by Susan Stoker
“You’d pick me over your friends?” she asked quietly.
“Yes, Quinn. I love you. I want to give you a life filled with happiness and love, not uncertainty and insecurity. You’ve had enough of that shit to last you a lifetime.”
“I… No one has ever picked me over their other friends before.”
“Well, I am.”
Driftwood heard her clear her throat before she said, “Tell Taco I’m sorry. I know he was hoping Jen would be more than a short-term girlfriend.”
“He’s okay,” Driftwood said. “Disappointed, yeah, but honestly, he said there was always something about her that made him hold back. Her body was banging, and she was pretty, but he said sometimes she said and did things that were just…off.”
“Maybe we could have him over sometime for dinner and a movie?” Quinn asked.
Driftwood would never get tired of her generous spirit. “Yeah, Emmy, that sounds good. Now, I need to get going. If I don’t hurry up and snag a shower, the others will hog all the hot water, and the last thing I want is to get home and still be smelly and gross.”
“I appreciate that,” she said with a laugh.
“I thought you might. Be careful when you go to your apartment.”
“I will. Have you talked to Beth yet?”
“No, but as soon as I’m out of the shower, I’m going to call her.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. I mean, aren’t there background checks done on people when they sign a lease? I can’t remember all the papers I signed when I rented my apartment, but if Willard was a serial killer or an over-the-top religious nut who kidnaps people and forces them to listen to him preach for hours on end…wouldn’t that’ve come up when he rented his apartment?”
Driftwood didn’t even crack a smile. The image she put in his brain of the overweight older man tying someone to a chair and trying to save their soul wasn’t funny in the least. Especially because he imagined her in that chair. “I’m sure it would’ve. Just be safe all the same. I’ll talk to Beth and she’ll find out what Willard’s deal is in two point three seconds, I’m sure.”
“Tell her I said hi,” she told him.
“I will. I love you, Quinn.”
She took a deep breath. “I love you too, John. Drive safe.”
He hadn’t meant to pressure her to say the words back, but he couldn’t deny that hearing them was the most memorable moment of his life.
He’d fucked up the night before last. He’d told her she could count on him and trust him to always have her back, and then he hadn’t. She’d thought she was safe, surrounded by friends, and he’d let her get hurt. Never again.
“I will. I’ll see you at home,” he told her.
“Bye.”
“Bye, Emmy.”
Driftwood clicked off the phone and closed his eyes for a long moment. Home. It was crazy how much that word meant to him now. Before it was just a place where he kept his shit and where he slept when he wasn’t at work. But now it was his connection to Quinn. He’d had no idea how much she would come to mean to him when he’d met her all those months ago, but now he couldn’t imagine his life without her.
Sleeping without her next to him had been an eye-opener for him. He’d gotten used to holding her, to having her near. But when she’d slept at her apartment, deliberately putting space between them, he’d realized how much he’d come to need her.
He needed her to keep him grounded. To keep him from being too absorbed in his work. To give him balance.
Opening his eyes and putting his phone down on the little table next to the bed in the room he used when he was on shift, Driftwood pulled his sweat-soaked, nasty-smelling shirt off and headed for the showers.
Quinn smiled as she rummaged through her underwear drawer. She had a lot of ratty old cotton panties in there, but she wanted to find the newest ones to bring with her over to John’s house. As she sorted through them, she thought back to their phone conversation.
It was crazy how low she could be one moment, and then the next she felt on top of the world. And if she was honest with herself, what John had done hadn’t really been so awful, it had just felt like it at the time.
He’d apologized, brought her doughnuts, and gone out of his way to do whatever it took to try to reassure her that he’d do his best not to let her down again. Realistically, she knew he would. Just as she’d disappoint him too. But it was realizing your mistakes and apologizing that made the difference.
She loved John. Quinn had always worried about whether or not she even knew how to love. She hadn’t had role models when she was growing up to show her how to love unconditionally. No one had taken her in their arms when she was upset after being bullied and told her she was beautiful and loved. She’d never had a safe place to go to lick her wounds.
But even as she’d lain in her bed in her apartment after John had driven off, she’d wished she was at his house. She hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near him when he’d dropped her off, but as the night went on, she’d realized that she missed him. Yes, she’d been upset, but she still knew without a doubt that she was safe with him.
She could be angry, and he’d give her space but still be there.
She could be frustrated, and he’d give her an outlet.
She could be sad, and he’d be right there to give her a shoulder to cry on.
She’d been scared to tell him she loved him, as she’d never said the words to anyone before, but today on the phone, she realized that she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. She’d worried about him all day, knowing he was at the huge warehouse fire that had started early that morning. Her world was better because he was in it, and while they still had a lot to learn about each other, she wanted to spend the rest of her life by his side.
It was actually very freeing to say the words. To let him know she loved him. And now that the words were out there, she felt content. Relaxed. She couldn’t wait to show him how much she loved him tonight, as well.
