by Jewel E. Ann
*
The detectives arrived an hour later. Detective Andrews was a petite female with curly brunette hair pulled back into a bun and kind hazel eyes. She was the one who did most of the questioning. Detective Bartlett was a tall, thin guy with buzzed dark hair, blue eyes, and cute dimples. He jotted down notes and offered no more than a simple courteous greeting.
“Miss Brecken, can you tell us the last thing you remember before you were attacked?” she asked.
“I remember walking to the vehicle. I didn’t have the keys, but I was missing my gloves and I wanted to see if they were in there before I headed back inside to look for them. The windows were covered with snow so I brushed off the passenger’s side and that’s all I remember until I regained consciousness in the hospital.”
“Do you remember seeing anyone around you on the way to your vehicle?”
“No.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“Aside from the wind? No.”
“We reviewed the security footage from the parking lot. The good news is your attack was caught on tape. The bad news is with the adverse weather conditions, we couldn’t make out any distinguishable features of your attackers. They were dressed in black, including ski masks, and virtually no visible skin was showing. After they attacked you, they fled the parking lot on foot so we don’t have a vehicle or any other lead so far. We will continue to question hospital employees who were close to the entrance last night and let you know if we find anything. Do you have anything else to add or any questions for us?”
Quinn scooted closer to me on the couch and eased his arm around my waist. “I think that’s all. Thank you,” he answered in a quick cut-off response.
Just as the detectives stood to leave I stopped them. “Wait. What did the surveillance footage show?”
“Addy, she just said the weather was bad and they couldn’t see that much.” Quinn was eager to try and dismiss my question.
“I know they could not identify my attackers, but they can tell me what the attackers did.”
I stared intently into Detective Andrews eyes, silently pleading with her, woman to woman, to tell me what she saw.
“The first blow, the one that knocked you unconscious, was to the left side of your head when you were looking in the vehicle’s window. After you fell to the ground they proceeded to kick you until finally they stopped and removed your clothes … all of them.” She paused. I took a deep swallow and nodded for her to go on. “They shoved your belongings into a black duffel bag, including your purse, and fled the scene. Approximately thirty-five minutes later the footage showed Mr. Cohen rushing into view where he picked you up and carried you toward the hospital entrance.”
Of course they did a rape exam, I was left naked!
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You’re welcome. We’ll show ourselves out. If you need anything, here’s my card.”
Quinn grabbed it from her and stood to see them out anyway. As he came back to the couch, I watched him carefully. He avoided eye contact with me. Obviously, he was deeply troubled by what had happened. There was a huge difference between showing up at the hospital after something like this and actually being the one to find the victim. I was all too familiar with the discovery scenario.
“Look at me,” I demanded, scooting to the side to face him.
His eyes met mine. My face was painful to see as was hearing what I was about to say. “This was not your fault. Do you hear me?”
“But if I—”
“NO! No ifs … no buts. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a random attack. If it would not have been me, it would have been somebody else. Shit happens. It happens all the time. Every day we wake to see a new dawn is a goddamn miracle. I’m alive, and I know how terrifying it must have been to find me the way you did, but … I’m alive. That’s all that matters. You have to let this go or it will eat you up. It will destroy you … it will destroy us.”
I cupped his jaw with my hand and rested my forehead on his. “Just let it go,” I whispered as he sucked in a shaky breath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Quinn cleaned up the kitchen from dinner on Christmas Eve while I rested on the couch. He surprised me, once again, with his domestic skills.
“So you do know what the large cube is under the counter that I put dirty dishes in,” I mocked as he poured detergent into the dishwasher.
“You’re safe … for now, but once you’re better I’m going to teach that smart mouth of yours a lesson.”
“God, I hope so.” I laughed. “I’m starving. You haven’t fed me today. Whatcha gonna make?”
“Since it’s Christmas I thought turkey or even ham sounded good. I could whip up some potatoes drenched in butter, giblets stuffing, and gravy from the drippings and ground up neck meat.”
