by Anna Brooks
“Tell him,” Terry growls in my ear, but even if I wanted to, I couldn’t get enough oxygen to say a single word. My knees are already weak, but a black cloud starts to close in on me, and my head falls forward, my neck losing its strength and no longer able to hold it up.
“Quinn!” Wes still calls for me, and the last thing I think of before I die is, I never told him I loved him.
Wesley
Quinn’s body sags against him, and I’m running out of options. “Quinn! Jesus fuck, let her go, Terry. You don’t want to hurt her.” He’s fucking choking her. Right in front of me. And I’m powerless. His hand is still around her throat, so I take a step back.
Jesus fucking Christ, I’m gonna let him take her. I don’t have any other options right now.
He starts to walk backward, dragging her with him. Readjusting the hand on her neck allows her to breathe better, but he leaves the blade against her skin. Her soft skin that already has a slice in it. She doesn’t move, and I don’t have a choice. I know if I charge him, he’ll kill her. “Please, man. Let her go,” I plead, completely helpless. “Please, I’m fucking begging you.”
A circle suddenly appears on his forehead. His mouth falls open, and blood leaks from the bullet hole as he starts to go down. I run and get to them just in time. Yanking his arm up with one hand, I grab her with the other and pull her away from the knife.
She’s limp and unmoving like a ragdoll, and I hold her as I drop the weapon. Terry’s dead; no way he can come back from a bullet to the head, so I don’t even spare him a second glance.
“She okay?” my dad asks, walking up from behind me.
I carry her a few feet away and set her on the ground, too focused on her to answer my father. “Quinn, wake up.” Her pulse is strong, and kneeling, I shake her again. “Baby, wake the fuck up.”
Her blue lips part as she sucks in air, and the urgency of the inhalation makes my stomach hurt. She tries to sit up, but I keep a hand on her chest. “Shh, you’re okay. Just stay still.”
My dad rips the sleeve off his T-shirt and applies pressure to the cut on her neck. God, if he hadn’t followed me out here. I don’t know why he did or why he brought a gun with a silencer, but I don’t care right now. I’m just thankful he was there.
“Wes?” Quinn reaches up, grabbing my arm.
“I’m right here.” She turns her head and blinks her beautiful eyes at me. “Hi,” I whisper.
Before she can respond, tears fill her eyes, and she erupts into a full-on sob. She needs the pressure on her neck and probably doesn’t even realize how much worse she’s making it, but I can’t tell her not to fucking cry. I fall back on my ass and take over for my dad, then wrap my other arm around her and pull her onto my lap. “I’ve got you. It’s over, baby. It’s done. You’re safe.”
That just gets me more shakes, and I hold her tighter and kiss the top of her head. With my lips where they are, I ask my dad to call an ambulance.
“Already did.”
My ass gets wet from the damp leaves; my eyes are closed as I just sit with her, breathing her in. When footsteps approach, I look up to see a cop walking up to my father. His hand is resting on his gun as he approaches.
In the distance, I hear sirens and shift her in my arms. “Are you doin’ okay?”
She nods and clears her throat. “I think so.” When she pulls back a little, I bring my hand with her, still applying pressure to her neck. “How bad is it?”
“It could have been worse, but it’s still not good. We need to get you to the hospital so they can check you over. I want your neck and throat looked at, and you’re gonna need some stitches.”
“Is he dead?” Her raspy voice is still fearful.
“Yeah, he is.” She doesn’t shed any more tears, but a really weird look passes through her eyes. Almost relieved but in a way it’s painful. Regretful. Then it hits me what just hit her. “Baby, it’s not your fault. Don’t take his shit on. I’ve told you that. He did this to himself.”
“I know.”
She presses her now pink lips together, and I run my fingers along her cheek and down her jaw.
“I love you.”
My hand freezes, and I tilt my chin down.
“That’s what I was thinking. When I thought he was going to kill me, I thought about how I never told you that. And I just wanted you to know. Whatever happens after this. Now that he’s gone, I don’t know where you’re going—”
“I’m not going anywhere unless it’s with you.” I press a finger against her lips. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
She stares up at me, and I see the moment it dawns on her.
“I love you, too, Quinn.”
“Ma’am, I’m going to have you… oh my God, you’re…”
I glare at the EMT. “She’s a patient. That’s all she fuckin’ is, hear me, buddy?”
His eyes get big, but he nods. “Yes. Of course. Sir, can you let her go, so I can get a look at her injury?”
“Be gentle.”
“I will.”
Before letting her go, I kiss her temple and whisper in her ear, “I’ll be right by your side. Always.”
Chapter 18
Quinn
“I can’t cancel. I won’t do it.”
Ian paces the hospital room. “Quinn, this is an exceptional circumstance, your fans—”
“My fans have already dealt with me canceling once. If I do it again, it’s career suicide. Listen, I was overworked for years. I can do this. This isn’t why I originally took a break. I did that because a crazy person was after me, and it was for my safety. He’s not anymore, and I need to move on for my own sanity,” I plead with him. I’m not used to this. Normally, I had to beg for a break enough to sleep for six hours straight. “All my fear was because he wasn’t caught. But Terry’s not a threat anymore, so I’m not scared.”
