style="font-size:15px;"> “That sounds weird coming out of a guy’s mouth.”
“I’m sure it’s not the first weird thing I’ve said.”
“True.” She smirked.
At least it wasn’t a scowl.
“Billie, you need time to recuperate from your fall. I’m going to make sure you do just that.”
“I’ll rest better in my own bed.”
“That may be true, but your apartment is the first place someone will look for you.”
“‘Someone,’” she sighed. “I wish I knew who ‘someone’ was.”
“I’m working on it.”
She glanced at him in question.
“I’ve hired a private investigator to look into things,” he explained.
“I asked you not to do that. I can’t afford—”
“He’s a friend and he owes me a favor, okay?”
“Okay.” She shifted slightly, wincing against the pain of bruised ribs.
His gut twisted when she did that. He wanted to ease her pain somehow, yet knew there wasn’t a lot you could do about bruised ribs but let them heal on their own.
“We’ll ice the ribs as soon as we get there,” he said.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ve got a suite at Echo Mountain Resort.”
“I can’t afford those rooms.”
“I own the place, remember?” He winked.
“But Aiden needs the rooms for real guests.”
“They’re not even at half capacity, plus they’ve got a solid security system and plenty of activity. Even if the guy finds out where you are, he wouldn’t risk making a move on you in a busy setting like that.”
She sighed. “I guess, if that’s my best option.”
“It is, in my opinion.”
“You’ll drop me off and head back to Waverly Harbor?”
He hesitated before answering. “I know you want me to say yes, but I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Talk about a loaded question.
“I need to make sure you’re okay,” he said.
“Because I’m still your wounded-bird project?”
“Don’t say that.”
“Or is it because you feel guilty?”
He clenched the steering wheel, but didn’t answer. He had plenty to feel guilty about, from taking away her husband’s income by closing the plant to letting her develop an attachment to Quinn when he knew it wasn’t real.
“You don’t have to feel guilty about anything, Quinn. I was fragile when I first went to work for you, but I’m different now and I can stand on my own two—”
A bump from behind made Billie yelp.
He’d been distracted by their conversation and hadn’t noticed a car following way too close. Eyeing the rearview mirror, he considered speeding up but didn’t want to put them both at risk by going too fast for conditions and spinning off the road.
The car retreated and flashed its lights.
“Does he want us to stop?” she said, eyeing the side mirror.
“That’s not happening.”
The car smacked into them again. Billie lurched forward and groaned against the pain in her ribs.
Quinn handed her his phone. “Call 9-1-1.”
She focused intently on the phone and made the call. “My name is Billie Bronson,” she said. “We’re on Route 2 and someone is trying to run us off the road.”
Quinn again glanced at the car in his rearview mirror. It dropped back even farther. Not good.
“Tell them we’ve been working with Detective Issacs,” Quinn said.
He glanced into the rearview and noticed the car speed up.
“Billie!” He instinctively threw his arm across her body to brace her.
The other car clipped Quinn’s bumper.
Quinn spun the wheel to avoid careening into a ditch. He tapped the brake but lost control as they skidded into a full spin.
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