Chapter Thirteen #2
“I’m stuck on where you fit with all these puzzle pieces.” His deep voice sank into turbulent emotions and soothed.
“You mean why didn’t he kill me when I was fifteen?
” Alanna wanted to press closer when Quaid’s hands tightened on her back, and she shivered deep at the care.
Something unfurled inside – her grandfather used to pat her on the back.
Go get ‘em girl, he’d always say. He had cared.
Did this mean the same thing? Alanna sighed, then tipped her head away from Quaid’s neck and a spot she desperately wanted to kiss.
His stillness signaled his serious thought process. “I’m trying to be pragmatic. He raped and killed Esme. She was most likely dead after she hit the pavement. His compulsion slaked so to speak, he left you to hide her body. When he came back for you, Whit stopped him.”
“I’ve always wondered if I remembered everything that happened or if I blocked it out.”
“From their record, we can surmise Whit and Mercer used an adversarial relationship to test each other’s strengths.”
“Boys will be boys?”
“No, not boys. The behavior is stupid when you get to the levels they were at in the military. I admit I’m a biased Marine, but I’m not sure what kind of broken chain let the two of them keep at each other.
Mackey agreed. His training was much more disciplined.
He was the Army pinnacle at Delta, though, working with a bunch of crazy men who took on the hardest stuff is incredibly difficult. ”
“We’ll put that at the top of the list to ask Whit.” She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She tilted her head and gazed at Quaid, studying his jaw line.
“What?”
“I like this Quaid.” She slipped her fingers through his dark hair, the blond gone.
“Why?”
“He’s honest, handsome, sexy, and lethal.” His eyes widened, then he blushed.
“What? Not used to the truth?” She glanced quickly over his features. Were they not ready for that level of comment?
He rolled and trapped her beneath him, and she was happy to take his weight – the experience new and thrilling.
He nipped at her neck. “Smart, intuitive, tough, devastatingly wild, intriguing, and beautiful. I am keeping you.”
The surge of panic at the keeper comment caught her off guard, then he kissed her again. His firm lips commanded, coaxed, and caressed all at once, and she was fascinated with the heat jetting from her breasts to her core. The newness made her hesitate, and she forced herself to end the kiss.
She had something more to talk with him about, and this conversation might not go well. But better to try it out with him than with the whole team or her boss because his tactical advice was the best she could get anywhere.
“Lani?”
She lifted off and sat beside him. She kept her hand on his chest. “We have to talk.”
“No woman ever says those words without it being a problem.” He shifted up to an elbow and tweaked her braid. “What did I do?”
She smirked, but let the topic settle in the seriousness of her face. “Mercer.”
Quaid groaned. “I am so sick of that man’s name. Spring it on me. What?”
“I’ve been studying his patterns.”
“I wasn’t aware we had enough information for a pattern.”
She used her hands to sketch out the office board visuals.
“Sexual predator/killer – one method. Assassin – one method. Now, we have the last three, no four episodes. The fight with Whit, the attempt to kill you and me, the bomb at the hotel, and the attempted abduction of two girls, usual methods. But…he failed at all four.”
“What does that tell you?”
“He’s devolving, losing control of both methodologies. Killers devolve in two ways: they withdraw and regroup, or they escalate. He’s caught between the two.”
“Or he can’t get to either you or Whit and he’s getting frustrated, making mistakes.”
“At either angle, he’s losing control. Now is the time to push him, make him act before he stabilizes.”
“Push him, how?”
She used to have a poker face, but with Quaid she’d lost the ability.
He groaned. “You want to emerge from the protective shell we have around you. Taunt him.”
“It won’t take much.”
“How did you make that assumption? You’re at the highest risk now.”
“He’s following me.”
Quaid sat up and stared at her. “How?”
“He found me at QM for the assassination attempt, which was stupid. I searched the downtown area for Whit, many, many times. He could have found me there – in his hunting ground. Instead, he got complicated. He could know my FBI connection, could have staked out the San Diego office until he found me there or he followed me to QM after one of my street searches. He found me again at the LA Patton. He could have followed us.”
Quaid rose and went to the dresser, his back to her. He stood still. Their closeness evaporated, and she hated it. But she let him have a minute. She needed the warrior thinking strategically.
“We were watching, monitoring. We knew the car he was in.”
