Reaching For Risks

by Jemi Fraser

  Quinn. She shoved out of Sawyer’s arms but it was too late. Quinn was gone. When she tried to follow, Sawyer held her back. “Let him go, he’s got to blow off some steam. He’ll be back.”

  Darby wasn’t so sure. Had he known who the threat was from? If he did, he’d be headed right into trouble. Trouble she’d caused. Trouble she could have kept from him if she hadn’t been so worn out. If she’d been smarter. Better.

  Quinn was putting himself in danger because of her.

  Or he was taking off because he was ticked at her for not telling the truth or for being a coward in the first place.

  Either way, she wasn’t sure he’d ever be back.

  QUINN had never been so angry. Fury bubbled through him, filling up every corner of his soul. He stormed to his truck, glad he’d parked it at CharterGear and not at the B&B. Walking the couple of blocks in the downpour helped to cool some of the temper pouring off him. He’d have to be in control enough to drive and at the moment he wasn’t even close.

  It had to be Philip.

  His father was the only other possibility but he didn’t think the old man had it in him. He’d been a coward for so long. Too long. He’d never approach Darby directly.

  Wait.

  Whoever had grabbed Darby had been a coward. Grabbing a woman from behind when she was defenseless, shoving her down with his foot. Not giving her a chance to defend herself. Coward.

  Maybe it was Lionel.

  Either way, someone was going down.

  Hard.

  Inside the truck, Quinn gripped the steering wheel then banged it hard with his hand. And again.

  Someone in his goddamn family had tried to hurt her. Had hurt her. Scared her too.

  He’d thought it was bad when they were playing with quasi-legal investment schemes. Hurting a woman, attacking her from behind. What kind of genes did he carry in his body being related to a bastard like that?

  Quinn got back out of his truck and kicked the hell out of his tires for a full minute. The rain seeped through his clothes, helping to cool him off. Breathing hard he gripped the tailgate and battled his emotions. He had to be different. He couldn’t be like them.

  Which meant he needed control. Driving in the state he was in, he could kill an innocent bystander thus proving he had full Charters DNA. No. He was more than that. Had to be

  Turning his face to the rain he forced his breathing to settle bit by bit. Bank the rage. Like a fire. Keep it simmering and use it when he found the target.

  Was that how Sawyer did it?

  Good idea. His buddy wouldn’t let his emotions rule him, he’d be the one in charge. Quinn would be as well.

  Quinn huffed out another breath and hopped back in the truck. In only a few minutes, he arrived at the local motel but neither his father or his brother’s car was there. After a moment’s indecision, he hopped out of the truck and walked into the office. A quick chat with Hailey in the office proved neither his father nor his brother had stayed at the motel the previous night nor were they booked for tonight. She’d call him if that changed.

  Definitely one of the advantages of living in a small town.

  Hoping it would be easy, Quinn pulled out his phone and called Philip. No answer. “Call me now, you bastard.” Probably shouldn’t have said the last bit but the fury would have been in his voice anyway. Philip would know he knew.

  His father didn’t answer. This time he managed to leave only a two-word message. “Call me.”

  Quinn used another connection and texted Gage LaChance to see if either of them were booked into the lodge. Nope.

  Had one of them driven from Connecticut in the hopes they’d catch Darby unawares? Seemed beyond ridiculous. Which didn’t mean it didn’t happen. Neither Philip nor Lionel realized the world didn’t work according to their wishes.

  There weren’t any other more motels but there were lots of semi-permanent places either of them could use. Or both of them. Could they be working together? They’d collaborated to try to get him to sign the papers. Wouldn’t be much a stretch to believe they might work together to do this as well.

  Which made him feel like he was covered in slime.

  A call to Kurt, the local realtor, turned up nothing but Quinn drove the roads around Bloo Moose peeking into every driveway for familiar or expensive rental cars. If they were hiding, they wouldn’t bring vehicles Quinn would recognize.

