Carter sighed. “Mark, I’m sorry, all right?”
He appeared disappointed, but not angry. “It was worth a shot. All I asked was for you to see how it felt, and you did. I can’t say I’m surprised, since—”
“I slept with her.”
It felt strange to finally say it aloud. Mark stared at him, a look of befuddlement on his face.
“Jesus, Mark.” Carter shook his head. “Not tonight. I couldn’t if I wanted to. It…happened a long time ago.”
Mark’s eyes narrowed. “When?”
He didn’t want to dredge up that painful period in both their lives, when they had been at each other’s throats, fighting over the same girl. The girl Mark had eventually married. Even now, Carter felt guilt cut through him. It didn’t matter that he’d been hung up on Shelley for most of his teen years. She had belonged to Mark, and Carter had stepped between them. It wasn’t something brothers did to each other.
A thickness in his throat, he answered Mark’s question. “In high school, not long after Shelley dumped me. I was on the beach with some friends, and Quinn was there with hers. I…sort of broke her off from the herd, and we ended up taking a walk alone.”
He swallowed down his remorse. “We shared a few beers I’d smuggled out of the St. Clair bar. One thing led to another…”
“Why have I never heard about this?” Mark asked tightly.
He rubbed his brow. “Because I knew you’d kill me.”
“Quinn was what? Sixteen?”
“Fifteen,” Carter corrected, his face hot.
Eyebrows slanted downward, Mark sat in a chair opposite the sofa. “So you two were dating behind everyone’s backs?”
“No.” Blood began to pound in Carter’s temples. “I…she was a virgin, and afterward, I gave her the cold shoulder. A month later, I graduated and left for New York.”
Mark’s features held disbelief. “Why would you do that? Considering the whole screwed-up triangle between you, Shelley and me, why’d you feel the need to bring Quinn into it, too? You know how shy and awkward she was as a teenager. And she was too damn young for sex or alcohol.”
Carter nearly flinched at Mark’s stern tone. “I know that. I was seventeen, horny and stupid. And I don’t know why I did it. Shelley had broken things off with me, and I was hurting.” He ran a hand over his mouth, self-recrimination in his voice. “Maybe I just wanted to hurt someone back, and Shelley’s little sister seemed like a good choice.” He hated what his teenage self had done. “Another trademark jackass move, right?”
“I won’t argue that.” Lips drawn in, Mark regarded him. “Now I finally understand why things have always been weird between you two. Did you and Quinn talk about this tonight?”
“I brought it up as the reason this whole thing wouldn’t work.”
“What’d she say?”
“She said it didn’t matter.” Carter stared at his hands. “She said it happened a long time ago. That we’re both adults now.”
“Maybe you should listen to her.”
He said nothing. After a moment, Mark sighed in resignation and rose from the chair. “We can start looking again at recommendations from the hospital tomorrow. Do you need any help before I go?”
Carter thought of his sling as well as his cane, both of which he’d left behind in the solarium. Even with the elevator, he had barely made the trip from there to the upstairs, but he’d been too proud to let Quinn see his slow, labored return for them. He would ask Mercer to get them later. He shook his head. “No.”
“Good night.” Mark began to walk out.
“Mark.” As his brother turned around, Carter absently rubbed his chest. “I haven’t said it near enough, but thank you for all you’ve done. I know I’ve put a lot on you.”
“It’s okay, Carter,” Mark replied quietly. “Family’s everything. I know you’d do the same for me.”
As he disappeared into the hall, Carter closed his eyes. His mind turned back to Quinn, with her delicate features and those gray-green eyes that brimmed with intelligence and empathy. It occurred to him that he hadn’t asked about her problems, hadn’t expressed any sorrow or concern for the unfortunate turn of events in her life. He had also done it again, he realized heavily. She had offered her help, and he had turned his back on her, just as he had all those years ago. Whether it had been due to his shame over his past actions or his male ego, unwilling to let her see him in this vulnerable state, he didn’t know.
