The Truth (Butler Ranch Book 5)

by Heather Slade

  “I see.”

  When he pulled up to the house at Happy Valley Ranch, Quinn got out, went inside, and straight upstairs. If Razor thought she was feeling sorry for herself again, he was right. If anyone should be entitled to, it was her. Her life fucking sucked.

  Three weeks later, Quinn was sitting in her bedroom, where she spent all day, every day, looking out the window. She’d just finished another book, the only thing she could do in her confinement, but hadn’t picked the next one in the pile up to start yet.

  Razor rapped on her door. “Dinner is ready.”

  “I’m not hungry.” She was never hungry. The only time she ate was when she crept down at night, and grabbed enough fruit and bread to get her through the next day. Sometimes Razor would bring food and leave it outside her door. She’d always eat what he brought. She wasn’t stupid enough to starve herself, only stubborn enough not to be willing to spend time with them.

  “It’s Thanksgiving, Skipper.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Thanks for the reminder,” she managed to say before she was full-on crying. The last time she spoke to her mother, she’d said she hoped to be back by Thanksgiving.

  “Please let me in,” Razor pleaded.

  She kept the door locked, not that it would bar any of them from coming in if they’d wanted to. It was one of those simple locks that a hairpin could open.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  She got up and walked to the door, opening it and then walking back to where she’d been sitting, keeping her back to him. She heard him approaching and closed her eyes tight.

  “I thought you should have this,” he said, handing over her phone when she opened her eyes.

  “Why?”

  “Because there isn’t any reason you shouldn’t.”

  “Is the warden just going to take it away from me later?”

  “Stop it. You’re not a prisoner, Quinn. You’re the one who has chosen to behave like one.”

  “I didn’t hand my phone over to him willingly. He took it.”

  “Paps did what he thought was best at the time. I would’ve given it back to you weeks ago if you’d told me what happened.”

  She shrugged. “You say that now.”

  “Look at me.

  When she didn’t, Razor grabbed the arms of her chair and turned it so she was facing him. “Ask me anything you want to know, and I’ll tell you. Talk to us. Stop hiding out upstairs, only coming out at night, like a bat. Hey, that would be a better name for you than Skipper. I’m gonna start calling you Batgirl.”

  Quinn refused to smile even though she knew he was trying to break through the barricade she’d erected around herself. She powered her phone on, thankful to see he’d charged it.

  “No word from my mother, right?” she said before sobs overcame her and she couldn’t say anything else.

  Razor picked her up like some kind of doll, sat in the chair, and held her on his lap. “Let it out, Skipper. Cry all you need to.”

  He held her there, stroking her hair, until she’d finally cried herself out.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, wiggling off his lap.

  “Don’t be. It’s way overdue.”

  “She said she hoped she’d be back by now.”

  Razor nodded. “I know she wanted to be. We wanted that too.”

  “Nothing’s changed?”

  “No, in fact, it’s worse.”

  “Why?”

  “Sure you want to know?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “Eighty-eight killed Calder’s brother.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth, and she felt as though she was about to be sick. “Oh my God, is Mercer…” Sobs overtook her again, and she threw herself on the bed, burying her head in the pillow.

  Razor pulled at her arm. “He’s fine. He’s just had to go underground for a while. I would’ve told you that too, if you’d ask.”

  At least she knew why he hadn’t been there, besides the fact that she told him she hated him. “Do you talk to him?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can you tell him I don’t hate him.”

  “Sure, I could do that, or you could tell him yourself.”

  Quinn looked at her phone. Maybe that’s why Razor gave it back to her, so she could call him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, let’s go eat.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m really not—”

  “How are you going to tell him yourself if you won’t even come downstairs to see him?”

  Quinn flew off the bed and ran downstairs where Mercer was waiting with his arms open.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she repeated, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “I’m the one who’s sorry, precious.”

  “I don’t hate you. Not at all.”

  He looked into her eyes and smiled. “I know that.”

  “I was mad at you, and then…”

  “I’m sorry I disappeared on you. It couldn’t have been prevented.”

  “I know. Razor told me what happened.”

  “He did?” Mercer looked around her and glared at him.

  “Somebody had to tell her,” he said, holding his arms up in the air.

  “Actually, no one did,” added Paps, but he was smiling too. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  Mercer had his hands on the sides of her waist. “They told me you weren’t eating.”

  Quinn looked at the floor, but Mercer tilted her chin so he could see her eyes. “We’ll talk later. For now, let’s eat.”

  She nodded and sat in the chair he held for her. It had been so long since she’d sat at a table and eaten a meal, she wasn’t sure her stomach could handle it, especially with Mercer so close.

  After he’d cleaned his plate and had seconds, he turned to her. “Take a walk with me?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Quinn stood.

  “She’ll need a jacket. It’s cold out there,” said Razor.

  She couldn’t help but smile at him. “Thank you. I’ll get one.”

