Shelter for Quinn

by Susan Stoker

  “I need a knife!” he cried desperately.

  “Here.”

  Driftwood took the box cutter Taco held out to him and attempted to cut the zip-ties holding Quinn to the chair. They were so tight, her hands and feet were blue. But when he put his hand on her, he wasn’t so sure that was why they were discolored.

  Despite being almost burned to death, her skin was strangely chilled.

  Driftwood’s hands were shaking so badly, he knew if he got the knife anywhere near her, he’d slice her to ribbons. “I can’t,” he said, and handed the box cutter back to Taco.

  “I got this. Be ready to catch her,” Taco warned.

  For the first time, Driftwood looked at Quinn’s face. He barely noticed that her hair had been hacked off. He was more concerned at the dazed look in her beautiful emerald eyes. A piece of duct tape had been slapped over her mouth and her birthmark was an angry purple instead of the dark pink it had always been before.

  “What’d they do to you, Emmy?” he whispered before trying to pry the tape off her mouth.

  She whimpered in pain and he groaned in commiseration. “I know it hurts, Em, but we need to get this off so you can breathe better.”

  Taco freed one of her hands and it fell limply to her side. She didn’t lift it to touch him or to take the tape off herself. She just sat there, in shock. Before he could finish removing the tape, her second arm was freed and she fell into him. Her head landed on his shoulder and she was dead weight in his arms.

  “Hurry, Taco,” Driftwood urged.

  In thirty more seconds, she was completely free of the chair. Driftwood stood, taking Quinn with him. Her head lolled on his shoulder and, for a second, he was terrified he’d been too late. That she’d literally died in his arms.

  Taco put his fingers on her throat and, after a moment, said, “Passed out. We need to get her to the truck.”

  Nodding, Driftwood turned to head back the way they came, but a loud shot ringing out made them both freeze. Then Driftwood dropped to his knees and covered Quinn’s unconscious body as well as he could. There were more screams from the cult members and more yelling from the SWAT team and Texas Rangers.

  Concentrating on the feel of Quinn’s warm breath against his neck, Driftwood stayed stock still. Seconds seemed like minutes, but finally they heard Cruz’s voice above all the crying and yelling.

  “Driftwood?”

  “Here!” Taco yelled.

  They heard branches breaking as Cruz moved toward them. He exploded through the trees and stopped suddenly at seeing them.

  “Is she…” His voice trailed off.

  “She’s alive,” Taco answered for Driftwood. “But she needs to get to the hospital. We heard the shot. Is the scene secure?”

  “TJ,” was all Cruz said. “Come on, we’ll go around.”

  Taco helped Driftwood get to his feet with Quinn still in his arms, and they followed Cruz.

  By the time they got back to where they’d left the Station 7 truck, there were two ambulances parked behind it. Driftwood walked straight to one of them and Taco opened the back doors. He helped his friend up into the back of the ambulance and Driftwood placed his precious burden on the gurney.

  Within seconds, the paramedics were there, assessing and starting treatment. They got the tape off her mouth, leaving behind a large red mark, but the ninety-nine percent grade alcohol they’d used had done its job, allowing them to remove the tape with minimal damage to the skin on her face other than the red mark. Driftwood kept out of their way as much as possible, which was hard in the small space, but he wasn’t leaving. No way in hell.

  He ignored what they were doing and saying, and put his hands on Quinn’s cheeks.

  Several moments later, Quinn’s eyes opened a crack.

  “Hey, Emmy,” Driftwood said softly.

  He hadn’t been sure what her reaction to seeing him, and knowing she was safe, might be…but it wasn’t what he got.

  She opened her mouth and let out the most bone-chilling sound he’d ever heard.

  Her limbs went rigid, and it seemed as if she screamed with her entire body. Her eyes widened in horror, her fists clenched, and the sound that escaped was a mixture of panic, hysteria bordering on disbelief, and terror.

  The paramedics froze and stared at her incredulously.

