Quinn Security

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Rick tried not to think about any of this as he barreled through his administrative work.

  The startled when someone knocked loudly on the door.

  “Come in!” he barked, and Detective Eddie Friendly breezed into his office and closed the door with enough force that Rick startled a second time.

  “How are the reports coming along?” Eddie asked, those dark eyes of his narrowing into slits of warning.

  “I’m still your superior,” he reminded Eddie, standing up for himself. “I don’t need a subordinate lording over my every move. I’m the sheriff around here and nothing is going to change that.”

  “Ruffled your feathers, have I?” asked the detective as though Rick’s reaction was laughable.

  “You asked me a question and I answered you,” he stated. “You’re excused.”

  “Dante needs to know that he can do as he pleases around town,” he informed him, nearing the desk and angling over it, his shadow coming over Rick and chilling him to the bone. “A call to Quinn Security might be necessary. They have no standing in the Fist and yet they’ve consistently acted like they do. Dante doesn’t need any yipping puppies nipping at his heels.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he allowed.

  “You’ll say and do whatever it takes to ensure they back off and stay away,” Eddie informed him.

  “Fine.”

  Eddie stared at him, leering down at Rick to drive the importance of his point all the way home.

  “I got it, Detective,” he asserted, implying that Eddie ought to excuse himself right about now.

  Tearing himself away, the detective left his office but didn’t close the door on his way out.

  “Jerk,” Rick muttered.

  As he stood, resigning himself to closing the door, his newest detective, Rachel Clancy slipped into his office and closed the door.

  “Oh, what now, Clancy?”

  He was in no mood, though he didn’t want to take it out on Rachel. Over the years, he’d taken enough of his sour moods out on the poor woman even though she’d been the absolute last person who should’ve ever deserved it. He sunk back down into his office chair, let out a heaving sigh, and gestured for her to sit in the chair opposite.

  She did and asked in a low, confidential tone, “How are you holding up?”

  Being coddled was just about the last thing he needed right now. “I’m working for the enemy. How do you think I’m holding up?”

  “I’ve got a demolition permit that needs signing,” she told him, presenting the document on his desk and letting him off of the emotional hook she’d just dug into him. “It’s for Devil’s Advocate. It really needs to be leveled. Kids have been getting inside at night to party and make out. It isn’t safe and if a strong enough wind blows through, it could very well take off part of the debris and hit someone or damage vehicle property.”

  “Agreed,” he said as he took the document and signed on the dotted line. “Anything else?”

  “You’re doing the right thing, Sheriff,” she assured him, her big brown eyes rounding with sympathy. “I know it probably doesn’t feel that way right now, but you can trust Troy.”

  “Never in all my years did I ever think that my survival would come down to trusting a Quinn,” he complained then immediately allowed, “but that’s what I’m doing when I’m not holding my breath and biting my fist.”

  She offered him a proud, supportive smile then excused herself from his office, being sure to shut the door on her way out.

  If Rick really wanted to do the right thing, he’d kill Dante Alighieri himself, he thought.

  If he wanted to do the smart thing, however, he would tightly befriend Eddie Friendly, get as close as possible to Dante, and report back to Troy every single detail he could glean.

  So, that’s what he resolved to do.

  Rachel was right, though, it hardly felt right.

  ***

  Elizabeth was thoroughly miserable.

  The blazing, Wyoming sun was beating down. Her expensive high heels were sinking into soft earth beneath her dainty feet. And she was getting eaten alive by mosquitoes that looked large enough to have migrated from Africa.

  Dante seemed to be handling the elements well, however. Though his forehead was dusted over with dewy perspiration, he was unperturbed, had offered her his arm for balance and properly escorted her from his Lexus, and conducted himself as a well-mannered gentleman should.

