by Bonnie Vanak
Barely seconds later, not a nurse, but West Brand strode into the room. Coffee in hand, he dropped the cup and rushed over to the man.
“What the hell are you doing here?” West got into Larson’s face. “And touching her drip?”
Noel Larson lifted his hands as if to say, I’m innocent. “Just checking to see the medication, if it needed changing. Wanted to be helpful. I’ve had relatives in the hospital and I know how it is, how it’s hard to get nurses to do anything.”
“Not this hospital,” Quinn cut in, needing West by her side and needing him to believe her. Don’t leave me alone here with that man. Forget the fact I owe him money. He scares me.
Noel’s sly gaze flicked over to her and then back to West. He shrugged. “Good to hear. I’m just a visitor. I heard what happened and brought her flowers. What’s wrong with that?”
“Two things.” West’s fingers played with the butt of the lethal-looking gun sticking out of a holster on his leather belt. “You’re. Here.”
Noel’s smile didn’t meet his eyes. “West Brand, the new FBI man in town. Man of few words.”
West scowled. “Here’s one more word. Leave.”
Noel nodded at her. “And so I leave. Goodbye, Quinn. Feel better.”
The man left as West glared at the door closing behind him. West went outside, returned a minute later.
“From now on, there’s someone outside your door 24/7. No visitors except myself and your brothers. And anyone authorized by us.”
Her tummy did a funny flip-flop, partly from nerves about the odd encounter with Noel Larson, and partly from West’s nearness.
He sat in the chair by her bedside, his anxious gaze holding hers. “Did he do anything to you?”
Scared me. “I’m fine. He seems slimy.” And yet Noel Larson hadn’t been the one to talk about investigating her. West had.
Her gaze went to the gun hanging on his belt. Was it a weapon to protect her? Or force people into talking and revealing information they were loath to share?
“He’s worse than something you scrape off your shoe,” West told her.
“Why? What’s wrong with Noel Larson?” Was this another person she had to worry about?
She already worried about a relationship with West, the man who proclaimed to love her.
Proclaimed it to her face, and then whispered in her room he was trying to find out information from her.
Could she trust anyone in this town?
“Everything. The man is a con, and a liar. All he cares about is money.” He jammed a hand through his short hair. “He’s also your landlord. Was he pressuring you for the rent?”
“N-no. He asked if I remember him. I told him no.”
West gave her a level look. “I also believe he had something to do with the bomb blast that killed Tia. Just a gut feeling. And you’re the only witness, so he’s not allowed back. I’ll pay your rent.”
Quinn shook her head and winced. “No. I pay my own bills. At least, I think I did. I don’t want any help.”
“Fine. Then when you get home, give me the rent check and I’ll keep him from breathing down your neck and give him no reason to have any contact with you. None.”
West continued, checking her IV and nodding. “And the fact he had his dirty hands on your morphine drip gives me mighty cause for worry, sweetheart. He might have tried something.”
Fear tightened her stomach. The pretty red roses on the nightstand suddenly looked ominous. Not pretty and an offering of friendship to a sick person.
She gestured to the flowers. “He gave me these. Can you get rid of them?”
West studied the flowers, sniffed one. “They’re probably nothing, an excuse for him to visit. I’ll send them to the lab, just in case.”
Quinn wished she could recall something. Anything. She felt like a person navigating through a minefield. Anything could blow up in her face.
Anything already had. Who could she trust? Not this Larson fellow. But West was trustworthy. Certainly he seemed up-front and honest. Except he’d talked about her to that mysterious Mike person, as if his interest zeroed in on her ability to find Demi.
Yet there was the memory of that kiss. Had West Brand seduced her to find Demi, her sister?
Chapter 8
After leaving Quinn’s hospital room, West was due at the police station for a briefing.
The chief, her cousin Finn, had given him a lot of latitude with work because he knew West had experience with questioning bombing victims. Only Shane and Brayden knew that he and Quinn had dated.
Dropping off the roses she’d been given by Noel Larson at the lab, with strict instructions to be careful of poison, he headed for the briefing.
Inside the squad room, the other members of the Red Ridge PD milled about, quietly talking as they waited for Chief Colton to appear. Surprised to see Demi’s half brother Shane Colton, he realized the PI probably was there to share street intel. Sometimes there was more than a grain of truth in what town gossips said.
West nodded gruffly at the others, grabbed a cup of coffee. Still shaken over seeing Larson in Quinn’s room, he preferred to remain alone. K-9 unit detective Carson Gage gave him a scrutinizing look. West didn’t care. In this force, everyone always looked at him as if they couldn’t quite make him out, trying to figure out what he was doing here. He was an outsider, regarded with respect, but not admitted to anyone’s inner circle.
Fine with him. He had a job to do.
Brayden spotted him, wandered over. He didn’t quite trust Brayden, but the man was okay in his book.
“We spent last night combing through the surveillance video from the convenience store across the street from Tia’s office.” Brayden’s jaw tightened. “Nothing. Camera was too far away.”
“Whoever did this knew the area, knew Tia’s routine.” His troubled gaze met the other man’s. “It could have been someone intending to hurt Quinn, as well.”
