Beneath the Surface (27 page)

CHAPTER

35

A
sher woke to the sound of vibration on the nightstand. Instead of grabbing his cell, his hand instinctively went for his Sig P226. He bolted upright, arm raised, gun pointing at the bedroom door. It took a few seconds for his mind to engage and overrule his instincts. He’d fallen asleep—really asleep—not that half-dose, half-conscious limbo he usually hovered in, and startling awake was disorientating as hell. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept with no nightmares to haunt him, no screams to pull him from sleep’s sweet embrace . . . For the first time there was just blissful silence and the feeling of Quinn’s naked body curled up against him.

He scowled at the persistent buzzing on the table and set the gun down to snatch up his cell. His gaze fell to the alarm clock and he was surprised to see it was almost ten. Shit . . . he’d lost half the morning already. The phone quieted in his hand and he cast a quick glance at the woman sleeping beside him. His chest tightened, his heart swelling with fullness, as he took a moment to admire her flawless alabaster skin and the halo of pale blonde hair circling the pillow next to his.

God help him, he loved this woman, and the feeling of free-falling that swept over him when he thought of the danger she was in scared the hell out of him. How was he going to keep Quinn safe and find the fucker hunting her? The idea of putting a bullet between that bastard’s eyes filled him with a profound sense of satisfaction.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her bare shoulder and then carefully slipped out of bed. She hadn’t been sleeping well and needed all the rest she could get. He grabbed a change of clothes from his bag and was just fastening his jeans when his cell began to buzz again. The caller ID came up Denver Police Department, which was odd. Why wouldn’t Jax just call him from his cell? He left the bedroom and pulled the door closed behind him before answering.

“Hey, man . . .”

“You fucking lied to me.”

“Good morning to you too. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He’s not after you. It’s Quinn he wants.”

Asher stopped midway to the couch, tension settling over him like liquid cement. “How do you know that?”

“Oh, I figured it out pretty fucking fast when that bastard jumped me and demanded I tell him where she was. The fucker put two rounds in my chest.”

Cold dread infused Asher’s veins, turning his blood to ice. “You’re all right?” he demanded, panic gripping his chest and squeezing like a steel band. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to Jax. He never should have called him. Never should have involved him in this shit . . .

“I’m fine. Thank God I was wearing a vest. Just a little sore and a whole lot pissed off. You withheld valuable information from me. I’m not just a cop, Asher, I’m your fucking brother.”

“I know . . . Fuck, I’m sorry. I should never have pulled you into this.”

“No, you should have pulled me into this from the very beginning. I know who she is, Asher. Quinn Summers isn’t your girlfriend. She’s a goddamn missing person case.”

“She’s a what?”

“You heard me—a missing person case. The FBI is looking all over for her.”

His heart jumped inside his chest. “Jax, the Feds can’t know she’s here.”

“Why the hell not? And it’s a little late for that. They already figured it out. Her name flagged with them when I ran her record. Within forty-five minutes, the fucking Feds were ringing my phone off the hook. Her roommate was murdered, Asher. And they thought whoever did it had Quinn. They have two agents flying in tomorrow and they want to talk to her about a report she made with the attorney general’s office.”

“Fuck.” He dragged his hand through his hair and began to pace. “Quinn thinks whoever is trying to kill her was hired by Mark Madison.”

“The attorney general?”

“Yeah . . .”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would the attorney general want to kill Quinn?”

“Because she uncovered a human-trafficking operation in Haiti while doing a human-interest story for the CGRN. She went to the attorney general for help and her roommate wound up dead before she could get home. No one knew she was back in the States except for Mark Madison, and someone’s been trying to kill her ever since. I know it’s circumstantial, but if she’s right, going to the FBI could get her killed.”

Jax cursed. “You could have come to me with the truth a hell of a lot sooner and I might have been able to do more to help you. Either way, you’re going to have to bring her in or they’re going after you for obstructing justice.”

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m not handing Quinn over to the Feds.”

“No one’s asking you to. They just want to talk to her.”

“What if this is a ploy to flush her out?”

“It could be. But I don’t think it is. Quinn could be wrong and it’s entirely possible someone else is trying to kill her. They’ve made their search for Quinn too high-profile for this to be a conspiracy. Too many people know the Feds are looking for her. She can’t just disappear. I’ve got a friend with the bureau I can call. I’ll ask him about the agents they have flying in. I think we need to hear what they have to say, Asher. They’ll be at my office tomorrow morning at eleven. Bring her in. No one’s going to try to touch her here. I promise she’ll be safe.”

As much as he hated the idea of bringing Quinn in to the FBI, Jax had a point. This cat-and-mouse game had to end. If there was any chance these Feds were legit, then they could be instrumental in helping him catch a killer. “What about the blood sample? Did you find it?”

