Break in the Storm (WeHo Book 2)

by Sherryl Hancock

  Quinn walked into the room, and stood by the ottoman. Xandy snapped out of whatever thoughts she was lost in and looked up at Quinn. The look of utter devastation in the girl’s eyes had Quinn moving to sit on the ottoman, her look searching. Xandy’s lower lip started to quiver.

  Without stopping to think, Quinn reached out touching Xandy’s knee, her look beseeching.

  “Talk to me,” she said simply.

  Xandy seemed to pull back into herself; physically she pulled her knees up to her chest defensively wrapping her arms around them, shaking her head. She averted her eyes.

  Quinn sat back, sighing. Her need to fix things was causing her to want to push harder than she knew she should.

  “Okay…” Quinn said, nodding as if Xandy had actually spoken. “I’m getting hungry, do you want dinner?” she asked as casually as she could.

  Xandy looked back at Quinn, her look both cautious and apologetic as the same time. Finally, she nodded.

  “I’m gonna order in,” Quinn said, pulling out her phone. “Anything good around here?”

  “There’s…” Xandy began, but her voice came out as a low gravelly whisper. Clearing her throat she started again. “There’s a good Chinese place nearby that delivers.”

  “That works, what’ll you have?”

  “Kung pao chicken.”

  Quinn nodded, scrolling through options on her phone. “Got it.”

  Xandy watched Quinn walk out, her look contemplative. She knew that Quinn wanted to help her, and part of her wanted to let her. Unfortunately, the side of her that wanted to hide away from everything was stronger, and in her mind talking about things would only make things worse. It occurred to her belatedly that Quinn may have thought that she’d shrunk from her touch because Quinn was a lesbian and she wasn’t. That was a new source of worry that had her distracted until she went to bed.

  Quinn was just dozing off when she heard a muffled cry from Xandy’s room. She was out of bed and in Xandy’s room a second later.

  “What’s wrong?” Quinn asked from the doorway, her senses on high alert.

  Xandy sucked in her breath in surprise, embarrassed suddenly. “Nothing.”

  Quinn walked over to the bed where Xandy lay, her eyes scanning the room and Xandy herself. It was evident the girl had been asleep.

  “Nightmare?” she asked.

  Xandy looked back at her for a long moment, then she nodded slowly.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  Xandy shook her head immediately.

  “Wanna talk about the weather till you fall asleep again?”

  Xandy laughed softly, even as she moved over in the bed to give Quinn room to sit down.

  Quinn sat on the bed, her back against the headboard. She was wearing black sweat pants and a black tank top with the word “Hooligan” across the chest.

  “Nice shirt. Is that you? The hooligan?” Xandy asked.

  “Back in the day.”

  “Were you a troublemaker?” Xandy asked, moving to sit up.

  Xandy was dressed simply in baby blue lounging pants and a white tank top.

  “Uh…” Quinn hesitated, her thumbnail rubbing at her eyebrow. “Somewhat.”

  “Which translates to a lot?”

  “Too right. I was forever getting into trouble, climbing ruins and faffin’ about.”

  Xandy smiled, then her eyes fell on the tattoos on Quinn’s arms. Reaching out she touched the one on Quinn’s right bicep.

  “What does this represent?”

  The tattoo was a black shield shape with a gold colored anchor in the upper left hand corner and a more central red saber with a symbol underneath that Xandy vaguely recognized as being Celtic. The saber was bracketed by gold garland.

  Quinn looked down at her arm. “The Irish Army Ranger Wing.”

  “You were in the Irish army?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this?” Xandy asked, touching the black curved band above the shield with the word “Fianóglach” in gold.

  “It basically means Ranger,” Quinn said. She could see that Xandy was waiting for more of an explanation. “It’s Gaelic, it comes from Irish mythology, there was a band of ancient warriors and they were called the Na Fianna, so ‘fian’ translates to warrior and ‘oglach’ translates to young volunteers.”

  “So how do you say it?”

