Chapter 4
four
Quinn
“ J ust dropping off a friend, officer Cortez,” I reply to the woman after reading her name badge. She’s already made a note of my plate number and details of my vehicle. Now that the lightly tinted window is down, she scans the interior, lingering a moment on Storm.
“You live here, ma’am?”
Storm nods. “Apartment seven,” she says then presses her lips together. It’s a showing tell. She’s had interactions with the police, not necessarily good ones.
“And your name?”
Storm releases a slow breath before answering. “Storm Rankin.”
The officer offers a smile. “Any relation to Rankin’s Repair? They did a great job when my car needed a new head gasket.”
Storm’s shoulders relax and she returns a tentative grin. “My dad owns the shop. I work there.”
“I’ve recommended the shop to friends. So, on to practical matters. Unfortunately it’s not a good idea for you to stay here while our investigation is ongoing.”
With panic rising in my chest, I jump into the conversation. “Will she be in danger if she remains here?”
“More inconvenience than danger, sir. Of course, we’ll have questions considering her apartment is adjacent to our crime scene, but since you weren’t here prior to our… arrival, we won’t need to talk right away. Just let me know where you’ll be staying in case something comes up in the meantime.”
“She’ll be at the Excalibur. Room twenty-four ten.”
At Storm’s gasp, I realize I’ve made a stupid man mistake by speaking for her. But shit, there’s no way she can stay here. I turn an apologetic expression toward her frown. Despite only knowing her a couple of hours, I will fight her on this. “I can’t—won’t—leave you here now. I’m sorry if that makes you angry, but in all good conscience, I need you to be safe. I can take you anywhere else. As long as it’s safe.”
The thought of leaving her like that sours the food in my stomach. Where did all this protective attitude come from? Holding my breath, I wait for her response.
She leans forward to speak to the officer. “I’ll be at the Excalibur.” Then she focuses on me. “But I don’t know what room yet. I’ll contact you with that information once it’s settled.”
The officer hands her a card. “I appreciate that, Ms. Rankin.”
Storm tucks the card into her small bag. “Can I get some stuff—clothes and that kind of thing from my apartment?”
After checking with her superior and apologizing for the need to observe and check out what Storm takes, the officer accompanies Storm into her apartment.
Waiting at the edge of the parking area is one of the longest ten minutes of my life. Even though my thoughts ram into each other chasing away logic and good sense, all I’m really able to focus on is Storm and keeping her safe. Getting to know her better while playing the protector is a benefit I’m looking forward to.
I haven’t been interested in a woman since my ex stomped away. I haven’t missed the companionship or the touch of a soft hand. Until today. Storm is a mechanic and I’d watched her long fingered hands over dinner. Doing the work she does, she might not have the softest skin. Rubbing my palms over my knees, I fight the image of her touching me.
As well as the powerful urge to touch her. To compare her working hands to the softer skin elsewhere on her body. It isn’t a good idea for her to stay in my room. For either of us. With a huff, I pull my phone from my pocket and call the hotel.
After a lengthy discussion and search for an empty room I disconnect and scrub my hand through my hair. Before I come up with a viable plan, Storm knocks on the passenger side window. Once the locks click, she opens the door to the back seat and studies the pair of car seats before tossing a bulging duffle to the floor.
She settles into the passenger seat and crosses her arms. “That was fun. Not. The cops have no idea how long they’ll need me to stay away.” Her voice softens and I strain to hear. “Not that this place is anything great to come home to.”
“I called the hotel. There’s no available rooms.”
Her finely shaped brows arch, challenging my statement.
“Really. You can check with the desk when we get there. Some big business conference reserved a huge block of rooms.”
She remains silent for a long moment. “Take me to the shop. I’ll stay there.”
“There’s a bed there?”
She turns her head to look out the side window. “Well, uh, no. But I can curl up on the office floor. I enjoy camping. I can rough it for a few days.”
“Not a good option.” That fierce protectiveness rises again and I swallow hard.
Facing me again, she fastens her seatbelt. “You’re not responsible for me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. No matter where I end up, I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will.” The admission is true, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. “Work with me here. I’d like to believe we’ve become friends over the course of the evening. Friends who are concerned about each other’s welfare. Yes, I am concerned for your safety. And yes, that concern brings a sense of responsibility. It’s who I am.”
With a quick glance toward the back seat, she says, “I’ll bet you’re a great dad.”
“I hope so. Being a single parent is a challenge but one I’m glad to face every day. I’m looking forward to introducing you to my kids.” Ah hell. From her closed expression that wasn’t the right thing to say. Before I can awkwardly take back my last statement, she speaks.
“I really do understand, but whatever relationship we might have is too new. Too fresh.” Her words form a gentle rejection yet there’s a different emotion now sparkling in her eyes. Interest? Attraction? Something more than just a friendship between us?
Aching to push the issue, I grip the steering wheel as though it holds all the answers that I’m trying to absorb through my palms. Silence fills the vehicle—a rarity when my rambunctious kids are my only passengers. Expecting the moment to grow uncomfortable, I tense my shoulders. What can I say to convince her?
“Quinn?”
