Chapter 29
Quinn didn”t make it as far as the shower. She was dragging by the time we got back to the gatehouse, emotionally and physically exhausted. She took one look at her hammock and crawled inside without even taking off her boot.
I let her be, covering her with her sleeping bag. After rubbing his long body against my leg, Leo hopped up and settled in on top of her. I got myself a cup of coffee and sacked out on the couch with my laptop, going through my messages from Kane. I”d kept an eye out through the morning, but nothing pressing had come up. No one on-site had been able to trace the intrusions to the security system.
One of Kane”s messages said he’d talked to Lucas Jackson, and Lucas was headed up to Sawyers Bend to go over his system personally. I stared at my laptop screen, working through everything in my head. I couldn’t make it all hang together the right way. According to Quinn, and substantiated by the zip ties, her attacker’s focus had been on securing her, not engaging with her in another way.
It was that part that I couldn’t stop thinking about. Whatever he’d wanted with her, he hadn’t wanted to do it there on the trail, despite the appearance of isolation. Had he known I might come along? But how could he? Either way, he’d planned to take her somewhere. Carrying a resistant hostage over such uneven terrain wasn’t ideal. Far more logical to do whatever he planned to do right there.
So where was he taking her? And why? No clue. The necklace was an obvious answer, but this was a lot of planning over a piece of jewelry. Either the necklace was the key to everything, or we were missing something.
I went through it again. He had started with kidnapping, then watching us through the window at the cabin. And then last night—if he’d been successful getting through the security system—he could have come right for Quinn. The shitty reality was that at the end of the day, I was only one man, and someone who wanted her badly enough could have found a way through me, or at least tried.
But whoever he was, he hadn’t come close. Instead, he taunted us. Fucked with us. Left that box. He wanted us to know he was watching and that he hadn’t gone away. But he hadn’t made a direct attack or attempted to take Quinn again. Unless he’d expected me to leave Quinn in the gatehouse alone and then had switched his plan when I hadn’t left her. But at this point, he had to know I wasn’t that stupid.
So then what? He’d gotten pissed his scheme hadn’t gone to plan, and he went and busted up her place? Why? Did he want us distracted?
It bugged me that I couldn’t pin down the logic of what this guy was after. Did he want Quinn? The necklace? Was he the man in the dark, come back for Quinn? And what about Harvey? The Sawyers trusted him implicitly, but I couldn’t forget that he was the one with the mystery necklace, and he’d been Prentice’s lawyer for decades. I hadn’t turned up anything suspicious on him, but everywhere I looked, he was there, in the background. Was he watching over the Sawyers as he claimed? Or was he pulling strings we couldn’t see? I didn’t like that I had more questions than answers.
A part of me wanted to go over to the security room and review the footage from the night before and the cameras at Sawyer Outdoor Adventures. And the rest of me—the rest of me wanted to be exactly where I was, content to be near Quinn.
Content. There was that word again. Not happiness. Happiness was bright sparks. Fireworks. Happiness wasn’t a constant. Even in the past decade, my life turned inside out and steeped in darkness, I”d known moments of happiness, of joy. But not contentment. Not this peace. This knowing that when I woke in the morning, I was exactly where I wanted to be.
With her. Because Quinn didn”t just bring the contentment, the peace. She brought those sparks, those fireworks of joy. When she laughed. When she cried out my name in my arms. And with her, every moment was strung together on a thread of pure contentment.
I couldn’t change where I”d been. I couldn’t take back all of my regrets. I held too many memories, things I’d done, things I’d seen, that made me wonder if I was a monster. But maybe I could be her monster. Like the dog Remy was bringing down—something fierce and dangerous to keep Quinn safe.
I watched her sleep, taking in the rustle of the hammock as she breathed, slow and deep, and I knew I would do anything to protect her. Do anything to make her happy. There had been women before, but none like Quinn. None who fit me. None who I could see, at my side, the future stretching out before us.
I couldn’t quite picture it, couldn’t see myself with a picket fence and 2.5 kids. But I could see myself with Quinn. With Leo and the dog. I could see all four of us in this gatehouse, together. For Quinn, I would stop giving Parker such a hard time about fixing it up and would let her have her way. I didn’t care much about the outdated kitchen and cramped bathrooms, but Quinn deserved better.
