Her Christmas Hero

by Linda Warren

  “Goddamn nuts,” Enzo choked out, his eyes watery. “You know I can’t eat nuts with my false teeth.”

  “Good heavens, they’re just little bitty things.”

  “But you know—”

  “Give it a rest, Enzo.”

  While they were arguing, Quinn reached down and slowly removed the gun, slipping it into Denise’s desk drawer without either of them noticing.

  Enzo took a big swallow of water and handed him the bottle. “I’d rather have beer.”

  Ona looked around and then directly at him. “Did you take my gun?”

  “Yes, I did, and you’re not getting it back.”

  “Listen here…” She started to rise, but Enzo caught her arm.

  “Leave it alone, Ona. We can’t kill nobody. I tried to tell you that.” The old man stared at Quinn through his thick bifocals. “But I have mob connections and I can get someone to take him out.”

  Quinn crossed his arms over his chest. “You have mob connections?”

  “As a boy in Chicago I ran errands for the mob, and I still have connections.”

  “So you see, you better give Britt her baby.” Ona was big on threats.

  Quinn’s patience was wearing thin. “Okay, now listen. This is only a separation. Britt will have her baby back soon. And you don’t need to hurt anyone to accomplish that.”

  “But not quick enough,” Ona wailed, a tear sparkling in her eye. Quinn would have sworn that this tougher-than-nails woman never cried.

  “I’m Phil Rutherford’s lawyer, so I can’t say anything else. Just rest assured things will change.” Quinn wasn’t making empty promises. He planned to get to the bottom of the custody hearing.

  “See, I told you he’s a nice man,” Enzo said.

  “You’re so gullible.” Ona pursed her lips, not convinced.

  Enzo leaned forward. “Do you know if a bus runs by here at this hour? I’m ready for bed.”

  Quinn sighed. “I’ll see if I can get you a ride home.”

  “We don’t need your help,” Ona retorted.

  “Yes, we do.” Enzo overruled her. “It’s past my bedtime.”

  “You sleep all the damn time.”

  “I’m ninety-two and I can damn well sleep anytime I want to, missy.”

  “Mob connection, ha!” Quinn heard Ona say as he walked into his office, letting them argue.

  He sat at his desk and opened the Rutherford file. Britt’s number was in there, and he had to call her. If she didn’t answer, or hung up on him, he’d have to take Bonnie and Clyde home. Leaving them to their own devices at this time of night would be dangerous.

  Punching in Britt’s number, he waited. And waited. Evidently she had caller ID and wasn’t taking his calls. Damn it! She was one stubborn woman, and he knew exactly where she got if from—the fireball in his reception area.

  “If you’d have bought me beer like I asked, this would have gone better.” The argument was still going on.

  “You’d have been drunk on your ass,” Ona retorted.

  “You’re becoming one bitchy old woman, Ona.”

  “Old? I’m nine years younger than you!”

  “That ain’t saying much.”

  Quinn slipped into his black coat and noticed that neither Bonnie nor Clyde had a jacket. It had been fifty degrees earlier, and the temperature was dropping.

  “Where are your coats?”

  “Don’t need one,” Ona replied.

  “Forgot them at my place,” Enzo replied. “Ona has a head like a rock.”

  “Shut up, Enzo.”

  Slowly, they made their way to the elevator. Quinn decided that Enzo really needed a cane, and he wondered if they’d forgotten that, too. He made them wait in front of the building while he went to the parking area to get his car. Enzo couldn’t walk any farther, and Quinn wanted to get them out of the weather as soon as possible.

  When he pulled up to the curb, both of them were shivering. He just shook his head and helped them into his Mercedes, which was nice and warm. Before he drove two blocks, Enzo was asleep, snoring.

  Quinn had to wake him at his assisted living facility. With his and Ona’s help, Enzo made it to his room. The place had a distinct smell and it wasn’t pleasant. A sad fact of life. At least Enzo was able to get around and go on crazy missions with Ona. Dim lights lit the hallway and the sound of coughing could be heard, but otherwise everything was quiet.

