Chapter 13
Quinn’s grandmother stabilized around midnight.
Her breathing evened out, the crisis passing as quickly as it had come. But everyone knew what it meant—she was declining. Each episode brought her closer to the end.
Nathan gave Quinn a grim timeline. “Days. Maybe a week at most. I’m sorry.”
Quinn nodded numbly. She’d been sitting with her grandmother for hours, holding her hand, whispering stories and memories. Dax had stayed in the doorway, not wanting to intrude but unable to leave.
Now, in the quiet hours of early morning, Quinn emerged from the bedroom. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale with exhaustion.
“She’s sleeping,” Quinn said quietly. “Nathan gave her something for the pain.”
“You should sleep too.” Dax stood from where he’d been sitting in the hallway. Close enough to be there if needed. Far enough to give her space.
“I can’t.” Quinn wrapped her arms around herself. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her dying. Hear her struggling to breathe.”
His gut twisted. “Quinn—”
“We kissed.” She said it abruptly, looking at him with something raw and vulnerable in her eyes. “Earlier. In the kitchen. We kissed, and then Gran—and we just—”
“I know.”
“Was it a mistake? Another thing you’re going to pull away from?” Her voice cracked. “Because I can’t—I can’t handle that right now, Dax. Can’t handle you being close and then running away again.”
Dax wanted to tell her it wasn’t a mistake. That kissing her had felt like the first right thing he’d done in years. But the words stuck in his throat, tangled up with fear and self-preservation.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
Quinn laughed, but there was no humor in it. “At least you’re honest.”
She moved past him toward the kitchen. Dax followed, watching as she filled a glass with water. Her hands were shaking.
“You should rest,” he tried again, wanting to reach out and fold her into his arms, but something he couldn’t name stopped him. Doubt maybe, or fear. Fear that she’d push him away.
“Stop telling me what I should do.” Quinn set down the glass harder than necessary. “I don’t need you to protect me or make decisions for me. I need—” She broke off, pressed her hands to her face. “I don’t even know what I need anymore.”
“Tell me. Tell me what you need.”
“I need my grandmother not to be dying. I need Wheeler to be in prison. I need my father back.” Her voice rose with each word, her eyes squeezing shut with pain he could only imagine. “I need things I can’t have. So what does it matter what I need?”
“It matters to me.”
“Does it? Because you won’t even try, Dax. You say you care but you won’t actually do anything about it.” She was crying now, angry tears, hands fisted as the tension in the room rose. “You keep one foot out the door, ready to run the second things get hard.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” she snapped, slamming her fist on the counter and spinning to face him.
“You kissed me back. You held me. And now what? Are you going to pull away again? Tell me it was a mistake?” Her amber eyes were fierce through the tears.
“Because if you are, just do it now. Don’t wait until I’m more invested. Don’t make me hope.”
Dax’s chest felt like it was being crushed as each breath became harder to take. Because she was right. He’d been yo-yoing her emotions for days. Pulling her close, pushing her away. Hot and cold.
And he was worried about her doing the same thing to him…
“I’m scared,” he admitted quietly.
“So am I. But I’m here anyway.” Quinn wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. “That’s what bravery is, Dax. Being terrified and doing it anyway.”
“And if I lose you—”
“You’re already losing me. Right now. With this.” Glaring at him now, she gestured between them. “Every time you pull away, I lose a little more hope. A little more faith that this could be something.”
The truth of it hit him like a physical blow.
Before he could respond, his phone rang. He hated to answer, but considering everything that was going on… He gave her an apologetic look and pulled out his phone. Carson.
“I need to take this,” Dax said.
Quinn nodded, already resigned to another unfinished moment, and turned away. Started making coffee even though it was two in the morning. Needing something to do with her hands. He understood the feeling.
Dax sighed and stepped into the living room. “Black, what’ve you got?”
“I’ve been digging into Wheeler’s associates. Found something interesting.” Carson’s voice was energized despite the late hour. “There’s a name that keeps popping up in Barrett’s notes. Clara Mendez. Property manager at Riverside Apartments where one of Wheeler’s suspicious deaths occurred.”
“I remember. Elderly tenant. Heart attack after Wheeler tried to force him out.”
“Right. George Preston. But get this. Clara Mendez disappeared a few weeks after Preston’s death. Just quit her job and vanished. No forwarding address. No trace.”
