Rosie thought about it. Traveling with someone in a train filled with passengers was one thing, but she had a feeling that there wouldn’t be another train to board. She didn’t really have a problem with that, but she wasn’t sure she trusted him that much. Still, she needed to reach out to someone. She knew what she was like, and if she didn’t maintain human interaction she would fall into depression. It had happened before, it could happen again.
“Okay,” she said finally.
He finished checking his bag and sent a glance toward the door.
Rosie zipped her bag shut as best she could and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. At least she wouldn’t be alone. The scary man at the back corner of the train kept looking at her, and she just knew he was working with the men who had killed Martin.
The train stopped and she knew they had about five minutes to get off before it started moving again. Unfortunately, Quinn was blocking her way out of the aisle.
He pulled his bag off his shoulder and began fidgeting with something in it, and she nervously kept track of time on her watch. When all they had was about ten seconds, he finally stood up and opened the door for her.
She glanced behind her to the scary man and jumped off the train.
Quinn followed her just as the train began to move again, headed back into Canada. The conductor stopped the mysterious, dangerous man and told him he had to sit back down.
Rosie smiled with relief. At least she was rid of that little problem. Now if she could only get home. She turned and followed Quinn to the street.
It didn’t take long to find a cab and get to the US/Canada border.
As their car pulled up to the tollbooth, Rosie worried over the passport she had handed to the driver. What if it didn’t look genuine? She tossed those thoughts to the back of her mind. Once she got it home, she would destroy it.
After a few questions from the friendly Border Patrol Agent, Rosie and Quinn were allowed to enter Detroit. Rosie breathed a sigh of relief.
The cab driver was more than happy to drive them all the way to the Amtrak station.
“Thanks,” Quinn told him as he handed him a wad of cash.
Rosie looked at him skeptically. “You don’t have to pay for the fare.”
Quinn lowered his voice and turned to her with concerned eyes. “Do you have any money at all?”
She thought to the hurriedness of her escape. There had been no time. She shook her head.
Quinn just nodded and helped her out of the vehicle. She glanced at her watch and realized that it was almost nine o’clock at night. She really didn’t need to be up much later, but she had to get home. She made a decision right then and there that she wouldn’t complain. She just got her bag and boarded the train with Quinn. Once again, she gave him Martin’s ticket.
They arrived in Bangor, Michigan at just about one o’clock in the morning.
Rosie smiled and looked around the small depot. The town couldn’t have had more than a few thousand people. It was so small.
“Where do we go?” she asked.
Quinn adjusted his bag on his shoulder and shrugged. “I’d say that way.” He pointed toward a small cluster of bright lights.
“Why there?” Rosie was more curious as to how he had made the decision than why.
“Lights mean people. Maybe there will be someplace to get a bite to eat. Maybe a car rental place.”
Rosie suddenly realized how hungry she was. She hadn’t eaten anything since seven the previous evening. Her stomach had probably been growling at her the entire train ride, but she had been too scared to notice. She nodded her consent, only to realize Quinn was already walking in that direction. She raced to catch up with him.
As she walked beside him, she looked around in the darkness for a sign of the man from the train. Thankfully she didn’t see him. She wasn't sure what she would have done, had the man actually been following them.
If Rosie didn’t know better, she would think that Quinn had stalled on purpose back on the train. Maybe he had. She didn’t really know anything about him, other than his name. She was trusting him on blind faith, and that really wasn’t like her. She was usually so logical, so methodical. Something about Quinn made her follow without asking questions. She couldn’t help but feel at ease with him. She didn’t know, maybe that was a bad thing, but somehow she didn’t think so.
They made it down the street, past government buildings and closed cafes. Restaurants, mostly bars, were still lit up on this street.
“Where to?” Rosie asked again.
“This way,” Quinn answered. He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and ducked inside the nearest bar and grill.
Rosie followed uneasily. There were a lot of rough-looking people in there. Not to mention that it was past midnight and they were probably drunk. She faltered just inside the door. She didn’t think she could do this.
