by Susan Stoker
“I’m fine,” she reassured him. “Great, in fact.”
“I love you,” Driftwood told her.
“I love you back,” Quinn assured him. “Now, come on. I’m hungry, and I hear caramel-dipped doughnuts calling my name.”
They walked off the field arm in arm, and when they sauntered by the stands next to an adjacent field to get to his truck in the parking lot, both ignored the way a man stared at them as they passed. After what they’d been through, stares and the occasional comment didn’t bother either of them anymore. As Quinn said, other people’s attitudes and prejudices weren’t their problem.
Epilogue
One month later
* * *
Driftwood sat stock still in the courtroom as he listened to Quinn recount exactly what she’d been through at the hands of Jennifer Hale.
Every single one of the firefighters who weren’t working were there as well, supporting them. Their women would’ve been too, but Quinn had asked them not to come. They knew what had happened to her, but she’d admitted that she was afraid if they heard all the details, it would somehow change their view of her.
Sophie had argued the most, but Quinn had finally broken down in her friend’s arms and begged her not to come. Of course Sophie had agreed…but Driftwood knew the women would grill their men for details about what had gone on in the courtroom.
Not only were the firefighters there supporting Quinn, but so were Dax, Cruz, Quint, Wes, Hayden, Conor, TJ, and even Calder Stonewall, one of the MEs for the city. Some, like Cruz and Dax, had to testify, but the others came to simply support their friends.
Driftwood and Quinn, of course, had attended every day of her preliminary trial, and even though he’d already known most of what had happened to her, Driftwood still could hardly believe Jennifer had turned out to be as evil as she was.
Apparently, she was the ringleader or priestess or…whatever of their little sect. She wasn’t attending the local community college to be a nurse, that was just one of the many places she trolled for people who she thought might be possessed by the devil. Her followers did the same, stalking coffeehouses, libraries, and grocery stores, among other places. When they found someone who they thought was impure, or had a devil’s mark, they would stalk them. Leave religious pamphlets everywhere the person went.
Then, one of the “congregation” would befriend the person. Secretly give them holy water to try to cleanse them. When that didn’t work, they’d eventually ramp up to kidnapping. Once people were in Jen’s clutches, she would use various techniques to try to “remove” the devil from their bodies. When it didn’t work—and it never worked, because of course the victims weren’t possessed—the congregation would meet at the abandoned lot next to the dump and burn them alive.
Then, just like Beth had hypothesized, the group would simply throw their victims’ bodies in the trash dump conveniently next to their killing field.
Everyone who had been present at Quinn’s attempted murder had been arrested—except for Alaric, who’d been shot by TJ when he’d pulled a gun and started to run into the trees where Driftwood had taken Quinn. The members’ trials were mostly still pending, and most were undergoing psychological treatment to try to decide if they were competent enough to even stand trial. They’d been so brainwashed that many believed Jen was actually Jesus Christ reborn.
Driftwood had never been prouder of Quinn. She’d recently had her hair styled, now that it had grown out a bit more from the hack job Jen had done on it. Her birthmark was considerably lighter than it had been even two months ago, but it was still clearly visible. Probably always would be.
But Quinn held her head up and didn’t shy away from looking the judge or Jen in the eyes as she spoke. She recounted how she’d seen Jen at her apartment door and had opened it, thinking something was wrong.
She told the courtroom how Alaric, Jen’s brother, had hidden from view until she’d opened the door, and how he’d hit her in the face. Then how someone had jabbed a needle into her thigh and knocked her out.
But it was the way Quinn talked about being tortured that almost did him in. Reading the words on the police report was one thing. Hearing Quinn recount the way she’d felt, how cold she’d been, and how scared she was that she’d never get out of that room, was chilling.
Driftwood had known Jen was crazy…but he hadn’t known just how much.
Taco shifted uncomfortably in the chair next to him, and Driftwood had a feeling if he was feeling stupid and naïve that he hadn’t seen through Jen’s crazy, then Taco was feeling ten times worse.
Instinctively, he did something he never would’ve thought about doing before this moment. He reached over and grabbed Taco’s hand.
He didn’t turn his head to look at his friend, he just held on, feeling Taco’s hand gripping his back…hard.
Jen’s attorney stood up and started his cross examination. Quinn never faltered. She answered every single one of his questions calmly and intelligently. The only time she got emotional was when she recalled how Jen had instructed her followers and brother to make sure they didn’t touch her without gloves on, so they wouldn’t be “contaminated.”
The lawyer stopped his questioning way earlier than the prosecuting attorney had. Then Quinn was done. She stepped down from the witness stand and headed back toward him and the seat she’d vacated when she was called to testify.
When she passed the table where Jen was sitting, she purposely walked as close to it as possible. Driftwood—and every single person in the courtroom—saw Jen loudly scoot her chair away from the aisle and look at Quinn in horror as she passed.
Smiling, Quinn calmly opened the small wooden door separating the courtroom area from the spectator gallery.