“It’s already with the CBI, but results will take a few days to get back and then they’ve got to run it through the databank for a match. At this point, the benefit to having the blood sample will be proof we’ve got our guy.”

“A few days? Are you serious? How come
CSI
can do this shit in an hour?”

“Because
CSI
isn’t real life. Listen man, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late. It’s poor form to keep the Feds waiting.”

Jax disconnected the call before Asher could respond. It was just as well. He didn’t want to hear the thoughts going through Asher’s head right now. Not that any of it mattered. Asher had no choice but to be at his brother’s office tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. sharp with Quinn in tow.

He dropped into a chair and propped his elbows on his knees, resting his face in his hands. Fuck . . . how in the hell was he going to convince Quinn it was a good idea to walk into that police station when he wasn’t so sure of it himself? For all he knew he could be leading her into a trap, and he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

“What’s the matter?”

His head snapped up to find Quinn standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but that damn white USMC T-shirt she’d had on the night she came to stay with him. So much had happened since then. So much had changed between them. And he wasn’t entirely confident it wasn’t about to all fall apart.

“Still not sleeping?” she asked, coming over to him.

No, for once that had not been his problem. He was dealing with another kind of nightmare. Asher leaned back and opened his arms, inviting Quinn to crawl onto his lap. He didn’t have to ask twice. Damn, she was adorable . . . with her long, pale blonde hair hanging loose in a sexed-up mess. Her violet eyes were fresh from sleep and especially bright this morning, her lush lips still red and kiss swollen.

In the worst way he wanted to carry her back into that bedroom and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. But unfortunately, life wouldn’t pause for them. There was a killer out there who probably thought he’d just removed the obstacle between himself and Quinn. With Asher figuratively out of the way, his efforts to find her would intensify. She wouldn’t be safe until that bastard was dead.

“Quinn, I need to talk to you about something.”

She straightened against him and turned to meet his eyes, caution drawing her brows tight. No doubt she was feeding off his own tension. He was not exactly the model of confidence he’d been hoping to display.

“Jax called me. He knows about Manhattan. The FBI has you listed as a missing person and it flagged with the bureau when he ran your record. They’ve been looking for you since you disappeared.”

“They called Vi looking for me, but I didn’t know they were calling me a missing person case. Do they know I’m with you?”

The panic hedging in her voice made his chest ache. He nodded. “Two agents are flying into Denver tomorrow and they want to meet with you. Ask you some questions.”

She shook her head and scrambled off his lap, looking at him like he’d just betrayed her. Her wide eyes darted around the room as if she was looking for an escape. He could see her mind racing with options; unfortunately she didn’t have many more than he did.

“You’re bringing me in.”

It was an accusation more than a question. She stepped back and stumbled against the chair. His hand shot out to catch her arm before she fell, but she dodged his grasp and somehow managed not to fall. “Quinn, it’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that.”

“We need help. I can’t protect you and catch this guy at the same time. My hands are tied. That bastard shot Jax last night, thinking he was me.”

“Oh no! Is he all right?”

“He’s okay. He was wearing a vest. My point is the shooter came back, Quinn. And he’s not going to quit. He probably thinks I’m dead and this could be the opportunity I need to get an upper hand on him. His guard will be down. But I can’t hunt that bastard and watch over you at the same time.”

“And you trust the FBI to do that? To keep me safe?”

She looked at him like he had lost his mind, and who knows, maybe he had. All he knew was that they were running out of time and he had to do something—now. “I don’t know. But I trust Jax. He has a friend in the bureau and is calling him to discuss your case. I think we need to meet with the Feds and at least hear them out. Jax and I will be there the whole time. We won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. You gotta trust me.”

She didn’t look like she was sure she did, and fuck if that wasn’t a knife in the heart. He stood and walked over to her, counting it as a win when she didn’t back away. He moved slowly so as not to frighten her. It’d been a long time since he’d seen that look of doubt in her eyes. Reaching up, he cupped her cheek and gently brushed his thumb beneath her plump bottom lip. “Sweetheart, after everything we’ve been through, do you honestly believe I’d ever let you go? You’re mine, Quinn. I would kill for you and die to protect you.”

Tears filled her eyes, turning them into large luminous violet pools he wanted to drown in. When she dropped her gaze and blinked, a drop slipped over her lashes and rolled down her cheek to collect against his hand. When she looked back up at him, the doubt was gone, the fear banished by his vow to love and protect her. Her slender fingers wrapped around his wrist and she pressed her lips into his palm.

“Okay . . .” she whispered against his battle-scarred hand. “I trust you.”

Those three words released a dam of emotion inside him and he pulled her into his arms. Holding her tight, Asher promised, “We’re going to get through this, Quinn. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

CHAPTER

36

H
e waited until it was almost closing time before entering the office. Violet Del Toro’s name was on the outer glass door, confirming he was at the right place. He walked inside and was greeted by a receptionist with long blonde hair. It had a natural curl that made her golden locks a little wild and untameable. The woman’s smile was bright as she swept her appreciative gaze over him. There was a touch of mischievousness in those hazel eyes that piqued his interest.

