by Sharon Sala
* * *
“Don’t let me burn!” Baba screamed in panic.
Despite her hatred for this man, she was not about to let him die. He deserved to spend the rest of his life in prison, not death, no matter how gruesome. She dug her heels in the sand and leaned backward, just as she began to hear sirens in the distance.
“Finally,” she muttered and pulled harder.
The flames were higher now, and Baba was screaming nonstop. The woman was struggling with his weight when all of a sudden there were men beside her.
Someone grabbed her around the waist.
“Run!” Nick shouted, as he pulled her away from the fire.
Hearing his voice was the most beautiful sound, but it was the panic she heard that made her lengthen her stride.
Behind them, more cops had pulled Baba out and were dragging him through the desert as they ran from the crash.
When the truck exploded into flames, the force of the blast knocked all of them down. The cops were immediately back on their feet and pulling Baba a safer distance away.
Nick rose up on one elbow, looked down at the bloody smears on her face, the dirt on her clothes and the smell of smoke in her hair, then shook his head and covered her lips with a groan, kissing her over and over as if he would never get enough.
Quinn felt the fear in his touch and the desperation in his kiss as she put her arms around his neck.
After another minute, he finally pulled himself away, then stood up and lifted her to her feet.
“Bloody hell, Queenie. I have never been so scared in my life. You took ten years off my life just now. Promise me...don’t ever do this again.”
“I’m sorry I scared you, but I thought he was getting away. I didn’t want to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. I’m so tired of being afraid.”
Nick shook his head and then pulled her close in a shaky embrace.
“You rode that Harley like a bat out of hell. The team will be talking about that for years.”
She shrugged and then turned around to look at the scene, making sure the bike was far enough away from the fire, and it was. Then she saw the body on the ground.
“Is he still alive?” she asked.
“I don’t know but we can find out.”
An ambulance was coming toward them in the distance.
“Here comes his ride,” Nick said.
Quinn kept walking until she reached the spot where he lay stretched out upon the ground. He was moaning and mumbling, begging for help. Someone had applied some kind of field dressing to his side while another held a pressure bandage to his shoulder.
She stopped at his feet and then stood there for a moment, just staring at him. The ambulance was getting closer. They were going to do their best to save him, but she was wishing him dead.
His eyelids fluttered, then opened. And then he was staring straight at her face.
A rage swept through her as he moaned and then closed his eyes.
“Hey!” she shouted and kicked the bottom of his boot, startling everyone, including Anton himself.
His eyes came open.
“You!” he said.
“Yes, it’s me!” Quinn said. “You get a real good look and remember I’m the one who pulled you out of that fire.”
“After you shot out my tires,” he cried.
“After you tried to kill me! Now shut up and listen,” Quinn countered. “If you don’t die here today, you’ll be seeing my face again in court, and you better pray to God that they put you in prison for life, because if I ever see you loose on the streets again I will shoot you without hesitation. And when I do, I won’t hit your hat again. That bullet will land right between your eyes.”
Anton coughed and turned his head toward the nearby cops.
“You heard her threaten me,” he cried, as though there was any chance he would appear innocent in all of this.
Nick kicked the bottom of Anton’s other shoe.
“I didn’t hear a thing.”
Anton frantically looked at the cops around him, but they were looking up the road.
“The ambulance is here,” one of them said, pointing over Nick’s shoulder.
Nick put his arm around Quinn and waited on the scene until Baba was gone.
“That was quite the promise you just made him,” he said, tilting her chin up so he could look at her. “If you want him dead, why pull him from the truck when you could have left him to die?”
Quinn closed her eyes, thinking a moment before answering. “Part of me wants him dead—but that’s mostly the angry, scared part of me. The rest of me wants him to answer for his crimes, for what he’s done to so many women over the years—not just to me.”
Nick pulled her close, knowing with more certainty than ever that this was the woman of his dreams.
A couple of cops were stringing crime-scene tape around the truck when Quinn started to come down from the adrenaline rush.
“How long do we have to be here?” she asked.
“Until we’ve given our statements for sure, unless they let us come down to the precinct tomorrow to do it.”
“Then I need to sit down.”
Her face was white beneath the dirt as he picked her up in his arms and carried her over to one of the patrol cars. The engine was still running, the air-conditioning blasting cool air as he put her in the back seat.
“Wait in here where it’s cooler, baby. I’m going to go see what I can do to speed this up.”
She was already curling up on the back seat as he closed the door. He glanced in the window to make sure she was okay, then jogged over to one of the cops.
“Hey, Quinn was feeling faint. I just put her in the back seat of your patrol car.”
The cop grinned.
“I’d feel faint, too, if I’d been on a Harley for ten miles in this heat chasing down the man who tried to kill me. Baba said she shot out his back tires.”