“You’re safe … for now, but once I’m better I’m going to teach that smart mouth of yours a lesson.”
He laughed. “God, I hope so.” He brought me over a banana, peeled it back, and handed it to me. “It’s not dinner time yet … I have a surprise planned for that. In the meantime I’ll do what you do to me.”
“Which is?” I asked before taking a bite.
“Throw random pieces of fruit in your direction until you’re not as hungry.”
“I don’t do that!”
“Bullshit! That’s exactly what you do. ‘Here, Quinn, have a banana. Here, Quinn, have an apple. Here, Quinn, eat these grapes. Here, Quinn, pineapple … your favorite.’”
“Okay already, I’ll eat some fruit, but tell me what we’re having for dinner.”
“What part of surprise don’t you get?” he mocked me.
“Well, how long do I have to wait? It’s already four o’clock.”
“Maybe an hour, but in the meantime let me see those gorgeous feet of yours.”
I turned sideways on the couch and rested my feet in his lap. He picked one up and started rubbing it.
“Babe?”
“Hmm?” he hummed with a smile.
“You never told me about Olivia and the baby. What happened?”
Still rubbing my foot, he looked ahead at the sketch of his mother on the wall. “After you were taken to your private room last night I got a call from her … she miscarried.”
He didn’t look at me. His face was stoic. I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.
“Did you go see her after you found out?”
“No, I wasn’t going to leave you.”
“Quinn she lost—”
“I wasn’t going to leave you.”
“She doesn’t have anyone.”
“Her parents were scheduled to arrive in town this morning. She’s not alone.”
“I’m sorry, I––”
“I’m not.” His voice was cold.
“Quinn—”
He finally looked at me. “Don’t, Addy. Don’t make me out to be some insensitive bastard for feeling like the only thing that went right yesterday was Olivia miscarrying. I don’t want to feel this way, but I do. I could tell you what you want to hear. That I’m broken up inside over the loss of my child. That I want to hold Olivia in my arms and make the pain go away because she lost her child too. But the ugly truth is … I don’t.” He shook his head and closed his eyes as he released a quick breath. “I wish I were like you, I do. You have this Mother Teresa compassion for all life and I love that about you. But … I don’t feel that way. It’s selfish. I know it’s so fucking selfish that all I want is to be with you and everything else just … doesn’t matter.”
“Quinn?” I whispered like I would to a child to calm him down.
“What?” he sighed.
“If your biggest fault is loving me too much, then I’d say I’m a pretty lucky girl.”
All the tension visibly melted from his body as a heartwarming boyish smile graced his beautiful face.
*
As promised, within the hour I got my surprise. There was a knock at the do
or.
Quinn stood. “Promise to not be upset?”
“About?”
“Your surprise,” he answered, biting his lower lip and smiling.
“Why would I be upset?”
He walked to the door and looking at me, he opened it.
“Merry Christmas!” Mac and Evan yelled in unison.
Quinn’s eyes were still on mine, no doubt gauging my reaction.
“Addy, oh, sweetie …” Mac gushed as she hurried over to me. “You look …”
“Like shit.” I smiled.
“Well, yes. You look like shit,” she replied matter-of-fact as only she could do without hurting my feelings.
“What are you two doing here?” I asked, but my gaze was focused on Quinn as he took their jackets and set their luggage by the stairs.
“Quinn called last night. Don’t be mad. He said you would be, but we are family and I would have been beyond pissed at the both of you had I not been called.”
Quinn shrugged his shoulders feigning innocence.
“Are you … I mean were you …” She couldn’t even finish. I could see by the grave look in her eyes that she wanted to know if I had been raped.
With my good hand I grabbed hers and squeezed it. “No. The police saw the security footage. Apparently my attackers just wanted all my belongings. I was lucky. Had Quinn not found me, I might not be here.” I sent a warm smile his way as he and Evan sat in the chairs adjacent to the couch.
