Mrs. Wesley shook her head and looked in Mr. Wesley's direction. “It was not the flu, it was just a bug.”
Quinn was still worried, no matter what she said. “But you're okay now, right?”
“I have never been healthier in my life. You're my son, Quinn, and I know you worry about me, but, honestly, I can take care of myself.”
Quinn nodded, never quite sure what to say when his father was in the room. He had always been a bit intimidated by the man, and somehow he had never grown out of it. He wished he could man up and be different, but he was who he was. That was all that needed to be said.
“Where have you been these last few months?” his dad asked. “Nate said something about you falling off the radar or some such nonsense.”
Quinn tried not to smile, but he was glad his dad had asked that. He knew exactly how to answer that question. “You know I made some mistakes after I graduated high school. Some big mistakes.”
His dad chuckled. “That's an understatement.”
“Paul!” his wife reprimanded. “At least pretend you have some tact.”
“It's okay, mom,” Quinn assured. “I probably deserve it. Anyway, I was saying that I messed up, big time. I got caught, I went to prison. I got out on parole. You know all that. After my parole agent released me, I couldn't stand the thought of hanging out here, around everyone who knew everything I had done. I took off for the west coast for a bit. I'm back now, though. Permanently.”
“And we're certainly glad,” Mrs. Wesley assured him.
Paul just grunted.
Quinn was about to say something unkind when the doorbell rang again. Mrs. Wesley quickly stood to go answer it.
Quinn and his father sat in silence until she returned, trailed by none other than Nate. Nate looked at Quinn quizzically, and Quinn stared right back.
“So, you really are back in town,” Nate said, sounding almost doubtful.
Quinn nodded. “I promised I would be your best man, didn't I?”
Nate gave a single nod.
Quinn stood from the couch. He couldn't do it anymore. He needed to get out of there, and fast. His family would understand. He hoped they would, anyway. He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and smiled toward Nate as he quickly exited the room. He couldn't sell them one more lie.
ELEVEN
Friday was too long in coming, in Rosie's opinion. Since she no longer had a job to keep her distracted, time ticked by too slowly. She had spent most of the week digging deeper into her father's disappearance. Everything had culminated at a dead end. As usual.
As she lightly brushed some color onto her lips, she thought about what William Mason had said. That she was in over her head. Cryptic words, to be sure, and it bothered her that she had no idea what they meant. After so long searching for her father, she had thought that maybe she might have more clues than she did.
Rosie shrugged off as much negativity as she could and put away her makeup container. She made her way back to her kitchen, where she had left her phone on the charger. She reached to pick it up...
And retracted her hand.
She had lined the corner of the phone up with the corner of the counter when she had laid it there to charge. Now it was at a forty-five degree angle. Someone had touched it, and it certainly hadn't been her. She needed to leave.
Rosie snatched up the phone and dashed to her car. She barely remembered to grab a jacket on her way out. Once she had pulled down the road, it became a little bit easier to breathe. Hopefully she had left her mystery stalker behind.
Rosie wished she didn't remember things as vividly as she always had. It just made life terrifying and a whole lot harder than it should be. If she didn't have such a great memory, she probably wouldn't have noticed that someone had been in her house, looking at her phone. If she could only forget.
She forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand as she steered toward the middle of the city. She and Quinn had agreed to meet at a restaurant that was in a central location between her house and his work. She hoped it had been a good decision.
Rosie was still second-guessing herself as she parked on the seventh level of one of the city's many parking garages. It wasn't the very top level, but it was close.
She took the elevator down to the main floor. All the dates she had ever been on replayed in her mind as she rode in the small metal car. Many of those dates had begun much like the one she was about to embark on. Most of them had ended badly. She honestly hoped that this date didn't end the same way as the others.
Rosie allowed herself to lean her head back against the elevator wall. Her eyes slid closed and she remembered all the times she had been shunned or tossed aside. Because she wasn't good enough. Because she wasn't what they were looking for. Because she was a freak.
Her eyes opened again as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Every fiber of her being was telling her to turn tail and run, but her mind was pleading with her to stay. She had only seen kindness from Quinn in the previous weeks, and she expected nothing less now. She forced her feet forward.
If she believed in God, Rosie would have prayed at that moment. She wanted so desperately for that evening to work out. Unfortunately, Rosie was absolutely convinced that God couldn't be real, because He wasn't logical. She had always believed that way, and she wasn't going to change now.
Her determined footsteps brought her to the door of the restaurant, and she paused for a moment to catch her breath. The door opened as a couple exited, all smiles and laughter.
Rosie caught the door and stepped into the restaurant. Her eyes scanned the room for Quinn, who she assumed would be there already. She had checked the clock, and she knew she was already ten minutes late. Unusual for her, but something that could be easily overlooked.
Her heart nearly stopped when she saw him. On the other side of the room, in a booth, with an exotic beauty. They were in a full-on conversation and both seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. The gorgeous woman reached across the table and placed her hand atop Quinn's with a gentle touch.
Rosie turned and fled the building.
