Rosie folded her arms and nodded back at them. She was going to have to learn to trust them. This was her home for the foreseeable future.
Quinn rubbed his temples and wished he could sleep. He was positive he hadn't gotten enough rest the past four or five nights. Nightmares and fears kept him awake. He hadn't heard a word from the team in Hawaii.
That was a good sign, at least. If they hadn't made contact with the agency, that meant nothing had gone drastically wrong.
He had been working every angle of Rosie's case that he could think of, and it was starting to grate on his nerves. Nothing made sense. Every lead he thought he could follow turned into mush before his eyes. It was going nowhere, and he wasn't anywhere close to bringing Rosie home.
His phone trilled, and Quinn squinted at the bright display. Oh, great. His worst nightmare come true. Emily Baker was calling him. He groaned and slid the bar across the screen to answer the it.
“Why are you calling me at 1 AM?” Quinn asked, feeling testy.
“Why are you answering at 1 AM?” Emily threw back.
Quinn rubbed his tired eyes. “Touche. So, what's up, Emily? Nate ask you to call or something?”
“Quinn, you know that case you helped us on last year made me love you like a brother, but this is for the safety of all those involved in your life and mine. What the heck happened to Rosie Callahan?” Emily's insistence was admirable.
Quinn made a face. He hadn't exactly come up with anything remotely feasible to feed Emily as Rosie's story. He would have to settle with denial. “I have no clue, Emily. What are you talking about?”
Emily huffed. “You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. Rosie has disappeared off the face of the earth. She isn't even answering my calls! She always answers my calls. You were the last person she was seen with, and by that I mean that she had a date with you the day she disappeared. What on God's green earth is going on?”
Quinn silently asked God what to do about this headstrong woman. He decided he needed to give her as much of the truth as necessary. “I promised I wouldn't tell anyone, Emily.”
There was no answer for a solid minute. Just breathing. He could almost smell the smoke as Emily's brain went into overtime. “Promised who that you wouldn't tell what?”
“We had the date, like you said. We were talking, it was going great. She told me that someone threw a brick through her window. A brick with a threatening message. She said she needed to disappear for a while, to let things cool down. To find whoever it was that was throwing bricks through windows. I haven't seen her since that day. I swear.”
And he hadn't. It was the truth. He hadn't seen her. He hadn't heard a word from her. It was killing him, but it was necessary. Hopefully, Johnson and Lockes had it all under control. Hopefully.
“So she just disappeared? Just like that?” Emily sounded dubious.
“Just like that. No trace. Just gone.” He held his breath, waiting for her compliance.
She sighed. “I'm going to trust you on this one, but I still don't believe a word you're saying. Especially after what we found on our current case.”
Quinn sat straight up. He clenched his hand around his pillow, his knuckles turning white. Usually his brother was eager to tell him about what he was working on. Quinn hadn't heard a peep from Nate. “What current case?”
“You haven't heard?” Emily asked. “We got this case almost a month ago. I can't go into detail, but it involved a John Doe. I got the autopsy report this morning and ran a search on his DNA. Our John Doe is Rosie's dad.”
Quinn forced his breathing to remain steady. Why hadn't he looked farther? Why hadn't he seen that everything in that woman's life intertwined? He should have dug into her father's past. It would have been the most logical course of action.
“You found her dad; he's dead. So what? That was always to be expected. I mean, the guy disappeared, didn't he?”
“Yes. He did. That isn't why I'm so freaked out, Quinn. I'm freaked out because of the way he was killed.” Emily said it bluntly, but he was positive she felt just as many emotions about this as he did.
“Killed?”
“Murdered, is more like it. There are ligature marks all over his body. What was once his nose was severely broken. Each and every finger is at least fractured. One is crushed. There's evidence of cigarette burns on the tissue left on his back. That's not even the half of it. It's crazy stuff, Quinn.”
Quinn hadn't overlooked a single detail in what Emily had just told him. And one thing stuck out to him. “What do you mean what's left of the tissue on his back?”