  “Fianóglach,” Quinn said giving in to her full accent so Xandy could hear it properly.

  “That’s so melodic.”

  “Gaelic is a beautiful language.”

  “Do you speak it?”

  “Oh yeah, me ma wouldna allowed any diff’nt,” she said, her accent thick in an impression of her normal speech.

  “Wow!” Xandy said, surprised by the switch in the thickness of Quinn’s accent. “That’s really neat.”

  Quinn smiled, looking somewhat embarrassed. “It’s how I’d talk if I was home.”

  “So you Americanize it for us?”

  “If I wanna be understood, yeah, I kinda have to.”

  “Can you say something to me in Gaelic?”

  “Dè tha thu ag iarraidh dhomh a ràdh?”

  Xandy stared back at her dumbfounded. “What does that mean?”

  “It means, ‘what do you want me to say?’ ”

  “Oh. How about, ‘why did I get stuck with this girl?’ ”

  “Carson a faigh mi steigte le nighean seo?” Quinn said, pausing, then continued with, “Oir bha i feum dhomh.”

  “What was that last bit?” Xandy asked, having noticed the pause.

  “I said ‘because she needs me,’ ” Quinn said, seriously.

  “I do need you, you’re right.”

  Putting her hand out, she touched the shield on Quinn’s arm. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said, her tone soft, her eyes on the tattoo. “There’s just things I can’t talk about yet.” She lifted her eyes to Quinn’s. “It’s not you, though,” she said, her tone stronger, then she looked hesitant, her eyes dropping again. “I mean, it’s not because…”

  Quinn watched her as she talked, her small smile circumspect. “Because I’m gay?”

  Xandy’s head snapped up at that, her blue eyes wide. “Right,” she said, looking apologetic again. “I’m sorry, it’s not that you’re gay.”

  Quinn gave the girl a stern look. “For one thing. You need to stop apologizing for one, having issues and two, for not wanting to talk about them.” She reached out a hand and took Xandy’s hand and looked directly into her eyes. “You have the right to your own thoughts, your own counsel, and your own feelings on things, okay?”

  Xandy looked back at her, the look on her face telling Quinn that no one had ever told her this before. Quinn breathed out a sigh, shaking her head.

  “I’m in the habit of trying to fix things and people,” Quinn told her, her tone a bit self-effacing. “And that’s sometimes a problem, because not everyone wants to be fixed, or wants me to fix them. You have the right to say ‘no,’ you can just tell me to back off and I will, okay?”

  Xandy blinked a couple of times, like what Quinn was saying was physically touching her. She swallowed a couple of times as well, which told Quinn that she was unsure of things.

  Quinn blew her breath out and dropped her head shaking it back and forth. “And we’re back to intense conversation and not the weather a’tall,” she said, her tone so self-castigating that Xandy couldn’t help but laugh.

  “It’s okay,” Xandy said, finding Quinn’s mannerisms so endearing. “I think I was just as guilty in that as you were.”

  Quinn leaned her head back on the headboard, stretching her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. “So, what do you think the weather will do this week?”

  Xandy laughed, leaning over to put her head against Quinn’s shoulder companionably. “I think it will rain and rain and rain.” Xandy sighed deeply.

  Quinn put her arm around the smaller girl. “You’ll be okay.”

  Xandy leaned against Quinn, turning he
r head to look up at the other woman. “Are you sure?”

  “Dìreach,” Quinn said in Gaelic. “Absolutely.”

  Xandy settled more comfortably against her bodyguard. They talked for a while about inconsequential things and before long, Quinn realized that Xandy had fallen asleep again. Xandy’s lips twitching with anxiety, Quinn leaned back with her head against the headboard, and feeling Xandy shift to relax against her again. They slept that way that first night.

  Quinn woke the next morning to the feeling of someone touching her neck. Glancing down she saw that Xandy was still lying against her, and her finger was touching the tattoo on her neck.

  She grinned, anticipating the question. “Family crest.”

  “Knew I was going to ask, huh?”