“Do the sound check without her, and we can make it. She wants to perform, then she performs.” My heart warms at how Wes has my back. Now that the threat is gone, he’s lost the tension around his eyes.
“Wesley, the press I have to deal with about this is going to be a nightmare. To put her back on stage before she does any interviews about being stalked and said stalker getting murdered at her bodyguard’s family home by his highly decorated, ex-SWAT father is highly unlikely. There’s a process for things like this.”
It’s just us three in the room right now. After I finally stopped crying, I was loaded up into an ambulance and taken to the hospital. As far as I know, there are no paparazzi here, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some were on their way.
“Ian, please.” I sit up on the bed and swing my legs around. “I’m fine. He didn’t do any permanent damage. The doctor said nothing is even inflamed. Just a little bruising that can be covered with makeup and a butterfly bandage to the cut. I need to do this. Just as I needed to continue with my life when he was still out there.”
I know he’s dead now, and even though I’m relieved, I think I’m in some state of shock. The show must go on, but I don’t want to admit that Ian is probably right. Even if I’m wrong, I do have to move on, and I need to perform. I need to hit the road to the East Coast so we can go to Europe. I won’t let him take that away from me any more than he already did.
“I understand that, Quinn. I do.” He switches his crossed legs. “My concern isn’t necessarily with you. I know you’re tough, and I know you’re seasoned enough to tell me if you’re not feeling up to it. I trust that. Honestly, I’m more concerned about the media. If you haven’t given a statement, they’re going to be vultures trying to get the first one.”
Wes wraps an arm around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder. “What if she gives a statement before the concert? On stage. It’s where she’s the most comfortable, and it’s where she’s in control.”
Ian bobbles his head back and forth as he thinks.
“One time and then it’s done. She continues with the tour, and after that couple of mon
ths, you can decide if she needs to do more press. But she’s been through enough. All she wants is to perform again.”
“It could work. But you have to stick to a script, Quinn.”
“I can do that.”
He holds his hand up while he scrolls through his phone with the other. I smile at Wes while we wait. “Okay. Let me start making some arrangements.”
Wes stands the same time Ian does. “Thanks, man. We’ll meet you there tomorrow afternoon. Hit me up if you need anything else.” Since the rest of the band and all the dancers and crew are already on their way to the other side of the country, we’ll have to drive nonstop to meet them in Austin. I’d point that out to Ian, but he’s so on top of his shit I don’t even worry about having to double check things like that.
“Sure. Quinn, get rest. Seriously. I know you want to perform, and as I said, I trust your judgment, but you need rest.”
“I know. I will.” And I’m looking forward to it. I want to crawl into my bed on the bus and just sleep. With Wesley’s arms around me.
He walks Ian to the door, and when he comes back to me, I smile. “Is your dad okay?”
“He’s fine. Why would you ask?”
“Uh, he killed somebody.”
He laughs. “He was a cop, but he was also a sniper for SWAT. And you mean the world to me so that automatically means something to him. He won’t lose a wink feeling guilty for taking him out.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
What am I thinking? Of course, he doesn’t care that Terry’s dead. “Nothing. I just feel bad because it was Beverly’s son, but she has a dead stepson.” I haven’t spoken to her, but this must be so difficult for her. I wouldn’t fire her for this because it’s not her fault at all. I just don’t know if she’ll want to continue working for me anymore.
“That’s not your problem, and I know you care because you have a good heart, but that’s not yours to worry about, okay?”
He’s right. I just hate it for Beverly, absolutely hate it. Part of me feels guilty, but I know deep down none of this is my fault.
“Can we get out of here?”
He brings his hands up and holds my face. I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he rests his forehead against mine. “Yeah, babe. We can get outta here.”
He does just that. Gets me out of the hospital and back to the tour bus just when my phone rings. “Hello,” I answer my dad’s call.
“Hey, Quinny. How are you holding up? Wes called and told me what happened.”
“I’m fine. He didn’t need to do that.” I narrow my eyes playfully at Wes.
“I’m glad he did. You’re really all right?”
I nod to myself. “Yeah. I really am.”
“I know I’m not around now and haven’t been in the past. And you have a man who’d take a bullet for you, but you know if you need something, I’m always here.”
“Yes, I know that. You’ve told me before, and I appreciate it.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Just… remember I’m always here if you need something. I’ve gotta go, but take care of yourself.”
He hangs up, and I set my phone on the table. “That was weird.”
“Why?”
“He was just kind of short… but he sounded different or something.”
“Probably just worried about you.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
I eat a granola bar and then shower, careful of my cut, and get some rest on the way to the show because, after all, it must go on.
And go on it does.
I woke up from my long nap, and we were already almost to Texas. So I got ready as best as I could in the tour bus. When I walked into the venue tonight, everyone cheered for me. The dancers, stage crew, security.
A lightness was in the air, and instead of me going on stage to give my statement, Ian arranged for me to have a very small press conference before the show. I gave my statement and then forgot all about it the second I stepped on stage.