  Lots of people rented out their homes to people wanting to visit Vermont. Fishing, camping, water sports, and in the autumn, hordes came to see nature at her peak. It was early for tourist season but Quinn couldn’t find anything.

  Where was the bastard hiding?

  His gut said it was Philip. Lionel had more patience, more belief that if he persisted, his plans would work. He’d also exploded with violence at least once as Quinn well knew.

  Philip has always been more impulsive, less intelligent, too.

  Had to be him.

  Where would he hide?

  Somewhere with plush towels, a hot tub and fancy food from room service.

  Not in Bloo Moose.

  One of the nearby towns? They popped up everywhere along the millions of lakes in the state. More likely Burlington, though. It wasn’t much more than an hour away. Close but not too close. Nothing obvious. It felt right.

  Quinn checked the time and hesitated. It wasn’t that long of a drive but he wouldn’t be back before nightfall.

  And Darby would be alone.

  Damn.

  Sawyer would protect her, make sure she wasn’t alone.

  Quinn turned the truck around and headed out to Burlington.

  Hours later, he’d checked the best hotels and found they had too many possible cars. The staff didn’t know him and wouldn’t help. He’d claimed he wanted to leave a message for his brother or father but no one would confirm their presence.

  Using his phone, he took photographs of all the vehicles he considered to be possibilities.

  Too many. Stupid. Wasting time.

  He needed to be more productive.

  Quinn had checked out the bars in the hotels but he needed to also go through the local bars and restaurants if he was going to be thorough.

  Another wasted hour later he sat in his truck to plan out his next move.

  He’d planned to find his brother, beat the truth out of him, turn him over to Dave then go home to Darby and make love to her all night long.

  Make sure she was safe.

  Make sure she was his.

  Now even facing her seemed impossible.

  Quinn pounded the steering wheel with the heel of his hand then laid his head down on it.

  His brother had shoved her down, kicked her, hurt her. Thank God that’s as far as it had gone but it was bad enough. She’d been at his mercy.

  All while Quinn had been laughing with Rayce as they’d cleaned up his shop.

  His phone buzzed. Sawyer. Don’t be stupid. We’re staying at the B&B.

  Thank God. She’d be safe with Sawyer there. No one would get through his friend to someone he loved. He’d saved Myla from that crazy bitch and he’d keep Darby safe, too.

  Unlike Quinn.

  Family.

  Even though it was only the two of them, Darby and Sawyer had always been a family. He’d envied their bond from the beginning. Same with the LaChance family. Four kids, great parents. So much love. So many bonds tying them to each other. Keeping them together no matter the distance separating them.

  And what did he have? A distant mother who’d spent as little time with her sons as possible. Even when they’d lived in the same house, weeks went by without him spotting her. He couldn’t remember a kind word or a hug. Hell, he couldn’t even remember a conversation.

  No wonder he’d screwed it up and let Darby get hurt. He didn’t know the first thing about being a part of a real family. He’d thought he could fake it, learn as he went along but he’d screwed up.

  He sent a text to Sawyer thanking him then turned down th
e volume a bit and threw the phone onto the seat beside him.

  What the hell did he do next? Staying in Burlington on the off chance of spotting Philip leaving a hotel seemed dumb and he’d been dumb enough.

  If his brother had accomplished what he’d set out to do, deliver his message to him through Darby, he might have gone home. Quinn had been thinking he’d stay close so he’d have the papers ready when Quinn caved and signed them.

  What if Philip had headed home and Quinn had wasted hours in Burlington?

  With a curse, he started the truck and headed home. Maybe he should call Philip back, let him know he was on to him and it wasn’t going to work. Or he could lay in wait, turn the tables on them.

  It was late when he pulled into Bloo Moose but a soft light shone in Darby’s room. Was she scared?

  His fault.

  His family had hurt her and he needed to fix it.

