Ending Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 3)

by Vickie McKeehan

  “How’s he doing?” Baylee asked.

  “Still out of it, but then Quinn gave him enough morphine to dull the pain after she got out the bullet.”

  “Quinn says he’ll make it.”

  With his free hand, Dylan squeezed Baylee’s. “Of course he will. He’s getting my life force, some of my awesomeness thrown in there, too. He’ll have super powers for sure now.”

  Baylee laughed and shook her head. “How is it there’s so much ego stored up inside that little brain of yours? You’d think it would explode.”

  “That supply clerk didn’t flirt with you too much, did he?”

  “We have a date Saturday night.”

  “Like hell.”

  She grinned. “You’re too easy, Surfer Boy. You think I’d two-time you with a sleazy supply clerk. No way. You should have seen this guy. He looked like something out of Saturday Night Fever. What’s up with Reese, though? He’s been quiet all night.”

  “Says he has a lot on his mind but I’m thinking he’s fallen hard for the doc here and can’t wrap his mind around it.”

  “Really? Quinn says he’s a really good dancer.”

  Dylan shook his head. “Women. Why is it a guy who can dance gets you women all hot and bothered? Never knew Reese to turn down the opportunity to show off, though, that’s for sure.” He caught the twinkle in her eyes. “Why? What gives? Did Quinn share some kinky thing he did that I should know about?”

  Just then, Dylan looked up as the doc came strolling back into the room. Quinn handed him a glass of orange juice and immediately snapped on latex gloves, started removing the IV. “I think you’re about done here, Surfer Boy. Drink that juice and get some sleep. And Baylee should not be sharing certain points of gossip when I know the most amazing deets...”

  “Okay, okay,” Baylee interrupted. “No sharing of deets.”

  Quinn leaned over Trevor, took his pulse for the tenth time since they’d brought him up to his room. “He’s got a fever but that’s normal for what his body’s been through.”

  “At least you got the bullet out. Remind me if I ever get shot to let you dig around in the wound.”

  “You ever get shot, Dylan Burke, you go straight to the ER, do not pass go. Oh look, he’s coming around,” Quinn said.

  “I’m telling you it’s all that Burke awesome life force flowing through his veins now, works every time.”

  Trevor’s eyes fluttered open. He tried to get up and blanched in pain. Weakly his head dropped back on the bed. “Fuck. Where am I? How long have I been out?”

  “The Quinn Tyler Medicine Show and Traveling Circus at your service. Any pain?”

  His eyes tried to focus on Quinn. “Some. How long have I been out?” he repeated.

  “About six hours total. I’ll give you more morphine.” In one fluid motion, she reached over, filled a syringe with liquid and began to pull back the sheets to give him the injection in his butt.

  “Six hours?” Trevor groaned and gripped the covers like a nun holding on to her skirt. “I don’t want it if it knocks me out again.”

  “Tough guy, huh? We’ll see how you feel about that when the morphine completely wears off and the pain comes back for real, especially after I dug around your upper chest for bullet fragments. There were several. That’s why you lost so much blood.”

  “I’ve been shot before. This one felt—different.”

  “Hollow points,” Dylan surmised.

  “Probably,” Quinn agreed. “All I know is they did some damage to the surrounding tissue.”

  Trevor zeroed in on Dylan. “The Boyd brothers last I saw were holed up in a cabin near Malibu Creek State Park. I could draw you a map but after six hours, I doubt they’d still be there.”

  “Gloria wasn’t sure where they took her. She didn’t see much of the cabin except the closet.” Dylan shifted his feet. “By the way, that thing with Connor…”

  “He said he wanted to kiss you on the mouth to thank you if he ever got the chance,” Quinn tattled. “Come on, Surfer Boy, I’ll stand aside while you give him a big smack on the lips and tongue. I’ll even grab my camera phone.”

  Dylan looked dumbfounded for half a second before he moved closer. “I…we’re… Baylee and I…thank you for what you did.”

  Baylee took pity on him and leaned over Trevor, kissed him on the cheek. “What he wants to say to you is how very grateful we both are for what you did. As her mother,” she glanced back at Dylan. “As her parents, bringing Sarah back to us was nothing short of a miracle in our book.”

