Chapter One
Page 5
Could she trust so easily? She’d allowed herself to trust Peter and that had been a disaster.
“But...”
“Jesus.” He rubbed his hand over his face, as if wiping away his own weariness. “What is with you? Can we please not argue about this anymore?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let me go take care of business. Okay?”
The last thing she needed right now was for him to get mad at her. She was disintegrating bit by bit. The necessity of staying alive and keeping ahead of the hunters had been the glue that held her together, had formed who she was now—Kate Griffin. And Kate Griffin didn’t come undone. Couldn’t afford to.
The minute they entered the lobby Kate was slammed by a blast of frigid, artificially-cooled air, and she began shivering harder. Quinn cast a studied eye at her and pulled the blanket tighter around her.
“Come on. I’ll talk to Anna for you.”
The motel lobby was small but neat and clean. Leather furniture was scattered over terra cotta tiles, and two tall cactus plants guarded the entrance. The woman behind the counter smiled at them as they approached.
“Brought you a stray, Anna. Got a single open?”
“I think I might just have one tucked away.” She grinned. “It’s Key to the Hills Race Week, and everyone’s jammed, but I always hold one or two rooms back.”
“Great. We’ll take one.”
Kate, who had been standing next to Quinn shivering in her damp clothes, turned as the door to the lobby swished open, and nearly fainted. Oh, holy mother, they can’t have found me again. So soon. In this godforsaken place.
Two unsmiling men, dressed in jeans and T-shirts rather than suits, were advancing on the desk, eyes focused on her. It didn’t have to be them. It could be just two strangers here to see the race, but she couldn’t take a chance.
“I have to get out of here,” she whispered to Quinn. “Right this minute.”
He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Get out of here? Why?”
“I just do. Please.” She tugged on his arm as she headed for the door. “And don’t leave me, okay?”
He hustled along with her. “Kate, what’s going on?”
She literally ran for the truck, threw herself inside and locked the door.
“Lock your door,” she told Quinn as soon as he climbed inside. “Can we get out of here? Right now?”
She was shaking so badly she could hardly get the words out. He turned the ignition and flipped the heater on again, then sat behind the wheel staring through the windshield at the rain dripping off the motel. There was tension in every line of his body.
He’s probably wondering why the hell he ever stopped in the first place. Trying to figure out how and where to dump me.
“Can we just go? Please?” Before those men come outside looking for me?
Quinn looked at her once, then cranked the engine and backed out of the parking lot.
“You want to tell me what this is all about?” he asked when they were driving down the town’s main street.
“I...I thought I recognized those two men. I...I’m trying to get away from a bad situation and I thought...someone...had sent them.” She hugged her arms around her body, the chill still knifing through her.
Bad situation. Boy, that’s the truth.
Quinn sighed. “Okay. There’s another town thirty miles back in the direction you came from. They’ll be more likely to have a room. More motels.”
Thirty miles away. With no car. Her own about to be towed to some stranger’s garage where she couldn’t get to it. And who was to say they couldn’t follow her there?
“Are you married?” she asked him.
The look of pain that flashed briefly across his face stunned her, but he shook his head. “No. I live alone.”
“Then will you take me home with you?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. How insane was that, asking to go home with a man she’d known for five seconds? And she didn’t even know where he lived.
But there was something so solid about him, so strong. Not a man to be cowed by Peter’s thugs. She didn’t know how she knew that but she did. She held her breath as she waited for his answer.
“You want to tell me exactly what kind of trouble I’d be bringing into my house?”
“It’s a long story.” She sighed. “Very long. But if you can just give me a place for tonight and help me with my car tomorrow, I’ll be out of your hair and you can forget I was even here.”
The next five minutes stretched out for Kate like hours as Quinn drove in silence, not answering, just glancing at her now and then.
“All right, look.” She cleared her throat and began again. “That was presumptuous of me. Asking you to take me home with you. I realize that. If there’s a bus station anywhere around here you can just drop me off there. They have great benches to sleep on.”
He swiveled his head to look at her, the glow of the dashboard lights reflected in the inky blackness of his eyes. “Been doing a lot of that lately, have you?”
“No. Yes. I mean...” If possible she gripped the blanket tighter, holding it around her like a shield. “When I was a kid...”
One eyebrow lifted. “Your parents let you sleep in bus stations when you were a kid?”
“No.” She bit her lip in frustration. “I’ve...just had experiences with them.”
“I’ll bet. And speaking of parents, maybe this would be a good time to call them. Let them know you’re stranded.”
I’m not stranded. I’m running for my life.
“M-My parents are dead.” The hot, prickly feel of tears pressed against her eyelids and she blinked them rapidly.
More silence. Then he turned onto a two lane highway, still not answering her.
“W-Where are we going now?”
“My house. You wanted me to take you there, so all right, I’m doing it. But as soon as you get your shit together, you’re going to tell me what the hell this is all about.”
Kate nearly sobbed with relief. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him, but she didn’t think he’d like that too much.
