Reaching For Risks

by Jemi Fraser

  Sawyer watched her with that placid gaze before he stood to loom over her with his arms crossed over his chest. “If you agree to a couple of rules.”

  She mimicked his stance and stuck out her chin. “Fat chance.”

  His fierce grin flashed for a moment before he leaned in to shove his face in hers. “One. Doors locked. Two. You let me know when you’re going out. Three. Keep your phone on you. Four. Be smarter.”

  That stung because it was true. “I’m a grown woman, Sawyer. I’m not going to be a prisoner.”

  “Fine.” Sawyer turned and sat on a stool, grabbed his coffee an sipped. He never capitulated. Ever. Why had that been so easy?

  “I’m glad you agree.”

  “No problem. Myla can scoot home and grab enough clothes for a few days. You don’t have to cook for us but it would be the sisterly thing to do.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged one massive shoulder. “You don’t want to follow the rules, we stay. Or you stay with us. Your choice.”

  Another caveman.

  Darby turned her back on him and continued putting away the tarts and pies. She felt his eyes on her, waiting. He wouldn’t budge. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she whirled on him. “Fine but you make your own bacon.”

  THE morning dragged for Darby. After she’d finally gotten Sawyer and Myla to head home, she’d been lost. And scared. She’d given up any pretense of not being needy and texted Quinn. Called him.

  Every time she tried, it went straight to voicemail. She left messages. Messages that hadn’t been returned. Was he ignoring her? Had his phone died?

  It couldn’t be anything worse. She wouldn’t let it.

  She wavered between angry and terrified every few minutes.

  When her cell rang while she was dusting a perfectly clean armoire, her heart leapt in anticipation. Quinn?

  Caller ID showed Dave Belanger. Terror resurfaced. The police chief wouldn’t call with good news. “Hey Darby, I’ve got the report written up and I need you to verify and sign it. You at the B&B?”

  The last thing she needed was another alpha male protecting the helpless woman. Getting out of the house might help her to stop obsessing. “I’ll come over to the station. I’ve got to stock up on flour and butter anyway.” Her pastry binge had taken its toll on her pantry.

  “It’s no trouble, Darby. I can pick up anything you need on the way if you like.”

  Torn between screaming in frustration and laughing, she sighed instead. “It’s broad daylight, Dave. I’m not going to be trapped in my house because of what happened. I’ll come over to the station. Besides, if any of the women in town find out you’re picking up shopping for me, you’re going to be inundated with calls. I’ll be there in a bit.”

  It took her a few more minutes to convince Dave not to come but she managed.

  Deciding to bring the chief a pie for the fuss she’d put him through, Darby changed into clothes that weren’t covered in flour and texted her brother. Off to see Dave. Do you think that’s safe enough?

  Before she’d even headed out the door, he’d answered. Smartass. Don’t be stupid out there.

  She stuck out her tongue at the phone and locked the door behind her.

  The station was only a couple of blocks and because she wanted to take her car, she decided to walk instead. Despite her brave words to Sawyer and Dave, nerves jangled through her as she headed down the steps, keys threaded through her fingers in one hand, pie box in the other.

  This was Bloo Moose. She’d lived here all of her life. It was safe. A happy place. Not a hotbed of crime.

  Taking a deep breath, she headed to Boardwalk Avenue. Cutting through the alleys would save her a few minutes but she wasn’t being stupid two days in a row. Time to stick to the safety of the main streets, even though that hadn’t helped yesterday,

  When her heart raced, she crossed to the boardwalk itself rather than the sidewalk with its perpendicular alleyways.

  When she arrived at the police station without incident, she patted Deputy Mooris on the nose. The statue wore a full uniform, including a badge. “Glad you’re on duty, bud. Could have used you yesterday.” The statue didn’t seem the least perturbed by her accusation.

  Inside, Dave let her into his office and poured her a coffee. She accepted, though she knew more caffeine was probably the last thing she needed.

  She put the pie box on his desk. “It’s not blueberry but I think you’ll like it. It’s a small thanks for putting you through all this fuss.”