Dax’s mind raced. “Barrett helped her disappear.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. And if she witnessed something at Riverside—”
“She’s our key witness.” Dax glanced toward the kitchen where Quinn was aggressively stirring coffee. “Can you track her?”
“I’ve got her social security number. If she’s using it anywhere, I can find her. Give me a few hours.”
After hanging up, Dax returned to the kitchen. Quinn handed him a mug of coffee without comment.
“That was Carson. He thinks he’s found our witness. Clara Mendez.”
Quinn’s eyes sharpened. “The property manager?”
“Yeah. She disappeared after George Preston’s death. Carson thinks your father helped her.”
“Of course he did.” Quinn’s voice was soft, introspective. “Because that’s what he did. Helped people. Protected them. Even when it put him in danger.”
“If we can find her, get her to testify—”
“We need to find her first.” Quinn was already moving, grabbing her laptop. “Let me see what I can dig up.”
They spent the next few hours working. Quinn searching databases, cross-referencing names. Dax reviewing Barrett’s notes, looking for clues about where he might have sent Clara.
They worked side by side at the dining table, but the easy partnership from before was gone. Now there was tension. Awareness. Every accidental brush of hands felt electric. Every shared glance carried weight.
Around six in the morning, Carson called back. “Got her. Maria Santos, Spokane, Washington. Housekeeper at the Riverside Hotel. Credit history shows an apartment lease starting eleven years ago. Right after she disappeared from Blackridge.”
“Maria Santos?” Quinn looked up from her computer.
“Probably an alias Barrett set up for her.” Dax grabbed a pen and started taking notes. “Address?”
Carson rattled it off. “You want backup?”
“Not yet. Let me verify it’s her first. If Wheeler gets wind we’re looking for witnesses, he might make a move.”
After hanging up, Dax found Quinn already researching Spokane. “It’s a five-hour drive.”
“We should go today.” Quinn’s voice was brisk. Professional. “Talk to her before Wheeler realizes she exists.”
“What about your grandmother?”
“Nathan’s here. The FBI agents are watching the house.” Quinn closed her laptop with a sharp snap. “And Gran would want me to do this. To finish what Dad started.”
How could he argue with that? “Okay. We leave in an hour.”
They prepared in tense silence. Quinn showered and changed while Dax coordinated with Nathan and the FBI. When she emerged, dressed in jeans and a forest-green sweater that made her eyes look almost emerald, Dax had to force himself to look away.
The drive to Spokane started quiet. Quinn stared out the window, her arms crossed. Dax kept checking mirrors, looking for tails. Old habits.
After an hour of silence, Quinn spoke. “About last night—”
“You don’t have to—”
“Let me finish.” Her voice was firm. “I meant what I said. I can’t keep doing this push-pull thing with you.”
Dax’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I know.”
“Can I ask you something?” She turned to face him. “Yesterday, when we kissed—was that real? Or was it just...circumstances? Proximity and stress making us do something stupid?”
A muscle in Dax’s jaw flexed and a pit began to open in his stomach. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I need to know if I’m making a complete fool of myself here.
” Quinn’s voice cracked. “Because I feel this pull toward you. This attraction. And I thought—I hoped—you felt it too. But then you pull away, and I don’t know if you were just caught up in the moment or if I’m reading everything wrong. ”
The vulnerability in her voice made Dax’s chest ache.
He wanted to tell her yes, the kiss was real.
That he wanted her more than he’d wanted anyone in years.
That she wasn’t making a fool of herself.
But admitting that meant admitting he cared.
And everyone he’d cared about had ended up hurt or dead.
Saying it out loud would make it real. Make it something he could lose.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” he said finally. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”
“I’m not asking you to be anything.” Quinn’s voice was thick with frustration, and she began talking with her hands.
“I’m just asking if the kiss meant something to you.
If you feel this too. Because if you don’t—if it was just a moment and I’m reading too much into it—tell me now so I can stop embarrassing myself. ”
Her hands slapped her thighs with finality, and she turned back to the window. Didn’t speak to him for the next three hours.
They reached Spokane around noon. Clara Mendez’s apartment was in a modest complex on the east side. Small but well-maintained.
“How do we approach this?” Quinn asked as they parked. First words she’d spoken in hours. “We can’t just knock and say ‘Hi, are you the woman in hiding?’”
“We watch first. Confirm it’s her. Then we make contact carefully.” Dax scanned the area. “Carson sent me a photo from her old employee ID.”
They waited. An hour passed. Then another.