He stared at the whiteboard with the photos of the Groom Killer’s vics and bombing vic Tia. Someone was setting up a PowerPoint presentation on the laptop to show on the screen in front. And then Chief Colton walked in.
Everyone took a seat. West chose one away from the others. He didn’t care to socialize or share information other than what was related to the crime.
Uncomfortably aware that he was there to secretly investigate the Coltons and their knowledge of Demi’s whereabouts, he couldn’t risk being buddies with any of them.
Finn sat on the front desk, legs dangling over the side, cup of coffee in hand. “The autopsy on Tia concluded she died from blunt force trauma. Not the explosion. Someone bashed in her head first.”
He’d figured as much. West gripped his coffee. The news made him a little more relaxed because it meant Quinn wasn’t the intended vic.
Still, he couldn’t discount Quinn in all this. She’d been there, and the unsub might have intended to kill her with the bomb, as well. The timing was too slick, too perfect.
The PowerPoint presentation started, showing the evidence markers at the scene. Dozens of them.
The body of Tia.
A photo of Quinn, the only known witness.
Heart slamming against his chest, West winced. She looked so fragile, so vulnerable lying in the hospital bed. Curls mussed, face pale and drained.
“Quinn Colton has yet to regain her memory. Brayden will discuss the detonator now.” Finn handed the laser pointer to Brayden.
Brayden stood, gestured to the slide showing the detonator. “The cell phone was a burner, type you could purchase in any retail outlet. We also found fragments of metal ball bearings embedded in the filing cabinets. Whoever made this bomb wanted us to think it was a terrorist incident.”
Shrapnel bombs, especially ones with ball bearings, were common with terrorists, who wanted to injure and maim as m
any people as possible.
Shane snorted. “The hell it is. Talk on the street is the Larsons had a hand in it. Noel had dated Tia, things went south. Maybe he wanted to make it a permanent breakup.”
Heart dropping to his stomach, he tried to keep his cool.
Finn looked at West. “Report?”
He went to the front of the room, took the pointer and gestured to the slide on the screen. “Rex found residue of TATP on the carpet near Tia’s desk, and the front door. We determined the seat of the bomb originated from Tia’s desk. The bomb was housed in a cardboard container. Postblast damage includes the window shades in front, which were drawn at the time, front windows, office equipment and several files on the victim’s desk, as well as the victim herself.”
West clicked to the next slide. “The blast was powerful enough to embed this pencil into the wall.”
He droned on, going over what his dog had discovered, what evidence was present. No fingerprints yet pointing to the unsub.
As the chief thanked him, his gaze flicked over to Brayden. “There’s something else.”
Everyone waited.
West scrubbed a hand over the bristles on his jaw. “Noel Larson was in Quinn’s hospital room this morning.”
Every head in the room stared. Brayden glared at him as if West had personally escorted the man inside. Guilt and anger knotted his guts. “I sure as hell didn’t invite him. I was downstairs, grabbing coffee, and caught him fiddling with Quinn’s morphine drip. I kicked him out.”
“Larson might have intended to finish the job. My sister could have been his next victim,” Shane grated out.
“Either way, Quinn is in danger. She’s the only witness and once she regains her memory, whoever did this will want her silenced,” Finn said, frowning.
More murmurs, but West ignored them. His gray matter was spinning off facts and what he knew about the Larsons.
“If Larson killed Tia, it wasn’t over a failed romance. He’d give it his own spin. He’s slick enough. This was over something much more important to him.” West scanned the room. “Money.”
He used the laser pointer to gesture to the next slide. “I found this key chain in the rubble. Pine Paradise Cabins.”
Telling them what he’d encountered with Tia, and leaving out the part about wanting to rent a cabin with Quinn, he concluded, “Property like that is worth millions.”
Shane stretched out his legs. “Rumor has it Tia owned the property and planned to sell to Larson. But the deal fell through.”
“Why?” West asked.
Shane frowned. “No one knows for certain. Tia backed out at the last minute. She was selling for a cool two million dollars. She hated the headache of managing all those cabin rentals.”
His mind clicked over the facts. If Tia had backed out, either she didn’t trust the twins, or she had good reason to cancel the sale. Maybe the cabins offered another source of income.
His gaze raked over the Colton officers in the room. Maybe income from blackmailing a certain Colton, on the run with a baby, rumored to be the Groom Killer. Or Tia wanted to protect Demi from being found.
Could Demi Colton be hiding out at Pine Paradise?
On impulse, he decided to throw out a nugget. See how the others reacted, especially the Coltons. Maybe some of them did know where Demi Colton hid.
“Maybe the Larsons aren’t connected at all,” he told them.
Continuing to stand in front of the room, he snapped the pointer shut. Looked at all the expectant faces, waiting for him to speak.
“What if Demi Colton decided to hide out and Tia was helping her? Maybe Tia wanted to kill Larson for dumping her.”
His theory was off the charts. Hell, he didn’t believe it.
His crazy theory didn’t matter.
Their reactions did.
