Quinn Security

by Dee Bridgnorth

  “Talk to me,” he demanded.

  “It’s all wrong,” she said, shaking her head like she must have gone momentarily insane to have nearly let him have sex with her. “It’s just… I can’t go through with it. I just can’t.”

  Just as he was about to take hold of her shoulders and tell her it was okay, she turned on her heel and took off at a jog down the trail, heading back towards the Trail Office where they’d all started.

  He felt every impulse to race after her, but he didn’t.

  She shouted without turning around, “Just leave me alone, okay? Just leave me alone! I’ll be fine. I don’t want this! Please, leave me alone!”

  He watched her for as long as he could until the trail curved and she ducked out of sight.

  What the hell just happened?

  He didn’t understand, but he knew he’d just been broken up with.

  And it didn’t make sense.

  Chapter Eighteen

  REECE

  Reece couldn’t think straight.

  What the hell just happened?

  She didn’t know.

  All she knew was that she had to get away from him. Away from Troy. Something hadn’t felt right. It still didn’t. And the only thing that felt good was jogging off away from him.

  As she came to the bottom of the trail, breathing heavily and coming to a brisk walk, arms swinging and relief washing over her, the thick canopy of tree branches overhead disappeared and she suddenly felt sunlight on her face.

  Like running out of a bad dream into reality, that’s how it felt.

  Just as her racing mind began to clamp onto why she might’ve scrambled to get away from him and save herself from a potential mistake—letting a virtual stranger take her virginity in a soggy thicket, not because she was ready, but because she was terrified of the alternatives, which never made for good decision making—she heard a familiar female voice shout.

  “Reece!”

  It was Angel Mercer. Angel was dressed in flattering capri khakis and a cap-sleeve button-down shirt, her shiny blonde hair pulled up in a stylish ponytail.

  Reece wasn’t sure she’d ever seen the woman out in Yellowstone. Angel was made for cocktail parties and yacht clubs. She barely belonged in a place like Devil’s Fist, but seeing her in the woodsy area outside of the Trail Office was particularly jarring.

  “You okay?” she asked, as she quickly neared Reece.

  That was all it took. One random act of kindness. Someone asking her if she was okay, and Reece lost it. Her cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment that she was suddenly crying, but she couldn’t stop the waterworks of emotion from washing over her.

  “Hey, hey,” said Angel kindly, as she pulled her into a friendly hug. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ah,” she groaned, frustrated with herself. “I don’t even know. I really don’t.”

  “Are you out here all alone?”

  Reece shook her head, but was too caught up in a sea of swelling regret to give Angel a straight answer.

  “You look how I feel, babe,” Angel said with an air of humor as she held Reece by the shoulders and gave her the once-over.

  “Oh God,” said Reece, mortified. “After all you’ve been through, Angel, God, the last thing you want to hear about is my stupid troubles.”

  “Come on,” she proposed, as she hooked her arm around Reece’s shoulder and began steering her towards the parking area. “We could both use a drink.”

  But after Reece climbed into the passenger’s seat of Angel’s sleek car and they took off driving with all the windows down, it wasn’t Libations they were headed towards…

  …not that Reece was paying any attention.

  She spent the ride venting what she was sure sounded like nonsense. She didn’t use Troy’s name, and focused her frustrations on her expiring virginity, criticizing how picky she was and how she was destined to wind up an old maid who had more cats than any respectable human being should ever have. Angel met her every complaint with quiet understanding, and it wasn’t until they’d driven through a winding, dirt road that edged deeper and deeper into a forest she didn’t recognize that Reece finally asked, “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to have cocktails in the one place I know of that’s guaranteed private.”

  “Thank God,” said Reece as she wiped her cheeks for the millionth time, drying tears that had only now decided to stop spilling from her eyes. “The last thing I need is for everyone in the Fist to speculate on why I’m so upset.”