Quinn hadn't expected Shada Al-Basri to be in the country, so he hadn't even dreamed that she would somehow find herself in the same Chicago restaurant as he did. However, there he was, sitting across a table from her as she poured out her heart and soul over a glass of water. He hadn't said a word since she sat down, but she seemed to be okay with that. Shada had never been one to listen, but had always been one to talk.
He had refused to tell her that he was on a date. She didn't need to know.
Quinn stifled a sigh. She wasn't even supposed to be in the country. She was supposed to be behind bars. He had done his job. He had gotten the information on the Iraqi Intelligence Agent that was now sitting across from him. What had gone wrong? How was she still a free woman?
He glanced past her, having to work to keep his smile on his face. That was when he saw her. Rosie.
Her face spoke volumes. She was shell-shocked. She hadn't expected to see him with another woman, especially on the night he was supposed to be on a date with her.
Quinn stiffened and watched as Rosie's face fell. Her smile disappeared and her eyes widened.
No, he silently pleaded with her, Stay. Don't assume the worst.
Rosie obviously didn't hear his thoughts, because she bolted from the restaurant like it was on fire. She almost ran into two customers as they entered through the door she was leaving.
Quinn knew he had to do something. He looked down at his hand. Somehow Shada had managed to place her hand on his without his noticing. He pulled it away quickly.
“Look, Shada,” he started, “I would love to finish catching up, but I really do have somewhere I need to be.”
Shada put on her best pouty face. “You can't make any time for me?”
“Sorry,” Quinn apologized again, “I really have to go.” He stood from the table as quickly as propriety would allow and speed-walked his way to the
door.
By the time he hit the sidewalk, Rosie was a long way down the street. He spotted her curly-haired head bobbing above the rest of the crowd as she turned a corner into a parking garage. He took off in a full sprint. He didn't want Rosie to drive away believing he had lied to her.
Quinn ran through each level of the parking garage, checking each one to see if she was there. Each time he came up empty. Finally, he made it to the very top level of the garage. The roof. He stopped as he came out into the open.
Rosie stood at the edge of the roof, looking out over the city. She didn't look like she would jump, she just looked pensive. Jumping probably wasn't in her nature. Quinn was glad for that.
The first crocodile tear fell from the cloudy sky, and Rosie turned to look at Quinn. Her red, puffy eyes betrayed the fact that she had been crying. Quinn took a step toward her.
Rosie held up a hand, begging him to stop. He obliged.
“Why would you do that to me?” Her voice was shaky, despite the strength she seemed to display on most occasions.
“Rosie, you know better than anyone that you shouldn't assume things with me. It wasn't what it looked like.” Quinn wanted to reach forward and comfort her, somehow, but he knew she wouldn't allow him to do so. She had retreated behind her mask, after all the effort he had made to really get to know her.
Rosie turned fully toward him, keeping her arms crossed defensively across her chest. “Really? Because to me it looked like you were on a date with that woman. It looked like all you were doing was playing me. Is that who you are, Quinn? A player?”
Quinn couldn't shake his head vehemently enough. “No, Rosie. I would never intentionally hurt you. I swear. She wishes there was something between us, but there isn't.”
“I'm sorry if I find that hard to believe.” Rosie gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Why is it so hard to believe, Rosie? Have I ever given you the impression that I would do something like that?”
Rosie flexed her jaw and quickly swiped at a tear. “Unfortunately, yes. You have.”
Quinn was surprised to hear that. He thought he had been pretty upfront about everything. “When? What did I do wrong?”
“You were watching me on the train in Canada before I gave up that ticket for you. You knew about both deaths that I've experienced. 'There have already been two deaths in your investigation'. Those were your exact words. And you seem to show up everywhere I am, no matter what. I don't believe in coincidences, Quinn.”
Quinn tried not to smile. She remembered a lot. Exact phraseology, faces she saw on trains. He wondered momentarily how she did it. He had heard people talk about mind palaces before, but it seemed to come naturally to her.
Quinn didn't wait for permission to approach her. He moved quickly and was inches from her in only about five steps. He looked down into her big, sad eyes and took one of her hands in his own.
“Rosie, I promise you that I am not playing you. I've gone out of my way to make sure I'm not playing you. I haven't lied to you.” He hadn't. Not really. Just a few half-truths. And he swore he would clear those up, given time.
Rosie stared up at him for a moment, and must have liked what she saw. She nodded her head slowly.
A bullet shattered the glass on a car just a foot to Quinn's right.
Quinn didn't even think. He instinctively grabbed Rosie and dragged her with him to the concrete. Another bullet whizzed over his head.
Rosie didn't scream, she just looked at him in terror.
“Where is your car?” Quinn asked.
“Where's yours?” Rosie threw back defiantly.
A car near the edge of the roof exploded into flames. Quinn covered Rosie's head as the heat from the fire engulfed them.
When they finally looked up, Quinn had to grimace. “That was my car.”
Rosie swallowed hard and scrambled to sit up.. “Level seven. My car is on level seven. Please, get me out of here.”
Quinn's plan was to do just that. He managed to get his feet underneath himself, remaining close to the ground. He gripped Rosie's arm tightly, probably a bit more tightly than necessary, and pulled her to the same position.