Emily let out a deep breath, steadying her voice. “None of that is what killed him. Rosie's dad was strangled to the point of unconsciousness and then burned to death. We found traces of ignition fluid all over the body. Looks like someone tried to put out the fire at some point. And here's the worst part: He hasn't been dead for more than one, maybe two years. He disappeared over a decade ago.”
“Why are you telling me this, Emily? Isn't it confidential?” Quinn couldn't believe she had given out so much information. It wasn't like her at all. She must have really been concerned about Rosie.
Emily laughed. “Yeah. Confidential stuff. Unless I'm talking to a joint government agency that has requested details on the case. Like you.”
Quinn nearly choked. “What do you mean?”
“Quinn, I'm not an idiot. In fact, I'm really rather intelligent. I know you work for the Company. I recognized CIA training the minute I spotted it. I've known for months.”
Quinn couldn't believe this. No one was supposed to know. He was supposed to be safe from friends and foes. Emily was even more brilliant than Sam made her out to be.
“Have you told anyone?”
Emily laughed again, a melodious sound. “No. That's not my responsibility. I figure when they need to know, or when you're ready to tell them, then you will. Until then, I'll keep my speculations to myself.”
“Thanks, Emily.” Quinn was almost relieved to know that someone else knew about his job. It lifted a little bit of the burden from his shoulders.
“Seriously, though, get a message to Rosie and tell her she's in danger. I don't know who killed her dad, but they're not nice people.”
Quinn immediately came back to the topic they had been discussing. “I will, Emily. She'll be fine. God and I, both, have her back.”
“I'll keep praying. Figure this out, Agent Wesley.” Emily hung up her phone.
Quinn set his phone on the bed in front of him and closed his eyes. There was so much he needed to get done, and so little time to do it in. As far as he knew, the killer could be zeroing in on Rosie at that very moment. It didn't lend to happy thoughts.
God, he prayed silently, I know you love Rosie, even if she doesn't realize it yet. Keep her safe. And please, Jesus, give Johnson and Lockes wisdom on how to handle this situation.
Rosie awoke to what she thought was the sound of the downstairs floorboards. Johnson had loosened several of them to ensure they heard anyone who tried to sneak up on them. Usually, it just annoyed the stuffing out of the residents of the home. Namely, Rosie.
She rolled over with a groan and squinted at the clock. 7 AM. Already? With a yawn, she forced herself to sit up in the bed and stretch out her lean limbs. Each and every muscle loosened as she did so. It felt amazing.
As had become the custom, Rosie put her clothes on and did her makeup before she even went downstairs. There wasn't really anyone to get dressed up for, but she didn't want the two agents to see her at her worst. They had a tough enough job already.
Johnson was sitting in the kitchen with a pot of coffee when she arrived. He looked up from his book and gave her a nod.
Rosie returned the gesture and poured her own cup of Joe. She took the stool opposite Johnson.
“Did you sleep well?” the agent asked cordially.
Rosie shrugged. “Until someone stepped on that creaky floorboard this morning.”
“S
orry about that. At least I know I did my job well. I'm aware of where it is and I still can't avoid it.”
“What's for breakfast?” asked Lockes as he entered through the back door. He must have been out during their hourly perimeter check.
Johnson pointed toward the stove. “I bought donuts. You can thank me later.” He closed his book and looked up at his partner. “Everything quiet?”
Lockes nodded. “For the most part. Looks like we have some new neighbors down the street. They were already awake and unloading their Pod.”
“Oh, because that's a logical way to travel,” Rosie winced at her own cynical sarcasm. She should have known better than to talk before she was fully awake.
“Think about it,” insisted Lockes. “They really only had two choices if they were coming from the mainland. Choice number one: pay beaucoup bucks to fly their entire houseful of stuff over here. Choice number two: ship it over on a boat, using a Pod. I would have taken option two, as well.”
Rosie giggled. “Yeah. Guess I didn't think about it like that.”
