by C. D. Samuda
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “It’s too soon.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” Quinn apologized. “It’s just that you’re a very tantalizing woman.”
Leah looked at him incredulously. His eyes were smoldering with desire. She had to do a double take. They were dripping with yearning for her. This gorgeous man that turned heads when he entered the restaurant earlier, desired her. She knew she was beautiful, even sexy. But for a man like Quinn, sexy women were a dime a dozen.
“Please take me home,” she whispered.
This was too much for her … too soon for her. Leah struggled to rein in her emotions. She’d never had a problem controlling herself before. Wait … no … she never had a man make her feel this desirable, this sexy. It was driving her insane - these new feelings - this wantonness that Quinn evoked.
Leah told herself that she had to find a way to deal with it, to crush it. She could not allow herself to fall for Quinn. He was the Cupertino playboy, a fact she learned that very afternoon. After agreeing to the dinner, she thought she needed to find out more about him. A search on the internet revealed women considered him new age alpha and a philanderer. There was no way she was going to get involved with him so that he could break her heart and walk away.
She was lost in thought all the way home. Quinn was quiet, perhaps thinking she was upset about the kiss. She was not upset with him. She rather liked it. She liked the feel of his hard body against hers. She wanted to feel more of him – his large hands to caress her – his tongue to do more than explore her mouth.
Those erotic thoughts assailed her that she was unaware when he pulled up in front of her apartment building. She half expected him to kiss her again when he accompanied her to her apartment door. Should she invite him in? No, she decided. It’s late anyway. She was about to bid him goodnight when he spoke.
“How about lunch on Monday?”
Without thinking about it, she blurted out, “Lunch will be great.”
Shucks. She could kick herself. What’s the matter with you Leah? Didn’t you say one date? Now you just agreed to another. okay, one more and that’s it! Lunch was safe enough. A meal in the middle of the day, what harm could there be in that? Quinn couldn’t seduce her the way he had tonight. Lunch would be fine.
Having just convinced herself that having lunch would be the last date with Quinn, she did something else that was utterly stupid. Her body seemed to be on autopilot when she reached up and kissed his smack on the lips. It was a brief kiss, but one that sent a voltaic charge through her.
When she would have pulled back, Quinn captured her mouth. She could feel the restraint in him and appreciated that. After completely shattering her resolve by pressing his pelvis into her belly, he pulled back. The imprint of his manhood was still prominent where he’d made contact with her.
In a gravelly voice he said, “Goodnight.”
On gelatinous knees, she stepped into her apartment, shutting the door softly behind her. When she was safely inside, she leaned against the frame and closed her eyes. After about two minutes, his footsteps sounded in the corridor. Leah moved to the window where she watched him as he approached his car. When he was about to open the door, he paused looking up at the window. With her heart deafening her, she shrunk back against the wall. Soon, she heard the car roll away. Leah shifted the curtain to watch the tail lights disappear unto the street.
~15~
Quinn marched through the front door of the old Harrison mansion. It’s been seven months since he’d visited home. The memories of his father and his childhood rushed back to him. However, he was not there to reminisce about the past, he was there for one thing only.
With his usual purposeful strides, he moved across the drawing room, passed the spiraled staircase and entered the passage. Stopping at the first door on the right, he turned the knob and pushed. A lump rose to his throat at the faint smell of cigar in the room.
Swallowing hard, he entered the room and switched on the light. A partially smoked Cuban sat in a silver ashtray on an expansive mahogany desk. A cognac glass and an almost full bottle of the amber colored liquor sat beside the ashtray.
The room was the same as his father had left it the night before he took ill and was admitted to hospital. He’d insisted that the cleaner not touch the room at all. The walls behind and to the left of the desk were covered with book lined shelves. To the right was a showcase of Quinn’s high school trophies as well as his father’s college memorabilia.
To honor his father, he’d attended his old man’s alma mater. Harold Harrison couldn’t have been prouder. When his mother left, Quinn and his father had grown close. They were more than father and son, they were friends.
With a heavy feeling in his chest and moist eyes, he moved to the showcase. At the base of it was a drawer for which he had the key ready to open. The draw took some effort to come out since it had not been opened in a while. Inside the drawer was a wooden box, and he lifted the lid. The box contained his father’s colt revolver.
Quinn stared down at the weapon gleaming from the fluorescent lighting. Gingerly, he picked it up as a memory of his father teaching him to use it surfaced. He had been twelve years old and his father had taken him to the shooting range for the first time.
“My boy, you’re becoming a man now. Can you handle this?”
“Yes Dad,” he’d replied, his eyes gleaming.
The first time he shot the weapon he almost fell on his backside from the impact of the gun jerking him. After a few attempts, he was able to stand firmly and grip the weapon properly. He’d missed almost all the targets except the last two. They’d retuned several times and by the fifth time, he’d hardly missed any. Quinn continued going to the range with his father during high school and even when he visited from college.