“Get inside,” he commanded as he propelled her toward the entrance to the garage.
Rosie kept up with his awkward crouch-run very well and they were inside in a matter of seconds. Quinn stood to his full height, not stopping at all.
The two of them reached level seven and Quinn made a beeline for the car he recognized from Rosie's garage.
“Rosie, the keys, now!” he commanded.
Rosie didn't hesitate. In seconds, the keys were sailing toward his open hands. It turned out that Rosie didn't have a bad pitching arm.
Quinn climbed into the driver's seat and slid the keys into the ignition. Rosie already cowered in the passenger seat beside him. A rush of anger and adrenaline rocketed through every inch of Quinn's body. No one should have to go through so many close calls in their lifetime, let alone in the space of a few weeks. Someone was after this girl, and he was bound and determined to find out who it was.
Quinn careened out of the parking space and toward the exit, ready to be out of there.
“Where are we going to go?” Rosie glanced behind them.
Quinn thought about it for a minute and realized that he had intended to go to one place only since the first shot had been fired. “Do you remember how you just said you don't believe in coincidences?”
Rosie nodded profusely, still checking in all directions as they pulled into the busy afternoon traffic.
“I don't believe in them, either,” Quinn confided. “Don't worry. I know what to do about this. You're going to have to trust me.”
Rosie stared at him, then nodded. “Okay. One more time. You have twenty minutes to prove you're worth being trusted.”
Quinn breathed a sigh of relief and sent up a silent prayer. He prayed everything would go smoothly and that it would all end well. He begged God to protect both of them, despite Rosie's unbelief.
Quinn glanced briefly in the rearview mirror and saw what he had hoped to see. One car pulled onto a side street and another slid into the traffic stream just three cars behind them. That had to be a tag team effort to track them, hopefully. He was willing to bet money on it; it was Johnson and Lockes, Rosie's detail. If it wasn't, he wanted to have a long talk with those men on why they were neglecting their jobs.
Two exits later, Quinn speedily jerked the car into thinner traffic. He steered easily through the cars until he reached the long driveway that led to the Cavendish Integral Algorithms' main office. He screeched to a stop at the closed gate.
The guard in the gatehouse yawned and slowly walked toward the car.
Quinn drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. He could see the cars that had been following them as they sped up the long lane.
“Good evening, Mr. Wesley,” the guard drawled. “I'm going to need to see your identification.” He wasn't the usual guard, the one who took Quinn at face value and let him through without a hitch.
Rosie, who had been staring straight ahead through the gates, turned to look at Quinn.
Quinn narrowed his eyes in contemplation, then laid a hand on her shoulder. “Trust me. Remember?”
Rosie took a deep, deep breath and nodded. She still looked hesitant.
“Mr. Wesley?” the guard asked again.
Quinn reached into his wallet and pulled out an ID card. He handed it to the guard.
“Thank you, Mr. Wesley,” the guard continued, “you can go ahead through.”
Quinn received his identification back from the guard and raced forward as the two cars following them stopped at the now-closing gate.
“Alright,” Quinn glanced behind them to make sure the guard was still moving slowly. “That was the easy part, Rose. This next part is going to be a bit trickier, but please remember that you promised to trust me.”
Rosie chortled and turned her head to look out the window. “I don't k
now why I agreed to this. How is this supposed to get us away from whoever is chasing me? And since when do you call me 'Rose' instead of 'Rosie'?”
Quinn took each question in stride. “I called you Rose to save time, and because I think it's pretty. As for the rest, please don't ask. I need you to trust me, that's all I can say.” He hoped she could trust him for just ten more minutes. He knew it was unconventional, that he would probably get fired for this, but he really didn't care.
Rosie shrugged. “Whatever.” She seemed to pause for a moment to think. “You think my name is pretty?”
Quinn grinned as he pulled into his usual parking space. “Absolutely. I've thought that since I met you.”
Rosie gave a weak smile and unbuckled her seatbelt, looking like a lovelorn teenager. “Fine. It can't get much worse. Where do we go from here?”
Quinn took a deep breath of his own. It was probably the last one he would take for the foreseeable future. He noted that Johnson and Lockes had pulled in and parked. He was sure that they were completely confused as to what was going on. It was probably better that way. Better that they didn't know and therefore could claim plausible deniability.
“Just follow me,” Quinn commanded Rosie as he exited the small vehicle.
Even with the height difference, Rosie kept up with Quinn rather well. She didn't speak a word, but seemed to take in everything as they entered the lobby of Cavendish Integral Algorithms.
The lobby shone with clean glass and silver embellishments. Security checks were set up to block anyone from entering farther into the building without access. Cameras hung from every corner of the ceiling, and hidden cameras watched every move that every person made once they entered the building.
Quinn reached down and clasped Rosie's hand. She looked up at him quizzically.
“What we are about to do,” he explained quietly, “breaks at least a dozen protocols and probably a few laws. Once we start running, we can't stop until we reach our destination. Do you understand?”
Rosie nodded. “What are we going to do?”
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