  “Shoes would be a good idea too,” he shouted behind her.

  She came back downstairs and followed Mercer outside, and gasped when he spun around, put his hands under her bottom, and lifted her off her feet.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he said, carrying her until her back was up against the house. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her so deeply it hurt, but she didn’t care, and pushed back at him just as hard.

  He held her with one hand while he gripped the side of her face with the other. “I couldn’t stand not having you in my arms another minute,” he breathed. “I missed you so much.”

  Quinn kissed him again, not wanting her lips anywhere but on his, and her body wrapped around him. I missed you too,” she said, running her tongue down his neck.

  “Don’t mind us,” she heard Razor say, and looked to see him and Paps getting in the SUV they kept parked by the house. “See ya tomorrow, Batgirl,” he shouted.

  “Batgirl?” Mercer asked.

  “His new name for me.”

  “Let’s go inside,” he said, setting her on her feet.

  “I don’t want to talk, Mercer.”

  “Neither do I, precious.”

  24

  The past three weeks had been a slice of heaven. He had Quinn in his arms twenty-one days, during which the only thing Paps or Razor would contact him about was Calder, Doc, or Leech reappearing.

  Mercer took her body every way he’d imagined in the time he was away from her. Some days they never went outside, some days they didn’t bother getting dressed, because they knew it wouldn’t be long before their bodies were joined together again.

  The tea kettle started to whistle, and Mercer went to the stove to turn off the burner. When he turned around, Quinn stood before him, bare, the way he preferred her to be.

  “I don’t want you to leave our bed without telling me,” she pouted. “I hate waking up and finding you aren’t there.”

&nb
sp; Mercer walked over and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Come here, precious.” With one arm, he swept everything off the dining room table, not caring if it clattered to the floor, and then lifted her. “Lie back,” he told her.

  “Mercer,” she groaned, weaving her fingers in his hair.

  He ran his tongue from the inside of her knee, up her thigh, until he got close enough to her sex that he could breathe in the scent of her. “Stay still for me,” he murmured.

  Every day had been this way, since Thanksgiving. Quinn was his, body and soul, and he proved it to her. Again and again, he’d take her body soaring to the pinnacle of pleasure, let her fall back into his arms, and then begin again. He craved her moans of ecstasy as much as her mewls of bliss.

  “Tell me what you want, precious,” he demanded from her, needing to hear her say the words.

  “I want you inside of me.”

  “My tongue is inside of you already.”

  “I want more,” she pleaded. “You know what I want, Mercer.”

  He brought her to the brink and then backed off over and over until she finally screamed the words he wanted to hear.

  “I love the way you beg,” he answered, thrusting inside of her, giving her what she asked for.

  Sometimes, like now, her pleasure would be so intense, he’d swear her eyes rolled back in her head. Other times, she’d be moved to tears.

  Later today, he’d have to tell her that their time at Happy Valley Ranch was coming to an end. The family who owned it had graciously allowed them to stay an extra week, but they would be arriving for the Christmas holiday tomorrow.

  He’d made arrangements for them to stay at a house on the beach instead, but it wouldn’t be the same.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked, sitting up so her legs were wrapped around his waist. “Whatever it is, you don’t look happy.” She scooted forward so her wetness rubbed against him. “And right now you should be very happy.”

  “I am happy.”

  She squeezed her legs tighter. “Tell me now, or I’ll torture it out of you.”

  “We’re moving to the beach this afternoon.”

  “That isn’t so bad.” She unwrapped her legs, climbed off the table, and sat in the chair next to him. “It’s back to reality though, isn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “When are we leaving?” she asked.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Can we go now? I mean after we pack and then clean up?”

  “Sure. Why the rush?”

  “There’s something I want to do on the way.”

  “Are you going to tell me what?”

  “I want to get a Christmas tree.”

  Mercer smiled. “I’d like that too.”

  There was a lot, on the west end of Cambria, where the farmers’ market was held in the summer, that had trees for sale. It took Quinn half an hour to decide which one she wanted, but he didn’t care. This was as close to normal as he could imagine life being, and he never wanted it to end.

  —:—

  The call came in from Paps on December 23, and Quinn knew by the look on Mercer’s face that he had to leave. She wanted to beg him not to, ask if he could wait until after Christmas, but it didn’t work that way in his world. And if it was news about her grandfather or Kade, she wanted him to go, even if it meant he had to leave tonight.

  “It’s okay,” she said before he spoke. “I understand. Just tell me when.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Christmas Eve. Quinn tightened her fists, determined not to let herself cry. For the last six months, she’d cried more than she had in her whole life, and that was saying something given she was sent to boarding school when she was seven.

  “Is there anything you can tell me?”

  Mercer shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  She plastered the best smile she could on her face. “We’ll celebrate Christmas tonight, then.”

  “I made dinner arrangements.”

  —:—

  Mercer took her back to the Sea Chest, where they dined in the private room for the second time. There’d been a Christmas party the night before, so when they walked in, the room was filled with decorations and hundreds of twinkling white lights.