  Dave peeked in the box and grinned. “Lemon meringue. Even better. Thanks.” Then he sat down in his chair and steepled his fingers while he studied her. “And while it’s appreciated it’s not necessary. This isn’t a fuss, Darby, it’s a crime. An assault. Something you need to take seriously. It’s my job to take it seriously and I am. Did you walk over?”

  “Yes, Dad. With my eyes open and my keys ready in my hand.”

  Dave frowned instead of smiling. “Where’s Quinn? I thought he’d be with you.”

  Good question. She’d thought the same thing. Worry was eating at her. Either he was investigating on his own or he didn’t want to talk with her. Neither option made her happy but she refused to believe he wasn’t safe. He had to be safe.

  Instead of answering the question directly, she tried to look tough as she raised an eyebrow at him. “I can walk a couple of blocks on my own. You sound exactly like Sawyer. Where’s this report you need me to sign?”

  Dave sat back and raised his own eyebrows at her snarky tone. She felt her cheeks flush but she didn’t look away. Shaking his head, Dave pulled a piece of paper out of a folder and slid it across the desk to her.

  Reading it through made her stomach tighten and her hands tremble but she managed to control it. After signing, she headed back out, Dave’s warnings ringing in her ears. Was she going to be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life?

  It had taken her a decade to come to terms with the last attack. A decade where she’d hidden from everyone. And herself. A decade where she’d become so afraid she’d forgotten how to take the simplest of risks.

  It had taken the Nosy Trinity to snap her out of it and she’d finally, finally reached a place in the normal realm. Then she’d been attacked again.

  Tears burned at her eyes and her throat tightened. She stopped beside Deputy Mooris and took a few breaths to settle herself. She hadn’t cried once in those ten years, hadn’t allowed herself to be that weak.

  She wasn’t going to be weak now. Her Risk List had helped her become stronger. Helped her to realize she was actually a pretty decent person. And that she wasn’t weak.

  Actually, Quinn had helped as much as the Risk List. More.

  Darby pulled out her phone and tried his number again. No answer. “Quinn? I’m scared. Are you okay? Please call me as soon as you can.” And while her voice shook a little, she decided fear didn’t make her weak. Fear gave her a chance to be strong, a chance to show she cared. And she did. She cared more than she’d ever thought possible.

  Darby started walking back to the B&B. He’d go there if he came looking for her.

  No, not if. When.

  Quinn would go there when he came looking for her. With a perfectly rational explanation for where he’d gone. For why he hadn’t called.

  Heart hammering, Darby picked up her speed. The faster she got back to the B&B, the more quickly she’d see Quinn.

  It might be flaky logic but at the moment, it was all she had.

  QUINN wanted to kick something—preferably his own ass. He’d spent the entire night driving to Connecticut and back, trying to find his brother’s vehicle. Or his father’s. The family estate was fenced and the cars weren’t visible from the road. Which he should have remembered. He’d grown up in the damn place.

  Sitting in his truck outside the fence had dragged memories to the forefront. Memories he’d rather have kept suppressed. Memories of sitting in his room, watching the road, wishing h
e was on it. Studying in the den that didn’t hold a single piece of comfortable furniture. Shelves jammed with books of boring, financial brilliance. Expectations hanging on the walls right along with paintings that were chosen to impress, not to be enjoyed. Family dinners with not a single word spoken.

  Cold people who loved money and appearances more than people.

  More than him.

  It took a physical shake of his head to bring himself back to the present. He needed to stay out of the past and find his brother. He didn’t know if Philip had moved out but he suspected he’d stayed on with dear old dad, taken up a wing of the house rather than striking out on his own. Stockpile the money, live in luxury without any of the expenses.

  Why were they broke? How could that have happened? Seemed impossible. And if they needed money so badly, all they had to do was sell off the house, the cars, the antiques. Any of it. All of it. It was only stuff and there was a crap-ton of it laying around. No one did anything but look at it and even then he’d bet none of the three of them even noticed the things anymore.