In seconds, Quinn was beside her, gently leading her to a corner table. He sat her down and slid into the booth against the far wall.
The people were still raucous, and the music still blared, but the booth made it easier to feel safe. Rosie took a deep breath and looked out of the corner of her eye toward the small crowd at the bar. She turned back to the table, and Quinn
“I’m usually not so skittish,” she said quietly.
Quinn smiled at her. “It’s okay. I get skittish sometimes, too. Especially when I’m worn out.”
Rosie just nodded and took another quick glance around the room. At least no one was staring at her. That made her feel a little bit safer.
The waitress – a buxom blonde with a waist so tiny it was probably fake – sashayed over to their table. She straightened her hair and threw a giant smile at Quinn.
“What can I getcha?” she asked, chewing rapidly on a piece of gum.
Rosie rolled her eyes. The waitress was not what anyone would call subtle. In fact, she was pretty tacky, with a side order of brash.
“Actually,” Quinn paused for a moment and Rosie followed his eyesight to the girl’s nametag, “Andrika, I’m not really hungry. But I’m sure that my friend here would love something to eat.”
The waitress’ smile faded a little. “Oh,” she said, “okay.” She turned to face Rosie. “What would you like to eat?”
Rosie tried to smile. This late at night, however, it wasn't working too well. “Do you have a hamburger and some fries?” she asked.
The waitress nodded and scribbled furious on her order pad. “Sure. Want a beer with that?”
Rosie shook her head. She may not have been the best person, but she didn’t like beer.
“How about a soda?” Rosie asked.
The waitress rolled her eyes and wrote it down as well.
“I just want water,” said Quinn quietly. He kept his eyes focused on the table in front of him and fiddled with a straw wrapper.
The waitress walked away with their order in hand.
Rosie felt a little better knowing that Quinn wasn’t going to drink either. She felt like less of an outcast that way. And it spoke volumes about his character.
Rosie looked up again and scanned the people in crowd. Everyone was the same except one guy. He hadn’t been there before. Suddenly her heart began to beat faster. She needed to hide, just in case.
“I’ll be right back,” she nearly mumbled as she stood and headed for the bathroom.
Quinn didn’t protest, for which she was thankful.
Quinn watched her walk rapidly toward the bathroom and shook his head. Something had spooked her. He turned slowly and noticed the guy by the bar. He rolled his eyes as the man headed his way. This was just what he needed at that moment. Not.
The man slid into the seat Rosie had previously occupied and leaned on the table.
“You know you scared her, right, Robert?” Quinn asked him. He didn't look up from the animal he was sculpting with the straw wrappers left strewn across the table.
Robert shrugged. “Wasn’t trying to. I didn’t think she’
d notice me.” Robert smiled at Quinn. Quinn recognized it as Robert's “I have information you want” smile.
“What do you have for me?” Quinn asked.
Robert adjusted the baseball cap on his head. “Her name is Rosie Callahan. She lives, or used to live, in Illinois. A few months ago, she took an extended-stay trip to Canada with her new and now former boyfriend, Martin Sinclair. As far as we can tell, she’s a normal girl. Lives below the radar, no criminal record. No ties to any foreign nationals. She’s clean.”
“She’s running scared,” Quinn deduced. “What does Lorrander want me to do?”
“Get her home safe. We’ll take over from there.” He stood up.
“Gee, thanks for the help, Bobby.” Quinn knew that Robert hated that name. It was one of the reasons he used it often. He really didn’t like Robert at all, but he had to be cordial to him. He was under orders.
Robert glared at Quinn for a moment before exiting the establishment.
Quinn smiled to himself. Unfortunately, the smile appeared at the same time as the waitress. She took it as an encouragement as she set Rosie’s food on the table and leaned over way too far to put Quinn’s water down.