Deep inside, a nagging voice asked me why I thought I could have her. Why I thought I deserved someone so good, someone as perfect as Quinn, after everything I’d done. Since I walked away from my old life, I’d listened to that voice telling me I was guilty. That I deserved to suffer. Now? I wasn’t sure that voice was wrong, but I was finished listening to it.
I”d seen Quinn’s face when she”d taken in the destruction of her business. She might be the heart of Sawyer Outdoor Adventures, but that didn”t mean seeing everything she’d built shattered around her hadn’t broken her heart. And watching her, her blue eyes dark with pain and grief, I’d wanted to hold on to her and promise we”d fix it.
I hadn’t wanted violence. I hadn’t wanted to answer the destruction with more of my own. I wanted to protect. To repair what was broken. To love. And maybe with Quinn that meant I wasn’t the monster I thought I was. Something had changed in me. Maybe it was the passage of time. Maybe it was simply that Quinn had tamed the monster inside me. Maybe both. I felt like a different man with her. I wanted to take care of her. To keep her safe, to make her happy. And maybe, a little, to let her take care of me.
I knew she wanted me. I wasn’t blind, and she hadn’t been pushy, but she hadn’t been hiding her feelings either. Quinn was a smart woman. She was capable and strong, and she wanted me. Who was I to tell her she was wrong?
I”d seen firsthand how short life could be. How quickly dreams could die. Whatever we could have together, however long the universe would grant us, I wasn’t going to waste any more of it pushing her away.
Quinn slept a solid three hours. Long enough for me to check in with my team, with West, with Lucas, and with Griffen. I needed to stop in at the Manor and see my people, but that could wait. I wasn’t leaving Quinn to sleep alone in the gatehouse, and I didn”t want her to wake up to someone else on guard.
When she finally surfaced, her cheeks adorably flushed, dark hair sliding over her face, she sent me a shy smile and said, “I”m starving.”
Leo let out a trill of protest as I lifted him out of the hammock, the sound morphing to that rumbly purr as I carried him into the kitchen and set him down in front of his food bowl. Behind me, I heard a thump as Quinn’s boot hit the ground.
As I scooped the contents of a cat food can into Leo’s bowl, I said, “I need to check in with my team. Let”s head over to the Manor and raid the kitchen.”
“Sounds good,” Quinn said. “That muffin this morning didn”t go far. While we’re there, I need to grab some clean clothes.”
She moved to head for the door, but I stopped her, crouching in front of her and offering her my back. “Jump on,” I said. “Save that ankle. You spent way too long on your feet today. Some activity is good for healing, but if you overdo it—” I didn”t have to finish. She jumped on my back, her weight always a surprise. She looked slight, but muscle wasn’t light, and Quinn was compact but strong.
I loved that about her; how strong she was. I knew she saw herself as weak because of her problem sleeping in her room in the Manor. But I didn’t see it that way. I saw a woman who’d lived through hell to protect the people she loved. She was strong, body and soul.
Her warm breath on the back of my ear, the heat of her draped over me—this was what I wanted. Quinn. Just Quinn.
The walk to the side door of the Manor was only a few minutes, the remnants of the snowstorm crunching under my boots. I set her down at the top of the steps, unlocking the door and letting us in.
“Let’s get your clothes first,” I said.
At her hesitant, “Sure,” I headed for the elevator. Better to get it done so she could relax and enjoy her food. We rode up in silence, not saying anything until I set her down outside the closed door of her bedroom suite.
“Do you want me to do it?” I asked. Quinn wasn’t picky about clothes. I was pretty sure I could handle restocking her wardrobe. For a second, I thought she’d take me up on it. Then her chin lifted a fraction, and that familiar Quinn stubbornness kicked in.
“I can handle it. There’s a duffel bag in my closet. We’ll fill it up, and I’ll be good for a while.”
I pushed open the door to her room and followed her into a time capsule. Pale pink walls, a white desk and matching dressing table, and in the bedroom a neatly made twin bed with a white eyelet coverlet. It was a young girl’s room. Nothing in here reminded me of Quinn.
She kept her eyes straight ahead, marching as quickly as she could to the walk-in closet. “Up there.”
