Chapter 12
Water sloshed over Quin’s head and ran in rivulets underneath his jacket and shirt. He’d thought the power outage was due to the storm. Now, he wasn’t so damn sure. He shined the flashlight over the ground as he made his way around the side of Josie’s cabin. Liam’s gun sat snugly in his other palm.
Quin’s boots squished in the wet earth. Lightning flashed.
A tall, dark figure stood at the line of trees.
“Hey!” Quin broke into a run. He pumped his arms, his footsteps smacking into the mud, spraying his legs. He kept the flashlight beam on his target as the man turned and dashed into the woods.
Quin followed. Anger fierce and hot surged through him. He had him—Liam’s killer. And the bastard would face retribution tonight.
“Stop!” he bellowed, his rage pushing the limits of containment. Quin barreled through the trees. Branches whacked his legs and body, but he didn’t slow.
The man slipped in the mud. He went down to his knees then scrambled back up, but Quin was getting closer.
He gripped the flashlight in his fist and held it over his head.
He pumped his legs and sprinted the last twenty feet.
The man looked back. His face was mostly hidden in shadows, but his mouth was twisted with fear.
Quin bent low and rammed his shoulder into the guy’s midsection, taking him down—he landed on his back with a loud oof as Quin moved on top of him.
Satisfaction coursed through Quin’s veins.
He ripped the man’s hood off his head then shined the light directly in his face.
The man blinked. Mud coated his cheeks and his hair was a mess, but his identity was unmistakable.
“You sonofabitch,” Quin breathed. He slammed the butt of the gun down on Frasier’s jaw.
Frasier fought and struggled, holding his hands up to protect his head. “I didn’t do anything! I—”
“You killed Liam,” Quin hissed. Needing to feel his fist on Frasier’s face, he dropped the flashlight and delivered a punch to his cheekbone. “You tried to run Josie over,” he said. His fury became too great. He gripped Frasier’s throat in his hand. “You’re going to pay.”
Frasier’s eyes, bulging and red, locked with Quin’s. He shook his head vehemently.
“I didn’t . . . wasn’t me,” he gasped. “Please.”
Quin loosened his grip. Frasier needed to be behind bars. “Don’t fucking lie,” he spat. “You’re going to jail for what you did.”
Frasier sucked in three greedy breaths of air. “I swear to god. I didn’t do anything to Liam or Josie. Why the fuck would I?”
“Why are you here?” He couldn’t let on about the photos. Giving Frasier information on what kind of dirt they had would only help the guy slip through the cracks of the justice system.
“Because of you!” Frasier shoved at his shoulder and rolled out from under him.
Quin backed up enough to let him push into a sitting position. He kept the gun aimed low but picked up the flashlight, ready to thump him again if he tried anything.
“You broke into my house. You’re the one who should be arrested.” Frasier rubbed his throat. “I have cameras on my property. I checked the footage this afternoon and saw you going into my backyard then walking right into my damn house.”
Quin jerked his head toward the property. “So you came here? To Josie’s?”
“Where else would you be? I knew if you were in town someone was hiding you.” He swiped a drop of blood from his lip. “I should have reported it to the police, but I wanted to know what you came for.”
Quin’s pulse beat frantically. If Frasier planned to press charges he’d have to run again.
Have to leave Josie at a time like this when someone was after her.
Desperation scratched his throat. “I’m a mess, man.
I feel like someone killed Liam. It’s just not right how he died.
Then a driver tried to run Josie off the road this morning and I thought you had something to do with it because Cody mentioned you were at the logging site the day Liam’s harness broke. ”
Frasier let out a sigh and got to his feet. “You didn’t take anything from my house?”
Quin shook his head, the lie rolling easily. After all, he hadn’t taken anything physical. “No. I just went in to see if there was anything that tied you to Liam. A reason you’d want him or Josie hurt.”
Frasier threw his arms into the air. “Well, I don’t. Barely even talked to Liam. He was nice enough though, and geez, I’ve had readings done by Josie. Sure wouldn’t want to hurt her.” Frasier let out a loose chuckle. “She’d probably hex me.”
Quin’s body turned rigid. He was lying. He’d attacked Josie and Liam had beat the shit out of him, but he couldn’t let on that he knew that.
That was for the police to figure out. Not to mention Josie was the last person who would put a hex on someone.
She sure as hell wasn’t into anything dark. “Josie wouldn’t—”
“Look, I shouldn’t have come here. I could have called Josie but I knew she’d just cover for you. I wanted to see if you were staying here then was going to call the police. I don’t think I need to do that now.”
Quin rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. Indecision fought inside him. He couldn’t forcefully take Frasier to the police station, not when he didn’t have enough evidence. Doing so might derail the case he was building.
“Are we done here, or . . . ?”
Quin forced down a frustrated growl. Keep your friends close and all that. “Don’t creep around Josie’s place anymore. She’s got enough on her plate without having to worry about being stalked.”
Frasier hung his head. “Fuck, I feel bad about that. I saw red when I watched you enter my house. I wish I’d have gone about things a different way. No hard feelings?” Frasier stuck out his hand, his gregarious manner suspicious as fuck.