“What were you two doing at the hospital on Christmas Eve anyway?” Mac questioned.
She and Evan knew nothing about Olivia being pregnant. They knew nothing about the extreme depression I suffered through after Quinn told me. Mac was pregnant and I couldn’t risk her or her baby’s well-being to help me deal with my problems. That was the reason Quinn was worried I’d be upset that he told them about the previous night. Mac was fine. She could handle the truth, but I did not want her to know this truth––ever. Olivia was no longer carrying Quinn’s baby. It was in the past. I had forgiven Quinn and we were good. Telling them would only change the way they viewed him.
Quinn looked at me. He was willing to deal with whatever I decided to tell them. He would never have asked me to lie to my best friend so he could save face.
“Quinn had a pregnant friend who was taken to the hospital. She ended up miscarrying. I needed some air … you know how much I hate hospitals. Anyway, I went to look for my gloves in the Range Rover and that’s when I was attacked.”
Quinn looked at me as if to make sure I was okay with my lie. I gave a tight smile and winked at him. The man saved my life. The least I could do was have his back and choose not to throw him under the bus on Christmas.
“We’re sorry to hear about your friend’s loss,” Evan said.
“Thanks,” Quinn replied without any further elaboration.
“I’m starving,” I announced, eager to change the subject. “I hope part of my surprise is dinner?”
“We’re on it. I’m sure you had something spectacular planned, so tell me what to make and I’ll whip these two boys into action,” Mac declared as she headed to the kitchen.
*
Christmas dinner was perfect, despite my swollen face, bruised ribs, and injured shoulder. We sipped hot drinks and fell into easy conversation by the mammoth Christmas tree. Mac was in complete awe of the extravagant holiday decorations. We hadn’t revealed the circumstances that led to Quinn’s grand surprise, so she naturally thought he was simply the most over-the-top romantic that ever lived. She would not have thought that if I would have told her it was his last ditch effort to bring me out of a life-threatening depression after he told me Olivia was carrying his baby.
“You know, Addy, you should look into taking a self-defense class,” Mac suggested.
Quinn cleared his throat and smiled.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve had that speech already. Quinn’s personal trainer teaches self-defense so I’ll be receiving private lessons as soon as my shoulder heals. It’s not like I really had a chance to defend myself last night.”
“Self-defense training is also about teaching awareness. The biggest part of self-defense for women is not putting themselves in vulnerable situations,” Quinn explained as he squeezed my leg.
“Yes, dear,” I mocked. “Changing the subject … how long are you staying in New York?”
“I’ve taken off work through New Year’s, so we can stay for a few days if you’ll have us that long,” Evan said.
“Absolutely. Stay as long as you’d like. All I ask is for you two trouble makers to stay out of jail this week.” Quinn grinned, looking at Mac then me. Evan busted out laughing.
“Definitely. And don’t forget, my lovely pregnant wife, your attorney is off this week,” Evan added.
“Ha, ha. Well, this jailbird is going to bed. For some reason my body feels achy and exhausted,” I said while easing to my feet.
“Let me help you.” Quinn jumped up to help support me with my good arm.
“The guest room is ready … but no hurry. Help yourselves to anything,” Quinn told them as we headed to the stairs.
“Good night, and Merry Christmas … so glad you’re here,” I called back to them.
“Merry Christmas, so glad you’re okay,” Mac replied.
*
Quinn helped me into my not-so-sexy flannel pajamas which were pink, red, and white with reindeer and snowflakes. I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and was once again reminded how the reflection in the mirror was a stranger.
“Ugh, I almost forgot how bad I look. It must have been a real treat for everyone to look at this disgusting face all evening.”
“Jesus, Addy. You were brutally attacked less than twenty-four hours ago. You’re lucky to be alive. Who gives a fuck what your face looks like. It’s nothing that won’t heal.”
“You do realize I went thirty-three years without a black eye and I’ve had two now in six weeks’ time.”