  It had been especially delightful to ride with him in his luxury automobile, which had been cool and comfortable. Classical music had played lightly from the surround sound stereo, and Dante had engaged her with pleasant conversation. She would’ve never been able to find the giant plot of land without him, and quite frankly, she enjoyed his company. She hoped that they might perhaps discuss his buying the land over cocktails later today, but she didn’t want to get ahead of herself.

  The only thing that she would seriously like to hasten was standing out in this middle of nowhere field.

  “I’m impressed at how familiar you are with the land,” she complimented, offering him an easy smile. She felt a sudden sting on her neck and slapped herself, frowned, looked at the dot of blood on her fingers, the squashed mosquito therein. Damn bugs! “How long have you lived in Devil’s Fist?”

  As Dante walked her slowly deeper into the field—oh, Lord, why weren’t they heading back to the Lexus!—he responded in that strikingly deep, sexy tone of his, “It might surprise you to learn that I actually grew up here. You could say I have a distinct fondness for the place, though as you might have guessed, I certainly prefer cities for their conveniences and culture.”

  She chuckled, charmed by him and how similar they were.

  “But I’ve returned,” he went on, “with the aim of turning Devil’s Fist into the kind of remote, cosmopolitan oasis I think it could be. How grand would it be to have a casino on this land? Hotels and spas and shopping, restaurants boasting every cuisine in the world?”

  “That would be incredible,” she agreed.

  “Cultured individuals like you and I could finally enjoy Wyoming. This land is inches from Yellowstone. One could hike and immerse themselves in the wilderness, then get the burly stink off of them at a spa, lounge with cocktails, and enjoy the kind of nightlife they’re used to.”

  “If that was the case, Mr. Alighieri, I myself might visit Devil’s Fist from time to time.”

  “And that’s exactly what I aim to accomplish,” he promised.

  This was sounding promising. The fact that he was talking in terms of developing the land implied that he was ready to buy. Not only was Elizabeth thrilled for this prospect, but it felt right to her. Her father would’ve loved Dante Alighieri, and Dante’s vision very much matched that of her father’s. She hoped that somewhere up there in heaven, her father was looking down at her right now, feeling proud and pleased with the deal that would surely result in this little, uncomfortable trip out into the wilderness.

  “Did you know my father, Thomas Halsey?” she asked, intrigued by Dante.

  “I never met him, no, but I’ve heard of him of course. Your father was something of a legend in the real estate world.”

  She smiled proudly and agreed, “He was.”

  “I think he would be on board with my plans for this place.”

  “He would!”

  “If anything, I find it interesting that he never proceeded to develop the land himself,” Dante commented and again Elizabeth was struck by how simpatico they were. She had been wondering the exact same thing. “Construction costs are significantly lower in Wyoming than they are in metropolitan areas. Plus, the companies around these parts are eager to work.”

  She giggled and repeated, “Around these parts. You sound so folksy!”

  “A symptom of spending time in rural Wyoming,” he explained good-naturedly as they came to the tree line that marked what appeared to be a very dense forest. “Tell me,” he went on, helping her into the woods where the air
was significantly cooler. “Have you followed in your father’s footsteps? Are you also a real estate giant?”

  “Ha! Oh, no! I’m afraid I don’t have the head for it. I always enjoyed when my father took me to his building sites, and at times I felt that I could see myself selling condos and mansions. But when it comes to the paperwork, I’m afraid it’s much too daunting. I never got into real estate for that reason.”

  “Well,” he smiled, “a lovely lady like you shouldn’t have to work so hard to enjoy herself.”

  “Thank you,” she told him, thoroughly pleased that he felt that way. Her father had felt the same and though all of her girlfriends were also sheltered by their successful fathers, the older she got the clearer it had become to her that the majority of people out there resented such privilege. But why should she have to kill herself, working long hours and on weekends, when her father had done just that for the very purpose of sparing his daughter from such drudgery? It was quite refreshing to finally meet a handsome, charming man who felt the same way. “If I’m being honest, I’m eager to return to Los Angeles. I’m afraid Wyoming simply isn’t for me.”

