With lightening speed, she twisted her body freeing the leg he held and rounded on him with a kick to the side of his head. The gun all but forgotten she jumped to her feet and back kicked him in the face, sending him stumbling into the dresser, toppling over a black vase that went crashing to the floor.
“Ah, my nose,” he howled and covered his face, blood gushing from his nose. Alandra charged at him again, landing a front kick to his gut and he went down on all fours coughing and breathing hoarsely.
She wanted to kick him again, but needed him alive, otherwise, she would’ve put him out of his misery and killed him with her bare feet. Instead, she went for the gun.
“You little…” He charged at her, yanking her by the hair and lifting her off her feet. He body slammed her against the closet door, sending a burning pain through her side like shards of glass. She cried out and tears clouded her vision as she crumbled to the floor. Get up. Get up. She told herself, but all Alandra could do was crawl to a nearby chair. She had underestimated his quickness. She gulped in several breaths, trying to ease the stabbing ache in her side, but there was no time. She pulled up onto her knees and looked over the back of the chair only to find her attacker pointing his gun at her.
“Now what, princessa?” He grinned, blood still spilling from his nose.
“Go ahead.” Quinn stepped into the room, his gun cocked and trained at the intruder’s head. “Mother fucker give me a reason.”
The grin slipped from the gunman’s mouth and his eyes grew large, darting back and forth as if trying to decide what to do. Alandra stood frozen in place. She knew what Quinn was capable of; she’d seen him kill a man without blinking an eye.
“Please…don’t shoot,” the gunman begged.
“Lay the weapon on the floor, nice and easy,” Quinn said maintaining his position, his voice hard and emotionless.
The intruder slowly lowered his arm, the gun dangling loosely in his hand. He bent his knees to set the gun on the floor, but at the last second sprung up with the weapon still in his hand.
“You’re the one who will die!” he yelled and turned his gun on Quinn.
Everything after that was like a blur as the echo of two gunshots bounced off the walls, loudly piercing the air. A blaring scream escaped through Alandra’s lips and she dropped behind the chair, covering her head with her arms. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she cried. Darkness fell upon her as the night in Tzbekystan came back to her in a rush. Balled in a tight knot on the floor, she couldn’t stop screaming. She couldn’t stop the memories. She couldn’t stop the sound of gunshots reverberating in her ear, the fear of death pulling her into a bottomless abyss that she couldn’t climb out of.
“Help me! Help me!”
****
Quinn’s heart lurched in his chest hearing Alandra’s screams and he shot across the room. He found her crammed behind a chair in his sitting area, balled up tight crying, her hands over her ears and her body jerking back and forth.
“Alandra!” He dropped to his knees. There was no blood and she didn’t appear to be physically hurt, but emotionally, something was definitely wrong. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his lap. “Baby, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispered, his heart still beating double time as he settled onto the floor against the chair, rocking her. “You’re okay.”
For several minutes, Quinn sat with Alandra in his arms. He knew the anguish in her screams would haunt him forever. She was the toughest woman he knew, and he couldn’t ever remember her falling apart the way she had tonight, not even in Guerrero. His heart ached for her. He continued to rock her until her sobs subsided, yet she kept her eyes tightly closed. She’d been favoring her right side since he lifted her off the floor, but wouldn’t let him take a look. Whenever he tried to pull back, in order to check her for bruises or broken bones, she would whimper and hold on to him tighter.
“Baby, I’m going to carry you downstairs to the guest bedroom.” He gently readjusted her in his arms and stood. “I need to quickly check you out and then get the police in here.”
“Please don’t let me go,” she cried against his chest, the anguish in her voice tearing him up inside.
Quinn had endured the most challenging military training, testing his physical and mental toughness beyond humanly acceptable, but no amount of training could have prepared him for this moment. Hearing the desperation and torment in his wife’s voice made his gut twist with helplessness. He could have lost her this time for real, but what bothered him just as much is that he hadn’t kept her safe.
He kissed her lips. “I will never let you go,” he said in a hoarse whisper, emotion clogging his throat. He would die before he let anyone hurt her again.
Once he got her downstairs and laid her on the bed, he made quick work of checking her body for bruises and broken bones. Nothing seemed to be broken, but a black and blue contusion the size of a baseball rested on her right side. He knew it had to be painful, but she hadn’t complained.
Instead of calling 9-1-1, once Alandra dozed off, Quinn called a friend of his, Detective Sheldon Baker with Chicago’s police department. Sheldon knew best how to handle this type of situation and possibly keep a few things out of the report.
Hours later, Quinn lay in the bed, in the guest room while Alandra slept wrapped in his arms. He didn’t want to let her go. His blood had run cold when he saw the thug aiming his gun at her tonight, and was angry with himself for letting the punk get anywhere near her. He still didn’t know how the guy got past him and up the stairs without being seen. Unless he was already up there. Quinn had assumed there were only two men, the ones he’d apprehended downstairs.
Sheldon read him the riot act for not calling him sooner and for leaving two of intruders tied up in his laundry room. He threatened to throw Quinn in jail if the one who had been shot, bled out.
