The Scent of You (Saving the Billionaire Book 1)

by C. D. Samuda

  “Hi, I’m Detective Lawson,” the man looked directly at Quinn, holding up his ID. “I’m assigned to your case from Precinct 21. I looked in and saw you were awake.”

  “He just woke up Detective, can’t this wait?” Alan asked.

  “We need to find these assailants and the only way we can do that is to get all the details,” Lawson told Alan.

  “You up for this man?” Alan turned to Quinn.

  “Yeah, might as well do this now.”

  The detective raised a brow. “I’m glad you’re awake. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  Quinn nodded. “Yeah, I’m sound of mind, if that’s what you mean.”

  Detective Lawson turned to Alan. “You mind if I speak with Mr. Harrison alone?”

  “No problem, I’ll let the nurse know he’s awake,” Alan replied and left the room.

  The detective’s eyes followed Alan out of the room before he turned to Quinn. He then moved around the bed to stand by the window overlooking the hospital grounds. Taking a notepad and pen from his breast pocket, he flipped a few pages. The pen hovered over a blank page.

  “Mr. Harrison, do you know who did this to you?”

  “No, I have no clue.”

  “Any enemies?” the detective asked.

  He chuckled. “Detective, I have lots of enemies, but none that I can think of that would want me dead.”

  The door opened again and this time a nurse with the nametag Doris, entered. She looked at the detective sourly as she tended the patient. The first thing she did was to fixed the saline drip by the bed and then she checked the patient’s pulse.

  “You need to take rest,” she said, but her eyes were on Detective Lawson when she spoke. “I will get the doctor.”

  Quinn gently grabbed the nurse’s hand. They were soft, like her eyes. “It’s okay, I want to get this over with,” he said.

  She looked down at him with a smile. “Okay, just a few minutes until the doctor gets here,” she replied softly.

  As she completed her task, she gave Lawson a stern look, perhaps warning him to take it easy on her patient. Lawson ignored her and turned back to Quinn, ready with another question.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” The police officer asked, making notes in the small book.

  “There’s a surveillance camera in that garage, it should be recorded,” he replied.

  Detective Lawson looked up from his scribbling. “We have the security tape, but we still need you to tell us what happened. It could provide some clues that may help us with our investigation,” he said. “I know you’ve been named Business Person of the Year three times in a row. Maybe someone with a grudge did this?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied.

  A few names came to mind. At the forefront was Frank Crane. Nevertheless, he pushed that to the back of his mind. There was no evidence to support that theory.

  “Okay, tell me what happened.”

  Quinn recounted the details of that night. He’d gotten off the elevator and paused to check his pocket for his remote. When he felt the device, he pulled it out. As soon as he did, he thought he heard a sound. When he stopped to listen, he heard nothing. He unlocked the car and was about to open the door. Someone jumped him from behind while he felt the point of a knife jam into his side. One of the attackers came to stand in front, and the next thing he knew they stabbed him in the side and chest.

  “And they took nothing … nor asked for anything?” Lawson asked, once Quinn recapitulated the event.

  “No, nothing,” he replied. “I tried to tell them they should take what they needed, but the guy choke-holding me was like a damn hulk.”

  “Like a hulk, you say?” Detective Lawson paused for a moment. “Is there anything else about them that you remember?”

  Quinn knitted his brows in concentration. “One of them said something like, ‘say goodbye pretty boy’. His breath smelled of something … I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “Try harder, it could be something.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured. Briefly, he squeezed his eyes shut before they popped open. “Ha, socks … sweaty, dirty socks!”

  “Socks? His breath smelled like socks.” The skepticism was obvious in the detective’s tone.

  Quinn chuckled. “Yes, dirty socks. There was something else - the one who stabbed me from the side, something brushed my arm like breasts. I swear, I think it was a woman. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now I think about it, I’m sure it’s a woman.”

  “A woman?” Lawson didn’t seem convinced but he jotted down his notes.

  “Yes, you don’t believe me?”

  “What about the one who called 911, do you know her?” Lawson asked.

  He shook his head vigorously. “No. All I know is that she smelled like flowers.”

  “You remember all these scents?” the police officer quizzed with furrows in his brows.

  “Yes, that’s all I had to go on,” he replied. “Officer, can you find her?”

  “What does she look like?”

  “I don’t know – hazel eyes I think,” he replied.

  Lawson looked at him as if he was crazy. “That’s your description?” he asked.

  “That’s all I saw,” he replied. “Except that she smelled divine. Maybe dark hair – I really couldn’t tell. Everything was a blur.”

  The detective put away his notebook and pen. “We need to ask her a few questions as well, so we’ll find her. If she contacts you, let me know.” He pulled a business card from his left breast pocket and placed it on the table beside the bed.

  “It should be on the surveillance as well,” Quinn said.

  “Yes, but her back was to the camera and we couldn’t see her face clearly. Anyhow, we can trace her through the 911 call,” the detective said. “We’ve stationed a man outside your room. We’re not taking any chances.”

  “Is that necessary, Detective?” Quinn asked, feeling like a prisoner now.