  “No shame in that,” he said kindly. “But if you were interested in getting your feet wet in real estate,” he went on, “there’s a little property right in the heart of town I’ve got my eye on. I could take you under my wing, get you involved, and help you through the ins and outs of the deal.”

  “Well!” she exclaimed, lighting right up. “I would have to think about it, but I’m flattered you assume I would be capable!”

  “With the right mentor, anyone is capable of anything, that’s what I always say.”

  “Are you referring to that burned down building on Main and Bison?” she asked.

  “Yes, that would be the one.”

  “Hmm, what are you thinking of turning it into?” she asked, curious.

  “Success in real estate is all about rent,” he informed her as he offered her his arm and they started out of the woods and into the bright field from where they’d come. “I plan to simply rebuild the storefront space. There used to be an apartment above it. I still have to do a bit of research and perhaps petition the building codes, but I’d like to rent the retail space to a designer, something well known and big-box like Calvin Klein. Then, hopefully I’ll build a high-rise of condos above it.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she complimented.

  “I understand you’re eager to sell this land, Ms. Halsey,” he said as they came to his Lexus and Dante, like a true gentleman, opened the passenger’s side door for her and helped her in, “but knowing that once I buy it, you’ll go back to Los Angeles, gives me the urge to hesitate.”

  She felt her cheeks flush into a warm blush as she swooned, “Oh, Mr. Alighieri! You charm me!”

  “Ha! I’m sure you’re used to that,” he complimented before he shut her door.

  When he climbed in behind the wheel and started up his Lexus, she mentioned, “I might not rush off just yet. Why don’t we go over the paperwork and discuss your storefront idea further?”

  “I would love that. And call me Dante, please,” he said as they drove off towards the heart of the Fist.

  “Call me Elizabeth,” she smiled and then thought to herself, And call me yours.

  Chapter Three

  DEAN

  “What the hell are we going to do?” Dean demanded.

  All five of the Quinns had crammed themselves around the oval table in the conference room of Quinn Security. Beside Kaleb sat Lucy Cooper, his one true mate. Lucy was dressed in her Angel’s Food uniform and had limited time since she was supposed to be at the diner. Luckily, Angel Mercer had been in full support of her waitress attending this spur-of-the-moment meeting. The only other individual Dean would’ve liked to see present was Rachel Clancy, but she was on duty at the stationhouse and Conor hadn’t been able to convince her to come by. If anything, she was needed as close to the sheriff as possible.

  “Dante is walking around the Fist like he owns the place,” Dean told Troy before cutting his horrified eyes to Lucy Cooper, who had also witnessed the dark lord’s brazen display at the diner earlier that morning. “We all know that the sheriff has already dropped all cases against Dante and is in the midst of stripping Alighieri’s name from the police database, that’s one thing. But Dante isn’t in hiding anymore. He’s out and about, and if we attack him, we’re the ones who are going to get arrested.”

  “I’m just as concerned as you are,” Troy assured him. “But right now, it’s a wait-and-see situation.”

  “How can you say that?” Dean hotly replied. “Wait and see what?” he demanded.

  Lucy and Kaleb exchanged a worried look.

  “Look guys,” he went on. “It’s safe to assume that Dante is holding off until the full moon. We have two weeks, but if I have any say in the matter, I’m going to try to convince you that we really should attack him before the full moon. His powers will be stronger if we give him an advantage like that,” he argued.

  “So will ours, though,” Shane pointed out.

  “We know how to stop him,” Dean argued further. “It would have worked and we nearly had him.”

  “I shot the love of my life,” Conor reminded him. “It was a disaster.”

  “But the strategy itself is sound,” Dean insisted. “We all know that. When we tested the arrow-through-the-heart plan on Lucy, it worked. Why are we waiting and seeing? We should act and act right now.”