She pointed to the top shelf closest to the door, and I pulled down a huge, navy-blue duffel bag. Setting it on the floor and unzipping it, I helped Quinn dump most of the closet inside. She didn’t have a lot of clothes. Jeans, shorts, hiking pants, and a few dresses. T-shirts, long and short sleeve. A few sweaters and hoodies. I found another bag on the shelf, and we filled that with underwear, socks, and the rest. Quinn grabbed some extra toiletries from the bathroom and dropped them on top.
I carried the bags out, Quinn thumping behind me. Tossing the bags in the elevator, we joined them. I hit the button for the main level, shoved the bags into the hall for later, and pressed the button for the lower level of the Manor. A moment later, I pushed the door open to reveal the wide hall running the length of the lower level of Heartstone Manor.
I loved it down here. The upper floors of the Manor were designed to replicate the English country house William Sawyer”s bride had grown up in. White walls, dark wood, shiny floors. Artwork and priceless rugs. Formal and elegant, every inch exuded wealth and power. The lower level was a different world, everything granite and exposed metal pipes. It looked hundreds of years older, though it dated to the same period as the rest of the house. There was something cave-like about it, the spaces basic and strong. There was no pretense down here.
We walked down the wide hall to the kitchens. When the house had been built, the various rooms that made up Heartstone’s kitchen took up half the lower level. With the advent of better technology, both the staff and the space needed to run the kitchens had shrunk, though the kitchens still took up several rooms.
Most of the activity was focused in the main kitchen. When he took over, Finn rearranged the space, making it his own. Griffen had told me it strongly resembled the kitchen they’d grown up in when the French chef who’d taught Finn to cook had been in charge.
The table in front of the doorway was set for tea, ready for the kids to come home from school. Finn stood at the stove, stirring something that smelled like a red sauce.
He grinned when he saw his little sister. “Quinn, how”s the ankle?” Before she could answer, his face fell. “Sterling said your place got hit. She said it was bad. That sucks, I’m sorry.”
Quinn nodded. “Yeah, it’s still standing, but that’s the only thing going for it right now.”
Finn”s eyes flicked to me. “Same guy?”
“We”re trying to determine that,” I said.
Finn nodded and turned back to his sauce. We’d had our moments, Finn and I. I hadn’t liked him making a move on Savannah. I saw it as family preying on the staff. Savannah’s mother, Miss Martha, had been the housekeeper here for decades. Savannah had grown up in Heartstone Manor. Now she was the housekeeper, and she was damn good at her job. She was a badass and she could handle Finn, but I still didn”t like the idea of anyone trying to take advantage of her. She worked hard. She was a good mom and a good friend, and Finn”s reputation had been crap. I’d ordered him to leave her alone. He’d told me to back off. I did, but I kept an eye on him. Right up until I realized that Finn Sawyer was head over heels in love with Savannah and that I had nothing to worry about when it came to them. They’d been married for a month, and he showed her how much he loved her and her son, Nicky, every day.
A year ago, I wouldn’t have thought Finn Sawyer would be my example for anything. He”d been angry and sullen, resentful of being home, and generally a dick to everybody. I didn”t see that man now. I saw a man who was content. Happy. He’d gone from a man angry at the world to one who had everything.
I wanted that.
But I wasn’t Finn Sawyer. Finn had been damaged by life and his father’s cruelty. He’d hate me saying so, but Finn had been a victim. I wasn’t a victim of anything. I was the nightmare in the dark. I didn’t deserve Finn’s brand of redemption.
I had to find my own path. I just wish I knew what it looked like.
“You two hungry?” Finn asked.
“Starving,” Quinn said. “Can we raid the fridge?”
“Any interest in leftover meatloaf?” Finn asked. “I made Sterling a meatloaf sandwich she said was divine. Not bragging, just quoting.”
“I can make it if you”re busy,” Quinn said.
The look Finn shot her almost made me laugh. “Sit at the table,” he ordered. “I have hot water on for the kids when they get home. You want a cup of tea?” Quinn nodded and sank into a chair.
“I’ll skip the tea,” I said. “I need to go check in with Kane, but I’ll be back for a meatloaf sandwich.”
“Roger that,” Finn said.
I left them there, knowing Quinn was safe with her brother.