He closed his eyes and pushed the memory aside. Now wasn’t the time for weakness. His father had taught him that the use of the weapon was for defense only and it should be used with the utmost responsibility. He wondered if what he was doing was the responsible thing.
All Quinn knew was that someone wanted him dead. He recalled the conversation with Alan last evening after he’d returned from his date with Leah. He’d just entered the penthouse when the phone rang. Thinking it might be the police, he hastened to answer it.
“Where have you been?” Alan demanded. “I’ve been trying to reach you all evening.”
“Relax, I was out.”
“Quinn, when will you learn? You were just attacked and you were out on the town with one of your women?”
“No, with Leah.”
“Leah? Leah who?”
“The one who saved my life.”
A few choice words and expletives deafened him that he shifted the receiver an inch from his ear. A full minute went by while Alan chewed his ear off.
“What’s your problem man?” he finally asked.
Alan almost shouted his answer. “Are you fracking crazy? You’re getting death threats, you were almost killed and you are flaunting the woman who saved your life – probably the only witness the police has?”
“I’m not flaunting her, I’m repaying a debt and Leah didn’t see anything.”
“For such a brilliant mind, you are sure dumb as ass.”
“What?”
“You’re putting her life in danger, you jackass!”
Quinn had been too preoccupied with his desire to know Leah that he hadn’t stopped for any kind of rational thinking. Alan was right, finding Leah was probably a bad idea. Now that he’d basically brought her into this mess, it was time to fix it. The only way he knew to do that was either hiring a bodyguard or doing it himself.
Pocketing the gun, he snapped the drawer shut and straightened. Hiring a guard for Leah would probably scare her. The last thing he needed was for her to think that she was in any kind of danger because of him. In addition, Quinn wasn’t about to take a chance that the assailants didn’t know who Leah was.
&nb
sp; Since it was Saturday, he spent half the day at the estate. The caretaker and his wife were the only ones living on the property. Occasionally, a private security company sent their guards around to check the environment as per a prearrange agreement.
* * *
7:02AM Monday.
It was unusual for anyone to come into the office this early. Quinn made an exception to this rule. Moreover, due to the incident two weeks ago, pile of work was left undone.
On his way, he stopped at the nearby coffee shop to pick up croissants and Expresso. He’d dumped his briefcase in the armchair across from his desk and thrown his jacket over the back when he noticed his father’s painting was askew.
As he moved to straighten it, a memory surfaced. On the night of the attack, before he left the office the painting had been slightly out of place. That night he hadn’t given it much thought. Just before he’d switched the lights off, he’d straightened it.
The feeling that something wasn’t quite right nagged him. Upon removing the picture frame, his brows creased when he noticed scratches on the surface of the safe. Those weren’t there before. Quinn put in his code and opened the door. He gave the contents a quick once over and was about to lock the door when he noticed some papers out of place. Papers he was sure he’d put on top were now at the bottom of the pile and vice versa.
Did someone break into the safe? Reaching into the back with his hand, Quinn tapped the back panel twice and a secret compartment opened up from the roof of the safe. Out fell his father’s will, the deed for the estate and a stack of cash – around a hundred thousand in one hundred notes.
Upon checking all the contents of the safe, he determined that everything was there. This confused him. Where did the scratches come from and why were the papers out of place?
“I must be getting old,” he muttered.
A dark cloud settled on him, although everything seemed okay. For precautionary measure, he changed the passcode before locking the safe and returning the painting to the wall.
Pushing the safe from his mind, he focused on the files on his desk. It was easy forgetting about the safe – not so with Leah. He’d been in high spirits after their date until Alan punched a hole in his bubble. He must admit that his friend had a point, that dating her might put her in danger as they weren’t sure who wanted him dead.
However, that kiss still lingered on his lips. Should he forget about her now that he knew this was more than just an obsession? He was contemplating the situation when his cellphone vibrated. He tapped the Bluetooth in his ear.
“Quinn Harrison.”
“Quinn, what happened Saturday?” It was Terry.
He’d completely forgotten that he told her he’d see her. After having gone to the estate to retrieve his father’s gun, he’d managed to stay longer than intended.
“Sorry about that,” he said, not really caring.
What should he do about this one now? She’d become obsessive and he wasn’t about to be tied down to her.
“I waited for you all night and you never came home. Are you seeing someone else?”
“And how is that your business?” he asked casually. “You know the kind of guy I am, so cut out the third degree bullshit.”
“You don’t have to be so mean, Quinn.”
He sighed. “You wanna come see me tonight do that. I’ll be at home.”
“I will,” she replied in s small voice.
As he hung up, the phone rang again. He tapped the earpiece and was ready to tell Terry to piss of when Copeland’s voice came through. Quinn was anxious to hear what he had found.
“What took you so long – you said 48 hours?” he asked
“I can’t tell you on the phone. Can we meet today?” Copeland asked.
“I’ll be in office all morning, wanna come and see me?”
There was silence for a few seconds. “Not a good idea at this time. We should meet in private like the last time.”
“What time is best for you?”