  Inside, Enzo said, “I missed my supper.”

  “I’ll fix you something,” Ona offered, and hurried to the com pact refrigerator in a corner. Enzo sank onto the twin bed and was instantly asleep again.

  “He’s out,” Quinn said to Ona.

  She closed the refrigerator and came over to Enzo. Lifting his feet onto the bed, she removed his worn tennis shoes, jerked a quilt from a recliner and covered him. She kissed his forehead. “’Night, Enzo. I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t worry, we’ll think of something else.”

  Back in the car, Quinn asked Ona, “You didn’t mean that, did you?”

  “What?”

  “About somethin’ else.”

  She pulled the wool coat she’d retrieved from Enzo’s room tighter around her. “I’m not going to rest until Dillon is with his mother again.”

  “Give the court some time to work.”

  “Harrumph.”

  “I’m not trying to hurt your granddaughter.”

  “Coulda fooled me.”

  “Try having a little faith and trust.”

  She turned slightly in the darkness of the car and he felt those razor sharp eyes slicing into him. “I stopped believing and trusting the day my son was killed in Vietnam.”

  “I’m sorry.” Quinn remembered Britt saying something about her grandmother’s losses in life. It certainly had hardened her.

  “Don’t be. If the gun had worked, you’d be a dead dirt-bag.”

  “You never pulled the trigger.”

  “Minor technicality.” Ona looked out at the traffic and at the buildings they were passing. “Are you taking me to the warden?”

  “Who’s that?”

  “My daughter.”

  “I’m taking you to Britt’s.”

  “Good. The lecture won’t be as severe. Carin can ramble on for days.”

  He pulled up to Britt’s apartment complex. It was a new er brick building in a good area of Austin. A small children’s playground was to the left. That must have been one of its selling features for Britt. Another pang of regret hit him at his involvement in the case.

  Turning off the engine, he asked, “Ready to face the music?”

  There was a long pause. “A baby should be with his mother.” The words came out low and hoarse.

  “Yes, ma’am. God willing, that will happen soon.”

  “It never would have happened if you hadn’t represented that low-life sleazebag.” She opened her door. “I hope you can live with yourself.”

  He sighed. That was becoming harder and harder.

  BRITT PACKED WHAT SHE needed in a carryall. She’d didn’t plan to spend the night. The sooner she was back in Austin the better.

  Her doorbell rang and she went to answer it, looking through the peephole first. Her mother. Britt quickly opened the door.

  “I can’t find Mama anywhere,” Carin said, walking in and removing her coat.

  Britt closed the door. “She’s not at Enzo’s?”

  “No.” Carin sank onto the sofa, placing her purse beside her. “Uncle Enzo’s not there, either. The lady at the home said he was there earlier and Mama was visiting him, but they don’t know where they are now.” Carin gripped her hands together in her lap. “Where are they, Britt? And what are they up to? I keep waiting for a call.”

  She sat by her mother and hugged her. “Is the home looking for them?”

  “Mrs. Gaston said they would, but—”

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it, and please stay calm. We’ll find them even if I have to cancel my flight.”


  “You have enough to worry about.”

  “It’s no worry. I love Onnie.”

  Britt hurried to the door and once again looked through the peephole. Him again!

  “Go away. I’m not talking to you.”

  Carin got to her feet. “Who is it?”

  “No one who matters.”

  “This is not a social call. Your grandmother is with me.”

  What? Britt yanked open the door. “Onnie, where have you been?”

  “Mama.” Carin hurried to confront her mother. “I’ve been worried out of my mind.”

  “You’re always worried.” Ona shrugged out of her coat.

  “Where have you been?” Carin demanded.

  “Somethin’ had to be done, so Enzo and I decided to kill Quentin Ross.” Carin fainted.

  “Mom!” Britt screamed, and knelt beside her. “Mom. Mom!”

  Quinn bent to help. “Don’t touch my mother,” she growl ed in a low voice.

  They eyed each other over her prone body for a second. Britt was angry and wanted him out of her apartment. His eyes flashed a blue warning. Looking away, he lifted Carin’s head. “Mrs. Davis.”

