“Hi,” Rosie said, waving a hand.
“Rosie!” Jewel screeched. “You're perfect!”
“I am?” Rosie asked. It was an odd compliment, but she would take one when she could get one.
“Yes!” Jewel sat down on a stool next to Rosie. “You see, I had a bridesmaid that had to drop out of the wedding. I couldn't think of anyone to replace her, but you are perfect! Would you be one of my bridesmaids? Please?”
Rosie stared at Jewel. What had just happened? She had never been asked to be a bridesmaid before, nor was she sure that she was up for the job. It seemed like a lot of responsibility.
“I...I don't have a dress,” Rosie tried justifying her way out of it.
“Oh, that's fine. I know this seamstress who will just whip one right up for you. Please, Rosie? I am begging you.”
“If it really means that much to you...” Rosie trailed off.
“It does. It really, really does.” Jewel smiled and sat up straighter. She bit her lower lip in anticipation.
Rosie looked at the hopeful bride in front of her and simply couldn't let her down. “I'll do it,” she agreed.
Jewel screamed and flung her arms around Rosie. “Thank you! Oh, my gosh, thank you so much! That takes so much pressure off of my shoulders.”
The door bell rang again before Jewel could spout on any further. To be honest, Rosie was relieved. It was still too early for a full-on conversation with Jewel.
“Well, isn't this just the day for visitors?” Valerie asked facetiously. She stomped out of the kitchen and returned a few moments later with Quinn.
Quinn, in a stark contrast to Valerie, did not look happy. His face was serious and his jaw was set. He pointed a finger at Rosie. “We need to talk.”
Jewel raised her eyebrows and looked between the two of them. Her happy face turned to a confused and slightly bewildered expression.
Quinn put a hand on Jewel's shoulder. “Alone,” he added.
Jewel threw her hands up in surrender and exited the kitchen with Valerie.
Quinn watched them leave and then turned to Rosie. “Who were those guys? Why are they after you?”
“Why do you need to know?” Rosie spat back. He wasn't going to push her around. She was smart, but she was also very sure of herself. He had pushed her into a corner and she was going to come out fighting.
Quinn glanced toward the door again and adjusted the volume of his voice. “Look, I spent all night last night up thinking about what you could have possibly done to deserve what happened. The odds aren't in your favor. Who were they?”
Rosie folded her arms and pushed some curls from her face. “You said you wanted to help. No one asked you to be here. 'I figure you could use some brawn'. Those were your exact words. You said nothing about brains. I thought maybe you were sincere, but now I see you couldn't possibly have been.”
Quinn paused and took a step back. “You're sure I didn't say anything about brains?”
Rosie raised an eyebrow. “One hundred percent. I would have remembered. I do remember what you said and didn't say.”
“Obviously,” mused Quinn. “But, seriously, who were those guys?”
Rosie looked him right in the eye. Didn't this guy get that she was serious? He didn't seem to be as smart as he thought he was. “I don't know,” she enunciated.
“Positive?” Quinn cocked his head and stared her down.
She nodded. “Absolutely. Why?”
Quinn shrugged. “Just a hunch, that's all.”
She didn't believe a word he was saying. He had a reason behind his questions, and she didn't like the way he hid it. If he truly wanted to help her, he should let her in on the secret.
Quinn took another step back and cocked his head again as if he was contemplating something. “Remind me again what that note on the brick said,” he requested.
Without even thinking about it, Rosie spit out the answer. “Don’t think you can run, Rosie. We have eyes everywhere. This was just a warning. Stay away.”
“Those exact words?” he asked, sounding a bit sarcastic.
“Yeah. Those exact words,” Rosie answered heatedly.
Quinn seemed to hold back a smile. “Interesting.”
It was at that moment that Rosie realized her mistake. In the heat of the moment, and with her emotions running high, she had given away her biggest secret. She mentally kicked herself. She had never told anyone. Not after her mother's second post-divorce boyfriend. That man had taught her a lot of life lessons she wished she could forget.