  Quinn nodded, moving her head around to stretch her neck muscles a bit. Then she glanced down to see the bluest, almost lavender. eyes watching her.

  “Wot?” Quinn asked, her accent clear.

  Xandy smiled at that. “You know I need to know what the stuff on the family crest means.”

  Quinn made a noise in the back of her throat to indicate impatience even as she grinned. Reaching up she touched the tattoo. It was a white shield shape with a red lion and two red crescent-shaped moons below.

  “White indicates peace and serenity, red is a martyr’s color, it symbolizes military might and generosity. The lion is a symbol of courage, and the crescent is a subject who has been enlightened by his king.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, yeah…” Quinn said, as she moved to stand.

  “It’s cool that you’re that connected to your family and country,” Xandy said, sitting up to stretch.

  “Aren’t you?” Quinn asked glibly and immediately regretted it when she saw Xandy blanch. Stepping back toward the bed, she gave Xandy an alarmed look. “Are you okay?”

  Xandy nodded too quickly, and moved to get out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Quinn watched her go and wondered what was wrong. She was still wondering when Xandy appeared out in the courtyard twenty minutes later.

  Quinn was sitting at the table in the courtyard, drinking the coffee she’d made and smoking. Xandy walked over, carrying her coffee and sat down at the table. To her credit, she didn’t apologize, having taken in what Quinn had said about her not having to apologize all the time. They both sat silently for a couple of minutes. Quinn noticed that Xandy fingered her cup fretfully, when she looked over at the girl, she seemed deeply focused on her coffee. So Quinn waited.

  After what seemed like hours, Xandy began to talk, her voice hesitant.

  “My family is dead,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  Quinn sat up at hearing that, her look intent, but she didn’t say anything, imagining that this was hard enough for Xandy to talk about.

  “They were killed by a tornado,” Xandy continued, her eyes focused on her cup. “It was an F4, it came up so fast that they didn’t have time to get to shelter. At least that’s what the police said.”

  “Jesus…” Quinn breathed, unable to fathom losing an entire family; she knew she’d die if she lost her family like that.

  Xandy pressed her lips together, not wanting to cry, but not sure she could control it.

  “It was three years ago. I begged them…” she said, her voice breaking. “I begged them to move here, I told my dad I could buy them a farm out in the country…” Her voice trailed off as she shook her head, then she gave a short mirthless laugh. “My dad couldn’t cotton to these Californians; they were all crazy as far as he was concerned. What the hell did they know about growin’ stuff?” She shook her head. “I told him that California has a huge amount of agricultural exports, but he wouldn’t listen. He liked his farm, he liked his house, his land…”

  Quinn had no idea what to say, the magnitude of what she was hearing was on a scale she didn’t feel equipped to handle. Then Xandy lifted her head, tears filled her eyes. “My three baby brothers and two sisters died that day, along with my mom and dad…” The tears overflowed. “How do you get over that?”

  “You don’t, at least not for a long time.”

  Xandy shook her head, letting her tears flow. Quinn couldn’t stand it, and moved to hug her. Xandy leaned into Quinn and sobbed.

  When it came to women crying, Quinn Kavanaugh could not handle it; to her it was completely wrong for a woman to cry with anything but joy. She knew she got that from her mother who was forever telling her that women were the “good lord’s gift to the world” and that she’d better treat them right.

  When Xandy had finally calmed, Quinn moved back to her chair, immediately lighting another cigarette while Xandy composed herself.

  “So. What’s on the agenda for today?” Quinn asked solicitously.

  “Not much,” Xandy said, appreciating the change in topic. “Just the gym.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Quinn took Xandy to the gym she usually worked out in, and Xandy found a class to take while Quinn went and worked out with her regular trainer. Since Quinn knew the owner of the gym fairly well, she was comfortable with Xandy being able to move about the gym safely. The owner, Rob Wolfe, was an ex-Army Ranger so when Quinn told him that she was protecting Xandy, Rob understood and kept an eye on her.