  “Oo-o-o-h.” She reached for her forehead.

  “Are you okay?” Britt helped her sit up. Quinn held on to her, too. Britt shot him a go-to-hell glance.

  “Did Mama say…?”

  “It’s okay, Mrs. Davis,” Quinn murmured. “As you can see, I’m alive.”

  “He wouldn’t be if I had my way.” Onnie sat with her arms crossed over her chest, a stubborn expression Britt knew well firmly in place.

  “Have you lost your mind? What were you thinking?” Carin was recovering, going into full rant.

  “I was thinking of helping my granddaughter. That bastard took her baby.” Onnie pointed at Quinn, unmoved by Carin’s anger. “Somebody had to do somethin’. Dillon needs to be here, with his mother. With us.” Her voice wavered on the last word and Britt went to her.

  Sitting beside her, she gave her a hug. “You know, I thought about killing him myself—with my bare hands.” Her eyes held Quinn’s as she said the words.

  The blue eyes darkened and she knew she’d hit a nerve.

  “Hot damn. Now we’re talking.”

  “Britt!” Carin gasped.

  “But I don’t want to go to prison. I just want Dillon home.”

  “Me, too,” Onnie said under her breath, and Britt hugged her again.

  “Tell me what happened,” Britt suggested, rubbing her arm.

  “Let the hotshot attorney tell you.”

  Britt glanced at Quinn. For a moment she didn’t think he was going to say anything, but then he began to speak.

  “Enzo and Ona showed up at my office earlier with a gun, threatening to shoot me if I didn’t get Dillon back. I explained it was the judge’s decision, not mine and—”

  “Oh, but you had a big hand in it, didn’t you.” Britt got to her feet, unable to stop the words she’d kept locked inside and sworn she would never say to him. Not one word. But…

  “I didn’t know you were Roslyn Davis.” He got that in before she could finish her tirade.

  “It didn’t stop you, though, did it? You stood there and took my child even after all the bad things I told you about Phil. You put my baby in his care. How could you do that? How could you do that to Dillon? To me?”

  “I was honor bound—”

  “Shove your honor,” she shouted, and her mother touched her arm.

  “Sweetie, do you know Mr. Ross?”

  Britt gulped a breath. “Regrettably, yes. He’s the man who pulled me from the flooded creek.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” Carin placed a hand on her chest.

  “And I almost shot him,” Ona quipped.

  “You couldn’t pull the trigger, Ona,” Quinn told her. “The gun is still at my office. I’d appreciate it if someone could pick it up tomorrow.”

  “Throw it away,” Carin instructed. “I never want to see that thing again.”

  “Now wait a minute.” Onnie was on her feet.

  “Throw it away,” Carin said again. “It’s time for us to go home. It’s getting late.”

  Carin and Ona slipped into their coats. “I’m going to put an alarm on the front and back doors so I know when you’re leaving,” Carin informed her mother.

  “Why don’t you put bars on the windows, too?”

  “I might.” Carin kissed Britt. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She looked at Quinn. “I don’t know what to say to you, Mr. Ross, so I’ll say nothing. Let’s go, Mama.”

  Britt kissed her grandmother and the door closed, leaving her and Quinn alone. She walked back into the living area, which suddenly seemed smaller than usual due to Quinn’s overpowering presence.

  “You can leave,” she murmured.

  “Not until I’ve said my piece.”

  “Oh, please.” She wrapped her arms around her waist as if to ward off any attraction she might feel.

  “Family law is not my field. It was when I first started, but then I switched to defense. Phil and I were in law school together. We weren’t close, just acquaintances with the same classes and same friends. Philip Sr. gave me my start, and I worked for his law firm for several years. I’ve always been grateful for that. When Phil called me to take over for his ailing attorney, I agreed. The file on Roslyn Davis was very clear—she was a bad mother leaving her child for long periods of time.”

  “How dare you!”

  “I’m telling you what was in the file. That’s not my opinion.”

  Their eyes locked and she saw the concern, the empathy in his eyes. No! She would not weaken.

