by Lara Lacombe
Quinn couldn’t let her sacrifice her principles like that. He shook his head, trying to communicate with her. But she was so focused on Justin she didn’t notice him.
Justin merely smirked and pointed the gun at her. “You sound pretty confident for a woman who’s unarmed.”
“I like my chances.”
Justin opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a pounding on the door. “Quinn? Are you okay? I heard a loud bang from your apartment.”
Quinn’s heart sank as he registered the voice. It was Mrs. Shepherd, the widow who lived two doors down. She was a retired elementary school teacher, and she had made it her mission in life to look after him. She routinely brought him casseroles and freshly baked bread, and in return he carried her groceries and helped her with any minor maintenance issues that cropped up. He considered her a friend; the last thing he wanted was for her to be on Justin’s radar.
Justin glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. Quinn cleared his throat and raised his voice. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to sound normal. “It must have come from outside.”
The older woman was quiet, making Quinn think she’d gone back to her apartment. “What’s wrong with you? Are you hurt?”
“No,” Quinn yelled. Just go home, he pleaded silently. This was rapidly spiraling out of control...
“I’m calling the police,” the woman said firmly.
Justin grabbed Rebecca roughly by the arm, hauling her to her feet. They started for the door, his gun pressed to her jaw as they walked.
“No, Mrs. Shepherd.” Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Quinn struggled to his feet. He couldn’t save himself, and he might not be able to save Rebecca, but he could hopefully save Mrs. Shepherd from an untimely death.
“Open up and let me see you,” the older woman insisted. “If I can see you’re all right, I won’t call the police.”
Justin paused at the door. He glanced back, noticed Quinn had moved. He dug the muzzle of the gun into Rebecca’s neck, his meaning clear. Quinn stopped, his hand on the wall for support.
Justin reached for the door handle and Quinn looked down, unable to watch him shoot an innocent woman. Shame and self-loathing filled him as he realized he wasn’t a hero after all. He hadn’t been able to save Ashley, and now he couldn’t save Rebecca.
Or could he?
His breath snagged as he realized where he was, and what he was looking at.
The backpack sat at his feet. The unobtrusive bag represented his last hope of protecting Rebecca and putting an end to Justin’s madness. But would the gun even work?
There was only one way to find out.
Quinn sank to his knees.
* * *
“Let me talk to her,” Rebecca said in a low voice. “I can get her to leave.”
“Oh?” Justin’s grip on her arm tightened. “Why should I let you?”
“If you shoot her, that will alert everyone in the building. Someone will call the police, and you’ll have to run before they arrive. I know you want to spend time torturing me and Quinn before killing us, but you won’t be able to do that if you don’t exercise a little patience now.”
She held her breath as Justin considered her words. She knew he had the self-control to resist killing Quinn’s neighbor. But his thirst for blood was high, and shooting Quinn had only served to whet his appetite for violence. Would he be able to resist the temptation of another helpless victim?
Finally, he nodded. “Don’t try anything,” he warned, his breath hot in her ear. “Or I will make sure her death is painful.”
He shoved her in front of the door and reached for the handle. The muzzle of the gun was nestled between her ribs, lest she forget what was at stake.
Rebecca took a breath and mussed her hair. She untucked and partially unbuttoned her shirt, then opened the door a crack, positioning herself in the gap to keep the woman from seeing inside the apartment. “Hi,” she said, injecting false cheer into her voice. “Quinn is a bit, um, indisposed at the moment, so he asked me to assure you everything is fine.”
A petite woman stared up at her, her blue eyes bright behind round glasses. “Is that so?”
Rebecca smiled. “Yes, ma’am.” She leaned forward, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m taking good care of him.” She winked, and the older woman blushed.
“I see.” The neighbor adjusted her glasses, rocking back on her heels a bit. “Well. Well, I suppose that’s none of my business.” She took a step back, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”
“No worries,” Rebecca said. “I’ll tell Quinn to stop by later.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the woman said, halfway to her door at this point. She practically dove into her apartment, the door slamming shut behind her.
Rebecca closed Quinn’s door with a sigh of relief. One hurdle down. Now she just needed to figure out a way to distract Justin long enough to reach the gun in her ankle holster...
Justin grabbed her arm again, his fingers digging into her bicep. He forced her to turn around and they both froze at the sight that greeted them.
Quinn stood in the doorway to the living room, a gun in his hand.
What the hell? Rebecca’s first, absurd thought was to wonder where he had gotten a gun. Her second thought was to wonder if he would be able to use it.
Quinn’s left hand shook a bit as he aimed the gun at Justin. His right arm hung useless at his side, blood dripping from his fingers as he took a step forward. She knew Quinn was right-handed, but did Justin realize that?
Justin jerked Rebecca hard to the side, pulling her in front of him to use her body as a shield. He pressed the muzzle of his gun to the corner of her jaw. “Drop it,” he said. “Or I’ll shoot her.”
Quinn met her eyes, as if seeking guidance. I’m okay, she mouthed. Justin might eventually make good on his threat to shoot her, but she didn’t think he’d do it right away. At least, she hoped not...
