Chapter 41
Quinn
“Perry is going away for life.”
The words sank into the pit of Quinn’s stomach, heavy and painful with both relief and anger.
His lawyer, Kenneth West, was the best lawyer money could buy, and he was damn good at his job. If he was telling Quinn that Perry would be in jail for the rest of his life, then he believed him.
“Once you handed me those pictures and tapes with his voice giving orders off camera, I knew it was over,” Kenneth continued, frowning grimly at the papers on the desktop.
“Mr. Snow was not the only victim, as we suspected. When the investigators gave Mrs. Snow a search warrant and tore the attic apart, they found more than enough proof to convict him of multiple crimes, and there’s no way for him to wiggle out of the charges. He’s done.”
Quinn nodded and thrummed his fingers on the glossy table. He was having this meeting in Kenneth’s office because he had to be downtown for his date with August, but he wasn’t sure how hungry he would be after he left.
“What about her and all the other church members August talked about?” Quinn asked. “Was there anything that could lead to more charges on the tapes?”
Kenneth closed the folder and leaned in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Perry was the only one on the tapes that we know of. The rest are still being looked at, but it seems like he was the one who did most of the hard work while the others paid for it. The church is being investigated as well, so if there’s anything hidden, I will find it.
I won’t rest until those disgusting monsters see justice, Quinn.
Leave the hard stuff to me, and you focus on Mr. Snow. ”
The slow process was killing him, but it meant that the detectives were being thorough, and that was good news.
“Call him August, please,” said Quinn. “I have to convince him to change his last name so he’s not associated with his failure of a mother, too.”
Kenneth smirked, and Quinn wasn’t blind to how gorgeous the dark-haired, blue-eyed, dangerous-looking man was. He appeared so prim and proper until he rolled up his sleeves in court to show off his tattooed arms, and then it was game on.
Their relationship had always been strictly professional, but Quinn could appreciate his attractiveness from afar just for fun.
At least he wasn’t sitting with his mouth open like August had the first time they met. The puckhead was still coming to grips with the fact that he liked looking at men, and he wasn’t handling it very well because it was easy to see when someone caught his eye.
Kenneth had laughed it off, but he had been in a great mood during the conversation, and extra gentle with August when he had to talk about the harder topics regarding their case.
“Mrs. Snow will be dealt with,” said Kenneth.
“Her world is falling apart around her. She’s been disowned by her son, and her church is being torn down on top of her.
And to make matters worse for her and better for you, her marriage to August’s father was never official, so legally, she’s not a Snow. ”
Quinn drew in a breath and held it, then let it out with a laugh. He couldn’t fucking believe the dirt they were digging up on these assholes—literally, since the evidence came from the ground in August’s basement.
Kenneth waited for Quinn to stop laughing, but he was smiling along with him when he spoke again. “This will be going to trial, and I know it will be difficult for him, but we will need to call August to the stand to testify when the time comes. Do you think he can do it?”
Quinn didn’t hesitate to nod. Even without the restraints, August was one of the bravest people Quinn had ever met, even if he didn’t believe it.
“He’ll be there,” said Quinn. “Perry was in the same room as my—our nieces, and he’s not going to let that slide. You can count on him, and I’ll make sure he’s prepared for whatever happens.”
Kenneth leaned forward and reached across the desk, touching his fingers to the back of Quinn’s hand. “I will walk him through it as many times as he needs, okay? The questions the defence will ask will be tough, but I’ll shut them down if they try to push too far. You have my word.”
That was the reassurance Quinn was looking for. He wouldn’t forgive himself if this trial left August broken beyond repair.
“I won’t start meeting with August until the playoffs are over,” Kenneth said with a charming smile. “Big game tonight, eh? If Vancouver wins, they’re taking the cup home.”
Quinn was aware. When he wasn’t at the hospital listening to Eren grumble about it during his speech therapy, he was at home listening to Alara and Emira scream about it while they ran circles around the TV, or he was at August’s place, and that—
Lord, how did he find himself in a house full of hockey players? Nollan rarely went home, if ever, because he was stuck to Niko like a tick. And August was so locked into game mode that he didn’t seem to realize that he had acquired a goaltender as a roommate.
