Rise of the Notorious (30 page)

“You love the business,” she protested.

He sighed. “I do. But I love you more.”

She frowned. “It’s a different kind of love. There’s no reason to feel guilty over dedicating your time and energy to your family’s company; it’s what you were born to do. And I won’t let you talk down about yourself just because of a silly car accident. You are way too important and strong to—”

“Will you shut up for a second? Christ, woman, I’m trying to ask you to marry me.”

Quinn’s mouth snapped shut and then fell open again in stunned surprise. She blinked, then lifted a hand to her forehead. “Are these drugs making me loopy, or did you just say what I think you just said?”

His mouth twitched. “Was it something you wanted to hear?”

She considered his question, playfully drawing out the suspense while he stared at her anxiously. Seconds later, she titled her chin up and grinned.

“Yes, and I accept.”

Having no words, he rose and leaned toward her, his hand gently cupping around her tear stained cheek. She sighed when he kissed her softly, slowly.

“Ma is going to
flip
,” she said, beaming at him as he pulled away.

“I still haven’t met your family,” he realized nervously.

Quinn giggled. “Trust me, they’ll love you.”

There was a polite knock on the door. Linc poked his head in, Lynette at his side.

“How’s everything go—”

“We’re getting married!” Quinn shouted happily, clapping her hands together. She winced as the pain in her ribs hit her again, but she continued to smile anyway.

Linc’s mouth spread in a wide grin as he turned to his brother. “Well, shit. Congratulations.”

He gave Grant a bear hug and patted him on the back, while Lynette sailed in to kneel beside Quinn.

“So I take it you’re okay?” Lynette asked, excitement chasing the worry from her eyes.

Quinn reached for her friend’s hand. “I am now.”

A couple of
hours later, Grant sat in a chair by Quinn’s bedside as she slept. The lights were dimmed, and the hospital was surprisingly quiet beyond the closed door to the room.

He kept his hand tucked in hers, watching her sleep with a growing sense of quiet contentment. It amused him that when he’d woken up that morning, he had no idea he would ask her to marry him. Spontaneity had never been his forte, and yet somehow, the act had seemed so right.

Nearly losing her and succumbing to the horror of it had awakened something inside of him. He needed to know she was safe and secure, and the only way to ensure that was to make her his wife. Plus, he’d have the added benefit of waking beside her each morning and coming home to her each night. It was a habit he was getting used to, and one he never realized he could crave with such ferocity.

But he did. Lord, he did.

The nurses had encouraged him to go home and get some rest, but he’d ushered them out with a cool stare and shut the door with finality. She was his, and no one could persuade him to leave her side. After all, she needed him. Given her tireless dedication to him in the past, it was clear that he owed her the same in return.

So he stayed, even though he worried for Kennedy, stressed over Cy’s comments about Duke, and wondered just when the madness was all going to end. It seemed one bad thing happened right after another, and just when they saw a few glimmering stars of hope, the clouds rolled in yet again to pour down rain.

Of course, he had expected as much. Such was the benefit of being a cynic. Few bad things could occur with complete surprise.

Though he had to admit, this accident had shaken him to his very bones. The reality of just how fragile life could be was something he had learned years before. Somehow, it seemed he had forgotten it. But this gave him a renewed appreciation for the small things.

And only increased his concern for Kennedy.

Where was she now? Was she hurt, lost, or worse…was she dead? He tried not to dwell on this last thought, but found he couldn’t help himself. In the back of his mind, he knew he needed to prepare himself for the possibility that he would never see her alive again. Whoever had taken her had clearly done a good enough job of covering their tracks, and until the police had a lead or until this kidnapper contacted them again, nothing could be done.

Even searching the streets like Linc wanted to do seemed so fruitless, though Grant understood Linc’s desire for action perfectly. He had to keep moving, keep looking, keep trying. That was who he was.

As for himself, he’d let the police do what they did best. Quinn needed him now.

He felt her hand twitch beneath his and looked down at her. Her face was strained and her brow creased as she whimpered, and he realized she was having a bad dream.

He caressed her hand softly, unsure if he should wake her. She looked like she was in so much pain…

The door behind him suddenly opened, and he turned to glare at the unwanted visitor.

It was Detective Crawford, looking solemn and wide-awake despite the late hour.

She nodded silently, acknowledging that Quinn was asleep. Then she motioned with her hand for him to join her in the hallway.

He glanced back to Quinn, not wanting to leave her side. But she seemed calmer after his attempts to comfort her, so he slowly let go of her hand and left the room.

The door shut with a quiet click at his back as he met eyes with the detective.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, none-too-politely.

It was clear he didn’t want to see her, and that he felt he had more important things to do. Tina figured she couldn’t blame him. Though he was going to be very interested in what she had to tell him.