It was awesome. And as we roll through the highway onto the next stop, I can’t help but say a little thank you to my mother up above because I know she had a hand in putting Wesley in my life.
* * *
“Fuck, Quinn.” Wes flips me over and yanks my hips up, then slides into me from behind. He falls on top of me, his chest to my back, but holds himself up on his forearms. “Dammit.”
“What?” I pant, squirming against him, desperate for more. “Why did you stop?”
His forehead lands between my shoulder blades, and I feel his lips as he kisses up the back of my neck. “You make me go crazy. I need to be more gentle, but the sounds you make—those little moans and the way you say my name—does shit to my insides that I don’t even know how to explain.”
“I’m fine. Please, don’t stop.”
“Oh, I’m not stopping.” He drops down on an elbow and pulls me right along with him. With both of us on our sides, he reaches down and lifts my leg, then slides in and out. “I’m just slowin’ down, baby. Making it last. Gettin’ your pussy so used to me that you’ll feel empty without me inside you.”
God, I love this. It’s just perfect with him. He’s gentle, but his filthy words are so damn hot, I feel like I’m the only woman in the world for him. My thighs twitch, and he grunts behind me. “You close?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “I’ve been close.”
He chuckles, making my hair tickle against my neck. “Me too. But I don’t ever want it to end. It feels too good.” His right arm is draped over me, and he slides it down my belly and then grabs my wrist. Bringing them down, he brings our fingers to my clit and slowly circles the sensitive tissue.
“Oh, God.” My thighs clench, and he slams into me.
“Fuck, can feel you squeezin’ me.”
I can’t even say his name as I throw my head back. My lips part when his find my shoulder, and his teeth sink into my flesh. It pushes me over the edge, and I moan his name as my body trembles. He brings his hand up from between my legs to my hip and holds me steady as he pounds into me, finally groaning as he empties himself inside me.
“I love this ritual.” I sigh.
He laughs. “I do, too.”
“Do you think they know what we’re doing in the front of the bus?” We’ve been on tour for a couple of weeks now, and after every show, Wes strips me down, washes my hair and my body, then makes love to me until I pass out from exhaustion.
“I’m sure they can figure it out, baby.”
I know he enjoys sex with me, but I also know he likes to do it so I sleep through the night. Even if he didn’t, I still sleep so well with him. If I do have a nightmare, he chases it away the second I sit up, gasping for air.
And the shows have gone off without a hitch. He’s lessened my security, but aside from him, there’s still the driver and another guy up front on the bus. Whenever we can, we stay in a hotel, but since I’m still catching up with so much, we’re pretty much going nonstop. And I love it. I’ve never loved my job more than I do touring with the man I love.
Chapter 19
Quinn
We’ve been home for a week after touring for a couple of months. We did the East Coast and then Europe. And it was by far the best couple of months of my life. No Gail, no stalker. But I gained Wesley. All of him. He’s been more than a bodyguard and more than a lover. He’s been everything. He is everything.
And that’s why I want his name cleared.
After I did my little press conference, the paparazzi and media have actually been pretty cool. I think because of the severity of the situation, they have laid off a little bit. Ian didn’t think I needed to do any more press about it, but I contacted him about doing an interview for this.
Wes hasn’t said anything more about it, but I know it bothers him. Right now, he’s escorting me into the building where I’ll be the guest in a talk show segment. He thinks it’s abo
ut Terry, which Ian told me to expect questions about, but I wanted to do this because I don’t want people thinking Wes abuses me. I haven’t forgotten about that stupid article that went out the same day Terry was killed.
“Hi, Quinn. I’m Samantha.” A woman with a headset and tablet in her hand greets me in the hallway. “Executive producer. You’re on in five; makeup is waiting for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Follow me. Good to see you again, Ian.” Samantha looks behind her. “How are the boys doing?”
“Good. Enjoying their break.”
“That’s good. When they go on tour again, and you want to announce it, you know they’re always welcome here.”
He laughs. “Reason to Ruin doesn’t do talk shows, Samantha. Nice try.”
“Can you blame me?” She shrugs.
Wesley’s hand on my back remains firm as we walk through the hallway. After arriving at the end of the hall, she motions to the makeup chair where I sit and get a quick touch-up.
Samantha and Ian chat while that’s happening, and I glance in the mirror to see Wes looking around, always on guard. His eyes catch mine, and I smile at him. His lips tilt in acknowledgment for a moment before he’s looking around again.
I’m called onto the stage where I hug the host, Valorie Allen. She motions for me to sit on the dark blue couch, and I cross my legs, the black skirt stopping mid-thigh when I do so.
“Quinn, thank you for being here tonight. I know you’ve just come off a long tour. How was that?”
“It was great. I love performing and am going to miss it while I’m back in the studio.”
“Fifty-two concerts. You’ve gotta be exhausted.”
I nod and laugh. “I am. But I love my fans, and their support has made it easy.”
“So tell us why you wanted to come on tonight. We know, with the news and video surrounding you, that you were targeted by a stalker.”