  An hour later, Xandy walked into the room where Quinn was training with Todd. They were in the boxing ring, and Quinn and Todd were battling it out. Quinn was wearing the customary sports bra and black gym shorts; she was barefoot with black fingerless gloves on. Xandy was astounded at how much lean muscle Quinn had, she found herself envious that there didn’t appear to be an ounce of fat on the woman.

  Lean muscles flexed and relaxed as she bounced and moved during the sparring match. At one point she moved in looping her leg around Todd’s left leg and taking him down to the mat. She spun and moved so quickly that Xandy could barely track her movements. This woman was definitely a fighter and she held nothing back in her training. Neither did Todd, they were both bruised and red from where they’d made contact with the other during the match.

  When Quinn walked over to Xandy her skin was sheened with sweat even as she toweled off.

  “Hey,” Quinn said, smiling. “How was your class?”

  “Not nearly as intense as that,” Xandy said, in admiration.

  Quinn grinned as she reached for her shirt and put it on. “You ready to go?”

  “Sure.”

  A few minutes later in the car, Xandy looked over at Quinn. “You take your workouts pretty seriously.”

  “I have to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, when all else fails, this is my only weapon,” she said, indicating her body.

  Xandy grimaced at that thought.

  “Wot?” Quinn asked.

  “I can’t imagine doing what you do.”

  “That’s the job… deciding who you’d be willing to die for.”

  “Die for?” Xandy repeated, shocked.

  “That’s the idea of a bodyguard.”

  “But...”

  “But what?”

  “What if the person you’re guarding isn’t worth dying for?” Xandy asked.

  Quinn looked over at her, narrowing her eyes slightly. “You mean what if you’re not worth dying for?”

  “Okay, yes.”

  Quinn looked back at the road, then canted her head giving Xandy a sideways glance. “You are.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Fortunately you don’t get the say in that.”

  “I could fire you.”

  Quinn snorted. “No you can’t.”

  “I could get BJ to fire you,” Xandy shot back.

  “Good luck with that.”

  Xandy gave a deep sigh. “I don’t want anyone to die for me.”

  “Happens all the time. You just don’t see it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your armed services, your fire fighters, your cops.”

  Xandy nodded. “That’s true, but why?”<
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  “Because it is the job of those that can protect people, to protect the people they can.”

  Xandy stared back at her, unable to fathom such unshakable courage. “Boy they really got the courage part right on your coat of arms.”

  Quinn simply chuckled and drove them back to the house.

  Later that night, Quinn was checking the house before going to bed and when she looked in on Xandy and saw that she was tossing and turning. Stepping into the room and over to the bed, Quinn said Xandy’s name and startled her awake.

  “It’s just me,” Quinn said, holding up her hands.

  Xandy closed her eyes, nodding her head.

  “’Nother one, huh?” Quinn asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Move over,” Quinn said, moving to sit on the bed with her.

  Xandy chuckled, even as she moved. Within a minute, Xandy was settled against Quinn’s shoulder.

  “This is becoming a habit,” she said.

  “Indeed,” Quinn said, grinning all the same.

  After a few minutes Xandy glanced up at Quinn. “What’s Northern Ireland like?”

  “It’s incredible,” Quinn said, wistful.

  “Tell me.”

  “Well,” Quinn said, settling more comfortably against the headboard, “It’s always green, just like they say, but it’s rich in people. The people are full of life, and they love to sit and talk for hours and hours. There’s no hurry there, people take their time.”

  “Big difference from LA.”

  “Got that right.”

  “What about castles?” Xandy asked, her expression childlike.

  Quinn grinned. “Oh yeah, we got those too. Hell, I grew up a stone’s throw from Carrickfergus near Belfast.”

  “Really?” Xandy asked, unable to fathom that. “How old is that castle?”

  “It was built in eleven seventy-seven, so pretty old. My brothers and me used to go and play, acting like the castle was bein’ attacked. We’d work the canons and yell orders at each other, it was pretty grand.”