  Lawson nodded slowly. “It’s just a precaution. I’d also advise you to hire a body guard.”

  “I’m not having some dude follow me around.”

  “If you don’t want to, we can have someone from the department keep you company,” Lawson said.

  “No way. I’ll consider the bodyguard but I can’t promise anything.”

  “Think about it,” the detective insisted. “I’ll leave the officer here for a few days, at least until your discharge.”

  When the detective left, Quin’s mind was troubled. Was it really Frank who did this? The man must be crazy to attempt something so stupid. If Crane were responsible, Quinn wouldn’t let it slide. All he needed was proof this his former business partner did this. He tried to think of something he might have missed so he closed his eyes. Angelic hazel eyes surfaced.

  “Where did she come from?” he murmured.

  The face danced before him and then disappeared. He tried to get a clearer picture of what she looked like but all he saw were the eyes. The hair might have been brown or black, he couldn’t tell. Nevertheless, her voice played repeatedly in his head like soft classical music. “Hello, can you hear me?” The husky tone replayed again, and again.

  “Can you hear me?” he whispered.

  “Talking to yourself?” Alan entered the room, interrupting his reverie.

  Annoyed, he opened his eyes. “You haven’t left yet?”

  Alan pulled up a small chair by the bed and sat. He looked disturbed. “I don’t get it, who would want to hurt you?”

  “How’d the meeting go?” he asked, ignoring Alan’s question.

  “Everything is a go, so you can relax. Leave everything to Vita and me. She sent that bouquet over there and says she will visit later.” Alan indicated a bouquet of carnations as he spoke.

  “And those?” Quinn asked about a half a dozen more, including an edible bouquet. Beside that sat a small basket of fruits and another with nuts and juice.

  “Take a wild guess. That one, the edibl
e one is from Terry. The one with…,” Alan started explaining the gifts.

  “Don’t bother. Please, keep them away,” he instructed.

  “I already told them the doctor ordered no visits. But Brittani has been hovering around.”

  “Britani and I broke up months ago. How did she know I’m here?”

  “Are you serious? It’s been all over the news.”

  Quinn gripped his friend’s hand. “You have to help me, Alan.”

  “Yes, anything. I already gave a statement to the cops. I also spoke to the press…,” Alan was saying.

  “No, not that,” Quinn interrupted. “About the woman - the one who saved me.”

  Alan grunted. “You were almost killed and you’re more concerned about that woman than finding out what happened?”

  “I need to know who she is, will you help me?”

  “Quinn, my friend. I know you’re grateful and we will find her, but let’s focus on catching the ones who did this first,” Alan insisted. “Huh?”

  “I know, but her eyes and voice keep haunting me. Who the hell is she?”

  “What’s gotten into you?” Alan frowned. “You were never this obsessed with anything but work. Let the police find her.”

  “You don’t understand,” Quinn said. “There is something about her – I have to find her myself.”

  “What are you talking about – something about her?”

  “Yes. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but the night she saved me, I felt as though some of her life flowed into me.”

  Alan laughed. “You’re crazy. Her life flowed into you?”

  “I know I sound crazy but as I became unconscious, I felt her body pressing into mine. I felt her energy.”

  “You felt her, because according to the paramedics, she had to almost lie across your body to stop both wounds from bleeding out.”

  “She did that?”

  “Sure.”

  Quinn didn’t know this. Left of chest and right rib closer to his side – yes she’d had to stretch across him to press down on the wound. He closed his eyes and tried to remember everything. In that moment, he felt something as though she’d given him some of her energy. He knew he sounded crazy, but that’s how it felt to him.

  “I want to find her,” he insisted.

  Alan nodded. “Don’t sweat it. We’ll find her.”

  “Man, I swear, I thought she was an angel.”

  “Look, Quinn, you should hire a bodyguard,” Alan seemed more concerned about the attack than he was. “You have to be careful.”

  “The detective said the same thing, but I ain’t having a bouncer follow me around.”

  “You’re taking this thing too lightly,” Alan admonished. “Moreover, there are female bodyguards you can hire.”

  Quinn was not taking what happened lightly. He’d replayed it in his mind many times and could only come up with one answer. Someone wanted him dead. There were only a handful of suspects with any kind of motive for that. He already made up his mind what he needed to do about it. But a female bodyguard didn’t sound so bad.

  “I’ll be fine. The police will surely get them. You know me, I won’t rest until they are caught. But I want to know who the woman is.”

  Alan left shortly after. The nurse returned to check his pulse and administer his medication. By this time, he’d grown weary as though he’d been exercising. He wondered what sort of damage he suffered internally. The men who stabbed him were professionals; they knew exactly where to put the knife. Before the nurse left, a tall thin man entered. He wore a white coat with eyes like silver lightning and white hair that matched his outfit.

  “Hi Quinn, I’m Dr. Rattray, how are you?”

  “A little tired,” he replied.