Quinn looked away and wiped the smile off his face. He didn’t need some random waitress hitting on him right now. He had a job to do. A job that included keeping a hold on the trust he had gained.
Rosie reappeared about twenty seconds later. She didn’t say anything as she bent over her food and nearly inhaled it.
Quinn wondered how long it had been since her last meal. As he watched her with concern, his phone rang. Again, at an unfortunate and inopportune time. He furrowed his brow and picked it up to check the caller ID. It was his brother. He shook his head, but answered it, ignoring the curious stare from Rosie.
“Hello.”
“Quinn! Thank heaven you answered! Wait a second, you don’t sound sleepy. Where are you?” Nate was bordering on hysteria and Quinn had to wonder why.
“Michigan. Why?” Quinn was once again dumbfounded by his brother's phone call.
“Michigan? What in the world are you doing in Michigan?” Nate asked.
“Long story. I think maybe I should explain later. What do you need at one-fifteen in the morning?”
“Well,” Nate started. “It’s like this. Jewel found the perfect – and I use perfect loosely – place cards for the reception, but I didn’t like them. I voiced as much and now she won’t talk to me. Evidently, she’s been planning her wedding since she was five.”
Quinn rolled his eyes. Leave it to Nate to come to him for girl advice. “What did you say exactly?”
“That they were flowery and ugly as sin.”
Quinn nodded. He had hoped it wasn't that bad, but had expected it to be worse at the same time. “That’s unredeemable. You may need to grovel, buddy.”
“Seriously? That’s the best advice that you have?” Nate's voice escalated with his temper.
“Look, I’ll talk to her. In the morning. I highly doubt she’s even awake. We’ll get this straightened out.” He neglected to mention that he didn’t have her phone number. Getting information like that would be easy as pie.
“Thanks, Quinn. I needed a good pep talk.”
“Hey, what are little brothers for?”
“To beat up on,” Nate answered matter-of-factly. “Talk to you in the morning.” He hung up before Quinn could get a word in edgewise.
Quinn rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone. He made a mental note to screen Nate's calls from then on.
“Who was that?” Rosie asked, taking a bite of a French fry.
“My older brother,” Quinn answered as his phone began to ring again. He didn’t recognize the number. Hoping it wasn't Nate, he answered. “Hello, this is Quinn.”
“Oh, good, I got the right number,” came a female voice.
“Who is this?” Quinn asked.
“This is Jewel. I would think you would recognize my voice by now. You did meet me at your sister's wedding and save my life. Plus, ladies' man, you told me I was beautiful. Not to mention the fact that I am your soon-to-be sister-in-law. Doesn’t that count for something?”
Quinn rested his head on his hand. This could go on for awhile. “How did you get my number?”
“I have my ways,” Jewel answered seriously.
“What do you need?” Quinn let the matter drop, sure that she had stolen his number from Nate’s contact list.
“Well, I realized that I sent the wrong picture of the place cards to Nate. I kind of blew up at him because he didn’t like them, but now it’s okay because I don’t like the ones I sent him the picture of. How do I apologize?”
“That one’s easy,” Quinn answered. “Repeat after me. I’m sorry.”
Jewel didn’t find that funny. “Quinn, come on! I need a way to make it up to him. You know him better than anyone. Help me out!”
“Fine,” Quinn conceded. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and thought hard. “Okay. He loves several things. The Chicago Cubs, the theater – any kind – and extreme sports. I’m thinking you need to get him tickets to something.”
“Thanks, Quinn,” Jewel said with a sigh. “I needed that.”
“No prob. Have fun planning.” He hung up. He was not going to answer any more calls tonight. Period.
“Who was that?” Rosie asked.
He sat up. “Explanations are in order, huh?”
She nodded profusely. “Yes. They are.”
“Okay. My brother is getting married in about a month and a half. I’m his best man. He and his fiancé had a fight, so they both called me to ask how to make it up to the other one.” Quinn left it at that. It was the bare bones of what had happened, and hopefully would humanize him some.