Whether you choose me or not, you need to start working with someone, start getting serious about your recuperation. If you fall much further behind, you may never recover from this.
* * *
Driving Nora’s Buick, Quinn traveled south on the two-lane highway that ran alongside the beach, headed back into the Rarity Cove township. She had said a quick good-bye to the others, promised Emily she would see her again soon and made her escape. Carter had been nowhere around.
She turned on the radio, leaving it on the easy listening station her mother had it set to. She needed something—anything—to redirect her thoughts.
Carter’s arrogance was maddening. Still, despite his wealth, his looks, his fame, she realized she felt sorry for him.
His defense wounds were proof he had fought to live. But it seemed now that, for whatever reason, the fight had gone out of him. His ambivalence, even hostility, toward his rehabilitation vexed her. Carter had the world at his feet. He should be doing everything he could to reclaim the life he’d had. But a rational inner voice cut through her pondering.
If you’re not going to be working with him, it’s not your problem.
I used you.
It hadn’t been so much an apology, but an admission, after so many years.
It surprised her when, a short time later, the turnoff to her childhood home appeared ahead. Quinn had been so lost in thought she barely remembered driving past the Rarity Cove welcome sign or through its quaint downtown. Doug had been snoozing in the backseat but sat up, alert, as she slowed the car and turned onto the circular, crushed-shell driveway in front of the B&B. There were a couple of unfamiliar cars parked there, and Quinn recalled her mother had said guests would be arriving. She’d mentioned an older couple who had stayed with her in the off-season before. Parking behind the two vehicles—a white, compact economy sedan and a maroon Lincoln Navigator with a rental decal on its bumper—she cut off the Buick’s engine and let Doug out from the backseat. Carrying her shoulder bag and the duffel that held the dog’s things, Quinn walked onto the porch and entered the warmly lit interior. Sure enough, a gray-haired man and woman were there, watching television in the living room while they nibbled on a cheese platter Nora had put together that afternoon. Quinn politely introduced herself and, after taking Doug into the kitchen to feed him, she went upstairs in search of her mother.
Shock brought her to a halt at the den’s entrance. Quinn felt the blood drain from her face. She now knew to whom the rented SUV belonged. Jake sat with Nora on the couch. They’d been in conversation, but upon seeing Quinn, he rose, unfolding his tall, rock-hard frame as he stood. His powerful shoulders strained against the fabric of his sports shirt.
“What’s he doing here?” Quinn demanded as her gaze swung to her mother.
“Quinn.” Nora’s tone was scolding. “That’s no way to talk after Jake flew all the way here to—”
“It’s all right, Nora,” Jake said calmly, then spoke to Quinn. “Before you jump her, she didn’t know I was coming. Hell, I didn’t know myself until this morning. You haven’t been returning my calls. I had to see you.”
“You need to leave. Now.”
“Quinn, don’t be so rude!” Her mother had risen to her feet, as well. “This is a B&B. I have enough bedrooms. I’ll put Jake at the other end of the hallway. But you two need to talk.”
“Fine. Then I’ll go.” Quinn fled down the stairs, her throat dry and pulse racing. Passing the living room, she noticed Doug, his tail wagging as the two houseguests l
avished attention on him. Closing the front door behind her, she’d gotten halfway to Nora’s Buick when she realized she had left the car keys on the kitchen counter, along with her cell phone and purse. She cursed softly under her breath. Then she would have to walk. Arms hugged around herself, she set off in the direction of the beach.
“Quinn!”
She looked over her shoulder. Jake called to her from the porch, then strode after her. A chill fell over her that had nothing to do with the crisp night air. Quinn picked up her pace, then stopped, common sense overriding her panic. She was here on a residential street, with people in houses all around her. Far safer here than on an uninhabited beach at night. Steeling herself, she turned and waited for him to catch up to her.
“I kept your voice mails. They’re enough to get a restraining order this time,” she said, voice tight, when he reached her.
Jake’s raven eyebrows crashed downward. “We’re in the playoffs, and I still came all the way here just to talk to you. Is that too much to ask? Look, I know those messages got out of control, but you’re making me crazy. You’re still my wife.”