Shoving a bunch of panties into a large shoulder bag, Quinn went to her closet and pulled some more work blouses off hangers. She folded them and added them to the bag, along with two pairs of slacks, three pairs of jeans, a few T-shirts, and two more pairs of shoes. She still had a lot more clothes to bring to his place, but this would tide her over in the meantime.
Carrying the heavy bag to the living area, she put it down next to the kitchen counter and leaned down to open the cabinet next to the stove. She was pulling out the huge stockpot when there was a knock on her door.
Standing up, she hesitated for a beat. Could it be John? Had he gotten off work early and come over here to help her pack? She pulled out her phone and didn’t see a text or a message from him. Smiling, Quinn put her phone down on the counter and headed for the door. It would be just like him to come over and help so she’d have more of her stuff at his house.
She peered through the peephole…and frowned in confusion. It wasn’t John standing there. Hesitating for a beat, debating with herself on whether or not to answer the door, she finally undid the latch and opened it.
“Hey.”
Before she could say or do anything else, a huge fist came flying toward her face.
Not able to dodge it, Quinn grunted in pain and fell backward to the floor, holding her cheek in her hand. Trying to get her bearings, she didn’t move fast enough to keep from being kicked in the side.
She curled into a ball and felt her flip-flops come off, but her shoes were the least of her worries at the moment.
Looking up, she asked, “Why?”
But she got no answer. Instead, a needle was jammed into her thigh.
Screeching in pain, Quinn tried to kick out, to get away, but whatever drug had been inside the needle was quickly taking effect. Her head began to swim and her limbs felt heavy.
The last thing she heard was a deep voice saying, “Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Driftwood frowned when
he opened his garage and didn’t see Quinn’s car inside. She should’ve been home way before now. They didn’t have another call, but he and all the others did hang out for a while after their shift was over, talking to the next shift. A huge fire like the one they’d fought was rare, and everyone who hadn’t participated wanted to know everything about it.
He’d finally left forty-five minutes after his shift was over. Quinn should’ve had plenty of time to go by her place and be at his house by now. Driftwood wondered if something had been wrong with her car and she’d gotten a ride from Sophie, Autumn, or Tory. Although if that was the case, he’d have to give her hell for not calling or texting him.
But the second he opened the door to his house, Driftwood knew Quinn wasn’t there. Everything was quiet…too quiet. There were no delicious smells emanating from his kitchen, and she usually liked to have some sort of music playing while she was cooking.
Just to be sure, Driftwood did a quick walk-through of his house, and after finding it empty, headed back to his truck.
As he backed out of his garage, he pushed her contact info on his phone and waited impatiently as the call rang through his truck’s speakers.
He frowned even harder when, after several rings, he got her voice mail.
“Quinn, it’s John. I’m worried about you. Where are you? Call me.”
He hung up and immediately dialed Beth’s number. He probably could’ve called Dax, Quint, or any one of his law enforcement friends, but the only person he knew who could do anything immediately was Beth. The computer hacker had the skills to work under the radar, and if something was wrong with Quinn, Beth was the one he needed right now.
“Hey, you miss talking to me already?” she asked as she picked up the phone. “I don’t have any info on the mysterious Willard yet. You just called me.”
“I can’t find Quinn,” Driftwood said without preliminaries.
“What?”
“Quinn. She was supposed to be at my house cooking dinner, but when I got here, she wasn’t.”
“Take a deep breath,” Beth ordered. “Did you call her?”
“Of course I did. I got her voice mail.”
“Did it immediately go to her mailbox or did it ring a bunch beforehand?”
“It rang like six times,” Driftwood said.
“Okay, so her phone is still on then, that’s good,” Beth said. “Have you checked her apartment?”
“I’m on my way there now.”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a beat. Then Beth said, “Wait…it’s been, what…two minutes that you haven’t been able to ascertain where she is and you’re already freaking out? Don’t you think you’re overreacting? What if she’s in the bathroom? Maybe she has a stomach problem or something and didn’t bring her phone in there with her. No one wants their boyfriend to hear them pooping while they’re on the phone.”
Driftwood wasn’t in the mood for Beth’s humor at the moment. “She should’ve been at my house at least an hour ago,” he told her. “She’s not there. She didn’t call me to tell me she’s running late. Something’s wrong.”
Beth’s tone was much more serious when she responded, “What do you need me to do?”
“I don’t know!” Driftwood said a bit frantically. “Find her. Do your thing. Hack into cameras…look at traffic cameras and find her car. Ping her cell phone. Something.”
“Okay, first, it’s not that easy to just hack into traffic cameras to find a specific car. Do you know how long that shit takes?”
“Beth,” Driftwood warned. “Please.”
“Right. Fine, I’ll track her cell phone. Hang on…”
Driftwood drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he sat at a red light. He wanted to break every single traffic law to get to her apartment, but the last thing he needed was to be held up by a ticket.
“Okay, triangulating now. You do know that this is illegal, right?” Beth asked.
“If this was Sledge missing, would you be worrying about what’s legal and illegal right about now?” Driftwood asked.
“Fuck no. Okay, it’s almost done…hmmm.”
“What?”