Silence draped the room. Blank shock on the faces of most of the Colton K-9 detectives. Brayden looked secretive and guarded. Shane’s expression smooth and blank.
Finally Carson Gage spoke up. “That’s ridiculous. Demi and Tia had no real connection. Tia socialized in different circles than Demi.”
West shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’m a stranger to town. Just thought I’d toss out an idea, seeing there’s already one serial killer in town.”
Murmurs started about Demi Colton. Nothing overt, nothing new. Chief Colton waved a hand. “Enough already.”
Finn made a note on his pad. “Check out for certain who now owns Pine Paradise.”
The chief’s gaze hardened. “Tia’s cell phone is missing. We searched her house and nothing turned up.”
West figured the unsub took it. He hoped they could find it. Phone records would show who called Tia last. It was all standard operating procedure.
“I want a guard 24/7 on Quinn Colton.” Finn stared at the others. “Not because she’s my cousin, but she’s the only witness we have, and once she gets her memory back, we could have a suspect.”
As the chief dismissed them, West’s concern centered on Quinn.
Because if the Larsons were behind this bombing and the killer screwed up in leaving a witness behind, she would be next to die.
Chapter 9
“I’m headed home today. Alone.”
There, she’d said it.
Quinn paused in gathering from her hospital room the plethora of cards, cheerful greetings and handmade drawings by local schoolchildren.
“No, you’re not.” West shook his head. “You heard Shane and Brayden. I’m coming with you. And Brayden and Shane hired a security guard to watch the store and guard the apartment. No one is getting in or out without him knowing it.”
Doubts filled her. That phone call she’d overheard had changed everything about West. Although the faint recollections of terrific sex and smoldering passion had been more frequent, she couldn’t be entirely sure of him. “Why should I let you come home with me? I don’t even know you. At least my brothers, the men who say they are my brothers, share my last name.”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze. Couldn’t. Quinn had nothing to guide her.
Truth was, she was plain scared. If someone had planned to kill her, they would surely try again. Anyone could be suspect.
Even this man, who professed he knew her. Loved her, even.
But could she trust him? It sounded as if he were investigating her family over this mysterious Demi. What if West professed to love her only to get closer, get information?
And then get out of town, abandoning her?
“I can handle things alone,” she retorted, wishing she felt as confident as she sounded.
“No, you can’t. You had a major head injury. The doctor agreed to release you only on the condition you have someone at home to help you out.” West tapped his muscular chest. “At your service.”
Home had to be better than staying at the hospital. Even if it meant she headed to a place she didn’t know was a palace or a pigsty.
He helped her pack all the cards, letters and artwork into a small suitcase. “Quinn, honey, I know this must be scary for you. You don’t know if I’m one of the good guys. All I have to prove it is this,” he said, and flashed his badge. “But I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
Finally she looked at him. Determination shone in that dark gaze. He had the most incredible eyes. Behind it lurked some lingering sadness, shadows she couldn’t identify.
She moistened her lips. West stared at her mouth, as if he wanted to kiss her.
Quinn frowned. “Stop staring at me.”
He blinked. “Sorry. I was...remembering the times we had together.”
Glad someone can remember. If only I could. Quinn felt adrift, without an anchor or a compass. She didn’t know who to trust. Could she trust this man with the burning gaze and the quiet, steady air?
> Her brothers told her West was a guy who liked working alone. But he was rock-solid.
“Give me one good reason why you are a better protector than one of my brothers.”
Tension knit his brow, showed in the tautness of his strong jawline. “Because they have their own lives, and other concerns. You’re my top priority, Quinn.”
She moved and winced. Her head still ached at times. West immediately strode over, rubbed her temples with soothing strokes.
Such a small action. But his touch was gentle, and he riveted his attention on her, unlike Brayden and Shane. They talked with her, worried about her, but hadn’t shown this attentive concern.
Maybe she was a fool, but she had to start somewhere. Her brothers thought West was okay. She pulled away. “All right. You can come home with me. You can sleep on the sofa.”
West nodded slowly. “And Rex will be with me. He’s a good watchdog. He’s crazy about you.”
Terrific. Yet another thing she didn’t remember. Quinn pressed her fingers to her temples, wishing she could force her mind to work.
“Give it time,” West said quietly. “The doctor said it’s not permanent. The amnesia will fade with time and rest.”
As she started to reach for the water cup, West was there, filling it, bringing the straw to her lips. Quinn drank, pushed it away. West held the cup in his big hands as if cradling something precious.
“Deal?”
Such hope in his deep voice. This had to be difficult for him, if they’d shared the relationship he claimed.
“Deal. As long as I’m free to kick you out if I feel the need. And you keep to yourself.”
He held up two fingers, pressed together. “Scout’s honor. And if I’m anything less than a gentleman, feel free to sic Rex on me. Better yet, serve me some of that gluten-free pizza you were always pushing on me.”
A faint smile touched her face. “I have a feeling you’d rather face an angry dog than a meal you can’t stand.”
His grin was wide. Endearing. “You got it.”
So cute. Handsome and charming. Could this FBI agent really be hers?