  Instead of parking, Quinn turned the truck around again and headed out.

  Taking Control

  Darby slapped the dough onto the counter and started to knead. Six batches and the fear still shimmered through her.

  Idiot man.

  A sleepless night huddled in the chair where Quinn had held her had left her tired, grumpy and angry.

  Stupid, idiot man.

  She pounded the dough into the counter again.

  He hadn’t even called. Stormed out like a caveman out to save the world because the cavewoman was too weak and too stupid to save herself.

  Which she was.

  She’d let some jackass toss her to the ground, let him terrorize her. All while she’d had a perfectly good weapon in her hand. But instead of wielding the umbrella, she’d dropped it as soon as he’d grabbed her.

  Idiot woman.

  No wonder Quinn had taken off.

  Probably amazed at how weak she’d been, how vulnerable she’d left herself. No one in their right mind wanted to be with a weakling.

  So he’d gone.

  After making her fall in love with him.

  He could have had the decency to fall in love back. Or kiss her good-bye. Or tell her where he’d gone. Or why.

  But no, he’d stormed off all pissed off and sullen. Without a word.

  Not even a text in all those hours in between then and now. How long did it take to send a text? Seconds. Only seconds.

  Obviously he didn’t think she was even worth those seconds.

  Darby refused to consider that he might be hurt. Certainly wasn’t going to consider anything worse.

  No. Quinn was ignoring her. Or not thinking about her. Not caring about her.

  Walking away from her.

  Darby picked up the rolling pin and considered it. That was a good weapon. She’d have to start carrying it around with her. Or bashing her caveman over the head with it.

  Or her own head.

  Why hadn’t she reacted? If she could have identified the man, Quinn would be warm and safe.

  Maybe they’d still be in bed, enjoying a lazy morning session of lovemaking. Her body flushed at even the thought of it and she rolled harder. Would she ever feel those magic hands again? How badly had she screwed it up?

  Darby forced herself to put down the rolling pin when the dough was the right thickness for her tarts. It was probably too heavy for her purse, anyway.

  She could solve her own problems. Didn’t need a caveman storming off into the night to do that for her.

  Unless he’d stormed off to leave her.

  Idiot man.

  Hadn’t even told her if he was dumping her.

  Darby whipped together the butter tart filling and poured it into the shells, forcing her hands steady. The timer beeped and she pulled out the lemon pies. The meringue looked a lot lighter than she felt.

  After setting the timer for the tarts, she paused. Memories of the man shoving her to the ground ran through her mind again. Why hadn’t she had her keys in her hand? She almost always did. Even in Bloo Moose, a woman had to be careful. She knew that better than most but she’d been distracted.

  By Quinn.

  By thoughts of strategic parts of his body being covered in whipped cream. She wasn’t even cut out for a walk home, never mind a walk on the wild side with whipped cream and a sexy man.

  The whole Risk List had been a disaster from the beginning. She wasn’t made that way. None of this would have happened if she’d stuck to her Reno List and had ignored the Nosy Trinity.

  What if he was hurt—or worse—because he’d confronted the man who’d assaulted her?

  Her fault. All of it.

  Should she head out on her own and look for him?

  She didn’t have a clue where he’d gone. He’d said he was having problems with his family. Was it all connected? Was it someone from his family who’d grabbed her?

  Philip?

  Too hard to know.

  Because she’d been focused on herself and hadn’t asked Quinn more questions about his troubles. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it but she should have pressed.

  She claimed to love him but was she even capable or was she too self-absorbed?

  No wonder he’d left.

  Darby attacked the sink of dishes but even after they were cleaned and put away and the tarts were cooling, she couldn’t settle.

  She checked her phone again. Not one word. Once again she considered sending a text of her own. But he’d left her.

  Pissed that she’d been a coward. Pissed that she hadn’t called the police. Or him. She wasn’t going to add needy to the list of her faults.

  But she was needy. For him.