Rosie nodded with a laugh. “That makes sense.”
Quinn smiled. He felt a little better knowing he had shared some truth with her. He hated the part of his job that required him to lie, so he tried to tell the truth as often as possible. Sometimes, on the difficult days, even half-truths were a welcome reprieve from the deception.
Rosie looked like she had finished, so he picked up his jacket and slipped it on. “Ready to go?”
She daintily wiped her mouth with her napkin and nodded. “You know, you don’t have to travel with me. I can manage on my own.”
Quinn held back a smile. She did need him to travel with her. She just didn’t know it. He wasn't about to leave her on her own. “Where do you live?”
Rosie shrugged slowly. “Illinois.”
That was when it clicked. She lived in Illinois, the same state as he did.
He inwardly groaned. Of course she lived in Illinois. Because there had to be one person in the entire world who lived close enough to figure out who he was. And from what he had seen of her, she was no dummy. This wasn't going to be an easy assignment.
Outwardly, he held out his hand and helped her to her feet. She looked exhausted.
Quinn waited until she had her bag and was ready to go before he headed to the door. He could feel her presence not too far behind.
As an afterthought, Quinn stopped at the bar and leaned toward the waiter. “Hey, do you know where we can get a car?”
The man shrugged and continued handing out alcohol.
From behind him, Quinn heard a voice.
“Hey, sweetie, can I buy you a drink?” The comment was obviously directed at Rosie.
Quinn smiled ruefully and turned. He fully intended to flatten the guy, but then thought better of it. The man was huge. Quinn wasn’t short, and this guy was taller than he was. Thinking fast, he quickly deduced a way to get this guy off of Rosie’s back and get them a ride.
“Hey, buddy!” Quinn said loudly.
The man looked at him, his eyes clear. “Me?”
“Yeah, you,” Quinn said sarcastically. He slid closer to Rosie and gently guided her back a few steps. “Don’t mess with her.”
The man furrowed his brow. “You gonna play the hero now?”
“I saw her first. I get to be the one to buy her a drink.”
Seriously? Quinn thought to himself. This guy was acting like a junior high juvenile.
Quinn glanced back at Rosie and saw her frightened face. This had to stop, and fast. She was already scared enough without this guy. Quinn couldn't afford for her to go into shock.
“Okay,” Quinn commented. “Then let’s settle this the old-fashioned way.”
“You mean a fight?” the guy asked. Judging by the look on his face, the man was completely bewildered.
“Hey!” the bartender piped up. “No fighting in my bar! Take it outside!”
“I wasn’t talking about fighting,” Quinn said, rolling his eyes. “The old-fashioned way. Arm wrestling. Strongest man wins. You win, you get to buy her a drink. I win, I get your truck.”
The man lifted his chin. “How did you know I drive a truck?”
Quinn shrugged. It hadn't been hard. A tough-guy hick who thought he could have any lady he wanted? Yeah, those kinds of guys usually drove a truck. “Good guess.”
The man thought a moment. “Alright.” He rolled up his sleeves, seeming to take longer to roll up one than the other.
Quinn shrugged off his jacket. He was just about to sit down across a small table from the guy, when Rosie laid a hand on his arm. He stopped and waited for whatever she had to say.
“I can’t let you arm-wrestle him,” Rosie announced quietly.
Quinn turned to look at her. “Why?”
She smiled, and if Quinn didn't know better he would have said she was up to no good. “It wouldn’t be fair. He’s right-armed and he hurt a muscle in his right arm.”
The man stared at her in disbelief.
Quinn was pretty sure he was staring as well. How had she known that? That was ridiculously good. He hadn't even noticed that. And he prided himself on noticing everything.
“So what do you propose we do?” Quinn asked. He wished that she had just let him win. Then they would at least have a car.
“Let me arm-wrestle him,” she said. The entire bar fell silent and many of the customers turned to stare at the tiny woman who had offered to arm-wrestle the giant.
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