“I have empty bedrooms that no one sleeps in. You can even lock the door if you want to, since you seem so jittery.”
Heat rose up in her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“No, that’s okay.”
He unclipped his cell phone from his belt, pressed a number on speed dial and began speaking in low tones. Kate didn’t even try to hear what he was saying. She knew better than to relax or trust a total stranger. That could lead to death. Hers. So what was she doing in this truck letting a man she’d just met take her to his house—wherever that happened to be? Of course, how much worse could it be than going back out there where Peter could find her? Quinn No-other-name didn’t seem like a killer to her, but one never knew.
She huddled into a corner of the seat. Right now she just wanted to be warm and dry and fall asleep.
****
Well, shit.
Quinn gritted his teeth so hard he was afraid he’d grind off the enamel. How the hell had he let himself get into this mess? Of all the stupid things in the world to do.
Stopping like he did was just plain dumb. He’d been almost home after a long, draining evening, and was ready for a hot shower, a cold beer, and a soft bed. But there she was, stranded on IH 10, looking like a refugee from some third world country.
Baggy jeans and a shirt ten sizes too big for her, looking as if she’d slept in them for a year. No makeup, no jewelry. Her small frame too slender, the kind that came from not eating properly. A wild mop of curls framing a thin, pale face dominated by sad and frightened eyes. Terrified and trying not to show it.
The car was such a disaster he couldn’t believe she’d gotten five miles in it, much less all the way from wherever in California she’d picked it up. One look at her and he felt as if someone had baited a hook and reeled him in.
Now he’d let himself be talked in
to taking her home with him? He had to be out of his mind.
She was trouble. He could smell it a mile away. And not of the usual kind, either. He’d seen all the signs of trouble like hers before and he didn’t need to get involved in it. If she wasn’t running from the cops—and his gut told him she wasn’t—then the people after her were of the worst kind. What the hell could someone like her get herself into, anyway? She looked like the worst thing she’d ever done was return a library book late.
But somewhere, somehow, she’d gotten crosswise of someone who was on her tail, people Quinn was sure weren’t the kind you invited home for dinner. Whatever they were it was easy to see she was about to lose it altogether. So terrified of something her fear was like a living thing wrapped around her. And apparently no one to help her and no resources but her own wits.
Yup. Miss Kate Griffin was carrying a hundred pounds of trouble around with her and he had a feeling he’d just picked up part of the load.
Dumb, Quinn. Dumbass dumb.
Only what else was he supposed to do with her? He couldn’t just dump her. Whoever those two men were, they’d obviously scared the shit out of her. And what was that all about?
He slid a glance at her. The rain hadn’t helped the situation. She sat pushed into a corner of the cab, bedraggled and shivering, wrapped in his ratty old blanket, looking for all the world like someone had thrown her away.
Double shit!
Worse than that though, was this unexpected chemistry that exploded out of nowhere the minute he touched her. Back there on the highway they nearly went up in flames. He could see it shocked her as much as it did him. It was more than he wanted to handle. Safety in solitude. That had been his mantra ever since that awful bloody day. Now here he was, dragging trouble into his house. Into his carefully guarded life.
Four years had passed since Lisa and Nikki died, years in which he’d withdrawn more and more into himself. Memories of his dead wife and child twisted painfully inside him, images that he worked hard to keep at bay. He’d never forgiven himself for what happened to them. His work had put them in harm’s way, and he’d failed to protect them. The pain of losing them still wrenched his heart.
He’d managed to keep everyone at a distance since then, jump into a hole and pull the dirt in after himself, yet one look at this ragamuffin and he wanted to do everything to her. Touch her everywhere. Plunge himself into her every place he could. Keep her safe, even though he didn’t know yet from what.
Was this a sign from the gods? His chance for salvation? For redemption? If he could save Kate Griffin from whatever was chasing her, maybe he could finally go to sleep at night without the image of those blood-covered bodies burned into his eyes.
The rain stopped as suddenly as it started. He rolled down the truck windows, letting the night breeze blow through the cab, hoping it would blow through his brain at the same time.
Chapter Six
She must have dozed, fatigue wearing at her, because she was suddenly aware of the truck slowing down. Looking out the window she saw only the black night, but the moon cast enough light to show her they were climbing a long driveway, at the end of which was a very large house.
The smooth glide of a garage door sliding up sounded over the truck’s engine, and in a moment they were inside, the darkness lit by the overhead light. By the time Kate managed to get her seat belt unfastened and unwrap the blanket, Quinn had her door open and was helping her out. She felt a hundred years old, her limbs stiff and aching, the cold still penetrating to her bones. Her head ached and her eyes burned and her stomach felt like a foreign object in her body.
Carrying her duffel and her tote, Quinn led her through a utility room into a short hallway and flicked a light switch in a darkened room. Immediately a bedside lamp came on, casting its soft glow over the big queen-sized bed and the night stand, reflecting the patina of the polished wood.
He set her things down on a bench at the foot of the bed and pried the blanket loose from her fingers.