“I mean, who wouldn't remember words like that?” she said, backpedaling fast. “It was a traumatic experience. That note would be engrained in anyone's mind.”
Quinn gave her a half-smile, his eyes glittering. “Yeah. Of course.”
Rosie breathed a little easier, but she was well aware that Quinn knew something was off. Sometimes she wished she could see what was going on in his brain, but she reminded herself there was too much going on in her brain already.
Quinn gave a sigh and pulled his smart phone out of his pocket. “Excuse me for a minute?”
Rosie nodded and realized she was holding her breath. She needed a minute to think anyway. The farther away he went for the next few minutes, the better.
Quinn walked around the corner, bypassing Valerie and Jewel, who both seemed to be listening in on his conversation with Rosie. It figured. He dialed the number as he went.
Mr. Lorrander picked up on the third ring. “Good morning, Mr. Wesley.”
“You asked if I was getting attached,” Quinn cut to the chase. “The answer is yes. I refuse to be the one who keeps an eye on her because I want to be in her life. For real. She's the victim, there's no doubt about that. Find someone else to watch her. Fire me if you have to.”
Mr. Lorrander chuckled. “I can appreciate your dilemma, Mr. Wesley. However, I still feel you are the perfect person to make sure she remains safe. Keep an eye on her. You don't even have to report in about her unless something extremely out of the ordinary happens.”
“Well, out of the ordinary things already happened, so I suggest you pull me off her case now, sir.” Quinn kept his voice down, because he knew if he didn't, Valerie would be all over this conversation. Nosy as she was, she would connect that he didn't work for any normal company. He couldn't have that.
“Enlighten me, Mr. Wesley. What are these unusual happenings?” Mr. Lorrander sounded amused, which wasn't good. Quinn knew amusement meant he was planning on trying to persuade him to keep the case.
“The guy who wound up dead yesterday, for one. She didn't shoot him, I'm sure of it. Then last night someone threw a brick through her window.”
Even to him, it sounded more like a challenge than an actual explanation. Quinn was oblivious to what the challenge may be, though. Perhaps he was challenging his boss to try to tell him that Rosie wasn't innocent in all this. Perhaps he was challenging Mr. Lorrander to try to convince him to keep an eye on Rosie. For some reason, he had a gut feeling that Rosie was in some kind of danger.
“Have you done anything about it?” asked Mr. Lorrander.
Quinn rubbed the side of his head. He felt a headache coming on. “I have her holed up somewhere safe. But only for the next few days. She desperately needs a tail. Just in case something else comes up. And, no, I'm not going to do it for you. Don't even bother asking. I don't want a possible relationship to begin with a lie.” He hoped Mr. Lorrander didn't try to tell him that it already had.
Surprisingly, Mr. Lorrander took Quinn's suggestion seriously. “Very well, Mr. Wesley,” he stated with a sigh, “but I assume you'll let me know if anything else unusual happens. I'll put Johnson and Lockes on her detail.”
Quinn smiled. Johnson and Lockes were two of his favorite operatives. He was told that they were thorough, but were also very good at keeping out of sight. He hoped they lived up to their reputation.
“Thank you, sir,” he ended the call without waiting for Mr. Lorrander to reply.
/>
Quinn leaned back against the wall and put the cool outer shell of his cell phone against his forehead. He probably should have told his boss about his hunch. As it was, his hunches were usually right. He silently contemplated what to do about it. He didn't want to scare Rosie off, but something wasn't adding up and he needed to know what it was.
He weighed his options carefully. He really didn't want to use the covert interrogation tactics he had been taught. If he did that, trust issues would arise later. He would just hold his suspicions to himself. They weren't important right now.
“You okay?” Valerie asked, coming up beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder.
Quinn opened his eyes and dropped his hand to his side. “Yeah. I'm fine. Just...work trouble.” He shrugged, trying to give it a nonchalant appearance. He couldn't let Valerie suspect anything. It would only put her at risk.