Quinn closed his eyes willing his brain to shut down, but it was no use. The night’s event kept replaying in his mind. It was bad enough the thugs were in his house, but to go after Alandra… He shook his head trying to free the thought. What started as a romantic evening had turned into a deadly one. Two of the intruders were taken to the hospital, the one he shot upstairs died instantly.
Los Hermanos. Quinn knew it immediately when he spotted the signature tattoo on the left side of their necks. An intricate design of two fists bumping with a serpent wrapped around each wrist. The only information Quinn could get out of the man who he hadn’t shot was that they were sent in retaliation of him destroying their organization. But why now is what Quinn wanted to know.
****
The ringing of her cell phone jolted Alandra out of her sleep. She glanced around and realized Quinn was in the shower, and she must have dozed off. It’s one o’clock in the morning. Who would be calling at this hour?
“Hello,” she answered. A sharp pain in her side quickly reminded her of the night’s event. She shivered remembering how freaked out she was when the gunshots rang out. After months of spending time at the shooting range and being accustomed to the loudness of a gunshot, she didn’t understand her reaction.
“Where are you?” Natasha interrupted Alandra’s thoughts, her voice rough with anxiety.
“I’m at Quinn’s. Why?” Alandra climbed slowly out of bed in search of the robe Quinn had brought downstairs. “Tasha what’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. A man stopped by the hospital looking for you, asking questions.”
“What type of questions?” Alandra stood in the center of the bedroom, but began to pace, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Was he a cop? Did he give a name or leave a card?”
“He wasn’t a cop.” Alandra heard a door close and rustling on the other end of the phone. “He was a private investigator and he said your family reported you missing. Sis, he called you by Velvet and Alandra. Who knows you’re alive?” she whispered.
Alandra didn’t answer. She cast a glance at Quinn who stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking at h
er intently, a towel around the lower part of his body.
“What is it?” he asked, moving to stand near her.
“It’s Tasha.” Alandra pulled the phone from her ear. “She says someone was at the hospital looking for me.”
“Someone like who?”
Alandra filled Quinn in on everything her sister had shared. “Tasha, I’m going to put you on speaker so Quinn can hear.”
“There’s something else, Alandra. Isabella is the person whose house exploded the other day. She’s dead.
Alandra and Quinn exchanged looks.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Alandra said. She wondered what her sister would think if she knew she had been with Isabella minutes before the house exploded. “I know how much you respected Isabella as a nurse.”
“Thanks, and I’m sorry to have called so late. I was just a little concerned by the P.I’s visit, and I wasn’t sure what to do besides call you.”
“You did the right thing,” Quinn said.
“Thanks sis, I’m…”
“Before you hang up,” Quinn said, interrupting Alandra. “I have a couple of questions for you.”
“Well, I’ll let you guys talk. I need to run to the bathroom.” Alandra handed Quinn the phone.
****
Quinn took the phone off speaker and put it to his ear. “Natasha can you describe the P.I.?” He grabbed a pen and paper from one of the nightstands.
“Uh, he was white, about six feet tall with blondish hair and thin lips.”
“Anything else? Did he wear glasses? Did he have any noticeable scars, any odd movements? Anything you can give me will be helpful.”
“Now that you mention it, he had a long scar across his right cheek. It looked like a knife wound that he might’ve gotten years ago because it was almost unnoticeable, kinda faded.”
Quinn scribbled notes on the pad. “This is helpful, but I have another idea. I have a buddy who is a sketch artist. Would you be willing to meet with him in the morning or sometime tomorrow and give him a description?”
“Yeah, I can meet him. Where?”
Quinn took her phone number and promised he would make the arrangements. After a few more questions, they ended the call and Quinn wondered what was next. First the house invasion and now this.
He slipped on a pair of pajama bottoms minutes before Alandra walked out of the bathroom, and climbed into the bed.
“How do you feel?” He sat on the bed next to her.
Alandra released a weary sigh. “I’m all right, still a little shaken, but I’ll be fine.”
Shortly after the cops had left, Quinn and Alandra talked about her reaction to the gunshots from earlier. She told him of the flashbacks she often suffered from of that night in Tzbekystan, bullets flying all around her and screams stabbing the air.
One of the things he loved most about her was her fortitude, but right now, he needed to know what she was feeling inside and if she was really okay.
“Do you need to talk to someone?”
She leaned back. “Someone like who?”
“A psychiatrist. Someone who can help you work through what’s going on up here.” He pointed to his head and stood.
“Quinn, I promise you, I’m fine. I can’t explain my reaction to what happened earlier, but I don’t feel like I’m losing my mind.” She raised her voice. “It all just caught me off guard. I’m not like you. I can’t bounce back so easily after someone is shot and killed.”
Quinn knew the comment wasn’t just relating to tonight’s events, but to that night in Tzbekystan. “Despite what you might be implying, I didn’t just bounce back after seeing you get shot.” If anything, his world completely fell apart. Not eating, sleeping, the nightmares, the anger – all of it made him think he would never be able to pull himself together and move on with his life.
“Quinn,” she reached for his hand and he accepted hers, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’re trained to handle situations like this and it was unfair for me to say…well, what I said.”