  “Did you do this?” she asked.

  “I wish I could take credit for it, but no.” He explained about the party.

  As much as Mercer tried to focus on Quinn, everything he had to do before he left ran through his mind. There was one more package to be delivered on Kade’s behalf before Christmas, and he’d already asked Laird to take care of it.

  They’d tried to find another operative Mercer felt confident in, to aid Laird with Quinn’s detail while he, Paps, and Razor were gone, but there were none he trusted.

  “Max is active,” Paps had suggested.

  “Max-the-idiot? Are you serious?”

  “Just to cover Laird,” he’d pressed.

  Mercer relented. At least Max was a known entity. What choice did he have?

  The news they’d received from an operative in Moscow gave them good reason to believe either Doc or Leech, or both, were still alive.

  The source was someone they’d been working with for over two years, someone Doc himself had found. When the call from Paps came earlier, saying the man had finally been successful in infiltrating the organization they suspected Calder was connected to, and that he believed they had at least one prisoner in captivity, they knew they had to act immediately.

  Paps and Razor were already on their way, but Mercer’s transport had been scheduled for tomorrow anyway since he had to make arrangements with Laird and now Max.

  “You’re distracted,” Quinn said, holding her wine glass up.

  He refilled it. “I’m sorry, precious.”

  “You know what? I’ve had your undivided attention for an entire month. Do you realize that? It’s a month today. So I’m not going to complain or worry. I’m just going to enjoy every minute with you that I can.”

  “Do you know how much I love you?” He’d only said those words to her once before, but it was important that he say them again tonight. For so long, things had been tentative with them, as though their love for each other was somehow on hold until the mission was over.

  “I love you, too, Mercer.”

  He stood and pulled her into his arms. “Dance with me.”

  Christmas music played through the room’s speakers as Mercer held her close to him.

  “Say it again,” he whispered.

  “I love you, Mercer.”

  More than anything, he wanted to get down on one knee and beg her to marry him, but he couldn’t, not until he could also tell her he was retiring, and he’d never have to leave on another mission again.

  Quinn held him tight, the next morning, when Laird came to the house, and Mercer knew he had to say goodbye.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can be. While I’m gone, please do as Laird asks you to, precious.”

  “I will, Mercer. I promise.”

  “Good girl.”

  He walked away then and got in the waiting SUV. As it pulled away, he turned to look at her one more time, but she and Laird had gone inside. A feeling came over him that he’d never felt before. It was a fear that chilled his whole body. In that moment, Mercer wondered if he’d ever see her again.

  25

  New Year’s Eve had always been one of Quinn’s favorite nights of the year. Not this year, though, since she was on the wrong side of the country, and alone—just like she had been for Christmas.

  The energy she’d put into hoping she’d hear something from her mother had proved to be as much of a waste of time as it had been every other year of her life.

  Razor and Mercer had both told her that her mother knew she could contact Quinn, and yet the countless messages, texts, and emails she’d sent had gone unanswered.

  She stood in the kitchen of the rental house, staring out at the dark, dreary and frigid-look
ing ocean, wishing more than anything that Mercer was here with her, even though she understood why he couldn’t be.

  Since that was as big a waste of energy as hoping she’d hear from her mother, she decided to go for a run. Maybe she’d feel better. And if not better, at least less pathetic.

  Quinn changed her clothes and went outside.

  She stretched and took it slow until her muscles warmed up and she got into a rhythm. Normally she’d stop at the park, but today she felt like going farther.

  The beach was more crowded than she’d expected it to be, considering it was cold as hell. She took the wooden steps down from the boardwalk to the sand and continued her run.

  When she got to the cliffs at the far end of the beach, she stopped and checked her phone, not really expecting a message, but that didn’t mean she could keep herself from looking.

  Quinn turned around to start on her way back and ran into a woman who’d just come around one of the big rocks.

  “Shit. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Quinn stammered.

  “It’s okay, probably my fault. I wasn’t looking either,” the woman answered.

  There was something about her, like they’d met before.

  “You look familiar,” the woman said and Quinn laughed.

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “Really? How funny. Do you live in Cambria?”

  “Nope. Just visiting.”

  “I’m Ainsley Butler. It’s nice to meet you…”

  What were the odds that she’d run into a Butler today of all days?

  “And you are…”

  “Oh, um, sorry…I’m Quinn. Quinn Hess.”

  Ainsley took her hand, but didn’t let go.

  “Hey, Ains. What’s up?” asked a staggeringly attractive man. “Who’s this?” he asked, noticing Ainsley still held Quinn’s hand in hers.

  “Cris, this is…”

  “I’m Quinn,” she answered.

  “Cris Avila, nice to meet you…wait a minute. Quinn?” He looked at Ainsley, who linked their arms.

  “Quinn, this may sound crazy, but there’s a family I want you to meet.”