She nodded briefly, seeming to buy the lie. “I think Rosie's cooled down a bit, if you want to try to talk to her again.” She motioned back toward the kitchen.
Quinn noted the sad tone in Valerie's voice and decided not to overlook it. He was her brother, after all. “What's wrong, Val?”
Valerie glanced back toward the kitchen and then lowered her voice. “How much trouble is she in?”
Quinn shrugged. It was the best answer he could give. Without knowing who was behind all the incidents, he couldn't even begin to surmise how much trouble Rosie was really in. It could be nothing, but it could be devastating. And, worst of all, he couldn't tell Valerie what the implications were without making her suspicious of his line of work. He wouldn't put her in harm's way by doing that.
Without another word, he pushed past her and made his way back to where Rosie still stood, her wary and emotionless mask back on her face. She had put her guard back up after her slip with the memory of the note, he was sure of it. That only sufficed to confirm his theory. He couldn't be positive, but he would be on the lookout for more slips.
“I'm sorry,” he apologized. It seemed like the best route to take. “I didn't mean to upset you. I guess I'm just still frazzled from the other night. I'm not really used to being around things like that.”
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. He saw more incidences of that kind than he would wish on anyone, but he still wasn't used to the emotions and adrenaline rush they brought. He doubted he ever would be.
“I don't blame you,” Rosie said. Her body language loosened and her eyes held a hint of compassion. “We've both had a rough couple of days, and I guess it got to both of us.”
“Can we just start over?” Quinn asked. He would have liked to start over on a number of things in his life, but this would have to do. Second chances didn't make themselves available for most things.
Rosie nodded and held out her hand. “I'm Rosie Callahan.”
Quinn smiled. He shook the offered hand and couldn't help but notice that her hands were shaking. “Quinn Wesley. How about we do dinner sometime?”
Rosie let her hand drop and lowered her head. The smile that lit up her face was the most genuine smile he had seen in a long, long time. She nervously tucked some of the curls that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear and nodded.
“I would like that,” she agreed.
Quinn was glad it had smoothed over easily. Now that he wasn't being pushed to keep an eye on her, he was free to uncover what his feelings for her really were. It wasn't often that he liked someone enough to put aside his feelings for Lydia. He still couldn't forgive himself for her death.
Maybe getting to know Rosie would be a good thing. If the grief had dwindled enough for him to look at another woman the same way he had looked at Lydia, maybe getting to know her would bring about a productive relationship. He hoped something good came from this mess.
“How about Friday?” he found himself asking. He held his breath, hoping she would say yes. Praying she wouldn't refuse.
Rosie's gaze moved past him to the doorway. He turned his head slightly, noting both Jewel and Valerie standing there. The look on Valerie's face was priceless. He couldn't tell if she was shocked, confused, or happy. She managed a tight-lipped smile.
“Friday,” Rosie finally concurred. “You'll have to call and let me know where to meet you. I have something I need to do that day.” She glanced to the ground, avoiding eye contact as if she was hiding something.
Quinn didn't like the looks of that. He didn't think he had been wrong when he said she was innocent, but a smidgen of doubt was trying to wedge its way into his mind. Maybe she really was hiding something. He shook it off. He had to think the best of her, as he had from the beginning. She was innocent. There was no other choice. The facts insisted she was guiltless.
“That's fine,” he agreed. “Do you mind if I ask what you need to do?”
She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest again. He could tell it was an involuntary motion, as if she wanted to shield herself from the question.
“You can ask, but I'm not going to tell you,” she said with a wry laugh.
Quinn sighed heavily. It was going to be impossible to get any information out of her, especially after the fight they had just had. Anything she might have told him before was now locked away in a secure part of her brain.
Strangely, Quinn was okay with that. It wasn't his assignment to keep tabs on her or get information out of her. That duty had gone to Johnson and Lockes. On the other hand, he was insanely curious as to what this petite brunette with a fiery temper had up her sleeve. Something told him it was a long and very detailed story.