“I heard about the accident, and the officers that were on scene forwarded the information to me. I thought you should know what they found.”

Grant stared at her in confusion. “I don’t understand. Was the other driver drunk?”

“No, nothing like that,” Tina replied, reaching into the file folder she held and pulling out a photograph. It showed the undercarriage of his town car, a close up on the brake lines. “They’re still investigating the crash, but when the officers noticed this they contacted me right away. They weren’t sure if it was somehow related to your sister’s disappearance.”

Grant accepted the photograph from her, eyes narrowing as he inspected it. “Were the brakes tampered with?”

“The line appears to be broken. It may not be intentional, but it is still cause for concern.” She watched him closely as he stared at the image of his car, his expression carefully blank.

“So you think someone did this on purpose. They wanted to cause the accident,” Grant said dully, handing her back the photograph.

Tina nodded. “It is a possibility. We can’t know for sure until the investigation on the crash is complete. However, I did speak with your driver a few moments ago and he confirmed that the brakes seemed fine when he left the hotel, but when he needed them to stop the car at the light, they failed. In a car such as this, the likelihood of that occurring without being tampered with is small.”

Grant’s jaw clenched as he processed the information. “You’re suggesting that the person who did this may be the same one who kidnapped my sister.”

“Nothing is certain, as of yet,” she reminded him. “We will know more in the next few days. Until then, we will continue the search for your sister.”

“Detective,” Grant said sternly, his eyes intense as he stared at her. “It’s clear that I was the target. Quinn never rides in my car without me in it. Whoever did this, they wanted me dead, not her.”

Tina nodded, quickly jotting down his statement in her notepad. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Vasser. Have a good evening.”

She started to leave before he stopped her. “There’s something else you should know.”

She turned and faced him, eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

He hoped he was doing the right thing in telling her what he hoped to God wasn’t true… “I want you to look into my cousin, Duke. He may be involved.”

Her face remained stonily composed as she nodded. “Any particular reason why you think this?”

“No. Just look into it and let me know,” Grant replied curtly, heading back into Quinn’s room and shutting the door in the detective’s face.

She made a note of it in her pad and whistled as she walked away.

The next morning,
Linc and Lynette dropped by again with flowers for Quinn. When they entered the hospital room, they found Grant sitting beside her, holding her hand.

“Morning sunshines!” Linc greeted, slapping Grant on the back cheerfully. “You stay here all night?”

Grant didn’t even spare his brother a glance as he continued to watch Quinn. “Of course I did.”

Quinn grinned and then winked at Linc. “He’s such a stubborn ass. I told him to go home but he won’t budge.”

Linc understood the feeling perfectly. “I don’t blame him.”

Lynette set the vase with sunny yellow flowers on the table beside the bed, clutching her hands together awkwardly as she looked down at Quinn.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live. You didn’t have to bring me those,” Quinn chided. She tried to sit up further, only to curse under her breath at the sharp, stabbing pain that pierced her side. Her breath caught and she waved Grant off when he tried to help her. “I’m fine…just the pain meds wearing off a bit. God, cracked ribs suck.”

“Do you need anything?” Lynette asked immediately. “Water? A magazine? Chocolate?”

Quinn managed a strained smile. “If there’s Vicodin in that chocolate, I’ll take it.”

Grant looked up at his brother, concern darkening his eyes. “I need to speak with you, if you have a minute.”

“Yeah. Sure. What’s up?” Linc asked, watching as Grant squeezed Quinn’s hand and rose to his feet.

Grant said nothing as they left the room, shutting the door behind them in the hallway. He led Linc a few feet away, glancing around nervously to be sure no one was listening.

Linc’s eyebrows rose as he let out a light laugh.

“What’re you worried the Feds are spying on you or something?” he joked.

Grant eyed him disdainfully. “No. But what I'm about to tell you is incredibly troubling.”

Linc frowned. “Okay. Hit me.”

“The detective investigating the kidnapping came by here last night and told me something I was not prepared to hear.”

“Does she have a lead?”

Grant shook his head. “No. But she has reason to believe that the accident last night was no accident.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means there's evidence that the brake lines were intentionally tampered with,” Grant informed him, his anger a sinister, rooted thing deep within. “The detective thinks that whoever took Kennedy may have targeted me by messing with my car.”

Linc blinked in stunned surprise. “But instead Quinn was in the car.”

Grant nodded, guilt in his eyes. “She's lying in that hospital bed right now because of me.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Linc patted him on the shoulder, though a range of fierce emotions stormed over his face. “But it is fucking scary.”

“It is,” Grant agreed, releasing a heavy breath. “This whole mess is getting out of hand. It’s exhausting to try and keep up with it all.”