For four more months. And then I’ll be free. But Quinn kept the words inside her, instead digging her fingernails into her palms.
“We took it too far, babe, is all. I let things get out of hand, and that’s on me,” he said, a desperation in his low, placating tone. His dark head bent closer to hers as he towered over her. “Come back home with me. We’ll start over. You’ll be safe. I’ll be more respectful of your limits—”
Quinn shook her head hard. “No. This is over.”
A muscle jumped along his squared jaw. “You’ve made your point, you won. It’s time to come home.”
He attempted to touch her hair, but she backed away as if he were a poisonous snake. Jake sighed with exasperation. “How many times do I have to say it? I fucked up. You don’t want Mike around anymore, he’s gone—I’ve already told you that.”
At the mention of Mike Buczek, Jake’s close friend and teammate, Quinn’s stomach clenched. Despite the weakness in her knees, she kept her control. “I’m not changing my mind about the divorce. We were a mistake, Jake. All of it was. You have to let me go.”
His body stilled. Then, stepping closer, he clamped his hand on her arm possessively, a thread of warning in his voice. “Get in the SUV. We’re going somewhere private to talk this out.”
“No!” Quinn struggled against the fingers that bit into her. “Let go of me, or I’ll scream!”
Her lungs squeezed. For a moment, she thought he might pick her up bodily and force her into the vehicle. But instead, he released her. A shadow darkened his face. He no longer touched her, but his big, powerful form was still too close. “Be careful how you treat me, Quinn.”
He squinted back at the house, a calculating calm to his voice. “Nora’s a fragile thing. Wonder how she’d like knowing what her little girl is really into.”
Anger and humiliation swept through her.
“I have the phone messages, and they’re bad,” Quinn threatened again. She had begun to shake. “If you don’t leave right now—leave my mother and me alone—I’ll give them to the Rarity Cove Police.”
Jake’s rugged features turned to stone. His dark eyes imprisoned hers for several heartbeats. Finally, he pointed a finger. “You belong to me, Quinn. That hasn’t changed.”
She stood rigid as he stalked around to the driver’s side of the SUV, got in and started the engine with a roar. Tires screeching, he pulled from the drive and raced down the street.
Adrenaline made it hard to catch her breath. She wondered if Jake was headed back to the airport, or if his retreat was only for the night. Even if the Breakers were off the schedule tomorrow, he had to be back for team practice, didn’t he?
Quinn shivered from the chill and fatigue. How had she been so blind, unable to see that Jake was a functioning sociopath? He actually believed she was his possession, like his home or his cars. I own you. It was something he’d said to her often enough in their bedroom. Quinn had initially taken it as part of their role-playing, part of his dominant fetish. But she had learned he wasn’t playing a game. She hated herself for ever believing she loved him, for ever letting him think she shared his dark desires.
She would use the messages to keep him away if she had to.
There was nothing left to do but go back inside. As she entered the foyer, Doug whined and rose from the spot on the floor where he waited. The houseguests appeared to have retired for the night. Nora stood in the living room, her face creased with distress. Quinn figured she had seen their confrontation from the window, even if she couldn’t hear it.
“I’m going to bed, Mom,” she said wearily, avoiding eye contact as she went past.
“He flew across the country, Quinn. That should mean something to you.” An ache filled Nora’s voice. “If only your father had cared half as much for me.”
Quinn halted, a pang inside her at her mother’s words. It hurt that after so long, Nora was still so bitter and unhappy. With an inward sigh, she turned and went back to her. Taking her mother’s hands in hers, she drew in a breath before speaking. “There are things you don’t know, Mom…about Jake and me. About our marriage. Bad things I can’t and don’t want to tell you.” She swallowed dryly. It was as close as she could come to a confession. “But you have to trust me when I say it’s for the best that we split up. Jake…he isn’t who you think. He can’t come back here, okay?” Despite her effort, her voice trembled. “And I could really use your support right now.”