  “That’s because the knife grazed your artery and barely missed your heart. We repaired some damaged blood vessels. It was a close call, you are lucky to be alive,” the doctor informed him. “As for the wound on your side, that was a little less damaging. The hand that drove that blade didn’t use much force.”

  Quinn thought about that for a moment. Could his suspicions about a female attacker be correct? He knew he felt breasts brush his arm from the one who stuck the knife in his side. Detective Lawson didn’t seem to believe him, so perhaps he would believe the doctor. For Quinn, finding his savior was as important as catching the assailants.

  As the medicine took effect, he made a promise to himself. That no matter the cost or effort, the people responsible would get what they deserved. His final promise was that he would find his angel eyes … his saving angel. Her eyes loomed hazily before him as he drifted into medicated slumber.

  ~7~

  Leah stomped around her apartment bare feet. Her fury displayed in the way she moved things then dropping them back into place. She’d been angry since the day before. All she could think of to alleviate her ire was to clean the entire apartment. She spent the better part of Thursday afternoon day clearing out all the cupboards, throwing away expired food, foods she hated to eat and anything that annoyed her. Now on the Friday morning, she was still at it.

  “Oh, how stupid!” she fumed, running the automatic sweeper on the smooth tile surface. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

  She was not irritated with the man, she was glad to help. What she was livid about was her actions after. She should never have got into that ambulance. However, what was a girl to do? The man was dying for Christ’s sake!

  “They have telephones,” she mumbled. “I could have just called to check on him, but no, I just had to go all the way with this.” A groan escaped her lips. “Why am I so stupid?”

  It wasn’t only that she missed the flight and the bridal expo - the hotel said she should have canceled in order to get her money back. What idiots! They said she should have canceled her room at least 24 hours in advance. How was she to know she would be busy saving a man’s life?

  It would have made little sense boarding the next available flight, which was more almost 72 hours later. The Bridal expo would have been over by then. If a flight had been available at the time, she’d have paid the difference and boarded it to Hawaii.

  The conversation through to the hotel customer service replayed in her mind. “I’m sorry ma’am, we have a no refund policy for missed reservations. You should have canceled,” the women’s icy tone said.

  “How can a hotel not refund if the client does not show up?” she replied, trying to stay calm.

  “We do refund, ma’am, only for cancellations before your arrival date. You must call to cancel your booking at least 24 hours in advance of the date you booked,” the woman replied, her tone less than polite.

  “I know you’re not giving me attitude,” she sarcastically replied.

  There was a second’s silence before the woman on the other end changed her tone. “Not at all ma’am.”

  “So, will I get back my money or not?”

  “I’m sorry ma’am, it is our policy not to refund for missed reservations. You must understand that we hold the room at no additional cost. If we refund we lose on potential income.”

  After leaving the hospital on Thursday morning, she fetched her car and came home. She was planning to drive to the airport where she would to leave her car until her return. Because of that, she decided that she would take a short nap before leaving.

  Leah overslept. When she awoke, she’d missed her flight by three hours. She still made it to the airport with the intention of catching another outbound flight, but no such luck. Taking the next available flight would have been pointless as the expo would have been over by then. By the time she returned home, it was late afternoon.

  “So that’s it then?” she asked the woman one final time.

  “I’m sorry ma’am.”

  With a defeated sigh, she said her farewell and hung up the phone. After spending so much time cleaning the apartment, there wasn’t much left to do.

  “Argh … how the hell should I have canceled if missing the flight was an accid
ent?” she fumed. A little furry thing brushed up against her leg and she picked it up. “Lila, did mommy scare you?” she asked her white and ginger cat.

  “Meow,” came a sweet reply.

  “Now that my vacation is shot, might as well go to work,” Leah sighed.

  The cat regarded her with curious eyes, then rested her head on Leah’s arm. It was Friday morning and she hadn’t even informed Bridget that she never made the flight. She put the cat on the sofa and went to put away the sweeper, after which she took a shower. Within half an hour, Leah was in her car and driving to the office.

  One thing on her agenda was to get the building management to increase security, especially in the parking area. It was frightening thinking that it was unsafe for her to leave the office late at night. There were times she needed to pull an all-nighter, especially close to a wedding.

  In a short while, she was pulling into her parking space. After getting out of the car, she observed the area where the man laid bleeding that night. His Jaguar was still there. She supposed he was not out of the hospital. She was staring at the bloodstain on the pavement when a silver-blue Benz pulled up beside the victim’s car. When the man got out, she recognized him as the investor on the seventh floor.

  He looked up and smiled at her then went about his business. Everything that happened that night replayed in her mind. Leah closed her eyes as the image of the man lying on the pavement in a pool of blood flashed before her. At twinge of fear gripped her at the memory of it all. On wobbly knees, she made her journey to her office. It was strange; the feeling of terror that gripped her wasn’t for her own safety. It was the stranger she was anxious about.

  It was when she reached her office and was about to enter, that she realized she hadn’t even called to check on him. Her anger with the hotel warped her judgment and she failed to do the right thing. All eyes turned to her when she pushed the office door.

  “Leah, what are you doing here?” Bridget raised her head from her computer.