  Flustered now, Trevor looked like he wanted to change the subject.

  Then Reese came into the room. “Awake and talking, that’s always a good sign.”

  “Jesus.” Trevor swiped his free hand down his face. “How’s Gloria? She had a nasty bash to the head when I found her.”

  It was Quinn who answered. “Took three stitches to close, but she’s fine now. She’s in the kitchen. She’s pissed they killed Morty and upset about them messing up her new ’do. But she and Kit are doing their thing in the kitchen and whipping you up some breakfast.”

  “Not sure I can eat.”

  “We’ll force it down you then.” She winked and picked up a bottle of water off the nightstand. “Drink some water. The bullet did some damage to your scapula.” With her hand she waved it over her own shoulder. “I removed some bits of bone, too. Nothing you can’t live without. And you had some internal bleeding, which I believe I managed to stop. Of course an x-ray would tell me more, but something tells me I couldn’t talk you into heading to your nearest health care provider right about now if I tried.”

  His lips curved slightly. “Not if I can help it.”

  “Then I’m glad our little facility here could provide all your medical needs. We’re a twenty-four-seven operation. Baylee here is standing by to take your insurance information.” She gave him another wink.

  About that time Gloria appeared in the doorway holding a tray. “Quinn said you could try to eat something if it’s light.”

  Kit came into the room followed by Jake.

  “Looks like the gang’s all here. I believe you know most of the players,” Quinn announced.

  Kit went around to the bed to fluff up his pillows so he could sit up. “I hear we have matching bullet wounds in our shoulders.” She knuckle-bumped him playfully on his left hand. At the astounded look on his face, she explained, “War wound from my time spent with Alana, mother of the year. Mine was clean, went straight through. Looks like yours is a bit more of a challenge. Are you right- or left-handed?

  “Right,” he answered, cautiously looking around at the crowd now gathered at the foot of his bed. Clearly uncomfortable with the attention, he wanted to be anywhere else at the moment.

  “Since your right arm is at a major disadvantage, we’ll spoon-feed you, how’s that?” Kit offered.

  “Look, if I could just have my clothes, I’ll get out of your way.”

  “Oh, really?” To prove a point, one-handed, Kit pushed him back down into the stack of pillows.

  “I don’t think so. You’re in no shape to try to make a run for it. Good thing we’re an all-inclusive hospice. Besides providing excellent medical care we also run a nice little quiet B & B here in the boonies where no one will think to look for you.”

  With a bandage covering the side of her patched-up head, Gloria set the tray down on the nightstand and took a seat in a chair beside the bed.

  In an upbeat voice, she wanted to know, “How’s my avenging angel, the one who goes around saving everyone?”

  Trevor’s voice grew brusque as he screeched out, “More like avenger from hell. I’m certainly no angel.”

  Gloria patted his hand. “You are to us. And we have no intentions of letting anyone find you either. We’re keeping you to ourselves and safe until you feel like traveling.”

  An amazed expression came into his eyes. “No cops?”

  “No anyone. Whether you like it or not, you’re one of u
s now. You’ll just have to get used to it. Now, stop being such a pain in the butt and eat some of this chicken soup Kit made.”

  “Soup?” He made a face. “I thought I smelled cinnamon and apples when I woke up.”

  “Ah, good thing I consider a picky eater a challenge. What you smell is Kit’s apple tarts. But you aren’t getting any of those until you can keep down—the basics.”

  She spooned up some liquid with noodles, brought it to his lips. “Now, why don’t all of you find something better to do like go get ready for your workday while Trevor and I get to know one another better?”

  He stilled her hand, lopping some of the soup onto the bedding. “What did you call me?”

  “Trevor. That is your name, isn’t it? Yes, we know who you are. Now be a good boy and open your mouth.”

  CHAPTER 19

  “So you should probably get dressed. With traffic we’ll be cutting it close getting to the office on time,” Reese suggested.