  Ludicrous to value stuff above people but they had so they probably still did. Appearances above real connections.

  They were willing to hurt Darby to get him to be a part of it. He had to stop it. Protect her. Even if it meant keeping himself as far away from her as possible. If she wasn’t with him, connected to him, she’d be safe.

  Even the thought made his heart stutter. The faster he took care of the problem, the better.

  Quinn stopped at a convenience store with an old fashioned phone booth. Inside there was even a phone book with most of the pages intact. Of course neither his father or brother had their numbers listed and he couldn’t look them up on his phone at the moment because he’d let the battery die.

  His brain really wasn’t functioning. He’d only realized the phone was dead when he’d finally calmed down enough to text Darby. He’d been so angry so focused on finding his family and digging down to the truth, he’d forgotten the person who mattered most. There’d been no room in his head for anything but anger. Which was so like his father, it scared him. A lot.

  Going off to Burlington half-cocked had been stupid. Heading to Connecticut, stupider. And selfish. Darby had been shaken up by the attack and he’d called in the troops without warning her. Then he’d left.

  Still wanted to kiss his own ass.

  With his phone dead, he couldn’t even look up the number of the B&B and he hadn’t memorized it or Darby’s personal number. He’d just plugged them into his contacts.

  Any more stupid and he’d have to pick up a new brain.

  Along with some gas.

  Almost out. Quinn pounded the wheel in frustration. Could nothing go right? His truck wasn’t new enough to give him the mileage left but he didn’t think he was going to make it back to Bloo Moose.

  Dumbass.

  He did the only thing he could do. Kept driving. And hoping.

  About five miles out of town, he had just convinced himself he’d be fine when the engine started knocking and banging. Swearing, he slammed the wheel again and coaxed every last yard out of the beast. When there was nothing left, he pulled the truck to the side of the road and turned it off.

  Laying his head on the wheel, he swore some more then tried to get a grip.

  But his gut was screaming at him to move.

  He didn’t know if it was lack of sleep or the worry but he knew he needed to get to Darby. Now.

  With no other choice, Quinn climbed down from the truck and checked the back, hoping for a convenient jerry can of gas but his luck wasn’t that good.

  Unwilling to wait around, he locked up the truck, pocketed the keys and his useless phone and headed toward town, cursing himself and his stupidity all the way.

  He’d covered at least a mile when a horn tooted behind him. Finally. The first car he’d seen. A huge old Pontiac pulled up and Quinn wanted to scream at the universe.

  Mrs. Hammond.

  The lady who’d crashed the pole into his shop. Definitely not his day.

  “Hello there, Quinn. Was that your truck I spotted back there?”

  “Sure is, Mrs. Hammond. Any chance you can give me a ride back to town?”

  “Well, of course, young man, that’s where I’m headed.” Obviously. The road only led to Bloo Moose. Instead of stating the obvious Quinn climbed into the car that only sported a tiny dent from its encounter with the pole. Bizarre.

  Mrs. Hammond watched him do up his seat belt then smiled through her thick glasses. “Did you break down or did you run out of gas? That happens to me a lot.”

  Of course it did. And now he was in the same boat with Mrs. Hammond and she was the one controlling the oars.

  Quinn had to answer a dozen questions before she would put the car into gear. She pulled out onto the highway without a check in her mirror or a backward glance. Maybe he’d have been safer walking.

  “How’s your family, dear? I’ve seen your father and brother around town recently. Are they thinking about buying another home out on the bluffs?”

  He took a deep breath so he wouldn’t snap at her. “No. They were only visiting.” Begging. Threatening. Bullying. Quinn wanted to reach over and step on the gas.

  “Have you introduced your young lady to your family yet?”

  “What?”

  She slid him what she probably thought was a knowing smile, which it might have been if her dentures hadn’t slipped.

  “Curve coming up ahead, Mrs. Hammond.” She nodded but kept her eye on him for another few seconds then turned at the last second to take the curve. If she’d been going any faster, the angle would have put them on two wheels. For the first time in his life, Quinn considered holding onto a panic bar. If the old boat had one.