“Let her go,” Quinn countered. “This is between you and me. Why don’t you act like a man and stop hiding behind an innocent woman?”
Good one, she silently cheered. Unless she missed her guess, a big part of Justin’s pathology centered around the impotence he’d felt regarding his wife’s death. Quinn was tapping into that feeling, which would only serve to distract Justin from her plan.
Moving carefully, Rebecca lifted her right leg and ran her hand down the side of her calf. Justin was so focused on Quinn he didn’t notice her actions, but she could tell by the subtle widening of Quinn’s eyes that he realized what she was doing.
“Why don’t you point that gun at me?” Quinn suggested. “I’m your true target.”
“Scared I’ll hurt her?” Justin said. “You should be.”
Rebecca tugged her pant leg up and began to fumble blindly at the holster strapped to her ankle. In a matter of seconds, she had the gun in her hand. The feel of the cold metal against her skin was comforting, and a wave of confidence washed over her. She no longer felt powerless and scared—now she had the upper hand.
But Justin didn’t know it yet.
She thumbed off the safety and reached around her torso, tucking the barrel of the gun against her side so that it pointed at Justin. She didn’t know where exactly he’d be hit, but at this range, she couldn’t miss.
“Drop your weapon,” she said, giving him one last chance to comply. Please, don’t let there be anyone standing in the hallway... The last thing she wanted was for the bullet to pass through Justin and hit an innocent bystander.
Justin responded by moving his gun from her jaw to her temple. “I’m in charge here,” he said angrily. “Don’t forget that.”
“Not anymore,” she muttered. Rebecca closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.
The gunshot sounded like a cannon in the confines of the hallway. Jus
tin jerked against her, his grip on her arm loosening. She took the opportunity to dive to the floor, away from his gun.
She glanced up to see Justin leaning against the door, a look of blank shock on his face. His shirt sported a rapidly growing bloodstain—it looked like she’d hit him in the abdomen.
Rebecca scooted back a few feet, keeping her gun trained on him. Using the wall for support, she got to her feet. “Drop it,” she commanded.
Justin stared at her, then looked at his hand as if surprised to find he was still holding a gun. A gleam of malice entered his eyes, and he aimed at Quinn.
Rebecca fired just as he pulled the trigger. She shot him three times in rapid succession, not stopping until she saw Justin fall back against the door. His limp body slid to the ground with a thud, the light fading from his eyes.
She approached carefully, even though he appeared to be dead. His gun had landed next to his body, so she kicked it away, out of his reach in case he was playing possum. She nudged him with the toe of her boot, but he didn’t move. Satisfied he was no longer a threat, Rebecca turned to look at Quinn and her heart stopped.
He was on the floor, his face twisted in pain. She ran to him, skidding to a stop before she crashed into him. “Are you okay? Did he hit you again?” She ran her hands along his body, searching for any new injuries. But his shirt was already bloody from his shoulder, and the wound on his side appeared to have opened up again, making it hard to tell if Justin’s final volley had found its mark.
Quinn shook his head. “I don’t think so. I dropped to the ground when he fired, and I think he missed me.”
Relief washed over her as she verified the truth of his words for herself. “He did,” she said, feeling out of breath. “You’re okay.” She glanced past him to see a bullet hole in the wall next to the window. The brick of the building had likely stopped the bullet, but even if it had made it through, it was unlikely to have hit anyone outside.
“Quinn?” Mrs. Shepherd’s voice came through the door again, her tone determined. “I’m calling the police this time. I know those were gunshots.”
Rebecca and Quinn looked at each other. Despite the circumstances, a laugh bubbled up in her throat. She tried to hold it back, but it was no use. A giggle escaped, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Quinn cracked a smile at her reaction. “Okay, Mrs. Shepherd,” he said loudly, as Rebecca grabbed her own phone and began dialing the police. “Thanks for looking out for me.”
Chapter 17
“I didn’t expect to see you here again,” Dr. Allen said as she walked into the emergency bay. “Are you trying to turn into one of my frequent fliers?”
Quinn didn’t bother to smile at the lame joke. After the events of the afternoon he wanted nothing more than to take Rebecca into his arms and retreat into his bedroom, where they could lock the door and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.
It hadn’t taken long for the police to arrive, followed by an ambulance. Rebecca had stayed in his apartment to talk to the police, while he’d been loaded onto a gurney and whisked away to the hospital. She’d looked shaken but determined, and he wondered how she was holding up. He knew shooting Justin had been the only way to stop him, but Rebecca had never killed a man before. Was she okay? He hated being separated from her again, but she’d promised to visit as soon as she was able to get away.
But who knew when that would be?
His apartment had been a study in chaos when he’d left—it seemed like there was blood everywhere, and the place had been packed with officers combing through the hallway and living room. He figured it was only a matter of time before the police arrived to interview him as well. He closed his eyes, exhausted by just the thought of reliving the afternoon’s events.