“You’re a real Laila Ali,” Quinn added with a smirk as he shrugged off his shirt.
“I highly doubt her face ever looked this bad, maybe her opponent’s.”
“I’m going to take down all the mirrors in this place until you’re completely healed,” he murmured into my neck as he brushed his lips down over my injured shoulder.
“You’d still have to look at me.”
”I’d still get to look at you. Tú eres mi belleza eterna.” You are my eternal beauty.
“Don’t stop,” I mumbled over my toothbrush and mouthful of toothpaste.
“Tu amor me inspire, tu ternura me conmueve y tus besos me enloquecen.” Your love inspires me, your tenderness touches me, and your kisses drive me crazy.
I spit and wiped my mouth. “Has that always worked for you?”
He clasped my good hand and guided me to bed. “What are you talking about?”
“Serenading women with the way Spanish rolls off your sexy tongue.”
“You’re the only woman other than my relatives to whom I’ve spoken in Spanish.”
Oh …
“Are you ready for your present?” he said with a grand smile.
“You got me a present?” I asked with wide eyes.
“It’s Christmas. Of course I got you a present. What kind of schmuck do you take me for?”
“If it’s chocolate, then I’m going to say my all-time favorite schmuck.”
He went into the closet and came back out with a cubed box wrapped in gold foiled paper and an elegant sheer lavender bow. “I’m not going to lie … I thought this was a great gift until you gave me that sketch of my mother last night. Now, it doesn’t seem so spectacular.”
I held out my right hand and wiggled my fingers. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”
Quinn set it on my lap and I braced it between my legs so I could unwrap it with one hand. The box was too big for a ring … my ring. I had assumed he would give me my engagement ring back or propose again, but he hadn’t yet. It was possible that he was play
ing the box within a box trick on me, but that seemed a bit too cheesy for Quinn.
After removing the gold tissue paper on the inside, I was intrigued to find books inside, old books. The first one I pulled out was a signed first edition of Robert Frost poems. The second was a signed copy of Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The last book was a signed first edition of The Cat in the Hat. The three books were easily worth over fifty grand. The dollar figure wasn’t what surprised me, it was the three distinctively different genre of books.
“My mother had them. I’m sure they’re worth a fair amount of money, but that didn’t matter to Chase and Alexis. They didn’t want them. I thought of you, not because of the specific books, just because you like to read and I thought you’d appreciate the sentimentality that they had belonged to my mother.”
“I don’t know what to say … I … I love it.”
He sat down on the bed beside me. “Here’s the thing, I’m sure I fall into the ‘what do you get the guy who has everything?’ category, but you fall into the very rare ‘what do you get the woman who wants nothing yet has very little?’ category.”
“I have you, babe. What more could I possibly want, need, or handle for that matter?”
Gently, he kissed my lips. “You stole my line.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Evan and Mac stayed through New Year’s. I was sad to see them leave, but it felt good to have Quinn all to myself again. Except, he too had to get back to work or reality as he called it. My face looked like a prism of colors and my ribs and shoulder were doing better, but I felt stiff and in need of physical therapy. At my four-week doctor’s visit, he gave me the go-ahead to start physical therapy. Stir craziness was setting in and I wanted to get out, even if only for therapy, but Quinn insisted we pay someone to come to me instead. Calling Quinn overly protective and nervous about me going anywhere alone was a monumental understatement. Instinctively, I wanted to fight him on it, but he carried around the horrific images of my naked, beaten, and for all intents and purposes, left-for-dead body in the parking lot, so I tried to be empathetic.
Time crawled as I fought to get better. Knowing I wouldn’t see freedom again until I had recovered and taken the “required” self-defense classes was my incentive to work hard with my therapy. Then there was the other little annoyance, or rather big annoyance … Quinn still thought I was too fragile for sex. By seven weeks post-attack my ribs were feeling much better, my shoulder had very little pain, and my face was healed.