  The sound was distressing and intense, but Driftwood didn’t try to stop her. She needed to get it out. She’d been through hell and needed the outlet. He was used to seeing people in pain, saw it on every shift. Broken bones, cuts, bruises…but this was the kind of scream that put every thought on hold. It rooted everyone in place as they experienced the same agony that Quinn obviously had.

  The sound stopped as abruptly as it had started. Driftwood ran his thumbs over her cheeks and made sure to stay in her line of vision. “You’re safe now, Quinn. I’ve got you.”

  She mouthed his name, then her eyes closed as she fell unconscious once more.

  “Holy shit,” one of the paramedics said after a moment. “What the hell happened to her?”

  “I don’t know,” Driftwood said, “but she’s okay now.”

  “Damn straight she is,” the second paramedic said. “You got this, Rob?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure…” He looked at Driftwood with one brow raised.

  “John.”

  “I’m sure John can help me if needed. Let’s get her to the hospital.”

  Driftwood never introduced himself with his given name. He was Driftwood, plain and simple. But if Quinn could hear what was going on around her, he wanted her to know he was there. Her John. Maybe hearing the name she called him would help soothe her.

  The other paramedic climbed out of the back of the ambulance and Driftwood felt and heard the engine starting up.

  The drive to the hospital was long. Quinn’s body temperature was a bit low, which was strange after almost being burned alive. Driftwood couldn’t imagine how in the world it had gotten so low, especially since it was in the lower eighties outside right now. Her wrists and ankles were shredded from the zip-ties that had held her to the chair. Her birthmark was an alarming purple color and she was definitely dehydrated.

  But she was alive. That was all Driftwood cared about. They could deal with the mental and other physical aspects of what she’d been through. As they pulled into the hospital, Driftwood leaned over and kissed Quinn’s forehead. Then he leaned down and kissed her birthmark and whispered in her ear, “I’m here, Emmy. I’m not leaving you. You’re safe. Do you hear me? You’re safe.”

  She didn’t open her eyes and she didn’t answer him verbally. But the long sigh that escaped and the way her shoulders visibly relaxed spoke volumes.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A month later, Driftwood stood in the dugout and watched as Quinn was dragged by Moose from second base to third. She and Penelope had latched on to his legs to try to keep him from crossing the bases, but they were laughing so hard they weren’t being very effective, and Moose being so much bigger and stronger than they were wasn’t helping their cause.

  Driftwood couldn’t remember whose idea it was to have a guys-against-girls kickball game. Although he hadn’t been thrilled with the idea at first, he could see it was just what everyone had needed.

  He hadn’t seen Quinn this happy since before she’d been kidnapped. It had taken a while for her to rediscover her normal persona, but he thought that she was finally mostly back to being herself.

  One thing Driftwood had been glad to see was that, while she had nightmares about the kidnapping, she hadn’t seemed upset about what had been behind it all…her birthmark. They’d had a talk late one night while she’d still been in the hospital. He’d climbed into her bed, ignoring the hospital rules against it, and held her while they’d talked.

  * * *

  “Are you upset about your hair?”

  “No.”

  “Emmy, it’ll grow back. We can get you a wig in the meantime if you need one, to make you feel more like your
self.”

  “I don’t want one, John. I realized something when Jen was spouting all that crap about me having a devil’s mark.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That my birthmark wasn’t the problem. I didn’t have anything to do with this. I didn’t ask for it. And yes, it has affected my life and made me who I am today, but if someone has a problem with it, that’s on them.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “And you know what else?”

  “What?”

  “I’m glad my mom gave me up at birth. I’m glad she didn’t want anything to do with me. I saw those kids there, John. They were being brainwashed to think exactly the same way Jen did, and all the other adults around them. If I had been born with perfect skin, I might’ve ended up being just as prejudiced as my mother. I might’ve grown up to be just like Jen. Seeing imperfections as signs from God that the person wasn’t good enough or worthy.”

  John wasn’t sure what to say.