Nick shook his head. “She’s never been one to back away from trouble. I guess he finally pissed her off enough to take action.”
“It’s all that red hair,” the cop said, then clapped Nick on the shoulder. “I see you two have a thing going...so, congratulations. She seems like a great lady, but I feel obligated to warn you—don’t make her mad.”
Nick grinned.
“Duly noted.”
* * *
Star was doing her daily best to reestablish a normal life back in her hometown of Nashville, but it still felt strange. Part of the time it almost felt like the last seven years was a nightmare that didn’t really happen, and then she’d catch a glimpse of Sammy, and it would all come flooding back.
Right now, she was alone in her parents’ house except for Sammy, and it felt good to be in control of the space, even if it was temporary.
Her mother had gone to the supermarket, and she had just put a pan of sugar cookies in the oven.
Sammy was standing at the kitchen door, looking out into the backyard, where his grandpa John was on the riding lawn mower cutting grass. He banged on the glass, clearly wanting a ride.
Starla turned around.
“Sammy. No hitting the door, please.”
He whacked it again, yelling, “I ride, I ride.”
“Sammy! What did I just say?” she said, this time in a sterner voice.
He stopped, patted the Plexiglas in an apologetic way and then toddled over to the counter and hugged her leg.
“Mama not mad at me,” he said.
She dropped to her knees.
“No. I’m not mad, sweetheart. But you can’t hit things like that. They might break, okay?”
“’Kay,” he said and pointed at the oven. “Cookies for me.”
She scooped him up in
her arms with a laugh.
“Cookies for everyone but not until they are through baking.”
He patted his hands on her cheeks and smiled.
An overwhelming rush of love washed through her as she cuddled him close.
“I sure do love you,” she said.
“Love you!” he said and patted her cheeks again.
She was still smiling when the phone began to ring. She set him down and pointed at his toys beneath the window.
“Go play,” she said and then ran for the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sis, it’s Justin.”
She turned toward the window to watch Sammy as she talked.
“It’s so good to hear your voice,” she said.
“I have some really good news for you,” he said.
She grinned. “I could always use good news. Spill it.”
“Anton Baba is in a hospital, officially under arrest, and if he doesn’t die from his wounds he’ll soon be behind bars.”
“Oh, my God!” Star gasped. “How did they find him? Why is he in the hospital?”
“Remember that woman, Quinn O’Meara, who found Sammy out in the desert and brought him into Vegas?”
“Yes. She saved his life. She was in the hospital. Is she all right?”
“All right enough to be the one who took him down. It’s a long story, and I don’t have much time, but I wanted to let you know that you’re safe. His empire is imploding. That Stewart guy who first kidnapped you and sold you to Baba is dead, and they’re laying that at Baba’s feet, too. You are free from everything now but bad memories. I just wish I could get rid of those for you, too.”
Star started to cry.
“Will I have to still testify in court?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t count on it. I’m betting Baba will try to make some deal with the Feds and go straight to prison.”
“But won’t that mean he gets out early?”
“Besides everything they already have on him, they now have him for Stewart’s murder and two attempted murder charges for trying to kill Quinn O’Meara. He will never see freedom again, I promise you that.”
Tears were rolling now.
“Thank you, Justin. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything.”
“Hey, kid, no tears. I love you. What else would I do? Listen, I gotta go. Tell Mom and Dad I said hi. I’ll call them this weekend.”
“I will,” she said and hung up.
Sammy saw her tears from across the room and came running, patting her leg to be lifted up. She picked him up and kissed his little round cheek.
“Mama is okay,” she said. “Happy tears. These are happy tears.”
The timer went off at the stove.
“And cookies are done!” she cried.
“Cookies done!” Sammy shrieked and wiggled out of her lap.
“Nope, too hot to eat now,” she said. “Go play. We’ll eat cookies later.”
Sammy still followed her to the stove, watched her putting the cookies on a rack to cool, and then when he felt the heat from the oven, he backed away with a frown and went back to play.
A short while later her dad came in through the kitchen door.
“Wow, something sure smells good in here,” he said, as he gave her a hug.
“Cookies, Papa!” Sammy shrieked.
John scooped him up, laughing.
“How many has he already had?”
“None yet.”
“Well, heck fire, boy! Let me wash my hands and we’ll both have a cookie, okay?”
“Heck fire! Wash my hands!” Sammy yelled.
John grimaced.
“Sorry about that.”
Star just shook her head.
“Go. Wash. Eat. I have news.”
John poked Sammy in the belly just to make him laugh, and then both of them headed to the bathroom to clean up.
Star took a deep breath and felt a huge wave of relief sweep through her as she counted out her blessings.
The staples were out of her back.
Her wounds were healing.
She and Sammy were safe.
They were home.
