Fantasy Man

by Barbara Meyers

  Quinn hadn’t asked Nick that question. “I’m not sure.”

  “How are you getting there?”

  “With a guy from work.”

  “What guy?”

  “Nick.”

  “Nick who?”

  “Reynolds.”

  “What do you know about him? If you wanted to go to the beach why didn’t you tell me? I’d have taken you.”

  “He invited everybody, dad. It sounded like fun. It’s not a date or anything.”

  Scene made. This was not working out as Quinn had planned. She hadn’t expected Twenty Questions. Or had she? Why had she never asked Reif to take her to the beach? Because she’d lived near a beach her entire life. It hadn’t been a driving desire. Why had she agreed so quickly to go with Nick, then?

  Oh my God, she thought, he’s got me interrogating myself.

  Reif studied her. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. She looked away. “I have to go.”

  She got out the door but still felt Reif’s gaze burning a hole in her back. She practically race-walked to Antonia’s, part of her fearing she’d be late and Nick would leave without her and another part expecting Reif to come after her and drag her back to the house.

  She slowed as she came closer to the restaurant, and closer to the realization that what she wished for most was the latter.

  Reif’s first instinct was to go after her and insist she return to the house with him. He had a feeling something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Quinn’s story was plausible enough. He could easily believe her overly protective family would go the extra mile to keep her out of harm’s way. Especially if Tony even suspected information about her activities had been leaked.

  Every day since she’d arrived Reif checked the Coral Bay Banner for news and updates of local trials. He looked through the local law enforcement websites as well, but he didn’t know exactly what he was looking for. The only thing he read about was the upcoming trial of Benny Strollo for those two murders. Other than the busboy working at the same restaurant, Quinn claimed to have no connection there. But what if she did?

  His gut clenched at the thought while his mind rejected various courses of action. That tracking bracelet wasn’t a real safeguard against anything. He knew that of course, but he couldn’t come up with a better idea when he realized he couldn’t control Quinn’s movements or her choices.

  Not for the first time he silently cursed Tony for putting him in this position. He was flying blind with no information, no support, no way of contacting Tony in case of an emergency. It was a stand-by-for-further-instructions kind of situation.

  So what was he supposed to do now? He had a couple of ideas. The first was to do a background check on this Nick Reynolds.

  At his desk he found yet another newspaper article taped to his laptop. He scanned the text. A private plane had crashed into a home in Gaithersburg, Maryland. Six people had been killed; three on the plane and three in the house. Another “subtle” message from Quinn.

  This had been going on for a while now. Quinn had been clipping articles out of the newspaper and leaving them for him all over the house to prove her point that safety was an illusion. He’d found one in his bathroom, another on his dresser. A third in his underwear drawer. A golfer who died after being hit in the head by a ball. A teen’s death due to a roller coaster accident at an amusement park. An engaged couple killed when a senior citizen lost control of his Mercedes and drove it into the jewelry store.

  Her message was coming through loud and clear, but it didn’t change a thing. He had nothing better to do today anyway. He’d been going to suggest sailing or a movie before Quinn had told him of her plans. He fired up his laptop and fed the limited information he had on her coworker into his search program.

  In less than a minute he had a profile, and a picture of a dark-haired twenty-one-year-old college student. No criminal background, no felony or misdemeanor convictions. Except for a speeding ticket three years ago he had a clean driving record.

  Reif scanned every other bit of information and made a note of the make and model of Nick Reynolds’s vehicle, a mid-sized SUV.

  He stopped for a moment and tried to put himself in Quinn’s position. He wouldn’t want to be a prisoner confined inside a house any more than she did. Even if it was for his own good. Even if the intention was to keep him safe. He’d be batshit crazy in about three days, and Quinn had been here at least as many weeks. He couldn’t blame Quinn for wanting to live her life, could he?

  But was the risk worth it? He always came back to that. If he knew his life was in danger, he would be able to buckle down and keep from climbing the walls and getting himself killed. Why couldn’t she?

  The fact was, Reif felt more strongly than ever Quinn was in danger. He’d researched current-day organized crime. This was not the world of Don Corleone. They were as sophisticated as any corporation when it came to technology, and look how easily Reif had found information on Nick Reynolds. If she ever used her real name or credit card or social security number. Or if a picture of her ended up on the internet. Facial recognition software was easy to come by. Anyone with the means and the interest could install it and use it.

  If anything happened to Quinn, Tony would never forgive him. But Reif wouldn’t be able to forgive himself either. Not only that, a world without Quinn Fontana—scrap that, his world without Quinn Fontana in it would be a miserable one.

  She drove him crazy, sure. But she also brought out a protective streak in him, even stronger than the one he had for his sisters.

  In minutes he put together some things to take with him. His laptop. His cell phone. Power cords. A jacket. Snacks and a couple of bottles of water. From the gun safe in his closet he removed his Glock and dropped a clip into it. He didn’t think he’d need it. Not today anyway. But he also knew it was better to be prepared than not.

  The tracking bracelet Quinn wore could only tell him where she was. It couldn’t see if she was being followed or watched. It couldn’t tell him if she was taken hostage or if she was dead. He shied away from that last thought.

