Probably a car wreck.
Quinn wished she had shared a closer bond with Demi. Maybe her sister would have turned to her for help instead of running off. Pregnant, alone and probably scared.
Her thoughts drifted back to the cabin at Pine Paradise Tia had given her the key to. It would make a perfect place for her and West to honeymoon before Tia sold the property. Or share a day or two alone, away from the prying eyes of her neighbors. This business of him sneaking in and out of her apartment was taxing.
Shifting the covered dish in her hands, she saw Tia’s office. Tia had a small storefront at the edge of downtown, next to Lulu’s Boutique, a small shop offering imported Italian clothing and accessories. The closed sign hung on the boutique. Lulu usually closed shop at noon and drove home to feed and walk her two dogs.
No such lunch break for Tia. Tia never stopped hustling. Like the Larson twins, Tia liked money. Once or twice she’d seen the twins in Tia’s office. Not surprising. Tia had a harsh personality, as pushy as the Larson brothers.
Perhaps they talked shop, or looking for bigger and better deals. Yesterday she’d overheard Tia on the phone talking about Pine Paradise. Tia was not a happy person during that convo.
She peered through the front window of Tia’s office. The vertical blinds were drawn almost all the way across. Odd. Tia loved to leave them open, wave to pedestrians. Look important, doing deals, making money.
Making money for her clients.
Quinn shaded her eyes. The office was dark inside, but she could barely make out Tia’s desk. The woman wasn’t there. But a man dressed in a suit stood by the big mahogany desk Tia had bragged cost her a small fortune. The overhead fluorescent lights picked up the shining gleam of his black hair, worn long, down to his collar.
He turned, showing his profile, his expression slightly cruel, cold. A shiver raced down Quinn’s spine. She looked at the unruly cowlick sticking up from his hair. A cigar stump dangled from his mouth.
He didn’t look friendly, or welcoming. More like the type who threatened. Then he ran out the back door, fleeing as if the hounds of hell were chasing him.
Quinn hesitated. Wasn’t she being judgmental? The lighting inside could have made him look mean. Maybe Tia wasn’t working as hard as she claimed and she had a new love. Perhaps he didn’t want anyone knowing they indulged in a session of afternoon delight.
Tia, you could have picked a better lover. This guy looks like he gets off on playing it rough. Gooseflesh sprang out on her arms.
I’ve seen him before. But where? She frowned. Maybe at Tia’s office?
None of her business. Only delivering the meal was.
And getting paid.
Quinn set down the food carrier to fumble with the doorknob. She opened the door and grimaced as the stench of cigar smoke wafted outside. As she went to pick up the casserole, she saw a flash of white as an enormous KA-POW slammed the air. A giant hand punched her with a hammering fist, hurling her through the air back into the street. And then the world went dark and she felt no more.
The shift in air pressure and the tremendous explosion rattled windows and made the ground shake. West instinctively dropped to the sidewalk, spilling the paper bag, and covered his head.
Screams filled the air. He waited for a few seconds, but it felt like minutes, before rising and looking at the edge of town.
In the direction Quinn had strolled. His heart dropped to his stomach and he raced to his truck, where Rex sat in the front seat, the air-conditioning running. West opened the truck, grabbed Rex’s leash, but the dog needed no coaxing.
They both ran in the direction of the explosion. Locals stared at the building, now engulfed in flames. West was already running, phoning for backup. No need, for the whole damn county must have heard the blast.
Not Quinn. Please, not Quinn. Let her be far away, hell, in the next town. Not Quinn. Not when he’d finally found her, allowed himself to feel again after all these years...
The real estate office was leveled, white smoke pouring from it. Safety first. It had been drilled into him, but that was for cases. Not for the love of his life.
Boards and rubble lay everywhere, shards of glass sharp enough to slice through skin. Flames licked at the back of the building. Ordering Rex to stay back, he picked his way through the rubble.
Quinn always delivered Tia’s meals in person...putting them on her desk. He had been there once, knew the agent worked at an expansive desk in the back. Everything in the back was splintered, fragments of a profession...of a life. Smoke billowed through the air.
Where the hell was Quinn? He’d seen her head in this direction, knew she was delivering Tia’s lunch. Maybe she hadn’t entered. Please, he prayed. Let her be okay. He whistled for the dog.
“Rex, find Quinn,” he yelled out.
Rex nosed through the rubble toward the front of the shop, clambering over boards and debris.
Rubble was everywhere. Rex barked, the signal for finding a human. Boards and a chair covered a petite figure sprawled on the ground. West lifted the board and tossed it aside to find a woman lying on her back. A shattered food container, and mangled bits of pasta, was nearby.
Quinn. She couldn’t be dead. His breath hitched, and then he saw her chest rise and fall. Relief made him weak, but he got a grip.
Alive, but unconscious, bleeding heavily from a laceration to her head. Blood streamed down the side of her face. West shrugged out of his jacket, tore off his white T-shirt and held it to her head to stanch the bleeding.
Not daring to move her further, in case of a neck injury and shattered vertebrae, he held his shirt against her head, his hand trembling.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he whispered, everything inside him bunched up in knots. Rex licked her face.
People were running toward him. The whine of sirens grew louder. Help was arriving. Hurry. In his mind’s eye, he flashed back to that terrible night when he was a teenager. House burning, broken glass littering the front yard, his screams echoing through the night as the sirens wailed a mocking song... Too late, too late, too late...
Not too late. Quinn was breathing. Alive.
EMTs rushed forward. One medical professional squatted by him, opened a kit. West was dully aware of the man trying to shoulder him aside.
“We’ve got this,” the paramedic assured him. “Let us treat her.”
Let her go. They’re professionals. But everything inside him screamed to hold on and not let go of Quinn because if he did, he could lose her.
She might die, just like his mother, father and little sisters.
She will die if you don’t move it, Brand.
Dragging in a deep breath,