  “I thought you’d appreciate it,” Angel said with a smile as she pulled her car to a stop in front of what appeared to be a walking path. “I have merlot and pinot grigio,” she winked, pulling the key from the ignition. As they stepped out into the warm, Wyoming sun and started towards the path that cut through a breezy thicket, she continued the list of beverages. “I can make you a martini, chilled of course, whether you’re a vodka girl or gin.”

  “Oh, I can’t have gin,” laughed Reece. “It knocks me out.”

  “Vodka, then.”

  They came to a clearing where a canopy tent was pitched near the side of a luscious cliff—a mountain side, it appeared. The canopy was so… Angel. It looked bohemian-chic with strings of twinkling lights strung up.

  “This is my spot.”

  “Wow,” said Reece coming under the breezy canopy where Angel had laid down a patio. There were two patio chairs and a round table. Reece was so enthralled with the place that she didn’t notice that the back of the patio led into the cliff—a cave of sorts. She simply sat down, facing out into the thicket they’d just walked through. “Angel, let me ask you something.”

  “Yes?” said Angel, sitting down.

  “There’s no point in keeping secrets. I know what happened to you. That you’re a werewolf now. Heck, I saw you face to face in Troy’s truck—”

  “I’m sorry about that, Reece,” she said with a depth of sincerity that Reece completely trusted. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t going to attack you. I’d been shot and was terrified and I’ve been severely struggling with… handling what I am.”

  “That’s what I wanted to ask you about,” she said. “See, with Troy… I…” she trailed off, unsure of how to say what she needed to.

  “Troy wants you,” said Angel intuitively.

  “I’m scared. What was it like?” she finally asked. “When you were turned? Was it painful? Do you regret it? I don’t know if I can do it, Angel. I know I need to, in order to be safe from all this madness that’s been going on in the Fist, but… Is that a good reason? I can’t see how it would be, you know?”

  Angel offered her an understanding smile and said, “We definitely need a glass of pinot to have this conversation.”

  Reece laughed and it felt good to lighten up, and when Angel rose from her chair and said, “Come, the wine is inside,” Reece blindly followed her into the entryway of the cave.

  But as soon as she got inside, marveling at the precious space, which was huge and reminded her of where she imagined a wealthy man like Christian Gray would vacation, Angel fell back behind her, filling the entryway.

  And Dante entered from the back.

  “Reece,” he said in that deep, chilling voice of his that set her teeth on edge.

  She turned for the doorway, but Angel was blocking her path so she whipped around again and demanded, “What is this?”

  “It’s your destiny,” said Dante. “And it’s imperative that you don’t resist.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  TROY

  When Troy reached the area outside of the Trail Office, his brothers were already gathered.

  Reece wasn’t there.

  “Any luck?” asked Kaleb as Troy neared them. “My crystal was stone cold the entire time.”

  “Mine too,” Dean agreed, staring down at the pink amethyst in his hand.

  Shane complained, “There’s no way Dante is in Yellowstone, not on the eastern side, anyway.”

  “I
agree,” said Troy, who was entirely preoccupied with trying to figure out what in the hell had happened with Reece. The fact of the matter was that it probably shouldn’t have been such a mystery to him that she didn’t want to lose her virginity in a hasty fit in the woods. It wasn’t very romantic. But the way she’d completely shut down and run off also didn’t seem like her.

  And she wasn’t here.

  It worried him.

  “Have you seen Reece?” he asked his brothers.

  Kaleb responded, “No, man,” and his other brothers had the same response.

  Troy looked around, scanning the hikers in the area, but none of them were Reece.

  “Did she take off?” Kaleb asked him, reading the concern on Troy’s face.

  “Kind of.”

  “What happened?”

  “I wish I knew,” he said as he saw a mane of red hair through the Trail Office window.

  Whitney Abernathy.

  “Hang on a sec, would ya?” he said as he jogged towards the Trail Office building.

  Inside, he found Whitney slipping a filing folder into a large filing cabinet.