  “Are you nuts? I’m not going now. I have a patient. And besides, Gloria’s here so I won’t be alone. Plus, Kit decided to hire a high school kid to open up the shop, run the counter. After what happened last night, she’s sticking as close to Gloria as possible. And you heard Jake; he isn’t letting Kit out of his sight. I’m not even sure Dylan and Baylee plan to head out now to the hospital, either. This place is like grand central station now.”

  Great, thought Reese, now what was he supposed to do?

  “I’d really like you to come with me.”

  “Okay, let’s have it. What is this all about? What are you not telling me?”

  “Gloria can take care of Trevor. I want you with me, okay? I’d feel better.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet.” She patted his cheek. “Okay, I suppose he’ll be fine until I get back.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief, but wondered what condition he’d be in ninety minutes from now conducting a meeting between an estranged father and his very pissed off daughter.

  Once they got to his office, Reese whisked Quinn into the first vacant conference room and left her while he went down the hall to deal with Nick Tyler, the rock legend that Rolling Stone magazine had once called the best lyricist of his time.

  Knowing how the man had ignored his own daughter, though, Reese wasn’t particularly taken with the rock icon. But when Reese noticed him staring at something behind him, he glanced over his shoulder to see Quinn standing in the doorway.

  She looked ready to explode in full rage-mode.

  And when she opened her mouth to speak, what came out was loud enough for all the people on the eighth floor of his office building to hear and then some. “What the hell is he doing here? You went ahead and did it, didn’t you, without asking me, without consulting me? You begged this asshole to come over here! How dare you go behind my back like this! How could you do this to me, Reese?”

  “You wouldn’t go to him, so I brought him to you. After I explained what a dangerous situation you were in, he was concerned enough about your safety, your wellbeing, to make the trip.”

  “Why? I asked you to butt out. I trusted you. God, when will I learn you can’t trust a man to keep his word, let alone a lawyer?” She spat out the last word like nasty venom sucked from a poisonous snake bite.

  “Whether you want to admit it or not the man’s your father, Quinn. He’s traveled eight thousand miles to answer your questions; questions you assured me had always been nagging at you since childhood. You need answers, answers to why you were an afterthought to him. I, for one, intend to find out. And speculating about things now with him here is a waste of time. It’s better to get answers from the source. Now take a seat and see if you can be quiet for five damn minutes while I ask him where the hell he’s been for the past twenty-five years while you were practically living on the streets.”

  “Be quiet, my ass. Do not talk to me like I’m a child! Just because we’re hitting the sheets doesn’t give you permission to interfere in my life like this. It’s my life, Reese Brennan! What about that do you not understand?”

  “Your life is connected to his. You want answers, now is the time to shut up and listen to what he has to say. And if you want me to stop treating you like a child then I suggest you stop acting like one!”

  “I knew something was up. I knew it!” She glared at him, then at the other two men in the room, sitting wide-eyed watching the exchange between man and woman. “Fucking lawyers, you’re all exactly alike. None of you show any regard for anyone but yourselves,” she grumbled, but reluctantly took a seat at the other end of the table, the chair closest to the door.

  Grateful she finally sat down, Reese wasted no time getting down to business. “First, Mr. Tyler, Mr. Baines, thank you for coming. As I just pointed out to my client, we have a few questions, so let’s get to it.”

  “I see the Rock Star didn’t leave Ireland without his fucking lawyer in tow. Figures.”

  “Quinn…” Reese warned.

  Quinn sat there, arms crossed like a defiant three-year-old and fumed. But she shut up secretly hoping Reese could ply some answers out of the asshole who had fathered her.

  Nick opened a briefcase and took out a three-inch, well-worn file folder and shuffled through the stack of papers. In an unmistakable Irish brogue, he offered, “Maybe this will help fill up some of the holes for both of you.”

  He slid the file folder across the conference table in Reese’s direction. He slanted a look at Quinn, trying to gauge the depths of the woman’s ire. He’d never seen anyone glare at him with such cold-hearted fury like the young, beautiful woman sitting at the end of the table. His daughter had turned into a stunning but consummate professional. Who would have thought his little girl would grow up to be a doctor? No doubt the life in Beverly Hills had been good to her, which only made the lawyer’s earlier comments a bit perplexing at the moment.