  “I’m going to do my best to stop hiding. I am who I am, and that’s that. I’m going to call Doctor Ballard and get the laser treatments. Not because I want to look like everyone else, but because if I don’t, I’ll most likely have more complications later in life. I’m going to stop hiding behind my hair. Cowering in my apartment instead of going out and having fun. If someone stares, let them. If they want to call me names or gasp in horror, that’s on them, not me.”

  “I love you, Quinn Dixon,” John said. “I’m so proud of you, you have no clue.”

  “I do. Because I love you back, and I’m just as proud of you. Taco visited me today, and he told me what happened. That you ran straight through two full-blown fires without even slowing down. That when he got to us, you were literally on fire.”

  “I’d walk through a million fires if it meant protecting you from the heat,” he said, emotion making his words wobble.

  “Thank you,” Quinn whispered. “Thank you for finding me. For having friends with connections who could track me down in time. Just…thank you.”

  “Thank you for hanging on,” John answered.

  * * *

  Watching Quinn shriek with laugher as Moose reached down and hauled Penelope over his shoulder, even while gently disengaging himself from Quinn, made Driftwood realize exactly how lucky he’d been.

  The doctors had said Quinn had a fifty-fifty chance of brain damage from being hypothermic for so long. Jen might’ve been crazy, but she was smart enough to know how to torture someone. The room she’d put Quinn in, how she’d kept her wet, and with the fans and AC on…it would’ve killed her eventually.

  Quinn’s doctor said the only reason she’d survived being in the middle of that bonfire was because her bodily functions were already so repressed from being cold that she hadn’t breathed in much of the hyper-heated gases and her skin had been partially frozen.

  She was literally a walking, talking, laughing miracle.

  His miracle

  “You’re up, Driftwood!” Chief yelled. “Show ’em how it’s done!”

  Quinn picked herself up out of the dirt where she’d been sitting, laughing so hard she’d been clutching her stomach. She gestured to the other women to get closer to home plate. “Come on in, ladies. Easy out!”

  Driftwood chuckled. Easy out, huh? He’d show her. He’d kick that ball all the way to Chicago.

  Mackenzie smiled as she took a couple giant steps toward him. She was the pitcher, and Driftwood didn’t like the evil grin on her face. She brought her arm back and lobbed the kickball toward him.

  He prepared to kick it as hard as he could—until Quinn dashed forward and stood right in front of him.

  His brain immediately stopped his leg from moving so fast, and Driftwood gave the ball a weak side swipe, to make sure he didn’t kick it right in Quinn’s face. He watched in disbelief as it bounced right toward Sophie. She ran forward and grabbed it before running back and jumping on top of first base.

  “Out!” Penelope yelled in glee.

  He hadn’t even taken one step toward first base.

  Driftwood put his hands on his hips and mock-glared at Quinn. “That wasn’t cool! I could’ve hurt you!”

  She walked right up to him and put her arms around his neck and gave a little hop. Driftwood immediately put his hands under her butt to help her. She clung to him like a little monkey. He felt her lips brush against his ear. “I knew you wouldn’t hit me.”

  “I could’ve,” he grumbled, walking with her off to the side so Quint could take his turn. He had a feeling their team was doomed. None of them would do one damn thing that might hurt their women. They never should’ve agreed to play against them.

  Quinn pulled back. “I’ve got something for you,” she said with a sly gleam in her eye. “Reach into my front right pocket.”

  It was an awkward angle, but Driftwood finally got his fingers into her pocket. He teased her by caressing her as much as possible despite the odd angle. She shifted in his grip, and he tensed when his teasing backfired. She pressed right against his dick, and he felt himself getting hard.

  Grabbing the small object he found in her pocket, and ending his own torture, Driftwood pulled his hand out. The second it cleared her jeans, she grabbed the small black bag and dropped her legs.

  Driftwood let her go…and stared in confusion as she went down on one knee in the dirt on the softball field.

  She looked up at him with love in her eyes—and held up a shiny ring.

  “I’ve waited my whole life for a man like you. Will you marry me, John Trettle?”

  He vaguely heard the catcalls around him, but he ignored them. He must’ve paused a little too long, because Quinn rushed to fill the silence.