  “How is your brother reacting to your dating Darby?”

  His head whipped toward her. “What? Why would Philip care?” Or know anything about it?

  Dentures dropping, Mrs. Hammond smiled again but this time he didn’t have eyes for the road either. “Everyone knows he was making cow eyes at Darby when your family first moved here. Not that she had any time for him you know but he had it bad. Always watching her from a distance. Hovering around wherever she was. Following her.”

  “Philip?” Quinn’s head spun. Philip? Had he tried to date Darby? His Darby?

  Mrs. Hammond shook her head and clucked her tongue. “She didn’t pay him any mind. That darling girl didn’t have any use for the likes of him.” She reached over and patted his arm. “She’s always been sweet on you, though. From the moment you arrived. Tried to hide it but a woman knows.”

  Hell. The woman was batty and delusional. If Darby had been sweet on him, she would have been able to make eye contact with him before two weeks ago. She’d always been nervous around him. Worried and wary.

  Shit.

  Because of Philip?

  “Did they ever date?” His voice was shaky but he had to know.

  Mrs. Hammond laughed and clapped her hands. Leaving the steering wheel free to do as it pleased. “Date?” Her hands finally came down to the wheel and Quinn breathed again. “Never. Darby is far too sensible to fall for a man like that. No. She would have seen right through that veneer he thought he wore to hide the predator underneath. Oops. Sorry, dear. He is your brother, I shouldn’t be saying these things.”

  She couldn’t stop now. “I need to know, Mrs. Hammond. Please. Tell me what you know. Everything.”

  She sent him a long look, too long for the curving highway. He reached over to steady the wheel. She laughed again and patted his hand. “You’re a good boy, Quinn Charters. Make sure she sees that. You’re not the type to skulk in alleys to watch her or to follow her home when she’s made it clear she’s not interested.”

  Skulking in alleys? Following her home?

  Had Philip done that Then as well? Had he done worse?

  Fury pounded through him and he looked up to see the first signs of town. The motel. No cars likely to bel
ong to his brother. Was he here?

  Of course he was. He wouldn’t let it go. If he’d been after Darby back then he’d be after her now.

  “Mrs. Hammond, I need to get to the B&B as quickly as you can get there.”

  “Well, of course you do, dear. Shall I push the pedal to the metal?”

  Oh, hell. “Push it, Mrs. Hammond. All the way.”

  Brother Dearest

  Safe. Darby closed and locked the kitchen door behind her, feeling like an idiot. The men had gotten her all worked up and the trip to the station and grocery store had been endless.

  But she’d made it. She hadn’t let fear conquer her this time. And not next time either. It would take work, lots of work but she wasn’t going to take another decade to get over this. She wasn’t going to lose any more years of her life.

  Which made her think of Quinn. Who was she kidding? She’d been thinking of him nonstop since he’d stomped out the door. Another peek at her phone showed nothing new but she sent another text. Worried. Call me. Please.

  It seemed impossible he was ignoring her. He might be completely annoyed with her, totally pissed but he cared about her. Quinn wasn’t the type of man to ignore her, leave her hanging like that. Even if he wanted to break up with her he’d talk to her. He was that kind of guy.

  She should have told Dave that he hadn’t returned her texts and calls.

  Unless he’d dumped her and then she’d look like an idiot and Dave didn’t need to know that.

  She was driving herself completely crazy. The same arguments had been rolling around in her head, fighting against themselves for hours and hours. She’d be certifiable soon if she didn’t hear from Quinn.

  Even hearing he never wanted to see her again would be preferable than thinking he was hurt. Or worse. No. She wouldn’t think that, wouldn’t consider the possibility.

  Darby opened the fridge to put away the butter and her eyes drifted to the can of whipped cream on the shelf. Even through all the worry, her body lit up from the inside as she thought of what she’d like to do with it. His abs. She could start there and work her way up. And down.