“I know, and I’m sorry too. Seeing you so tore up kind of threw me. You’ve been through a lot and…I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. It’s just been a long night.” She propped pillows behind her and leaned against the headboard. “So what is your take on the call from Natasha?” She changed the subject.
“I’m wondering why Harry would send a P.I.?”
“We don’t know it was—”
“Who else could it be, Alandra? This man used your name and your alias. Who else knows you as Velvet Aguilar?” He stood and moved away from the bed. What was it with her and Harry? “When are you going to stop defending him?”
“I’m not defending him. I’m just saying we don’t know for sure it was him.”
Quinn threw his arms out and let them drop to his sides. “Then who do you think it is?”
Alandra brought both her hands to the top of her head and let them slide down to the back of her neck, trying to loosen some of the tension. After a long delay she finally said, “I don’t know. But I think we should refrain from jumping to conclusions.”
Quinn shook his head and moved to the door. “You know what, think what you want, but we’re leaving for the east coast as soon as I can make the arrangements. It’s time I paid Harry O’Brien a visit.”
****
Vance Anderson switched the heat setting in his car to defrost. Arlington had some cold days, but nothing compared to the blistering temperatures in Chicago. He rubbed gloved hands together wondering how much longer he would have to wait outside Alandra’s apartment building before she showed up.
“Alandra, where are you? How can I help, if I can’t find you?” He was fresh out of ideas of where in the city to look for her. At some point, she would have to return home.
She’d called days ago for help and when he didn’t hear back, he headed for Chicago. Thanks to caller ID, a little research and her apartment manager, he at least knew he hadn’t imagined her call. After all these years, she’s alive.
He would give her another hour, and then head back to his hotel. He pulled out his cell phone and tried her number again only to get her voicemail.
“Alandra, this is Vance. I haven’t heard from you and I’m starting to get concerned. I have most of the information you asked for and will try to get the rest. Your assumptions about Harry were right. I’ll fill you in when I hear from you. In the meantime, let me know that you’re all right.”
Chapter Fourteen
Harry O’Brien entered his home from the garage surprised his wife hadn’t set the alarm before leaving for Arizona. But he really shouldn’t have been too surprised, the excitement of a new grandbaby had her forgetting many things the last few days.
He flipped on the kitchen lights and smiled to himself beaming with pride of having a new grandson. After five granddaughters, three from his oldest son, and two from his daughter, his youngest son and his wife finally came through. He couldn’t wait to see the little guy, his namesake, but he wasn’t schedule to leave for Arizona for another three days.
Still elated from the good news, he whistled a lullaby he used to sing to his children when they were babies and walked down the hall toward his office, turning on lights along the way. In three months, he’ll be retired and he and his wife planned to move to Arizona permanently. The excitement of that ranked as high as the thought of all three of his children living in Arizona within the next year. Life was looking up, he grinned.
He opened his office door and stopped cold.
“You’re awfully happy for a person who is about to die.”
Harry stood at the door for several seconds trying to decide whether or not to walk farther into the room. The single-bulb, desk lamp illuminated an eerie glow around his visitor. He recognized him immediately. Swallowing hard he debated on bolting from the room to call the police, but knew his efforts would be useless. The man whose feet rested comfortably on his desk wasn’t a ma
n Harry wanted to anger, although, by the scowl on his face it was too late.
“I can’t say I’m surprised to see you,” Harry said, more calmly than he felt, beads of perspiration popping out on his forehead. He turned on the overhead light, placed his brief case on the floor next to the desk and met Quinn Hamilton’s gaze head on. “Is Alandra with you?”
“How could she be when she’s dead? Or at least that’s what you told me three years ago.” Quinn placed his feet on the floor and eased to his full height, towering over Harry. “Are you saying she’s alive?”
Despite that the private investigator Harry had commissioned never started the case of looking for Alandra, due to a car accident that left him hospitalized, Harry had no doubt that Alandra paid Quinn a visit.
Harry stepped to the gold metal bar cart located in the far corner of his office and poured himself a drink. “Can I get you anything?” He asked over his shoulder.
“You can give me some answers.”
Harry tossed back a shot of Scotch before pouring himself another. Today had been the first time in several days that Alandra wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, nor was the mess he’d made of the situation. “You probably have more answers than I have right now. So, where is Alandra? I’ve tried calling her, but she hasn’t returned any of my calls. I’d really like to hear from her.”
Harry turned to face Quinn, and his glass slipped out of his hands when Quinn leaped over the desk and grabbed him by his suit jacket, slamming him against the wall, a gun aimed at his head.
“Man, don’t screw with me! My wife was almost killed in Tzbekystan and I want to know why!”
Harry’s eyes grew wide with alarm. “Your wi…wife? You two were married?”
“We are married you worthless piece of shit. I should put a bullet in your head right now. Three damn years I thought she was dead and your ass knew all along that she was very much alive.”
“She never…she never said anything.” Why hadn’t she said something? They were friends, and with all that he’d done for her, why wouldn’t she have told him something like this?
Rendezvous with Danger (Reunited Series) Page 15