  Dean looked at his brothers around the table. Each and every one of them clearly felt his urgency, but they weren’t so fired up as to put their plans into immediate action.

  “Right now,” Troy reminded him, “we’re in a good position to find out what Dante is going to do. The sheriff is going to keep us updated and that will give us the edge.”

  Dean shook his head, in phenomenal disagreement.

  “Need I remind you, Dean—”

  “No, you needn’t,” he cut Troy off. “You’re the werewolf king. I have no choice but to follow your orders,” he recited as he slumped into his chair, disgruntled to say the least.

  After a moment, however, Dean felt like he couldn’t be there. He needed air and as much as it pained him to admit to himself, it really irked him that Elizabeth, his supposed one true mate, was somehow involved with Dante Alighieri.

  Dean might have been concerned that Elizabeth had already been turned by Dante and under his control, but that didn’t seem possible, not if she truly was meant to be Dean’s one true mate as Troy had told him. But then again, he happened to know that things could go terribly awry. Both Reece and Whitney had been abducted by Dante and his minions. Rachel had also been captured and could’ve very easily been turned or killed by Dante. She wasn’t even Conor’s one true mate. Therefore, Dean had no reason to trust that Elizabeth would be safe, especially if she was actually parading around town with the dark, devilish lord.

  She might have seriously rubbed him the wrong way, but no one—no matter how entitled or spoiled they were—deserved to be vulnerable to losing their soul to Dante Alighieri.

  As Shane went on to express concerns for Sheriff Rick Abernathy, obviously aiming to resolve the situation before his fiancé and Rick’s daughter, Whitney, could find out, Dean stood from his chair and eased towards the door.

  “This meeting hasn’t been adjourned,” Troy told him.

  “You remember that woman you think is my one true mate?”

  Conor asked, “Your one true mate is in town?”

  Before he could answer, Kaleb said, “You met her?”

  “Yeah, I met her,” Dean told his brothers. “And she met with Dante this morning at Angel’s Food. I’d like to make sure she isn’t getting sucked down into the pits of hell right now if you don’t mind.”

  “Go,” said Troy.

  Dean was tempted to suggest that his brother and werewolf king had been phenomenally wrong about Elizabeth. There was no way she was meant for Dean. But doing so would�
��ve been a spiteful waste of time.

  He slipped out of the conference room and tore through Quinn Security.

  After climbing into his pickup truck, he drove along Berry Road and veered south, heading straight for the heart of the Fist.

  What in the hell had Elizabeth even been doing with Dante Alighieri? And where would they have gone?

  Dean pulled up right in front of Angel’s Food and scanned the parked cars up and down both sides of the street, looking for Elizabeth’s sleek, black Mercedes. It was parked right in front of the dilapidated building that used to be Devil’s Advocate. Maybe she was still in the diner?

  He jumped out and when he reached the hostess stand inside of Angel’s Food, he looked across the restaurant to every single customer, but Elizabeth wasn’t among them.

  Damn.

  Outside, he jogged across the street and neared her car. He touched the hood and though it was warm, he knew that was only from the sun’s heat and not because the vehicle had been driven.

  Just as he was about to tear through each and every store along Main Street looking for her, he smelled her perfume.

  It was mixed and muddled with the charred scent of burned down building behind him.

  Was Elizabeth inside?”

  He neared the smoke streaked glass of the entrance door that had been partially shattered from the blaze and saw Elizabeth giggling next to Dante Alighieri inside.

  She was clutched to his arm.

  Dean felt the urge to puke.

  “Imagine,” Dante boldly invited her as he gestured to the burnt space around them, “Mannequins donning the finest Chanel dresses across the floor, a little leather lounge bench here. This will be boutique shopping at its finest. The salesgirls will offer champagne and chocolate covered strawberries!”

  “I love it!” she clapped and Dean scowled as they pivoted.

  Elizabeth shrieked in surprise when she saw Dean standing just outside of the shattered glass door.