Quin shook it.
“My car’s over here,” Frasier said, nodding in the direction of the field. Please tell Josie I didn’t mean to scare her.” He lifted his hand in a wave and marched through the field.
The need to chase him down, to force more answers from him, coursed through Quin’s veins. But what could he do? He couldn’t kill him, like he wanted to. Couldn’t hold him against his will. And going to the police with the evidence he had wasn’t going to do a thing.
He stormed through the forest. He was soaked through the skin and the trees offered little shelter. He couldn’t fix all of Josie’s problems, but there was one thing he could do. He could hold her. Make love to her. And make sure she kept him around long after tonight.
He emerged into the clearing, stepped through the line of trees, and trampled over the wet grass of her backyard.
He approached the side of the house, heading toward the front door so he could double-check the area before going inside, and tucked the gun beneath his shirt at the small of his back.
He needed a long, hot shower after this.
The image of taking Josie into the shower with him flashed through his mind.
Yeah, that’d be fun. Even if they only had a bit of hot water left.
He passed the line of bushes that separated Josie’s house from the east side of the woods. A shadow moved and he stopped.
Jesus, he thought, please don’t let me encounter a wild animal.
Smack
Something hard cracked against his skull. He fell forward in the mud, and his face bounced off the ground. Pain exploded between his ears and a ringing sound screeched like a siren.
No. Josie!
He had to get up and fight. Get her out of the house before the man got to her. Gravity pulled his cheek to the earth, and the sucking sound of boots in mud reached his ears. The world tilted around him.
He watched the man skulk toward Josie’s house as numbness paralyzed his limbs.
* * *
Josie blinked in the darkness. The light from her phone, the incense, and the candle she’d lit allowed her to see a little better.
The noise had come from the bedroom—again.
The moisture evaporated from her tongue as fear replaced her saliva with acid.
Quin wouldn’t let someone get to the house, unless . . .
Oh, god. Was Quin hurt? He could be dead, lying outside, facedown in the ground.
Her heart beat erratically, making her chest spasm.
Please, God. Let him be okay.
She couldn’t handle another person close to her dying a gruesome death.
She inched her fingers toward her phone.
She needed to try to reach the police station again, but she didn’t dare dial and make noise.
The sharp sound of wind whipping through the cabin made the muscles in her body turn to stone.
A window was open. She sure as heck hadn’t done it.
She scanned the altar for something to use as a weapon.
Her large smoky quartz sat nestled behind her incense burner.
She scooped the rock in her hand and gripped its weight, holding the rough stone at the height of her shoulder.
It wasn’t a gun—why hadn’t she thought to pull out Liam’s other gun from the safe? —but it would do some damage.
She swept her feet slowly over the cool hardwood floor.
The slight sticking from moisture on her feet made her wince.
Her breath spiraled in her lungs and she kept it clamped inside.
She stayed close to the wall as she moved down the hallway.
Stretching her fingers along the drywall, she touched the doorframe and tried to focus her vision.
If someone was waiting in her room, she couldn’t screw up.
Couldn’t hesitate. She had to take them down.
Whirling into the room she let out a scream.
Lightning flashed, brightening the room.
Empty. She exhaled as her pulse raced viciously.
The window next to her dresser was open a good twelve inches.
She moved closer. The floor was wet. Rain blew in to kiss her cheeks.
She scanned the grounds outside and the scent of wet pine reached her nostrils.
Grabbing the glass, she slammed it shut. Quin should have been back by now.
Something’s not right.
She had to go outside and check. He was going to kill her, but he’d been gone long enough. She’d get the shotgun from the safe in the loft. Holding the crystal at her side, she turned away from the window and breezed to the bedroom door.
A dark form stepped in front of her, blocking her from the hallway.
A scream caught in her throat. Warning bells clanged in her head.
Her mind did a rapid assessment. The man wore all black, and although he stood close to Quin’s height, he most definitely wasn’t Quin.
She opened her mouth but his hand closed around her throat, hauling her back to his chest.
“You’re coming with me.”
Terror pierced her veins. Something rough and sharp poked her palm—the crystal.
The man shoved her down the hall, his arm now firmly around her chest. She only had one shot.
Gripping the stone in her fist, she whirled around and slammed the edge of the rock into his skull. The man staggered against the wall.
She swung again and the stone connected with his jaw.
“Jesus, fuck!”
She turned and ran, letting a scream rip from her lungs. The living room bounced around her as she charged for the back door. Air pressed against her lungs, begging to be let out, but she couldn’t waste the energy on another scream. She had to get out and find help.
Please, God. Let Quin be okay.
She yanked open the back door, flinging it on its hinges as she slammed her shoulder into the screen door. A hand sank into her hair and jerked her backward. The attacker caught her wrist and smacked her hand against the door jamb. Pain shot through her fingers as the stone fell from her grasp.
She opened her mouth and something bashed against her temple. The lights flickered in her brain and her legs wobbled like jelly. Rough hands seized her as the world faded to ash around her.