  At the moment the app told him she was moving at a fairly steady pace toward the coast. He was maybe a half hour away from her.

  By the time he arrived at the beach and found a place to park, Quinn and her group had set up near a volleyball net. There were a bunch of them, all young and tanned, in tee shirts and board shorts. College students, ready to have some fun.

  Reif could see the group without his binoculars but he used them anyway, zeroing in on Quinn. She’d bowed out of playing volleyball and sat on a beach towel instead, arms wrapped around her knees. She was looking out at the water.

  From the group Reif picked out Nick. He was the apparent alpha male, calling encouragement to the players on both sides, low-fiving his teammates when they scored and generally keeping the fun going. Reif had seen his kind before. Everyone’s friend, the life of the party, the kind of guy who enjoyed other people. Nick probably had a lot of acquaintances and few close friends. Thus the blanket invitation to everyone who worked at Antonia’s, including Quinn, someone who didn’t look like she belonged with the rest of the crowd and who didn’t look like she was enjoying herself.

  But what did he know? Maybe she liked sitting at the beach and staring out at the waves. Maybe that was her idea of a good time. It would have been a good day to sail. There was a strong steady breeze. The sun was out, the sky clear. Damn. Why hadn’t he offered to take her sailing the moment she’d mentioned the beach?

  Because she caught him off guard. She did that a lot. He was never a step ahead of her. Most times he felt he couldn’t keep up with her. She never did what he expected. Even in bed.

  Uh unh. Don’t go there, he warned himself as he trained the binoculars back on Quinn.

  She got up, stepped out of her jeans, and shrugged off her
hoodie. She said something to Nick while there was a break in the play and moved away from the group. Alone.

  Great. Taking off alone made her an even easier target. The beach was fairly crowded, but a young woman alone? With no close companions nearby? Most of those kids in that group probably barely knew her. Might not even recognize her if they saw her again. They couldn’t all work at Antonia’s.

  Reif made a decision. Quinn would probably be pissed at him, and he wouldn’t blame her. She wouldn’t like that he’d followed her, but that was just too damn bad.

  He returned the binoculars to the trunk of the car. She didn’t have to know just how diligently he’d been spying on her.

  He took the stairs to the beach and took off at a sprint to catch up with her. She’d left her flip-flops back with her jeans and was walking at a good pace through the sand just above the shoreline.

  He slowed down once he got close, reconsidering the wisdom of his plan. Perhaps he should just go back to the parking lot, sit in his car, keep an eye on Nick’s vehicle until it left with Quinn inside. She’d be none the wiser that he’d been there the whole time. If Nick dropped her at the restaurant, Reif could arrive back at the house before she did. She’d never know he’d even been gone.

  Suddenly she took off at a run. Reif picked up his pace, admiring her athleticism. She settled into a comfortable rhythm and Reif jogged along a fair distance behind her, deciding she didn’t need to know he was there. If she turned around he’d make a ninety-degree turn and try to blend in with some of the other beach goers. In the meantime, he could enjoy the view as she ran, her muscles tensing and flexing, elbows pumping, her dark hair flying out behind her.

  She’d lived her entire life in a beachside resort community. It stood to reason she spent a fair amount of time at the beach. For all Reif knew, she ran on a regular basis. If so, no wonder she had such a difficult time having her freedom curtailed.

  She was in better shape than he was, that was for sure. If he was going to keep up with her he should probably start using his treadmill instead of just hanging his dry cleaning on it.

  While he was distracted he almost ran into her. She’d slowed down without him noticing and he almost knocked her over. Instinctively he reached out, steadying both her and himself by catching her upper arm.

  She stared hard at him, but he couldn’t tell what was going on in her head. When she smiled at him he only grew more confused. “I knew it.”

  He released his hold on her. “Knew what?” he asked between pants. She wasn’t even breathing that hard.

  “That you’d follow me.”

  She started walking again so he fell into step beside her. “You don’t seem upset about it.” When she didn’t say anything but kept trudging along he said, “Are you?”

  “I don’t know how I feel.”

  That makes two of us. “Are you having fun?”

  She gave him a sideways glance. “Not really.” She walked on for a few more steps. “They all seem, I don’t know, so much younger than me. So, carefree, I guess.”

  Because no one’s trying to track them down and shut them up.

  “I want to pretend I can have a normal life. But that’s not possible until this is over, is it? So maybe I should stop pretending.” After a moment she added, “I’m sorry I make you worry about me.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Quinn laughed. “Yes, you do. I’m a giant pain in the ass. You wish Tony had never sent me here.”

  “Yes to the first part. But not the second.”

  “Funny. I feel exactly the same way about you.”

  “I’m a pain in your ass? How’s that?”

  Quinn held up the wrist with the bracelet on it.

  “Oh. Well there is that.” Reif had no wish to begin an argument with her. “Hey, I have an alternative suggestion for an afternoon of fun.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Want to go see a movie?”

  “Oh. Do I get to pick which movie?”

  “Within reason. No chick flicks or dysfunctional family dramas.”