“We were being shot at and running. We could have missed something.”
He turned around, his eyes hot. “I can’t even imagine explaining that one to Cait, let alone Hunt.
You’re saying we never lost him? He stayed on us to their house?
He somehow tracked us, watched us put my car in their garage, and noted the Uber pick up, followed us to the Coranado Patton, saw us trade vehicles and trailed us all the way to LA. ”
“Possible?”
“Possible, but not probable.”
“He found us there somehow. He tried to blow me up. You’d have been collateral damage. He didn’t care. But he missed – again. Or missed on purpose.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“We have to give him a target again – only this time we’ll be prepared.”
His eyes hardened and turned molten. She expected the ‘no’ and an explosive argument, but didn’t get it. He went silent.
She went quiet, too. “He’s not hunting efficiently anymore. He’s reacting. When men like Mercer start reacting, they make mistakes. If we apply pressure now, we control the timing instead of him.”
“You’re assuming he’ll make a mistake before he kills you.”
“I can’t make a connection to why he’d want to kill me.” She rose and went to him, hoping to have his support. In her experience, it was a stupid thing to expect, yet her silly heart wanted it.
“The one who got away,” he whispered, lifting a lose strand of hair and stroking the piece behind her ear.
She gathered her courage and her dreams and slid her hands around his waist. “I didn’t escape. He beat me so badly, I couldn’t walk away. He came back, but Whit saved me. Again.”
He stared at her, keeping eye contact. “He had to choose between you and Esme. Murder is worse than assault. Supposedly. He chose to hide her body.”
“Yes. Guessing. And leaving me hurt was a fuck you to Whit.”
“That I can believe.” He shoved a hand through his hair.
Their coffee had gone cold sitting on the dresser. She wanted to hold him close, but she made herself let go. He had to analyze the idea and decide on its own merits whether the plan was solid. She wouldn’t coerce him and didn’t want the decision made with anything less than a clear head.
Quaid bunched his hands into fists. “I hate this idea. He may be devolving, but even unorganized and failing, he’s fucking dangerous.”
She uttered the one truth that might sell him. “So are you. So is Mackey. So is Ryker. So is Frank. So am I.”
“Let me think.” He picked up the tray and took their cold coffee. At the door, he turned back. “I believe in you, but I just found you. That matters in this conversation, too.”
“Yes, it does,” she whispered under her breath. But he heard her.
“I want you. More than I want Mercer. But I’m stuck because I don’t want that son of a bitch on your tail for any longer than necessary.” He turned the knob. “Let me think, Lani.”
“All right.”
“Meet me at the War Table.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She took a minute. Went in the bathroom and retied her braid, washed her hands, and stared at her pale face in the mirror while she applied lotion that Niles had put in the bathroom.
The rich smell soothed ragged nerves. She never imagined having a man who gave a damn about her, who made her feel woman things she’d turned off for years, especially not one like Quaid. Why was he different?
&&&&&&&&&&
Growing up, Quaid had bounced all over the globe, first with parents who lived the rich lifestyle of gambling, parties, sex, and adventure.
At twelve, he went to live with his grandfather who was all about business.
He’d already seen enough of his parents’ lifestyle to understand how they burned through money, went with what gave them a rush at the moment, and applied no strategy to improving themselves.
It had been Elizabeth who had kept him disciplined and grounded, kept him learning, growing, and understanding what he could be.
He spent summers on her ranch. Living with his grandfather had been her idea.
She was the one who influenced him to try for something stronger and better by joining the Marines.
He wanted something about himself he could be proud of that didn’t involve money.
He’d spent ten years building the military profession. Honestly, his commitment to honor, service, and strength was a godsend now. It fueled how he currently lived with purpose and integrity. He couldn’t see himself living like his parents did or running his grandfather’s hotel conglomerate.
He dumped their coffee and left Lani’s cup by the pot.
Niles was nowhere around, but he didn’t answer to Quaid.
He managed things, and Quaid’s life stayed in order and safe.
He poured himself a full cup leaving some for Alanna, went to the terrace, and dialed Elizabeth’s number.
Because the question that slammed him sideways was this: Where in the hell were he and Alanna going with this?
And why was his inner voice shouting yes while his gut was tied in a knot?
She answered, not with a hello but a comment. “This place is humming. What happened?”