And the dumb thing was, Quinn was planning on moving Eren and the girls into August’s place. He was tired of going back and forth, and he wanted the girls and Eren close once he was discharged from the hospital.
The house was massive, so there was room for all of them, but Niko would have to take one of the rooms on the second floor so that Eren and his nieces could claim the area downstairs.
This wouldn’t happen until after summer, of course, because Quinn had already been making plans with Jett to take over their summer home. Harrison had an entire building built for rehabilitation on his property, and he already knew a guy who could help Eren regain his mobility.
Besides, fresh air and soothing nature were supposed to be great for mental health, and Niko had a cottage built and ready for them to occupy. The boys even had a rink to skate on so they could do their conditioning and training for the next season. It was a win-win.
“I’m a Toronto guy myself,” said Kenneth, his voice abruptly ending Quinn’s daydreams of swimming in the lake and painting in sunlit rooms. “So, don’t take offence when I say I hope Vancouver loses and we go to game six. A back-to-back cup win would be fantastic.”
Quinn was saved from having to answer when Kenneth’s desk phone rang softly, putting an end to the hockey conversation.
“Excuse me for a moment, Quinn.” Kenneth picked up the phone and held it to his ear. “Elizabeth, what is it? Did they find something?”
Quinn heard a woman respond, her pitch suggesting she was frazzled or panicked; he couldn’t really tell.
“Let them in right away,” Kenneth said, and he hung up before she could respond.
He stood, and Quinn stood with him because he wasn’t sure what was happening, and if he had to leave, he wanted to make a quick exit. But when Niko Cote burst through the closed door with so much force that the handle cracked against the wall, Quinn’s heart plummeted to the floor.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” said Niko. He strode across the room, looking behind him to check if Nollan was following. “August gave us the address to your lawyer’s office so we could come get you. He didn’t want you to flip out when you saw all the messages.”
Niko was sweaty, and his breathing was laboured. It looked like he had thrown on clothes and left the rink without showering in his haste to find Quinn, which could only mean—
“How bad is it?” Quinn asked, his calm tone masking the sheer terror bubbling inside him. “Is he cut? Was it a puck? Did he hit his head? Niko—how fucking bad—”
Niko held up his hands to cut him off and then gripped Quinn’s arms. “He’s okay.
He’s been having issues with his right knee, and it gave out during practice today when he pivoted too awkwardly.
The doctor said it might be a torn ACL. He’s in pain, but they took him to the hospital to get treated right away, and he’s on the pain meds hard. ”
Torn ACL? Quinn had no fucking clue what that meant, but going to the hospital couldn’t be good.
“After the year we’ve had, I wanted to make sure you get to the hospital safely,” said Niko, and Nollan nodded along with him. “At best, August will be off the ice for a few weeks to rest the sprain, but it might need surgery if it’s bad. They’ll probably know more by the time we get there.”
Nollan took Quinn’s shaking hand and held it. “It’s not the end of the world, I swear. He’s going to be okay, so please don’t freak out. Take deep breaths.”
Quinn wasn’t freaking out. Not at all.
He had only watched his sister die less than a year ago, watched August go through a mental crisis while narrowly avoiding his own.
Eren took a fucking projectile to the head, and now he couldn’t eat soup.
August had been cut deep enough that he needed stitches, and now he tore something in his knee badly enough to maybe require surgery.
Oh, he was good. So. Good.
“He’s losing his shit,” Niko said, and his grip on Quinn’s arms tightened to keep him from falling over. “Hey, fancy man. You got any ice here we can use to shock his system?”
Kenneth’s chuckle sounded echoey, and Quinn suddenly realized that he was fainting for the second time in his life.
The conversation around him drifted away, and his head felt too heavy to hold up. Quinn was almost gone when something burned him, and he yelped and jumped back into his body hard enough to make him stumble.
“Quincy, you with me, buddy?”
Hearing that fucking name rebooted every system he had, and Quinn lifted his head to glower at Niko. “The fuck did you call me?”
Nollan wiggled the giant ice cube he was holding to Quinn’s damp neck. “Wow, you were totally right. The name thing worked.”
Nausea was still rolling through him, but Quinn patted Niko’s arm to let him know he was okay to stand, and then his mind was on August and how fast he could get to him.
“I didn’t bring my car,” said Quinn. “August dropped me off. Should we Uber?”