Expecting Quinn to sit in the open space next to him, she instead gestured for Taco to scoot over. He did, and she sat between them. Then she reached a hand toward each of them. Both men laced their fingers with hers.
Driftwood knew by the way she gripped him that she wasn’t as calm as she appeared on the outside. Her engagement ring dug into his hand, but he didn’t bother to readjust his grip. The reminder that she would soon officially be his was enough to calm him. Leaning over, he kissed her temple reverently. There would be time for words later.
For now, it was enough that she was safe, happy, and healthy…and his.
That night, Quinn lay in bed with John. They were naked, and she was lying on top of him. They both needed the full-body contact after the long and emotional day they’d had.
Quinn’s head rested on his shoulder, and she’d stuffed her hands under his back. He was warm…so warm. An odd side effect of nearly being frozen to death was that now she always felt cold. The doctors said it was more a psychological side effect, and that her body was actually at a normal ninety-eight-point-six body temperature.
But bless John, he never complained and always had a blanket for her to snuggle under whether they were on the couch, in the car, or lying in bed. And he was always so warm. It was one of the million things she loved about him.
“Are you really okay, Emmy?” he asked softly.
“Surprisingly, yeah. I’m not saying that was fun or that I want to do it every weekend, but it felt good standing up to her. Telling everyone what a crazy bitch she is.”
“I’m very proud of you.”
“I’m proud of myself,” she returned. “John?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think Taco is all right?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. On the outside, he’s fine, but I have a feeling inside…he’s a mess.”
“I saw you grab his hand. That was awesome.”
“Firefighters aren’t known to be the most demonstrative group of people, but he’s one of my best friends. I’d die for him, just as I know he would for me. He wanted to be there for you today, but he was struggling hearing just how awful Jen was.”
“I hate her,” Quinn whispered. “Not only because of what she did to me, b
ut because of what she did to those other people she tried to ‘save.’ They weren’t as lucky as me. They died probably scared out of their minds. But I also hate her because of what she did to Taco. He deserves to have an amazing woman at his side. Someone who loves him as much as I love you. I hate that Jen only pretended to like him to get close to me. I hate that he’s even more closed off than before. And I hate that I have a feeling it’ll take a really long time for him to open himself up to trying again.”
“He’ll be okay,” John murmured as he ran his hands up and down her back.
“How can you be so sure?” Quinn asked.
“Because he’s got you. And me. And everyone else. We won’t let him give up. There’s someone out there who’s perfect for him. He just has to be receptive to opening himself up when he finds her.”
“I love you,” Quinn said, shifting on top of her man. “The first time you told me that you thought I was pretty, I thought you were making fun of me. The second time, I figured you were just throwing the poor ugly woman a bone. The third time, I was actually irritated. And the fourth, I ignored you altogether. But somewhere along the line, I realized that you were serious. That you honestly thought I was beautiful. It took a while, a really long while, but you know what?”
“What, Emmy?”
“I believe you.” The words came out as a whisper. “I might not ever win any beauty pageants, and there will always be people eager to tell me so, but being around you makes me believe it.”
“Good. Because you are beautiful. And you’re all mine,” he added after a beat.
“I’m yours,” she reassured him. “And you’re mine.”
“Yup,” he agreed. “Yours.”
Quinn was suddenly aware of his erection between her legs. They’d made love a few times since she’d gotten out of the hospital, but it had always been initiated by him. For the first time in her life, Quinn wanted to be the aggressor. She wasn’t afraid of being turned down, not with John.
She began to move her hips, the tip of his cock brushing against her pussy as she rubbed against him.
“Quinn,” he warned, grabbing her hips to try to hold her still.
“Yes?” she asked with a gleam in her eye. Moving a hand down her body, she reached between them and grabbed hold of his cock. He went from semi-hard to ready to fuck in seconds.
When she moved and pressed her folds against him, he halted her with a strong grip on her thighs. “Wait, Emmy.”
“Why?”
“It’s been a difficult day for you.”
“It has,” she agreed. “And now I need my man to make it better.” She squeezed his cock again, and a groan escaped him. Sitting up, the blanket falling around their hips, she came up on her knees and positioned John right where she wanted him.
Before he could move, she was sliding down.
Quinn shifted her hand to her clit and began to stroke herself, loving the feel of his hot, hard shaft inside her. John stayed frozen under her, waiting for her to let him know when she was ready for him to move.
She looked at him and stilled. The look on his face was so beautiful, Quinn wished she had a camera so she could capture it and look at it anytime she was feeling down or wondering how on earth he could love her.
He wasn’t looking at where they were joined together. He wasn’t staring at her tits or even her birthmark. John’s eyes were glued to hers. And the love and tenderness she could see there was absolutely beautiful.
Her. John was looking at her that way.
“Move,” she whispered.
“This is gonna be fast,” he warned.
“Good.”
“Stay right there, just like that, and hold on,” he ordered.
Quinn loved it when he got bossy. “Yes, sir,” she quipped, then leaned over and braced herself on his shoulders.
His first thrust made her squirm.
His second made a moan escape her throat.
