Chapter 11 The Renegade Cowboy
THE RENEGADE COWBOY
QUINTON
Driving down the dusty Texas road, I hold my phone to my ear, listening to Red's instructions. "Quarter mile, then take a left. There should be a driveway. Do you see it?"
My shoulders tense as I catch sight of the Victorian manor in the distance. "Yes, I see it.”
As I get closer, the run-down state of the exterior becomes more apparent—shattered windows, peeling paint, broken shutters. I scan my surroundings, noting the busted fences and the absence of guards. Strange. Maybe she’s not as well funded as I thought.
"I'm here.”
"Still no plan?" Red asks, her voice laced with concern.
"No, no plan," I admit reluctantly.
Red sighs. "It's not too late to turn around or call the FBI."
I swallow hard. I know this is risky, but it must be done. Parking the car several dozen yards from the main entrance, I switch to Bluetooth and pocket my phone.
"Just stay on the line. If I say 'cannon,' call the police. Not until then, got it?"
"Whatever you say, boss.”
With a deep breath, I step out of the car and cautiously make my way to the front door, which is slightly ajar. A sense of unease settles in the pit of my stomach as I enter the abandoned manor. The floorboards creak under my hesitant steps, and I draw in a breath of resolve.
Covered furniture litters the rooms. Dust on every surface. It’s quiet. Too fucking quiet. Is this a trap? Have I willingly stepped into a bloody trap? I curl my hands into fists. I had to do something. I couldn't just sit and wait for Toni to make her move—because she would, eventually.
As I creep farther into the house, a faint clicking noise sounds from the drawing room.
My hand instinctively goes to the gun holstered at my back.
An insurance policy. I might be foolish, but I am not daft.
I don't want to use it, and I won't unless there's a threat. Maybe this was a moronic idea. Maybe I should’ve heeded Red’s advice. But it’s too late.
There’s no turning back now. She’s here. I know she is.
Rounding the corner, I freeze, bracing for impact as I come face to face with Toni. My gut twists with trepidation. That was easy. Almost too easy. It’s like she was expecting me.
Toni sits at the head of a large dining room table, a delicate teacup in her hand. Removing the ornate spoon, she taps it against the chipped surface of the cup before setting it aside, her expression neutral, almost amused.
"I am impressed, Dr. Marquis," she says, smooth and composed. "I did not think you'd find me so early on in our little game."
My heart races as I take in the sight of her, trying to keep my emotions in check. Her curly dark hair flows past her shoulders, framing her face. A face that looks so innocent, so normal. But she’s not, is she? It’s a mask. Her brown eyes meet mine, defiant and confident.
“Are you here alone, Quinton Marquis?” She casually takes a sip of tea. “Or will there be a raid to follow?”
I narrow my eyes at her. She’s asking a question she already knows the answer to. I can almost taste the smugness dripping off her tongue.
She blinks theatrically. “Are you here to say something to me or just stand there like a statue?”
I find my voice. “I’m here to tell you to leave Emery alone.”
“Tell me?” She clicks her tongue. “No. No one tells me anything. You are here to ask me. And,” she gives me a devilish smile, “the answer is no. I will not.”
My gut twists, though I expected this. I knew it wouldn’t be a simple exchange. "What do you want, Toni? Money? Gold? Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you. Just leave her alone. This won’t end well for you, you know it won’t. So just stop. Disappear. I can help you disappear.”
Toni snickers. "Money? I don't want your money. At least, not anymore." She gestures toward her computer setup. "I read about the little fund you started. How very kind of you. It must make you feel so good to help all those people whose lives you helped ruin, no?"
My jaw clenches at her accusation. "You seem like a rather intelligent woman, Antonia. I was not responsible for the price hike, and you know that."
Toni's eye twitches, a flicker of anger passing over her features. "You lost the right to call me by my given name when you murdered my girlfriend."
Indignation courses through me. "Last I heard, you left Simone on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere. That doesn’t strike me as something one does to a girlfriend."
The mention of Simone's name drains the color from Toni's face, but she quickly regains her composure. “There is nothing I want from you, Dr. Marquis,” she sneers. “And I do not require your assistance to disappear.” She holds out her hands, the tips of her fingertips slightly red. “I am a ghost, Doctor. I do not exist. Even if those doors were to swing open and your precious FBI agent—what was his name again?” She feigns deep thought. “Right… Agent Ube. Even if he were to come in here and arrest me, they’d have no cause. They have no DNA, no fingerprints, no photographs. No record of me. At all. They’d have to let me go.” She cocks her head.
“It is all hearsay and circumstantial evidence. So, no, I do not need your help to disappear. Nor do I want to.”
Motive. What the hell is her motive? I don’t know what I expected. Honesty? The truth? For her to reveal her reasons? To me? The man who killed someone important to her? Idiot.
"I don't want to hurt you, Toni," I say, taking a tentative step forward, my tone a low, rumbling warning. "But I will protect those I love with any means necessary."
Her eyes harden, a defiant glint in her gaze. "So shoot me then. I know you have a gun. You wouldn't be so stupid to come here unarmed. You think I am a danger to her. So do it. Kill me."
My hand curls into a fist at my side. Is she suicidal? Does she actually want me to kill her? Her posture is relaxed, almost sedated in the way she leans back and stares at me. It’s not right. It’s not proper. Where’s the fear? Where’s her survival instincts?