“Shower’s right next door,” he told her in a gentle voice. “Is everything you need in that duffel bag?”
She nodded, speech suddenly deserting her.
“Okay. Come on, then.”
The bathroom was done in rich tones of terra cotta and had a separate tub and shower. Quinn put her bag on the vanity, reached in a closet next to it and pulled out fluffy burnt orange towels. Bending into the shower, he turned the water on and stood there testing it until he had the right temperature.
“I’m going to take a quick shower myself,” he told her. “Turn right out of here to the kitchen when you’re finished. I’m going to fix us something hot to drink.”
Again she nodded. Quinn gave her a searching look, then closed the door and left her to the steam-filled room.
The hot water felt incredibly good. It reminded her that she’d had little chance for proper hygiene on her odyssey to nowhere. There was soap in the shower soap dish and she scrounged the tiny bottle of shampoo she’d bought at a convenience store, hoping to have a chance to use it.
She had no idea how long she stood under the shower, lathering and rinsing, letting the hot spray beat down on her, blanking her mind to everything but the here and now. Eventually the chill faded from her bones and her skin took on a rosy glow, but even the hottest water couldn’t do anything about the cold pit of fear still lodged in her stomach.
Despite the fact that she had shelter for the night-and spectacular shelter at that-she could no longer avoid the hopelessness of her situation. Peter was still out there somewhere, relentless in his pursuit. She’d been lucky so far, sharpening her wits with each near miss, but sooner or later her luck would run out. She couldn’t keep running forever, but when she stopped, then what? And where would that be? She wanted to curl up in a ball, hide, and release the tears she’d been holding back.
The conversation that night still replayed over and over in her head, like a stuck CD.
“I’ll take care of it this weekend.”
“How? I want to know what you have planned.”
“We’re taking a trip up the coast. She thinks it’s so I can propose, the stupid little bitch. Instead I’m going to be devastated by her suicide, caused by her depression over her parents’ death.”
Her parents’ death. The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Even now the memory almost doubled her over in pain. She’d been so certain from the beginning it hadn’t been an accident, but Peter had soothed her, convinced her she was mistaken. Only his words, said so callously, brought her to the shocking reality of it. He’d murdered her parents and now she was next on his list.
A shiver of fear skittered over her spine. That’s what she needed to keep focused on, the killers after her.
A knock at the door startled her from her unpleasant reverie.
“You about done in there?” Quinn’s rusty voice called. “I’ve got hot drinks out here.”
“Give me a minute,” she answered.
She towel dried her hair as best she could, ran a comb through it, and pulled the long night shirt out that she’d bought in case she had a chance to sleep in a real place. It wasn’t until she looked at herself in the mirror she realized just how revealing soft cotton material could be.
Shrugging mentally—her choices were limited; this or nothing—she hung up the damp towel, stuffed everything including her fanny pack into her duffel and opened the door. From the room he’d given her she followed the short hall, which opened into a wide room that appeared to be the center of the house—living room, dining room and kitchen all in one, with huge windows and a high ceiling. The wood floor felt smooth under her feet.
Folding her arms across her chest to conceal the outline of her breasts as best she could, she climbed up on the bar stool Quinn indicated at the long counter. He slid a mug over to her.
“Hot tea with lots of sugar and a shot of bourbon. My mother always swore it could cure anything. You need it after tonight’s soaking.”
His face closed up like a trap door. “My parents are dead.”
Kate’s heart felt as if someone had pinched it. “I know how you feel. Like I said before, mine are, too.”
“Illness?” he asked after a moment.
She shook her head. “Accident.”
“Mine, too.” But there was something in the tone that said it might be a little more complex than that.
Kate sipped at the tea. The sugar and the whiskey jolted her system, wiping away the last effects of the rain and warming everything but that cold place that wouldn’t thaw.
They sat in a silence, drinking from their mugs.
“Thank you very much,” Kate said after a while. “For, you know, stopping to help me and bringing me here. I guess I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”
“Tomorrow we’ll see what’s what with your car and you can figure out what to do from there.” His voice was flat and uninflected. “Are you in a hurry to get on the road again?”
“I-I think so.”
“You think so. Okay. Whatever. But you’ll need something a lot more dependable than what you had.”
“I know.”
More silence.
“Sleep as late as you want,” he told her. “You look like you could use it.”
She ran her fingers through her still damp hair. “I guess I’ve been pushing it a little.”
Quinn collected their mugs, rinsed them, and put them in the dishwasher. He stood there, apparently waiting for her to head for her room, so she slid off the stool.
“Well, goodnight, then. Thank you again.”
“Holler if you need anything.”
As she rounded the corner of the counter, she stubbed her toe on the limestone facing and pitched forward. Quinn caught her before she could fall.
Her toe hurt, although not a lot, but it was the catalyst that broke the damn. The tears came flooding from nowhere, held back for so long they were fighting each other for release. Her tears soaked his clean T-shirt and her entire body shook with the force of her sobs.