Her mother peered at her sadly. Quinn hugged her, said a subdued good night and then went upstairs to her bedroom with the dog following.
Jake isn’t who you think.
I’m not who you think, either, Mom. Her mother took pride in having raised her girls right. The idea of disappointing her…Quinn died a little at the prospect.
Determined to keep some normalcy in her life, she readied herself for bed before dutifully beginning her nighttime yoga practice. She went to the floor and into Balasana, also known as child’s pose, which she held for some time. After moving into several more poses on the floor, Quinn stood and went into a wide-legged, deep forward bend with her arms straight and hands clasped together behind her. Eyes closed and breathing deeply, she tried to imagine the stress pouring out of her in this inverted position. But not even the poses that typically calmed body and mind could suppress her jitters over Jake’s appearance. Quinn stood upright and ran shaky fingers over her forehead, still in disbelief that he’d actually come here. She prayed her threat had worked and that he was headed back on the next flight out of the Charleston airport.
We took it too far, babe, is all. I let things get out of hand, and that’s on me.
How could he possibly think she would ever forgive him? That it had merely been a simple case of letting things go too far? She felt as though she were choking. Even now, a cold sickness pooled inside her.
Mike Buczek had nearly raped her that night, with Jake’s approval.
Chapter Seven
Her breath rasped out as her silk blouse tore open like paper under his hands. With the speed of a puma, Mike had shoved her back, using his hulking body to pin her against the wall of the villa’s second-floor landing. Quinn’s shocked cry was swallowed up in the raucous laughter and thundering, hip-hop beat coming from the media room down the hall. Mike clapped a hand over her mouth, grinding into her despite her squirming.
“C’mon, baby. I know how you like it.” His hot breath fanned her face, his other hand squeezing her breast, then pinching her nipple hard through her exposed lace bra. Pain and revulsion shot through Quinn, tears flooding her vision. As he yanked her bra strap down her shoulder, she sank her teeth hard into the meaty palm covering her mouth. With a roared curse, Mike jerked his hand away, his significant weight off her long enough for her to slide out from between him and the wall. She broke into a run.
“Quinn.”
Jake
stood outside the media room’s doorway, a beer bottle dangling from the fingers of one hand.
“Jesus, Jake! Your little bitch bit me!”
In that moment, she knew. She nearly vomited. Quinn stumbled down the stairs to the first floor with Jake following and calling her name.
Unable to sleep, Quinn lay in the bed that had been hers as a child, reliving what had been the final breaking point in her already dysfunctional marriage. She had never liked Mike Buczek and the leering, knowing way he stared at her. But that night, he’d actually come after her. Quinn’s stomach churned at the memory.
Jake had blamed the incident on their both being high and had begged for her forgiveness. An ache inside her, Quinn turned onto her side and curled into a tight ball under the covers.
It hurt to think about just how far Jake had planned to let Mike go. How long he had been standing there, watching. His gaze had been filled with lust. Had he planned to join in at some point, or simply be a voyeur to it all?
It had finally proven to her just how dangerous, how unbalanced, he was.
Quinn stared blindly at the bedroom wall where a Backstreet Boys poster had resided in her adolescence. She wondered how she had gotten so far from the awkward young girl she had once been. How she had married a man who degraded her, and she had willingly allowed it.
Before that horrible night, Quinn had been mustering the courage to talk to Jake, to tell him that, despite precautions, she had somehow gotten pregnant. She had held her secret inside her for nearly nine weeks, trying to come to terms with it herself, trying to figure out if a child was a reason to stay in an otherwise ill-fated marriage. Some naïve part of her had actually hoped her news might be a turning point in their relationship, that it might be the thing that tempered Jake’s wild, dark side. With a baby on the way, he might begin to look at her as a wife and mother, not as a possession or an object for his domination and sexual use.
After breaking free from Mike, Quinn had fled the house, crying, nearly hysterical. She had driven around the Bay Area before finally checking into a hotel. The cramping, then bleeding, had begun during the night.
Low Tide: Rarity Cove Book Two Page 6