“I’ll call you with the time. Quinn, did you tell anyone about this … I mean me doing this investigation?”
“I haven’t had a chance to. I should reassure Alan, he’s been hounding me about finding the perps.”
“I’d advise you to keep this between us for now … just between you and me.”
Before he could answer, someone knocked his office door. Glancing at his watch, he noticed that it was 7:37. Alan and Vita should be there by 8:30. Could one of them have come in early as well? He looked up expectantly and told the person to come in.
The door opened a slit and a head appeared. It was detective Lawson. He finished the conversation with Copeland and beckoned the officer to come in. He was hoping that the detective had brought good news.
The officer came in, glanced around the office and settled his eyes on the portrait of Quinn’s father. After a few seconds, he came to sit across from Quinn’s desk.
“Have you got some news Detective?” Quinn got straight to the point.
Lawson retrieved his notebook and flipped a few pages. “Does the name Bridge Bolin mean anything to you?”
Quinn was certain he’d never heard the name before. One thing about Quinn, in his business he could not afford to forget a name or a face. Remembering people was his specialty.
“No. Who’s he?”
“He sent the messages to you … at least that’s what the trace revealed.
“That’s not a name I’ve ever heard before.”
“Okay.” The officer nodded thoughtfully. “I just wanted to see where you worked and bring you up to speed.”
After Lawson left, he did some work and made a few calls. When he lifted his coffee cup, it was empty. The options were open. The coffee shop down the street or the kitchenette a few paces away. He walked the short distance to the kitchenette and fiddled with the coffee machine.
“I do remember how to work this thing, I hope.”
Quinn chuckled to himself as he poured the water and added the coffee to the perma-filter. He added an extra spoon of the grounds for good measure. If it were too strong for Alan or Vita, they’d have to add water. He liked his coffee dark and rich.
While waiting for the machine to complete its task, he pulled up a chair at the tiny table and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He’d discarded his tie earlier. Ever since he’d been attacked, he’d felt suffocated in a tie. Someone entering the kitchenette made him turn to see Vita gawping at him. Her eyes lingered on his rolled up sleeves, then flitted from him to the percolator.
“Don’t look so shocked,” he grinned. “I do know how to make coffee you know?”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Quinn laughed. “Of course I’m sure.”
“I’ve never seen you make coffee before. Did you put the coffee in the filter and the water in the right place?”
He waved his hand. “See for yourself, Inspector.”
“Sir, are you alright?” Vita must be thinking he had gone nuts, making a coffee and joking with her all in one day.
“I’m fine,” he replied cheerfully, rising from his seat. “How about a cup, it’s almost ready.”
“Huh?”
“Coffee.”
Quinn took two mugs, filling them and handing one to her. She tentatively took the mug from his hand and brought it to her nose.
“You don’t have to be so melodramatic, Vita,” he said.
“Smells good,” she replied. “Now let’s see.”
Bringing the cup to her lips, she raised terror-filled eyes to him before taking a sip. Pulling in a mouthful of the rich dark liquid, Vita closed her eyes before swallowing. Then her eyes popped open.
“Do you want to kill me!” she exclaimed. “How much coffee did you put in there?”
“I like it strong,” he said apologetically.
When she broke out into a grin, Quinn relaxed.
“I was only kidding, it’s a little strong, but not too much so. It’s good.”
This new
relationship with their secretary was refreshing. Before he was attacked, Vita usually stayed clear of close contact with him. Since visiting him several times in the hospital, their work relationship became more relaxed. Maybe something good did come out of this, he figured. The incident brought Leah to mind and he wanted to have as many people looking out for her as possible.
“Do you know Leah Brooks?” he asked.
“Yes,” she nodded. “She is the wedding planner on the floor below ours.
“Isn’t she beautiful?”
Lita groaned and rolled her eyes. “Yes, she is beautiful, but Sir, I thought you had given up your old habits. Leah is different from the women you usually date.”
Quinn wasn’t sure what Vita was getting at. Was she biased or was it something else? He needed to know what his assistant meant.
“What are you talking about? Skin dolor makes no difference to me.”
“Sir, I am offended you thought I meant it that way.”
“Oh.”
“With all due respect sir, what I meant was that, Leah is not the kind of girl who messes around.”
“How do you know so much about her?”
Vita smiled. “Cara who works with her is my friend. She talks a lot about her boss.”
“It’s her,” he said.
Vita’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“It’s her,” he repeated with much emphasis.
Vita’s face scrunched in confusion as she apparently tried to figure out what her boss was talking about. Then her face smoothed and her eyes bulged.
“It was her?”
“Hmm.” He nodded. “Now, you must do me a favor Vita.”
“What’s that?”
Quinn leaned across the table and took her hand. She raised her eyes and stared at him, puzzled. “Please keep an eye on her.”
“What do you mean?”
“I like her a lot … I mean, I really like her, but now that I stupidly brought her into the open, she might be in danger as well. I hired extra security for you and the office.”
“I knew someone was following me,” she said. “Can’t you do the same for her?”