I glance carefully around the room, a faint red light blinking in the corner of the ceiling catching my attention.
And then it hits me. Cameras. She has cameras.
That’s how she knew I was coming. That’s how she was prepared.
Is she recording this? She must be. Maybe this is a trap, after all.
Maybe this is what she wants. She wants to die.
She wants it on camera. She wants me locked up.
In jail. She wants the headline to read, "NovaTech Pharmaceuticals CEO Caught Murdering an Unarmed Woman on Camera. "
What a sneaky little bitch.
"You're not as clever as you think you are.” I tip my head in the direction of the hidden camera. “And I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”
Toni perks a brow, unfazed by my words. "Impressive. I admit, I underestimated your intelligence."
I tilt my head, studying her intently. It’s not right. It’s too extreme. "Interesting..."
Toni crosses her arms over her chest, somewhat defensive, almost uncomfortable. "What?"
"You're willing to die in order to cause her pain," I observe, taking another step forward. “I find that interesting.”
Toni scoffs. "And what does that tell you, Doctor? If I'm willing to die?"
My filter breaks. "That you're sad.”
“No,” she snaps, too fast, too emotional. “It means I don’t give a shit. It means that my entire life’s purpose is to make Emery fucking Jones’s life a living hell. Quietly. Slowly. A unique kind of torture. She’ll be scared for the rest of her stupid goddamn existence.”
I can’t help the snort that escapes, a low, light chuckle following. “I’m sorry to break it to you, Toni, but Emery is not scared of you.”
Toni’s teeth clench together. “What?”
“She’s not scared of you,” I say with a shrug. “But I am. I do believe you’re dangerous. I do believe that you’ll eventually harm the woman I love, but Emery? Emery finds your antics, for lack of a better word, quite amusing.”
Her expression is unreadable. “She is not…afraid of me?”
“She’s made a playlist with all the songs you haunt her with,” I divulge. “I find it rather inappropriate, but she evidently enjoys your musical preferences. That French one in particular. How does it go again…”
Toni scoffs in disbelief. “A playlist? She made a fucking playlist?!” She runs a hand through her hair, mumbling to herself in Italian. “Che pazza!”
“Again, I ask you, Toni, what do you want from her? From us?”
"I can’t believe her," she seethes, her voice growing louder and more frantic with each word.
She rises to her feet, pacing back and forth as she unleashes a storm of anger and resentment.
"A playlist? What a joke. She thinks I am a joke. She is mocking me. Laughing at me. With those lips of her, and her stupid fucking green eyes. She’s acting like she's so innocent, so—”
As Toni continues her tirade against Emery, a familiar knot forms in my stomach.
There's a rawness to her anger, a palpable sense of betrayal. I’ve seen it before.
I’ve felt it before. Beneath the bitterness and resentment of her words, there’s something deeper, something profound.
It’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s the only thing that explains her irrational, rash, and impulsive behavior.
"You’re in love with her.”
Toni freezes mid-step, her eyes widening in shock as she whirls around to face me. "Excuse me?!" she splutters, her cheeks flushing crimson.
"Emery... You love her." My voice is steady but my insides twist at the revelation. Love is a dangerous emotion. I know this firsthand.
"Love?" she scoffs, her tone dripping with contempt. "You think I love that manipulative bitch? Did she tell you what she did to me? How she tricked me? How she—"
"You love her," I insist, cutting through her protests with unwavering certainty.
Toni's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, her tiny frame vibrating. "That's ridiculous," she snaps. "I don't love her. I hate her. I despise her. I want to hurt her. Bad. I want her to feel the same pain as I—”
She freezes, realizing the truth of her own emotions. With a flat expression, she glares at me and whips out a taser from her back pocket. I have no time to react. No time to think.
Before I can even process what's happening, Toni lunges forward, the taser crackling. The sharp sting of electricity courses through my body, sending waves of agony shooting through every nerve. Fuck!
“Don’t worry, Doctor. You won’t die. Not yet at least.”
I convulse uncontrollably on the ground, my muscles contracting and spasming with each jolt. My vision blurs and dims, the world spinning wildly around me as I struggle to remain conscious.
And then everything goes black.
When I come to, I find myself slumped in the driver's seat of my car, the sun now setting on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. My head throbs with pain, my muscles aching and sore.
With a groan, I reach up to rub my temples, trying to clear the fog from my mind.
“Quin!” Red’s voice crackles in my ear. “Quin! Are you there?”
I hiss from the pain, fumbling with the Bluetooth bud in my ear. “Red?”
“Oh thank God, you’re alive.” She expels a breath of relief. “What happened? I was cut off and then—”
“She tasered me,” I mumble, my gaze flitting to a note taped on the dashboard. I reach out to grab it, wincing as my muscles burn. “She left a note.”
“Tasered you?! Jesus Christ.”
Ignoring Red’s concerns, I unfold the note, and read it out loud. “‘Maybe you are right, Quinton Marquis. Maybe I do love her. Maybe this is a love story. Maybe she is the Juliet to my Romeo.’”
My blood runs cold, a shiver climbing down my spine.
“Don’t they both…” Red trails off, the sounds of sirens in the distance. “Oh, I called the local FBI field office when we disconnected. Sorry. I didn’t know what to—”
“I think I fucked up,” I mutter to myself, rereading the note. “I think I—”
“At least now you know her plan.”
A plan I helped create.