  Now, who was the idiot?

  The door to the dining room swung open, making Darby jump. At least she kept in the squeal as her brother strolled in. Darby’s heart raced in reaction. “What’s wrong? Is it Quinn? Is he okay?”

  Sawyer rolled his eyes and headed for the coffee pot. “Do you have any idea how much noise a stressed-out woman can cause before the sun even considers waking up?”

  The tray Darby was putting away clattered to the ground. “Is Myla okay? What’s wrong? Why is she stressed?”

  Sawyer shook his head and sighed as he filled up his mug. Then he leaned back on the counter and sipped, staring at her with that implacable look he’d perfected during his military training. Darby stared back and he finally rolled his eyes again then moved them to look at the pies and tarts that covered the counters and a section of the floor.

  Realization dawned. “You mean me. Sorry. I didn’t realize I was loud. Guess I wasn’t thinking.”

  Sawyer snorted out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s what, four or five batches of dough?”

  Six but she wasn’t telling him that.

  “You only make that much dough when you’re stressed. Really stressed.” He sipped more coffee and studied her. “Can I at least assume you’re feeling better?”

  No. Unable to lie to her brother, she turned her back on him and went back to cleaning her mixer. His sigh was loud enough to be heard over the running water and almost made her smile.

  He didn’t speak again until she was done all of the cleaning, the kitchen was spotless and she no longer had an excuse not to look at him. As expected he was watching her with those eyes that gave away nothing. Unless they were looking at his fiancée.

  She wanted that. With the idiot man who’d pulled the disappearing caveman act. “Do you think he’s safe?” Oops. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  Sawyer frowned. “Exactly how close have you two gotten since he moved in here? Do I have to kill my best man?”

  Instead of answering, Darby moved forward and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re sweet, Sawyer but my love life is my business.”

  He stiffened even as he wrapped her in his arms. “Love life?”

  That gave her the first smile in hours. “I’m not seventeen anymore, Sawyer. I’m allowed to have a love life if I want one.”

  “I’ll still have to kill him.”

  She managed a wobb
ly laugh into his chest. “He’s your best friend, Sawyer. Best man in your wedding. Killing him would ruin the wedding and you can’t do that to Myla.”

  He sighed again. “You’re probably right. I’ll have to be satisfied with beating him to a pulp.”

  Darby knew she should laugh, knew that was his aim but she couldn’t do it. She was too shaky. When she tried to pull away, he held her at arm’s length and studied her eyes. Whatever he saw made him sigh again. The man could start a tornado with those sighs. “That’s how it is, is it?” Then he pulled her in for another fierce hug and she had to battle back the tears. That’s exactly how it was.

  “Tell me something else, Darb. How’d that guy get the drop on you yesterday?”

  She tried to pull away but he didn’t let her. Not only was he strong as a moose, he was more patient than anyone she’d ever met. He’d stand there until spring turned to summer waiting for her answer. Knowing she might as well get it over with, she shrugged. “I was distracted.”

  His only response was to set her at arm’s length again and to raise an eyebrow.

  “It was raining. I was in a hurry.”

  “Since when does rain bother you?”

  True but she wasn’t telling him about the whipped cream experiment she’d been planning. He’d probably carry through on his earlier threat to kill Quinn. Another shrug but this time he didn’t stop her when she pushed away.

  Darby found a container and started filling it with cooled tarts, feeling Sawyer’s eyes on her. The man could sit through a blizzard without a blink or muscle twitch. He’d gotten a ton of medals from his time as a SEAL. They sat in a box in his closet but she knew they were there and what they represented. He was the bravest, steadiest person she knew.

  And he had a coward for a sister.

  No more.

  She’d made the Risk List because she was tired of living like a coward. Tired of herself. It was past time for her to be a whole person. Time to take charge of her own life.

  Starting with getting her house back. “Bacon and eggs or pancakes before you and Myla head home?”