  “Whitney—”

  “Hey, what’s up, Troy?” she asked nonchalantly as she opened another drawer and returned the other file she was holding.

  “You haven’t seen Reece, have you?”

  “Saw her chatting with Angel outside.”

  “When?” he demanded and the urgency in his tone was enough to garner her full and undivided attention.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I need to know when you saw her,” he pressed. “Just now?”

  “Ah, yeah, just now. Or, I guess it was five, ten minutes ago. Why?”

  “Did they take off hiking on one of the trails?” When she just stared at him, thrown, he barked, “This is important!”

  Without hesitating, Whitney grabbed the telephone from a nearby desk and began dialing, but Troy charged over and slammed his finger on the line, killing whatever call she thought she should make.

  “Excuse me,” she blurted, offended, “but I have strict orders to report any odd behavior.”

  “So you’re calling your father?”

  “Not because of you,” she shot back then sarcastically commented, “your behavior is always odd. My dad is trying to keep a close eye on Angel Mercer.”

  “Would you cut the crap and tell me which direction they went?”

  “Why are you freaking out?”

  He let out a sharp exhale and admitted, “I don’t know.”

  Whitney’s eyes rounded with what looked like sympathy, and she told him, “They walked off together towards the parking lot. I didn’t think anything of it until you charged in here like she’d gone missing. Troy, do you think I witnessed her going missing?”

  “I seriously hope not,” he said, trying and failing to wrack his brain for where they might’ve taken off to together.

  Shane ducked into the Trail Office and asked, “What’s going on?”

  Whitney didn’t hesitate to tell him, “Your lunatic brother is having a melt-down.”

  Shane scowled at her as he neared Troy, and Troy told him, “Reece took off with Angel.”

  “Jack’s freakin’ asleep at the wheel,” Shane hissed, planting his balled fists on his hips, as his eyes cut to Whitney.

  “My dad’s a phone call away,” she offered, but Troy was already dragging his brother out of the Trail Office.

  “I have a bad feeling.”

  “Based on what?” Shane asked as they slowed to have a private conversation away from their brothers.

  Through the Trail Office window, Troy spied Whitney placing the call she’d been threatening. Why that girl believed her father was any goddamn help was beyond him.

  “Based on Sasha,” he heard himself saying, and it wasn’t until the words came out of his mouth that he understood their logic. “Reece is up for grabs. She isn’t meant for me. She just took off with Angel, who’s obviously being controlled by the one who turned her.”

  “Dante,” he supplied, putting the pieces together.

  “And we can bet Dante is a Royal who wants my crown.”

  “He’s going to turn her,” said Shane.

  It was Troy’s deepest, most terrifying fear coming true.

  Troy couldn’t believe how close he’d been. He could’ve turned Reece out in those woods. Could’ve made her his. Protected her.

  Maybe he should’ve listened to his crazy, old-world mother…

  Fuck!

  Reece wasn’t safe.

  The clock was ticking.

  And the Quinns didn’t have one goddamn clue as to how to find her.

  ***

  Why was Rick not surprised?

  As soon as he’d gotten the call from his precious Whitney, he’d torn through the precinct before she’d even finished telling him the details. Yellowstone was a solid twenty minutes from the heart of Devil’s Fist, but once he’d put his flashers on and stepped on the gas, he made it to the Trail Office in less than ten.

  He’d had a feeling he’d find Troy Quinn and his brothers stalking around Yellowstone, so that’s why he wasn’t surprised to see them piling into their pickup trucks in the parking lot just as he was pulling in.

  “Ho! Hold up, there!” he called out as he closed the door of his SUV.

  Troy slammed on the brakes and hung his arm out of his open window as Rick started towards his truck.

  “Where’re you racing off to, son?”

  Troy didn’t look like he was prepared to be patient, but quite frankly, Rick didn’t give a rat’s ass at this point. Over the phone, Whitney might’ve been angling to highlight that Reece Gladstone was in danger for having taken off with Angel Mercer—at this point even Rick was convinced that sweet, polished Angel was a damn werewolf, not that he could say he was one hundred percent convinced that werewolves truly did exist, but if they did, Angel would certainly be one of them—but during that brief and panicked phone call, all Rick really gleaned was that the Quinns were about to get in his goddamned way again.