“I'll call you, then,” he assured. “As much as I would love to pry right now, I have to go.”
Rosie lowered her arms, just a bit, and smiled at him. She looked almost relieved that he hadn't pushed it. He supposed he would have been relieved, too, if he was in her situation. He would have to be delicate in the way he handled things from that moment on. Even though Rosie put up a tough exterior, he could tell that inside she was a frail and damaged flower.
“Okay,” she agreed. “I'll see you Friday.”
He smiled back. He liked it when she smiled. It gave a stark difference to the serious, pensive Rosie that he had seen the most of.
“Stay inside for one more day,” he instructed. “If nothing happens by tomorrow, I think you're safe to go home. I asked a police buddy of mine to do a few drive-by's at your house, so I'll call if he says he sees anything suspicious.”
“Thank you, Quinn,” Rosie accepted his advice graciously.
Quinn gave a single nod and pushed past Valerie and Jewel on his way out of the kitchen.
He had originally gotten up that morning with a completely different mission in mind. His questions about Rosie Callahan had clouded his train of thought, so he had shown up to ask those questions. Now that he was satisfied that she was completely innocent in everything that had happened, he could move on to his original purpose for the day.
He settled behind the wheel of his car and took a deep breath. He wasn't sure he was ready. Even though he knew his dad's reactions well, he wasn't sure he was ready to have a full-on conversation with him. The conversation in the middle of Wal-Mart had been a fluke, an accident. This time, he was purposefully going to his mom and dad's house. He hoped his mother was there to play mediator. He and his dad had never really gotten along.
Once he pulled up outside his childhood home, it took him a good ten minutes to gather enough nerve to walk to the door. It took all his strength not to run away. Before he could talk himself out of it, he rang the doorbell a few times.
He could hear footsteps in the hall, and the bolt clicked as someone unlocked the door. Although it only took about three seconds for the door to swing open, it might as well have been in slow motion. Quinn could barely breathe due to his anxiety.
“Quinn!” His mother answered the door cheerily. “What are you doing here?”
Quinn let out the breath he had been holding and scratched the side of his h
ead, behind his ear. He shouldn't have come. It was going to be a disaster. But, he couldn't back out now. It was too late. He pressed on.
“I came to see you...a-and dad.” He wondered if talking to his father would ever be a normal thing to do. Ever since he could remember, it had just been awkward.
“I'm sure he'll be thrilled that you're here,” she insisted, motioning him inside.
Quinn stepped into the familiar hall and noted that not much had changed since the day he moved out at age seventeen. The table where his mother threw her car keys on a regular basis was still sitting next to the door. The framed prints on the walls were the same. It even smelled the same, like cookies and bread. His mother must still bake on a regular basis.
“Do you want some coffee or tea?” His mother stepped past him and led the way toward the living room.
“No, thanks,” Quinn answered. Even if he had wanted some, he wasn't sure how long he would be able to keep it down. His stomach was in knots. He swallowed – hard – and cleared his throat before asking a question of his own. “Did dad tell you I saw him in the store the other day?”
His mother turned to him with a smile. “He didn't mention it, but that's nice.”
“Yeah.” Quinn could see this going downhill fast. He didn't even know what he would talk about, he just knew he had to try. It wasn't going to be easy. “Are you feeling better, by the way?”
They entered the living room and his mother motioned him to sit down on the couch. “I am. Thank you for asking.” She folded her hands in her lap and allowed her eyes to follow Quinn in her motherly fashion. The one that unnerved all three of her children.
“What was wrong with you? If you don't mind telling me.” Quinn tried to calm his nerves, but it wasn't working.
His father sauntered into the room and sighed heavily as he sank into his favorite chair. “She had the flu.”
Quinn gave his mother a startled look. She had never been sick a day in her life. It was very unusual for her to come down with something as serious as the flu.
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