  But she found herself asking, “What’s your opinion?”

  “I believe what you told me in the woods.”

  Unbelievable relief flooded her, surprising her. Why should she care? But she couldn’t deny that she did.

  “It doesn’t change anything, though. I am now Phil’s lawyer of record for this case.”

  She stiffened. “Then we have nothing else to say to each other.”

  “I’m breaking the rules by even talking to you.”

  “Then leave.”

  But he didn’t. He kept staring at her with those blue, blue eyes. “I find that hard to do,” he admitted in a hoarse voice.

  Could her life get any crazier? They were pulled together by emotions and torn apart by circumstances out of their control.

  She swallowed. “Thank you for not calling the police on my grandmother and Enzo.”

  “It’s kind of hard to have Bonnie and Clyde arrested.” A twinkle was back in his eyes.

  “Bonnie and Clyde?”

  “That’s my name for them. Kind of fits, don’t you think?”

  “Mmm.”

  “I really thought you were exaggerating about your grand mother.”

  “No, Onnie’s in a class all her own.”

  “Yeah.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks, drawing her attention to his long, lean body, and from out of nowhere she remembered the feel of his lips on hers, that hard form pressed into hers. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “I think it’s wise if we don’t see each other outside of the courtroom.”

  “That’s probably best.” But he didn’t move or make an attempt to leave. They kept staring at each other as if their eyes could say what they couldn’t. He cleared his throat. “Someone from my office will meet with you at eight on Sunday morning at Phil’s condo.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Britt…”

  The entreaty in his voice sent her nerves spinning, but she maintained her dignity. And that was about all she had left. “Please, we’ve said enough.”

  He nodded and headed for the door, stopping at her side. “I’m sorry things turned out this way.”

  A tangy, manly scent reached her nostrils. She resisted the temptation to fill her system with the taste of him. If she turned, their faces would be inches apart. So close. So
tempting.

  She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She bit her lip as he walked out the door.

  Chapter Eight

  Quinn was back in his office early the next morning. He retrieved the gun from Denise’s desk and placed it in the safe until he figured out what to do with it. The thing was as rusty as a nail left out in the rain. The chamber wouldn’t even move. Bonnie and Clyde couldn’t even see that the gun was no longer usable. But it had worked for their purpose—getting his attention.

  Last night, he’d thought of telling them they were trying to shoot the wrong man—that Phil should be their target. But then they might actually try to kill him. Quinn hoped it never occurred to them to go after Phil because he would most definitely have them arrested.

  Quinn’s own grandparents had been quite sane, so he’d never met anyone like Ona. Britt’s life must have been entertaining, at best.

  Britt.

  Last night he’d wanted to touch her, to take the pain from her eyes and to explore all those feelings he’d experienced in the woods. No woman had ever made him feel like that—an all-conquering male who could move mountains. The gulf was so wide between them now that any relationship was out of the question. That’s why he’d left, when he’d wanted to linger.

  And then there was Deidre.

  He sighed, wondering why he hadn’t heard from her. Anytime he’d canceled on her, she’d usually pout for a few days and then call as if everything was fine. Soon he’d have to decide about his relationship with her. If they even had one.

  His cell buzzed. He looked at the caller ID. His sister. He clicked on.

  “Hey, sis, what are you doing up so early?”

  “Remember? I have a one-year-old.”

  “Oh, yeah. How is J.W.?”

  “He’s awake and helping Jody get dressed for school.”

  “Mommy!” Quinn could hear Jody shouting in the background.

  “I guess he’s helping a little too much. I have to go, but I wanted to see if you can come for dinner on Sunday.”

  “Sorry, sis, I have plans.”

  “Please tell me you’ve met someone.”

  “No, just business plans.” But Britt’s face was right there at the front of his mind.

  “Mommy!” This time Jody was screaming.

  “Bye,” Peyton said, and hung up.

  Quinn laid his phone on the desk, feeling a pang of envy. His sister was happy. He was glad one of them had found happiness. Home and family. The older he got the more important those two things became. But as he’d told Britt, he’d probably wind up a crusty old bachelor.