  Reese picked up the file folder, began thumbing through the papers.

  With her arms crossed, Quinn simply glowered in the direction of all three men, fuming, waiting.

  After several long minutes, Reese said, “I don’t understand. There’s no mention here of Ella Canyon.”

  Nick shook his head, obviously confused. “I’m sorry, who exactly is Ella Canyon?”

  Quinn’s furious glower turned into pure rage. “God, you are an asshole, you know that?” To emphasize the point to Reese, she ranted, “Rock Star here can’t even remember all the women he’s knocked up over the years.”

  She looked accusingly back at Nick. “How many were there for God’s sakes that you can’t keep them all straight? Lost count, Rock Star? You must be so proud of the life you’ve lived. How many others were there where you acted as nothing but a sperm donor? Oh, and by the way, I want you to know right here, right now, I can’t stand to listen to your music. It’s utter…garbage!”

  Nick knew she’d be angry, this daughter of his. He’d come here knowing this day was an eventuality; someday, one day, he’d have to face her. But finding such an angry adult, he was in over his head.

  But there was only so much a man could take. “I always heard Beverly Hills produced snotty, spoiled women, now I know for certain it’s true.”

  Quinn snarled back, “Snotty? Spoiled? I’ll show you snotty.” She stood up and took a couple of steps toward Nick just as Reese snatched her around the waist and plopped her back down in the chair.

  “Take your hands off me,” Quinn shouted. “Don’t you touch me like that ever again!”

  Coolly, Nick looked at Reese. “Obviously I’m at a disadvantage. I came here under the impression this was a meeting between me and my daughter, the daughter who was the product of my relationship with Lisa Redfield.”

  Quinn shot back, “Who the hell is Lisa Redfield? My mother’s goddamned name is Ella Canyon!”

  Nick lost it then and shot back, “Like hell. Your mother’s name is Lisa Redfield. I ought to bloody well know.”

  “Then I’ll ask again, who the hell is Lisa Redfield?
Another woman you obviously knocked up during the band’s heyday?”

  Warm, brown eyes met cold furious deeper brown. Nick shot a quick glance at Gerald Baines. “Lisa Redfield is the underage girl I had sex with in a San Francisco hotel room when she was fifteen years old. Though, I might point out, she didn’t look fifteen. But you, Quinn, look just like her. You have her coloring, her Native American blood shows straight through you.”

  “Jesus! Under-aged? Are you kidding me? You’re even more of a sleazebag than I thought! And believe me, I consider you scum.” Even though an image of Ella at around twenty-four popped into Quinn’s head, she had to admit during all their years together her mother had never once mentioned the liaison that had taken place at such a young age.

  And fifteen? Something didn’t add up. She knew Ella’s birthdate as well as her own. Quinn also knew firsthand how her mother had looked dragging her from pillar to post. Even if she added three or four years to that, Ella certainly seemed infinitely older than eighteen or nineteen. Back then she’d been strung out. Even then Ella had been a hardcore addict.

  Didn’t druggies have a tendency to age faster than most people, though, especially if they were hooked on meth? That had to account for the age difference.

  Nick ignored Quinn’s outburst and turned to the cooler head in the room. “Mr. Brennan, Lisa’s family hired a lawyer, a woman by the name of Jessica Boyd. It’s all there in the file, if you’ll bother to read it.”

  Hearing the name Jessica Boyd, Reese visibly winced.

  When Quinn started to speak, Reese stilled her with one wave of his hand. “Maybe you should start at the beginning, Mr. Tyler. It might be easier than reading the entire file while we conduct our meeting. My playing catch up is going to take some time we don’t necessarily have at the moment. What exactly happened after you got this fifteen-year-old girl pregnant and Jessica Boyd got involved?”

  Gerald Baines spoke for the first time. “This lawyer Boyd came after Mr. Tyler with money in mind, not child support, mind you, but rather blackmail. Nick’s team of lawyers, led by a man named Portman at the time, knew from that first contact it was all about the money.