senior year.

  As she watched Dean she wondered how he might look in a tailored Armani suit. It made her smile. He would probably look funny and feel uncomfortable.

  Oh, dear, was she feeling attracted to him?

  She hoped not as Dante joined her at the high table with two glasses of red wine in his large, manicured hands.

  “Shiraz,” he mentioned, offering her a glass as he sat across from her in the window. “I hope you like it, but I can’t say they have much of a wine list here.”

  “If you selected it, I’m sure this Shiraz will be excellent,” she complimented as they clinked their wine glasses and took a sip. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “we shouldn’t celebrate until you’ve signed!”

  Setting her glass down on the table, she cracked open her plush, Balenciaga purse and pulled out the real estate contract she’d brought with her. Having felt optimistic about closing the deal with Dante after she’d spoken with him on the phone back in Los Angeles, she’d already plugged in his information into all of the necessary fields. All he had to do was sign and date the document and the land would be his.

  She presented him with a pen and flipped to the signature page.

  As he took both to sign and pulled his checkbook out of the inner breast pocket of his tailored suit, she tried to sound casual as she mentioned, “Seems the residents around here are intimidated by you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, it seems that man, Dean Quinn, has formed quite an opinion, and I couldn’t help but notice that even the bartender here got a bit prickly when you arrived.”

  “I think you’re right,” he easily allowed. “They are intimidated. These are simple, impoverished people,” he explained, and it made sense to her. “They see a flashy car and a fancy suit and think you’re the devil incarnate!”

  She burst out laughing then caught the faintest glimmer of something very dark behind Dante’s handsome eyes.

  “I’m sure you’ve been met with your fair share of animosity and resentment since you came to town last night,” he guessed.

  “I must say, you’re right about that,” she agreed, shaking her head and recalling Dean’s guarded hesitation to be at all helpful towards her.

  But it wasn’t lost on her that once again Dean Quinn had popped into her head.

  Doing her best to push the bad boy from her mind, she focused intently on Dante and hoped that their shared glass of wine would naturally evolve into dinner, more cocktails, and maybe even a night together. She was feeling optimistic and wouldn’t mind being wined and dined into bed.

  She hadn’t been with a man in what felt like ages. Her last relationship had been short-lived and a bit exhausting, if she was being honest with herself. She’d learned a lot about herself and what she looked for in a man, and also qualities she hoped to never again encounter. The eight-month romance had ended three years ago, however, and it had been way too long without having jumped back on the horse.

  Elizabeth wanted to find the right man, be with someone who fit and complimented her. They had to match her lifestyle and be able to provide for her in all the ways her father had. She was of a certain caliber of aristocratic class, of good stock as some might say. She had quite a pedigree and felt strongly that she deserved similar in her soulmate. By the looks of him, Dante embodied her type. Maybe this could be the start of something real? Maybe she should stay in Devil’s Fist and explore the possibilities? If that meant agreeing to work with Dante as he rebuilt the building on the other side of Main Street, well then why not? Launching herself into these kinds of projects had been the only thing keeping her from tearing apart at the seams with grief over her father’s passing. Wouldn’t spending a bit more time in Wyoming do wonders for keeping her emotions at bay? It would certainly be better than returning to Los Angeles where she could barely get out of bed.

  Dante signed the document and passed it back to her.

  As Elizabeth tucked it into her pocket, she mentioned, “I’ll make copies and file the new deed with the county. Tell me, how might I become involved in the rebuilding project you’re embarking on up the street?”

  As Dante delved into explaining to her the ins and outs of his venture, Elizabeth found herself struggling to stay focused and present. Her mind kept drifting in Dean’s direction, and at times, her eyes did as well. He was still lingering around the ice cream shop across the street and glancing at Libations. But she wasn’t sure if he was doing that because he knew she was inside.