“You got lucky,” Dr. Allen said. “Looks like the bullet went through your shoulder without hitting anything important. You reopened the wound on your side, though, so that’s going to need to be repaired as well. We’ll get you patched up and on your way as soon as possible.”
“Thanks, doc,” he said.
“No problem.” She gave his uninjured shoulder a friendly pat. “But this time, I’m serious about you taking it easy. I don’t want to see you back here again.”
“Nothing personal, but I don’t want to see you again, either.”
She chuckled. “I’ll go grab my supplies. Be back in a minute.”
It didn’t take long for the doctor to stitch him up, and soon Quinn was alone in a room, hooked to an IV of fluids and antibiotics Dr. Allen wanted him to have “just in case.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, missing Rebecca more than he could say. The worst part of the day hadn’t been finding out Justin was the killer, or even getting shot. No, the worst part had been thinking Rebecca was going to die and feeling helpless to stop it.
He needed to see her, to hear her voice and hold her so he could know for certain she was all right. Even though she hadn’t been injured in the skirmish, the image of Justin pressing a gun to her temple would haunt him for the rest of his life. Just thinking about it made his palms sweat and his muscles tremble.
“She’s fine,” he told himself, taking a deep breath. “It’s over.”
He still couldn’t wrap his head around Justin’s behavior. What had made the other man think Quinn had deliberately killed Ashley and Naomi? Had he simply needed someone to blame for the loss of his wife? It was an impulse Quinn could understand, but he’d never be able to figure out why Justin had turned that pain outward, targeting innocent women in his elaborate revenge scheme. Quinn knew he wasn’t responsible for Justin’s actions, but he was a bit unsettled to know those women were dead because Justin had wanted to punish him. It was a thought that was going to haunt him for a long time...
But what would happen now? What did the future have in store for him, and for his relationship with Rebecca? Could he really return to his work as a park ranger without being plagued by visions of the women Justin had killed?
But what other choice did he have? He loved being a park ranger. If he quit to find another job, it would be one more thing Justin had wrecked. Even though it would be difficult, Quinn refused to be his victim a third time.
But what did that mean for him and Rebecca? Could they find a way to make a long-distance relationship work? Or were they destined to burn hot and bright, fizzling out in a matter of weeks?
His musings were interrupted by a rap on the door. Rebecca?
“Come in,” he called out, his heart in his throat.
The door opened, but it wasn’t Rebecca. Two officers entered the room and introduced themselves.
“We’d like to get your statement regarding the events in your apartment this afternoon.”
“No problem,” Quinn said, trying to mask his disappointment. He’d known this was coming, and talking to the police would help pass the time until Rebecca arrived.
He talked to them for a couple of hours, going over all the details and answering their questions as best he could. The detectives listened intently, interrupting only to ask for clarification of some points.
As Quinn spoke, the residual tension from the final standoff with Justin gradually left his body. The knowledge that Justin was dead and this nightmare was well and truly over settled into his bones. For the first time in what felt like months, Quinn relaxed, body and soul.
The detectives had just asked another question when there was a knock on the door. “Yes?” Quinn called out. He tried not to get his hopes up, as it was probably a doctor or one of the nurses coming to check on him.
The door opened and Rebecca poked her head inside. “Feel up for a visitor?”
His heart soared at the sight of her, and he couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across his face. “If it’s you? Anytime.”
She smiled back, and for a second they
were the only two people in the world.
One of the officers cleared his throat, ending the moment. “Oh!” Twin pink spots appeared on Rebecca’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“We’re finishing up,” said one of the officers.
It took longer than he liked, but soon enough the two detectives said their goodbyes and Quinn and Rebecca were alone together.
She walked to the edge of the bed, staring down at him with emotions swirling in her blue eyes. “Are you really okay?” she asked. “I didn’t get to talk to your doctor this time.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her.
“Can I touch you?” She sounded a little shy, which made him laugh.
“I know it sounds funny, but I need to touch you to convince myself you’re fine.”
“I understand,” he said. “Of course you can touch me. You don’t have to ask for permission first.”
She made a face. “Well, I don’t want to hurt you. Where’s a safe spot?”
He gave her a suggestive smile and she laughed. “Okay, I set myself up there.” Leaning forward, she cupped his face with her hands. “I don’t want to insult your masculine pride, but I hardly think now’s the time for such activities.”
She kissed him then, softly and sweetly. Her mouth was warm, her lips welcoming. He reached for her, only to draw back with a yelp as the movement pulled on his IV.
“Damn,” he muttered.
Rebecca gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’re not the only one who’s disappointed.”
He scooted over in the bed. “Have a seat,” he said, patting the mattress. If he couldn’t kiss her, he could at least be close to her.
She sat facing him, her leg pressed against his outer thigh. “I feel like we’ve done this before,” she joked.
“It does seem familiar,” he said.
She was quiet a moment. Based on her expression he could tell she was thinking, and he didn’t want to interrupt. He was content to look at her, drinking in the sight of her the way a starving man might gaze at a plate of food.