  “I know, I know, this is weird. But I vowed to myself that I refused to hide anymore. From my feelings and from the reactions of others. So I decided, what the hell? I love you. You said you loved me. I’ve practically moved in. We might as well get married. That is…if you want to.”

  “Yes,” Driftwood growled. “A million times yes!” Then he leaned down and grabbed her around the waist. He twirled her in a circle until she was laughing hysterically and yelling at him to put her down.

  When he did, he loved seeing the smile on her face. “I love you, Emmy.”

  “I wasn’t sure what kind of ring you wanted, but I thought I couldn’t go wrong with platinum. We can get one of the rubber ones too. Maybe they aren’t rubber. Silicone? Anyway, the ones that you can wear when you’re on shift.”

  Driftwood smiled back at her and let her push the ring over his knuckle. It felt right there. He knew men didn’t wear engagement rings, but he didn’t give a fuck. He wasn’t ever taking his ring off.

  “What are you smiling at?” she asked him.

  “Can’t I just be happy?” he returned.

  “Well, yeah, but that isn’t your ‘just happy’ smile. It’s your ‘I’m up to something’ smile.”

  He loved that she knew him so well.

  He’d planned to do this later, but this was the perfect time. Surrounded by their friends, by love.

  Reaching into his own pocket, Driftwood pulled out a small black bag that looked suspiciously a lot like the one she’d had in her own pocket.

  Then it was his turn to drop to one knee in the dirt. “Quinn Dixon. I’ve loved you almost from the first time I saw you. You made me work harder than I have in my life to get a girl to even look twice at me, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Will you do me the pleasure of being my wife?”

  “Just remember who asked first,” she quipped before adding, “and of course I will!”

  He took her left hand in his and kissed her ring finger before slipping the modest princess-cut diamond onto her finger. He stood and took her into his arms and kissed her, bending her backward over his arm. She grabbed hold of his arms and kissed him back. He loved that she trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t drop her.

  Then they were surrounded by their friends. Everyone was laughing and
clapping.

  “I got it all on video!” Beth exclaimed.

  “Me too!” Mickie chimed in.

  “Me three!” Blythe called out from the stands.

  “Party’s at my place!” Sledge announced. “Caterers are there setting up now.”

  Driftwood looked down at Quinn and laughed. “Let me guess, you told Sophie what you were planning.”

  “Yup,” she said with a huge smile. “And I’m sure she told the others, including Beth.”

  “And I told Sledge. So I suppose it’s only natural they decided to throw us an engagement party.”

  Beth sidled up to them then. Driftwood reluctantly dropped his arms from around Quinn and let her have some girl time.

  Soon, she was surrounded by her girl posse. Sophie, Adeline, Beth, Penelope, Hayden, Laine, Mickie, and Mackenzie were all there. Corrie was too, but she was sitting in the stands with Erin, Milena, Hope, and Blythe, who were all pregnant and sitting out the game so they wouldn’t get hurt.

  “We ordered a doughnut cake.” Driftwood heard Beth tell Quinn. “And I got that caramel sauce recipe from Driftwood and we have one of those fondue fountains filled with the stuff.”

  Quinn groaned and put a hand on her belly. “My stomach hurts just thinking about it. But I can’t wait!”

  Everyone laughed.

  Driftwood felt a hand land on his back. He turned to see Squirrel standing there. “Happy for you.”

  “Thanks. And hey…I’m sorry I almost beat you up that one time.”

  Squirrel laughed. “No you’re not, but that’s okay.”

  “Come on, everyone. I never thought Driftwood was gonna ask. Let’s go party!” Sophie said.

  Everyone quickly headed for their cars, leaving Quinn and Driftwood alone on the softball field.

  “We should go,” Quinn said softly.

  “Yeah. I know.” Driftwood ran his eyes from the top of her pixie haircut down the side of her cheek. The birthmark was slightly less red. She’d had her first treatment a week ago and was scheduled to fly back to California in two weeks for her second. “You feeling okay?”