She couldn’t wish for anything more. Then she heard Sammy’s chatter and her father’s laugh.
She wiped her face one last time and lifted her chin.
“Cookie time,” she said. Man, did she have a tale to tell.
Twenty
Nick and Quinn were still at the scene of the crash later that afternoon when the Feds showed up.
Agent Gleason and his partner, Agent Powers, showed up unannounced and headed straight for Quinn.
She was leaning against a patrol car with her arms crossed beneath her breasts, wearing a patrolman’s hat to shade her from the sun.
Nick was back on the county road helping measure skid marks when he saw the Feds drive up.
“Sorry, guys. Those are Feds. I need to make sure Quinn doesn’t lose it on them, too. She’s reached her limit of everything today.”
“Yeah, sure thing. Thanks for the help, Saldano.”
He took off toward Quinn at a lope, reaching her just moments after the agents’ arrival. No one was talking, and he didn’t know exactly what was happening, but they were all staring at each other, as if waiting for a question to be answered. He walked up behind her, slid an arm around her waist and nodded at the men.
“Afternoon. Are you lost, or just sightseeing?”
“We heard about what happened and came to make sure Miss O’Meara was okay.”
Quinn looked up at Nick.
“What he just said is...they came to see if their witness was still breathing, no damn thanks to them.”
Nick raised his eyebrows.
“As you can see, she’s fine. In fact, we have her to thank for running Baba down. I’m sure you’ve heard that, too.”
Gleason nodded.
“A very brave thing to do,” he said.
“I got tired of sleeping with one eye open,” Quinn snapped. “So, is he still alive, or did we all get lucky?”
“He was coming out of surgery last I heard.”
“Too bad,” she said.
“And yet I heard you are the one who also pulled him out of the fire,” Powers added.
“Yes, I did do that,” she said.
“Out of curiosity, what prompted you to do that?”
Quinn shrugged. She didn’t owe this man any explanation. She’d basically done his job for him anyway.
Gleason sighed. She had the right to be angry. A lot of bad stuff had happened to her for trying to do a good deed.
“Have you officially served your arrest warrant on him?” Nick asked.
“We’re on the way to do that. We’ll have to wait until he comes to enough to hear us out, but by the time he wakes up in his room, he will find himself handcuffed to the bed and one of our men on his door until he can be released into our custody.”
“That’s good,” Nick said.
“When can we go home?” Quinn asked.
“Probably right now if you’re ready. We can give you a ride into Vegas,” Gleason said.
“We have a ride,” Quinn said.
The agents eyed the Harley, then shrugged.
“If this goes to court, we’ll let you know,” Gleason said.
Quinn turned her back on them, tossed the patrolman’s hat back inside his car and headed for her bike.
“Well, gentlemen, it’s been nice seeing you again, but I don’t want to miss my ride,” Nick said, and he left them standing in the sun staring at the remnants of a burned-out truck.
Quinn was already at the Harley, checking it out before s
tarting it back up.
“Can I drive?” Nick asked.
For the first time in hours, she smiled.
“Do you know how?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then I would appreciate the ride home,” she said and picked up the helmet. “I don’t think this will fit you. I have some goggles, though.”
“You wear the helmet. I’ll take the goggles,” Nick said.
She dug them out of a compartment on the back of the bike and handed them to him. He adjusted them a couple of times before they felt right, and then threw one leg over the Harley and toed up the kickstand.
Quinn pulled the helmet onto her head and got on behind him, settling into the seat and wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Take me home, Nick.”
“You got it, baby. Just hang on.”
The Harley roared to life as Nick put it into gear and accelerated, zipping through the desert and then back onto the county road toward the main highway.
The heat waves were endless, dancing just above the pavement. A buzzard circled high above them in the sky, and the traffic and the roar of the engine was constant. Another biker passed them, giving them a thumbs-up. If only he knew.
The farther they rode, the more relaxed Quinn became until the tight grip she’d had on Nick eased. They rode into Vegas without stopping and headed straight for his house. Unknowingly, both of them were thinking about the chaos they’d left behind and all of the unpacking yet to do, but when they turned the corner on his street and Nick saw all the cars at his place, he smiled.
They rode up the driveway, weaving between the cars and all the way into the garage before he killed the engine.
Quinn took off her helmet.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m guessing one of the neighbors called my family. My car has a new back tire, and I can bet Aunt Juana is in the kitchen cooking.”
Quinn groaned.
“I look like a sewer rat, but I suddenly do not care. Lord, but I am so hungry.”
At that moment, Donny, the teen from the neighborhood, came running into the garage.
“Hey, Nick. Mom and Dad are in the kitchen with your parents. Dad got you a new tire. He said I was worth about that much to him. Are you guys okay? Did you catch the dude who shot at you?”