“Hi, you’re running late. I didn’t think you were coming. We’re about to close.” When he arched his brow in question, she continued to explain. “Dean called and said he was sending you down to schedule an appointment. Tommy Thorson, right? The newest fighter for the Cage Fighting Association? Congratulations on your contract.”

She stood and extended her hand over her desk. This was going to be so fucking easy, he almost felt bad about it. Putting a warm smile on his face, he stepped forward and took her hand—small, delicate fingers wrapped around his.

“How did you know?” He glanced at the nameplate on her desk. Penelope Cantrell—she didn’t look like a Penelope.

“Are you kidding? I can spot a cage fighter a mile away. You guys don’t exactly blend in well.”

She thought he was an MMA fighter? “Guilty . . .” He winked, flashing her a flirtatious grin. “I’d like to schedule an appointment with Violet Del Toro.”

Her warm smile fell and something dimmed in those bright eyes. “I’m sorry, Dr. Del Toro isn’t scheduling any appointments right now. She’s away on a family vacation.”

Fuck . . . “That’s all right, I don’t mind waiting. If you could just book me her next available appointment?”

“She’ll be out for the next several weeks. Dr. Morrison is handling all the CFA accounts right now. I can schedule you an appointment with him.” She sat back down and turned to her computer, her nails clicking away on the keys.

“That’ll be fine,” he conceded. “Everyone needs a vacation now and then, right? You know where she went?” he asked offhandedly, making casual conversation.

Her gaze briefly darted to him, then back to the monitor. “No, I don’t.”

She was lying. This bitch knew exactly where Violet was. He shot a quick glance down the hallway. It was empty. So was the waiting room. They were alone. He looked up at the clock. It was after five—past closing time . . .

He slipped his hand into his pocket and fingered the thin wire garrote.

“I know Dean is anxious to get your contract completed. It looks like I can get you in Tuesday morning. Will eight thirty work for you?”

“Let me check my calendar.” He pulled out his cell and came around the side of the desk all casual-like. She didn’t pay him any mind as she kept looking through the doctor’s schedule.

“Or else we could maybe squeeze you in at the end of the day?”

“Umm . . . you know, neither of those times are really good for me. You got anything else?” He moved closer. Her guard was down. This was going to be easy—a piece of fucking cake. And he couldn’t wait to taste her frosting . . .

He returned his cell to his pocket and exchanged it for the thin wire. He was stepping behind her when the front door suddenly opened. Instead of moving forward, he stepped back and casually leaned his hip against her desk.

Her gaze shot up to the guy walking in and her smile fell. Her tawny brows pulled tight in a scowl. He could see her guard going up. It was like watching one of those old medieval gates crash into place. So this fun little kitten had some claws after all. Interesting . . .

He bet she was a fighter. The thought of her struggling beneath him as his hand tightened against her throat, squeezing as she gasped for breath, shot his dick hard as a rock.

“We’re closed,” she snapped, jerking him out of his reverie.

He held back his chuckle at the serious case of frostbite this woman was throwing at the guy, who dropped into a seat in the waiting room, stretching out into a negligent sprawl.

“I know. That’s why I’m here. I’m taking you home.”

She snorted something under her breath about not needing a babysitter. Well, this was an interesting dynamic they had going on. There was obviously some history between them—some water under their bridge, and with the fireworks going off between them, he’d bet the guy was fucking her, or at least had been at one time. The guy wasn’t particularly tall, but he was built—heavily muscled and well defined. If he had to venture a guess, this was one of those MMA fighters Penelope seemed to think he was. Yeah, this was his cue to hit the road. He could feel the guy’s eyes on him, watching him with a hell of a lot more interest than he was comfortable with.

“I need to check my training schedule. How about I call you?”

The woman turned her attention back to him and her beaming smile was on—with an extra halogen he suspected wasn’t for his benefit, but rather for the guy burning a hole in his back with a death glare. Time to adios.

“Sure,” she said. “Here’s an appointment card. Our number is at the bottom—just give me a call and I’ll get you scheduled.”

“Thanks.” He took the card and left, careful to keep his back to the guy watching him like a hawk.

As he walked through the doors and into the hot Nevada sun, he squinted into the blinding light and growled a nasty curse. He was too late. Quinn’s sister was gone and, no doubt, far from his reach. Coincidence? He thought not . . .

He’d be lying if he said that loss of leverage didn’t piss him off. He hated wasting his time, especially when that was the one thing he was running short on. Oh well, today wouldn’t be a total bust. As long as he was here, he could hang out a few more hours and at least compensate himself for the trip.