The agents went back to their coffee and donuts, settling into companionable silence with their protectee. A normal day in the safe house life. Until one thing out of the ordinary happened.
An alarm sounded through the house.
Lockes, who was already standing, raced toward the computers to see what had set it off. Johnson leapt to his feet and pulled out his gun.
Rosie took a deep breath. Trained CIA operatives, she reminded herself. They are both trained CIA operatives.
The thought didn't lessen her fears.
“Something triggered the alarm on the west corner of the property,” Lockes revealed. “I don't see anything there now, though. This may be a serious threat.”
Johnson gave Lockes a nod. Lockes bolted out the back door.
Johnson was by Rosie's side in an instant. He clasped her arm gently and maneuvered her toward the first-floor bedroom. He secured the door after them.
Rosie noted the single window in the room and took a step toward it.
Johnson quickly pulled a black Lycra cover over it. “Stay away from the window, okay?”
Rosie nodded and sank to the floor on the far side of the bed. If anything happened, she didn't want to be anywhere near it. She dreaded to even consider what might happen. What if the person after her had found her? What if this was the end?
Johnson tapped his ear and spoke. “Lockes, report.”
Rosie knew now that they always wore carefully concealed communications devices in their dominant ear. It made it easier for them to relay information back and forth during difficult situations such as this one. She didn't think Johnson liked what he heard on the other end of his com.
He swore loudly and tapped his ear again, shutting off the device. He pressed a button on the phone he had long since pulled out of his pocket. Both of Johnson's hands went back to his gun after he put the phone on speaker and dropped it on the bed.
An operator on the other end of the line answered in a clipped voice. “You have forty seconds to state your emergency.”
“Perimeter breach, Kaneohe. Immediate backup.” He gave the password when it asked for one. The phone went dead.
“Is everything alright?” Rosie asked. She knew the quiver in her voice betrayed all her emotions, but she couldn't help it. She didn't want to die.
“Everything is going to be fine. Just sit tight. We'll have this dealt with in no time flat. Be quiet and don't move.” Johnson sounded in control, which was almost comforting.
The floorboard squeaked in the next room.
Rosie curled into a tighter ball. She shut her eyes. She didn't want to see anyone get shot. She didn't want to remember that. Not ever.
She heard the door crash open and covered her ears as several shots were exchanged. She hardly dared to breathe. The volley of bullets ceased, and Rosie didn't move. She didn't think. She didn't blink.
After what felt like an eternity, Rosie opened her eyes and dared to look around the room. Johnson was on the floor, breathing heavily, a shot through his shoulder. No one else was in sight. She scuttled over to Johnson's side and assessed the damage. It looked like he needed an ambulance. Badly.
She carefully, silently, stood to her feet and started for the door.
“Rosie, don't!” Johnson half groaned, half yelled.
It was too late. A hand clapped around Rosie's mouth and an iron arm encircled her arms and waist. She struggled the best she could, but whoever held her didn't intend to let go.
A second man emerged from the kitchen and gave a smile. He nodded to the man that held Rosie.
As much as she tried to escape, Rosie was no match for the man behind her. She was pushed and pulled through the house and out the back door.
She desperately searched for the cameras she knew were mounted to trees and bushes, but she couldn't find any.
Rosie held in the tears. She didn't want these men to see her cry.
The second man, who she assumed was leading this mission, opened a space in the hedge. They easily slipped through, hauling Rosie with them.
That was the moment when Rosie lost hope.
There was a truck parked beyond that hedge. Not just any truck. Somehow, they had managed to secure a twenty-foot shipping container to wheels and a cab. It was a nightmare waiting to happen.
Rosie struggled harder as the man holding her steered her directly toward it. The screaming she had given up on now bolted forth from her throat, muffled by the hand on her lips.
Despite her protests, she was soon inside the container. The man behind her held her down while the other man secured her wrists with two leather bracelets. Those bracelets were secured to chains on the floor.