“She’s at her apartment.”
“She is?”
“Yeah. Well, at least her phone is.”
Driftwood breathed out a sigh of relief. “She doesn’t go anywhere without her phone,” he told Beth.
“Where are you?”
“I’m about five minutes from her apartment complex. Why?”
“I don’t think you should go into her apartment alone. Let me call Dax and get him to meet you there.”
Driftwood’s blood ran cold. “Why?”
“You know why,” Beth said.
Pushing his foot harder on the accelerator, Driftwood didn’t respond.
“Driftwood?”
“There’s no way in hell I’m waiting. What if she’s hurt and can’t get to her phone?”
“Okay, okay. Are there cameras at her apartment?”
“Yeah. I’ve seen some on the outside of the building and in the lobby.”
“I’m calling Dax and Quint. I know you know this, but I’m going to say it anyway—don’t touch anything unnecessarily. If something’s actually wrong, and there’s evidence, you don’t want to contaminate it.”
Driftwood gritted his teeth and didn’t respond.
“Did you hear me?” Beth asked impatiently.
“Yeah. I heard you.” He heard, but didn’t like the implications. Visions of Quinn lying hurt and unable to move wouldn’t leave his head. He wished he’d left the station right at the end of his shift and hadn’t stayed around shooting the shit.
“I’m going to hang up and call Quint and Dax now. Keep calm, Driftwood,” Beth warned. “No matter what you find. The last thing Quinn needs is you losing it. If she’s there and mad at you for some reason, don’t freak out and say something you’ll regret. If she’s there and hurt, use your skills to help her, and if she’s not there…well…just don’t lose your shit. We’ll find her. Okay?”
“Thanks, Beth,” Driftwood managed. He couldn’t imagine any of the scenarios she’d suggested, although he hoped like hell she was just mad at him for some reason and refusing to take his calls. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done in the last couple hours since he’d last talked to her, but at the moment, that would be the best scenario.
Maybe she’d just lost her phone and hadn’t left her place yet because she was looking for it. They’d laugh at how fast he’d panicked and go home and have the pasta dinner they’d planned.
“Call me once you have more information,” Beth ordered.
“I will.”
She clicked off the phone and Driftwood clenched his fists around the steering wheel as he pushed his luck by going fifteen over the speed limit down the street that led to her complex.
He pulled into the parking lot and his eyes scanned the cars even as he pulled into one of the visitor parking spaces.
There.
Her Toyota Corolla was sitting in her assigned parking space. Driftwood got out of his truck and jogged over to it. He peered inside and was somewhat relieved to find it empty. He walked around it and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. No scuff marks on the ground and no damage to the car itself.
Turning on his heel, Driftwood hurried over to the front doors, through the lobby, and up to Quinn’s apartment. He turned the knob, only to find it locked. A pang of relief went through him. He knew it was premature, but he’d envisioned her door being broken down and her lying on the floor, hurt.
Driftwood banged his fist on the door. “Quinn? It’s me. Open the door.”
He waited, and she didn’t answer.
Knocking once more, he called, “Quinn! Let me in!”
He tilted his head and didn’t hear anything coming from inside her apartment. He cursed his lack of foresight in not getting a key to her place. He’d given her keys to his house, but hadn’t thought he’d need one to her apa
rtment since they spent most nights together at his place. Driftwood debated his next move.
He could break down the door, but that would definitely be destroying evidence, not to mention it would piss off the super, and probably Quinn too. But then again, if she was lying inside hurt and needing medical care, he’d be an idiot not to get to her as soon as possible.
Putting his ear to the door, Driftwood strained to hear any little sign that would tell him Quinn was inside.
Nothing.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, he ran back down the hall and stairs. He knocked as loud as he could on the door in the lobby labeled, “Manager.”
Within thirty seconds, it opened.
“I need a key to apartment two twenty-seven,” Driftwood said.
The older man wasn’t so easily intimidated. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Why?”
Driftwood tried to calm himself. If he pissed this man off, it would take even longer to get inside Quinn’s apartment. “My name is John Trettle. I’m a firefighter and paramedic for the city of San Antonio. Quinn Dixon is my girlfriend. I can’t get ahold of her and I’m afraid she’s hurt and can’t come to the door. I tried calling but it just goes to voice mail. Her car is here, but she’s not answering the door. You can stand there and watch me the entire time I’m in her apartment. I just need to make sure she’s okay.”
The man eyed Driftwood for a long time. What seemed like ages, before he said, “I’ve seen you around here before.”
Sighing in relief, Driftwood nodded. “Yeah. We’ve been staying at my house for the most part. But she was stopping by here after work to grab some things before heading to my place. When I got home, she wasn’t there. As I said, her car is here, but she’s not answering. Can you please help me? All I want to do is make sure she’s not hurt.”
“Have you called the cops?”
Wanting to strangle the man, Driftwood forced himself to stay calm. “Yes. They’re on their way, but if she’s hurt, I can help her. I have medical training.”
“You don’t have no bag,” the manager of the apartment building said logically.