  And here they were. Gettin’ in his way.

  “I asked you a question, Troy,” he said. “Where are you racing off to?”

  “Quinn Security,” he told him through clenched teeth. His jaw was tight and his dark eyes were glaring.

  Rick knew a liar when he saw one.

  “I got a call about Angel and Reece,” he informed him. “I’m concerned and my gut tells me you are too.”

  “I suppose that’s why you had a street named after you,” he said in mock compliment. “Trustworthy hunches.”

  “Why is it that whenever I get a call about werewolves in my town, you’re already there when I get there? Why is that, Troy?”

  “Are you implying something?”

  Rick stared him down for a long moment, as Troy’s brothers began hollering at him from their own trucks about whether or not they were going to do this.

  “Now, what they talking about, son?” he questioned. “Do what?”

  “I told you,” said Troy, barely holding on to his composure. “We’re going to Quinn Security.”

  “Is that right?”

  “If you got a call about Reece and Angel, don’t let me keep you,” he said, but it sounded like a challenge.

  Rick narrowed his eyes at him and pressed, “Where’re you really going?”

  “Straight to hell. How’s that?” he shot back as he slammed on the accelerator and reversed the rest of the way out of his parking spot, swinging his truck around.

  He nearly ran Rick’s feet over and would have if Rick hadn’t stumbled back.

  When he glanced up again, the Quinn trucks were tearing out of the parking lot, nothing but a billow of dust rising up into the hot, Wyoming afternoon.

  “Sons a bitches,” he muttered before starting off towards the Trail Office where his Whitney was surely waiting for him.

  A cruiser pulled into the parking lot, Officer Rachel Clancy behind the wheel, but Ric
k didn’t wait for her to catch up.

  “I gave Jack Quagmire a call,” said Whitney as soon as he entered the little, one-story building that looked more like a shack.

  “What the hell for?”

  “He’s her keeper, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “Don’t you get uppity with me, girl. I came, didn’t I?”

  Whitney let out a breath to cool her heels, then told him, “Jack said Angel snuck off last night and he hasn’t seen her since.”

  Snuck off?

  Maybe she wasn’t the white wolf he’d shot out in the streets. There’s no way a person, wolf-woman or otherwise, could’ve survived a shot like that for very long.

  “I’m here, Sheriff,” said Rachel as she breathlessly spilled into the Trail Office.

  Great.

  “Honey,” he said to his daughter, “I appreciate the call and the heads up, but I can’t be certain this would categorize as a missing persons case just yet.”

  “There something funny about those Quinns,” said Whitney. “Shane questioned me twice—”

  “He questioned you?” Rick asked, appalled. “What right does he have to question you?”

  “Beats the hell out of me, Daddy,” she agreed.

  Then Rachel neared them and offered, “I was cruising ‘round the south side of town on patrol.”

  “You think I don’t know that, Clancy?” he barked, already annoyed that Rachel was here before the deputies he would’ve preferred.

  “Took a route through the old Halsey land,” she went on, undeterred.

  She had gumption. He’d give her that. She hadn’t even flinched at his barking comment.

  “I saw Mercer’s car,” she stated.

  “Where?” he asked, impressed. For once this lone female officer was proving herself in a tangible way that went beyond mere eagerness. “Tell me where, Clancy! Maybe we can beat those fuckers to the punch for once!”

  “Follow me, Sheriff,” she said, hustling out of the Trail Office.

  Rick stayed at her heels.

  ***

  “You think we’re going to help you?” Curt Wilson, the owner of Damned Repair angrily confronted Troy in the rear lot where old, dilapidated cars were stacked, a junkyard of all the Fist’s discarded vehicles. “We heard, Troy! All of us know!”