Rosie leapt toward the man who had been holding her as he headed for the exit. She intended to strangle him if need be. She missed by mere inches.
The man stopped at the container's entrance. He turned and shook his head.
Rosie noted his dark, buzz-cut hair. His chiseled features and muscular arms. She even noted that he was wearing worn jeans and a navy blue, no-sleeve shirt. He was the man from the train. She didn't lighten her glare in the slightest.
He gave her a wan smile. “Calm down, sweetheart. We don't be intending on hurting you.”
The doors slammed closed.
Rosie fell to her knees in the enclosed space, straining forward against the chains binding her wrists. The tears came, unbidden.
“God, help me.”
Quinn shrugged a jacket on over his vest and admired his profile in the mirror. He looked good in a tux, if he did say so himself. He was glad, however, that he hadn't been forced to wear a top hat.
“Looking good, my brother,” Nate reached over to pat Quinn on the back. “Only, please try not to look better in a suit than me. The groom has to be the best dressed, you know.”
Quinn smiled at his older brother and gave a noncommittal shrug. “You know I can't make any promises. I have good genes, that's all.”
Nate laughed out loud and adjusted his jacket on his shoulders. It looked a little loose, but the tailor had assured both men that he would have the tuxedos fitting like a second skin by the day of the wedding.
“So,” Nate continued, drawing the word out for a full five seconds. “Jewel was pretty upset this past week. Something about one of her bridesmaids disappearing. Do you happen to know anything about that?”
Quinn shrugged and barely managed to keep a smile on his face. “Why should I?”
Nate tried to look like he didn't care, but Quinn could tell he did. “Oh, just thought you might know. Seeing as how you did have a date with her the day before she went missing.”
“Does everyone know about that date?” Quinn groaned. Nate was far from the first person to mention it to him. It seemed to be common knowledge. He didn't think he had told anyone, so it must have been Jewel or Valerie. He could buy that.
“I'm not saying they do, I'm not saying they don't. I just think
it's a really interesting coincidence that she disappeared after one date with you. Usually ladies like you better than that.”
“It came as a shock to me, too.” Quinn tried to keep his tone light, but was aware that he failed miserably. There was no way Nate missed the tone in his voice.
Nate turned to Quinn and folded his arms. “Okay, do you want to tell me what's going on? You've been weird for the past six months! You're not breaking the law again, are you?”
Quinn laughed out loud. Of course that was what his brother would assume. “I swear, Nate, I am not doing anything illegal. I just haven't been myself lately. I have a lot of things to think about.”
“Such as?” Nate raised an eyebrow in an accusational manner.
“Such as a beautiful woman named Rosie Callahan.” Quinn had to admit, he was proud of the way he had spun that conversation around. Hopefully, Nate wouldn't suspect a thing.
Quinn waited in eager anticipation as Nate stared him down. He had been trained to outlast any interrogation, at anytime, anywhere. Nate didn't have an advantage just because he was Quinn's brother. In fact, that almost made it easier to ignore the fact that he seemed to be looking right into Quinn's soul.
“Alright,” Nate finally relented. “I'll trust you this time. Just don't be late for my wedding.”
Quinn nodded and gave his best smile just as his phone began to ring in the pocket of his jeans. He strode across the room and glanced at the number. It didn't take long for him to decide to answer it. He didn't even get a chance to say hello.
“Agent Wesley, get over here this instant. An urgent matter has arisen.” Mr. Lorrander had always been one to cut to the chase, and it was no different this time.
“Yeah, I'll get there as soon as I can,” Quinn promised with all the calmness he could muster. He hung up the phone before Lorrander could say another word.
“Who was that?” Nate asked, sounding suspicious.
“No one. Just an emergency at work. I've been called in.”
Nate nodded in understanding. “Go. Let me know how it works out.”
Quinn grabbed his clothes and raced for the changing room. He didn't know what this urgent matter was, but he could already tell there wasn't good news to be had. He sent up a silent prayer, hoping it was anyone but Rosie.
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