  “You have to buy the popcorn.”

  “Of course.”

  “And gummy worms.”

  “Anything you want.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Vinnie frowned at each of his computer screens in turn. He pictured taking a sledgehammer to each of them as payback for doing nothing but feeding him false leads. Quinn Fontana was a fairly unusual name; it should have been easy to spot online. But the way the software programs tracked through the search engines looking for anything close to the parameters he set meant what had popped up so far were dead ends.

  A shiny metal ball pinged against the base of his chair. Snatch barreled toward it and batted it across the room where it zinged off the baseboard and went spiraling toward Snitch. He hopped over his buddy then chased it into the living room.

  The pair of balls had been a success. He’d seen them in the window of an Oriental gift shop. Their intended purpose was for stress relief, but he’d known the ferrets would get a kick out of them. For a few minutes anyway.

  He turned back to the computers. He knew his patience would be rewarded. Eventually. But Pops was getting pressure from the big man himself, who wasn’t happy that his favorite nephew hadn’t been sprung yet. Pops was nagging Vinnie daily for results. Vinnie once again urged Pops to put some pressure on Tony if he wanted to find her so badly, but Pops was saving that as a last resort.

  The only thing Vinnie had learned was that Quinn Fontana was a snitch, just like her brother. He’d had a private conversation with Tony about that. Vinnie decided Tony Fontana must have balls of steel. He hadn’t denied anything Vinnie said. Tony claimed he’d been locked out of knowing about anything to do with Quinn because he was related to her.

  That could actually be true. Conflict of interest and all that. But Vinnie’s nose told him Tony knew something, even if he didn’t know everything. All Vinnie had to do was prove it.

  * * * * *

  Quinn closed the French door behind her and stopped dead in her tracks. A gorgeous strawberry blond who seemed just as surprised to see her stared at her across the living room.

  “Sorry,” the woman said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.”

  “Me neither.” There was something vaguely familiar about the woman but Quinn couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

  “I’m Emma Callaghan.”

  “Quinn.” Of course, that was why the woman looked familiar. She was Reif’s sister. One of them, anyway.

  “Reif didn’t mention that he had a—a houseguest.”

  “He didn’t mention that you had a key.” She wasn’t quite certain of the proper protocol here. Somehow she felt like the interloper, despite having been here for over a month.

  Emma gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, well. We have an agreement. If I have a layover anywhere near LA, I’m welcome to crash here for a night or two. That way if I’m lucky I get to spend a little bit of time with my big brother. Otherwise, I’d never see him.”

  “He’ll be home this evening. I’m marinating some salmon and making salad—hey, are you okay?”

  “E—excuse me.” Emma bolted for the downstairs powder room, her hand over her mouth.

  Quinn raised an eyebrow when Emma slammed the door and water started running. It did little to hide the fact that Emma was throwing up. Quinn had seen the exact same reaction when she’d mentioned the new Ahi tuna entrée to one of the other hostesses at The Turtle Club. Staci had turned a sickening shade of green and raced to the restroom.

  Staci had also developed the same slight roundness to her tummy Quinn had noticed on Emma.

  In the kitchen Quinn found a box of saltine crackers. She set a kettle on to brew some tea, combining mint with chamomile in a mug for Emma, something her mother used to swear by for an upset st
omach.

  Emma reappeared looking wan and unsteady. She dropped into a chair and nibbled the corner of a cracker. Quinn set the tea in front of her. “Thank you.” Emma wrapped her fingers around the mug and stared into the steaming liquid. She blinked rapidly and tears started to leak from her eyes.

  Quinn stepped into the bathroom and returned with a box of tissues. She handed one to Emma. “Thank you,” Emma whispered. She blotted her tears and dabbed at her nose. Eventually she blew on her tea and took a sip, then nibbled more of the cracker. A bit of color returned to her cheeks.

  “I owe you an apology,” Emma said. “Or at least an explanation.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” Quinn assured her. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I did something stupid.”

  No shit. You let some guy knock you up and he’s probably nowhere to be found. The same thing had happened to Staci. Quinn had covered for her several times when she’d been in the bathroom. She’d expected more from Reif’s sister, since Reif seemed to have such a rigid code of honor. Then again, Quinn had hardly lived up to her brother’s Puritan expectations.

  “You didn’t get that little tummy bulge from too many cheeseburgers and French fries I guess.”

  “Reif’s never going to forgive me.”

  Emma sent Quinn a pleading look but Quinn didn’t know what to say. In truth, she had no idea how Reif would react to his sister’s predicament. Would he be sympathetic and supportive? Or angry and disappointed? He’d track the guy down, Quinn decided. That much was for sure. And while he’d never want Emma to marry such a cad, Reif would make sure the guy was on the hook for child support for the next eighteen years. Her tea had cooled enough that she could take a decent sip now.

  Emma said, “I slept with his best friend.”

  Quinn choked, gagged, and spewed tea all over the table. Her eyes watered as she got up to grab some paper towels to clean the mess she’d made. All the while she kept thinking surely Reif had more than one best friend. Emma couldn’t possibly mean—

  “Are you okay?” Emma asked.