My phone chimes with the baby shark song. My daughter’s tone. Many other parents have told me I’m spoiling her by giving her a phone at age six. But she’s only allowed to have it when she’s away from home. “I’ve got to take this. Okay?”
Chuckling, she waves away my concern. “From that ringtone, I’m guessing it’s one of your kids. No problem.”
Nodding my thanks, I answer. “Emmerii, what’s wrong?”
In her way too adult voice, she informs me that her brother won’t go to bed without me reading him his current favorite story.
“Can’t Grammy read it?”
“No, Daddy. She tried but Isaac covered his ears.” Her voice goes soft and muffled like she’s covering her mouth with her hand. “I think Grammy’s gonna cry.”
I’m not surprised. My ex’s mother is an airhead who, when something goes wrong, takes everything personally. It’s no wonder my ex turned out such a self-involved bitch.
“Tell Grammy not to worry. I’ll be there as soon as I can, but it’ll take a few minutes. See if you can get Isaac into bed.”
“Okay. Thanks, Daddy. See you soon.”
I let out a harsh breath and disconnect. “My son is in a phase where he won’t accept anyone but me reading a bedtime story and tucking him in. I need to get back to the hotel right away.”
She looks ready to make a suggestion I know I’m not going to like.
“Storm, how about a compromise? Come back to the hotel with me and wait in my room while I deal with my demanding child. I’ll probably have to calm his grandmother down, too. She’s great with the kids when everything’s going well and to plan but is fairly useless in stressful situations. And knowing my son, his actions have created a stressful situation for her. After everyone’s settled, we’ll figure out where you’re staying.”
“That works.”
Surprised my suggestion is accepted without argument or negotiation I stare at her for a long moment.
“What?” she asks with a sweet grin. “I can be reasonable. Kids come first.” Her smile slips a bit. “At least they should.”
That sounds like she’s speaking from experience. Questions rise in my brain while a dull ache starts in my chest. I won’t pursue this now. I just want to see her sparkling smile again.
“Thank you.”
When we leave her apartment’s parking lot, I notice a recent model white sedan pull out from the next street. Under the circumstances and with possible drug dealers in the area, I can’t put my finger on a reason, but there’s something about the car that makes me suspicious. I keep an eye on the vehicle which follows at a reasonable distance. I tell myself I’m being paranoid but when the car turns onto the street leading to the hotel parking area, I slow, hoping the driver comes closer so I can catch the license number.
No luck, and when I enter the hotel’s drive, the car continues forward, finally signaling and turning toward the Strip.
Storm has remained silent the entire trip and once we park, she grabs her duffle. I’m not sure she means to stay with me after all or just doesn’t want to be separated from her belongings. Probably the later. Disappointment settles in my belly. This woman is really getting to me.
We stop at the desk where I ask for a second key card which I hand to her. “In case.” She tucks it into the back pocket of her jeans and gives it a pat, drawing my attention to her full, softly rounded hips and thick thighs. My mouth waters. Fuck. I am so in trouble.
Keeping my mind focused on my kids, I drop her off at my room before moving down the hall to the suite where the kids are staying with their grandmother. I’ve got a key to the suite so let myself in to a cacophony of a shrieking boy, music, and the sobs of an overwhelmed older woman.
When Isaac notices me standing in the bedroom doorway he snaps his mouth closed and grins, holding out his arms to me. I shake my head. “I’m not happy with your behavior, Isaac.”
“I know, Daddy. But you’re the only one who reads my book the right way.” His eyes go wide and pleading.
“We talked about this, kiddo. There are times when I’m just not going to be around.”
“But you’re here tonight. That’s the important time.”
This isn’t the moment to be fighting a four year old’s logic. Besides, as I often have to remind myself, I am the parent. “I’m going to talk to your grammy. You get under the covers and I’ll be back in a few.”
Emmerii turns off the music. “I’ll get him there. So, Isaac, who’re you going to sleep with tonight?”
He starts jumping on the bed. “Squishy Squid. Squishy Squid.”
Allowing him to use up some of the sugar energy he’s probably stored up after a day with Grammy, I back from the room and find Helene in her bedroom staring out the window. At least she’s stopped crying.
It takes longer than I hope to completely calm her down and assure her she’s doing fine with kids. Then Isaac insists on hearing his book twice before his yawns take over. As usually Emmerii is my sweet little helper in getting him settled. Once both are in bed, properly kissed and tucked in, I wave to Helene and exit the suite.
With my back against the door, I stare down the hall toward my room. There’s a damn good chance Storm took my lengthy absence as an opportunity to leave. Can’t say I’d blame her. What woman wants to start a relationship with a guy who has demanding kids? Well hell. Am I really considering starting a relationship with Storm? There’s something about her that calls to me. Something I want.
My steps drag along the oddly patterned carpet. Key card in hand, I stand in front of my door and silently chuckle at myself. This is how I felt when I picked up my first date way back in high school. Then I’d almost convinced myself she wouldn’t be home, that her agreement to go out with me was a trick. Tonight I’m almost convinced Storm did cut and run the moment I’d shut the door to my mother-in-law’s suite.
Standing here isn’t going to change anything in either scenario. I scan the card and open the door.