He watched from his rental as the guy escorted Ms. Cantrell to his car—an old orange Charger that was one door decal and a Confederate flag short of becoming the General Lee. The presumed fighter opened the door for her and she said something to him before getting inside that made him smirk and shake his head.

Yeah, this woman definitely had some fire, and he was looking forward to quenching it.

As they left the lot, he hung back before pulling out, putting a few car lengths between him and the Charger. No one would pay any attention to a minivan; they were a dime a dozen. He might as well be driving a chameleon.

“I found it.”

Asher looked up from the game of solitaire laid out on the opposite end of the table from Quinn. He wasn’t used to being cooped up indoors and he was going bat-shit crazy in here. After fourteen years of spending nearly every day outside, the culture shock was making him antsy—or maybe it was his indecision over bringing Quinn in to meet with the Feds tomorrow.

He had some game-changing options here and the last thing he wanted to do was make an already bad situation worse. He’d sounded a hell of a lot more confident about his decision when he’d been selling it to Quinn. Maybe once he heard back from Jax, and his friend with the bureau could vouch for the agents, he’d feel more at ease with the whole idea of her meeting with them. But one thing was for certain—something had to give, and he was running out of options.

He couldn’t take Quinn home. As long as that bastard was on the loose it wasn’t safe for her there, and he couldn’t keep her here indefinitely. What he wanted to be doing was hunting that bastard down, and sitting here twiddling his thumbs was making him edgy as hell.

“What did you find, Quinn?”

The smile on her face was encouraging. It was a hell of a lot better than the fear he’d put there this morning.

“The name of the military team that escorted us into Haiti. I knew I had it somewhere in my notes, but I couldn’t remember where. I’ve been searching for it since yesterday.” Her violet eyes kept scanning the computer screen. “Here it is . . . Eagle Ops.”

Asher’s fingers tightened on the deck of cards in his hand. “Quinn, Eagle Ops isn’t US military.”

She looked up at him and met his eyes across the table. “It isn’t?”

“No, it’s a private security company that hires ex-military officers. They tried to recruit me when I left the Special Forces. I had plans to start my own company so I never met with anyone. I know they’ve been involved with some questionable dealings in the past. Most of these guys are freelancers and they keep who they work for under wraps. They pick and choose their jobs.”

“Well, at least now I know why I couldn’t find any connection to the military and the CGRN. There isn’t one.”

“Did any of the men with the security team know you were digging into the disappearance of those kids? Did you talk to any of them?”

“I don’t know if they knew or not. When we traveled, they rode in the vehicles ahead of and behind ours so I never really saw them, except for the night they handed those girls over. But I was so far away I couldn’t recognize any of them specifically. I only knew it was them by the way they were dressed.”

Before he could respond, his cell began to buzz on the table. “I’ve gotta get this. It’s Jax.” He snatched the phone up and answered it as he headed across the living room. Restless energy had him pacing again. By the time he checked out of here, he was going to have to replace the damn carpet.

“I got ahold of Wade and told him what was going on. He assured me the two agents meeting with Quinn are reputable men. He said he’d trust them with his life, and actually has on more than one occasion. He backtracked the query and it was placed by Mark Madison the same day Quinn met with him. Every bit of procedure was followed; the paper trail looks clean. If he had something to hide, this isn’t the route he’d take to do it. I’m not doubting that something is going on here. I’ve got bruised ribs to prove it. I just don’t think the attorney general is behind it.”

“I’m not so sure either, but she’s got a pretty compelling timeline.”

“I can’t explain the dead roommate or how anyone knew she was back in the country. But I know whoever’s after her is a professional killer and Quinn’s in serious trouble. You’ve done a great job of keeping her alive thus far, and I understand you’ve got your reservations about trusting the Feds, but whatever is going on here, whoever’s behind this, I think bringing the FBI in is the right move. Let them do their job. Let them figure out this mess and see how far up the chain it goes. This isn’t Quinn’s conspiracy to solve—or yours. Your job is to protect her, and the best way to do that right now is to get her the help she needs.”

“I know, but she doesn’t trust easily and I don’t want to let her down. If I’m wrong, if you’re wrong, and this goes badly, I’ll lose her. She’ll never trust me again.”

Silence answered him. Then, “Fuck, you’re really in love with her, aren’t you?”

Exhaling a sigh, Asher turned and made another trek across the living room. “Yeah, I’m afraid I am.”

“Hell of a bad time to get your emotions involved.”

“Your observations are astounding. I wish I would have thought of that before.”

Jax laughed. “Glad to hear you’re still a smartass. Wade said the agents are going to want all her notes, interviews, and pictures, so bring them along to the meeting.”

“I’ll let Quinn know.”

“See ya tomorrow then.”

The call disconnected and Asher exhaled a pent-up sigh. How was Quinn going to feel about handing all her information over to the Feds? Probably not very fucking good.