His third had her biting her lip.
The fourth and fifth made her arch her back.
She lost count after that, concentrating on the feel of him, hot and hard inside her. Then, even as he continued to pound into her from below, one hand moved between them and roughly tweaked her clit.
“That’s it, my beautiful Emmy. Come for me. Come on my dick. I want to feel it.”
It took another couple of thrusts, but then she was there. Her entire body shook as she exploded in orgasm. She would’ve fallen if John hadn’t grabbed hold of her hips and held her above him as he pushed inside her one more time and stayed there.
And throughout it all, his gaze never left hers.
“I love you,” he said when he could speak again.
“Love you too,” she mumbled.
He chuckled. “Stretch out, Em.”
She straightened her legs but didn’t move off him. She felt John pull the blanket back up and over her, once again enclosing them in a cocoon. They were both a bit sweaty and she could still feel him inside her.
A minute or two went by, and she finally said, “I didn’t give you a chance to put on a condom.”
“Nope.”
“I’m not on anything.”
“Hmmmm.”
When he didn’t comment further, she lifted her head. “Did you hear me? I could get pregnant. It’s not really the right time of the month, but still.”
“I heard you,” he said, then brought his hand to her head, pushing it back onto his chest.
“I can practically feel you beating your chest in a ‘me Tarzan, you Jane’ kind of way,” she complained.
“Do I want kids? Absolutely. Do I want them in nine months? I’d kinda hoped to have you to myself for a little longer. But I wouldn’t be upset about you being pregnant with my child, Emmy. I love you. I’ll love you forever, and I’ll love any kids we happen to make together. But I just had one of the best orgasms in my life. My cock is still inside you. I’ve got my woman naked and sated on top of me. I refuse to freak out about anything right now.”
“Well…all right then,” Quinn said with a small chuckle.
“All right then,” John agreed.
John fell asleep not too much later, his cock finally slipping out of her body, and Quinn could feel how wet she was between her legs. She smiled.
Her life definitely hadn’t been all sunshine and roses. She would never be miss social and would always prefer to hang out at home rather than go out. But she had more than a handful of good friends and protectors who would always have her back.
And she had John.
She couldn’t ask for anything more.
In fact, if she had to live her life all over again, every second of pain and humiliation she’d felt, even the torture she’d endured at the hands of The Edge Community Church’s members…she would without hesitation…if it led to this moment right here.
Closing her eyes, Quinn fell asleep with her head on John’s chest, the sound of his heart beating in her ear.
A week later, while Driftwood and Quinn were in California for another laser treatment, Station 7 received a call for a fire in progress.
Taco, Squirrel, Chief, Crash, Sledge, Moose, and Penelope flew into the trucks and raced to the scene.
The second Taco jumped out of the pumper, a man ran up to him.
“There’s a kid inside! My neighbor. At least I think he is. A teenager. He’s only thirteen!”
“We’ll get him,” Taco assured the man.
He and Squirrel immediately began prepping for going inside. Without discussion, they entered the house. They’d been working together for so long, they knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses. If anyone was going to find this kid, it would be them.
The house was pitch black with smoke. It was already hot enough that Taco dropped to his knees and began to crawl forward. He felt Squirrel close on his heels.
Feeling his way around the room, Taco was surprised when he almost immediately ran into something large and bulky. A body.
Signaling t
o Squirrel, Taco grabbed the boy under his arms and began dragging him back toward the door. Three minutes after they’d entered the fully engulfed house, they exited.
The second Taco saw the boy when they got outside, he knew they’d been too late. The paramedics would do their best, but he’d seen enough victims of smoke inhalation to know that the kid had been inside too long. Had inhaled too many of the deadly gases.
He rushed the teenager farther away from the burning house and placed him on the ground. “He’s gone,” he told the paramedics who rushed up. “We were too late.” They immediately starting giving the boy oxygen and doing CPR.
Shaking his head, Taco turned to find Sledge and see where he was needed next.
Before he could take more than a cursory glance around, a woman was in his face, screaming.
“You killed my baby!”
Taco took a step back, but the woman didn’t retreat. She pushed against his chest and yelled, “You should’ve been faster! You took too long to get to him! He’s dead because of you!”
“Whoa,” Taco said quietly, holding his hands up. “Stand back, ma’am.”
“No! You did this! It’s your fault!”
Finally, a sheriff’s deputy reached them and took hold of the hysterical woman by the arm. “You need to step back for your own safety.”
“He killed my son!” the lady yelled, completely ignoring the officer.
“Don’t listen to her,” another officer told Taco. “She’s plastered. We saw her pull into the driveway next door.” He pointed to a dark green Volvo parked half on the lawn and half off it. There was a mailbox lying on its side in front of the car, obviously having been run over.
The woman was still screaming at him, even while being dragged away by three officers.
“Neighbors said she leaves her kid alone all the time,” the first officer said. “She goes off to buy drugs, apparently. This isn’t your fault.”
Taco nodded. He knew it wasn’t, but it didn’t make the situation any better. A child was still dead.