  Instinct told her that Dean was interested in keeping tabs on her. It both warmed her and made her feel nervous. Why would he care? Why had he seemed so intense about warning her to stay away from Dante Alighieri? And most curious of all, what did he know about the old Halsey land that she didn’t?

  From what he had mentioned, it sounded to Elizabeth that her father hadn’t bought the land, but rather that the huge acreage plot might have been in the Halsey family for years and years, maybe even centuries. But how could that be?

  She suddenly realized that she felt more keen to talk to Dean than she did Dante, but that was ridiculous. Dante had everything. Dean had nothing but a bad attitude and a sexy body. If she wanted to spend her time wisely, she ought to see if Dante was interested in courting her. A spontaneous fling with the gentleman could do wonders for her.

  If anything, she should hope for his attraction and interest and put Dean Quinn out of her head.

  “Elizabeth, this has been truly lovely,” he told her as he slid off of his chair. “But I have some business to attend to this afternoon. Might I tempt you into having dinner with me tonight?”

  She blushed as she smiled demurely up at him. “I would love that.”

  He took her slender hand and kissed it then said, “Splendid. We’ll further discuss the Main Street project over cocktails and dinner. I’ll call you.”

  “I’ll look forward to your call,” she promised and watched him glide through the bar and out onto the sidewalk.

  When Dante disappeared out of view, she let out a deep breath, but then her heart skipped a beat to find Dean Quinn starting across the street.

  He was heading straight for Libations and her heart would not stop racing.

  As soon as he stepped inside the bar, she locked her gaze onto her nearly finished glass of wine and held her breath, firmly reminding herself that Dean might have come here because he had a hankering for a beer.

  But when he immediately neared her table, she knew that wasn’t the case.

  “Tell me you didn’t sell to him,” he said, standing over her.

  She felt her eyes widened for a befuddled moment then stammered, “Of course I sold the land to him. I’m here to sell the land so that’s what I did.”

  He let out a heavy sigh that seemed to collapse his huge stature into a defeated heap.

  “What is your problem with Dante Alighieri?” she demanded, “And don’t tell me that it’s because he’s dangerous. That’s hardly an answer I’ll accept.”

  When he locked his eyes with hers next, a strange warm wave of electric energy wash
ed over her, but it didn’t seem to have a damn thing to do with the looming conversation at hand. She felt oddly connected to him, and the intensity he’d been using with her felt strangely intimate, like they’d known each other for years and not less than a day.

  What was she even talking about? They didn’t know each other at all.

  Dean sat in the chair opposite her, rested his muscular and heavily tattooed forearms on the round table, and said, “He’s a criminal, and he’s been getting away with it for…” he trailed off momentarily, then carefully said, “political reasons.”

  “He’s getting away with crime for political reasons?” she questioned. She didn’t like how vague Dean was being with her. If he wanted to convince her of something, he was going to have to do better than that. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Let’s just say, my brothers and I have been trying to drive him out of town ever since he got here.”

  “Dean, that only makes you sound dangerous, not Dante,” she pointed out. Then it hit her. “Brothers?”

  There were more of him?

  “I have four older brothers,” he explained. “We run Quinn Security.”

  “Ah, because you’re all bodyguards,” she surmised with a grin. “Forgive me, but I find it hard to believe that a sleepy little town like this would have enough crime to warrant a private security firm.”

  “Stick around long enough, Elizabeth, and you’ll see why.”

  “That sounds like a threat.”

  “It’s a warning,” he allowed. “Not that I want you to leave town.”

  “Oh?”

  Backpedaling, he stated, “Not that I don’t want you to leave town.”

  “Okay…”

  He sighed and from out of the clear blue sky offered, “You can stay in my cabin if you want. It’s far from a bed and breakfast, but it’s way better than the motel.”

  She froze, staring at him, puzzled and skeptical and also highly interested. “Why would you want me to stay with you at your cabin?”

  “Because I have a feeling you’re not going to heed my warning and if you get tangled up with Dante Alighieri, you’re going to need a bodyguard to protect you.”