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He jogged through the trees, the kid’s long braids slapping his shoulders and face. She had a bruise on her cheek. He could see the dark smudge of it against her pale skin. He thought there were freckles on her nose, too.
Freckles and red hair?
He didn’t ask Quinn. No talking. As little noise as possible. Every cell in his body focused on getting them out of the woods and to safety.
Up ahead, a shadow moved through the trees. Silent, barely visible in the darkness. Malone reached for Quinn’s hand, yanked her behind a huge evergreen.
“What—?”
He pressed his finger to her lips, gestured for her to be quiet. For a moment, he heard nothing. Then, furtive steps. The hunter on the prowl. He handed Jubilee to Quinn, pressed them both deeper into the pine needles.
“Stay here until I come back for you,” he whispered in Quinn’s ear, the words more breath than sound.
She nodded her understanding, and then he slid back into the forest, heading for the shadowy figure that was stalking them.
TWO (#ulink_2dd5b813-272f-5a2e-9860-deb313a3f92d)
Quinn had never liked horror movies. Right at the moment, she felt as if she were living in one. Only this wasn’t a movie. This was real-life terror. This was her alone in the woods with an innocent life depending on her. She didn’t know where the guy had gone. She didn’t even know what his name was. All she knew was that he’d told her to stay put until he returned.
From where?
That’s what she needed to know.
Had he seen something?
Heard something?
How long should she wait?
Ten minutes?
Twenty?
Jubilee’s head rested on her shoulder, her hand lax against Quinn’s bicep. She was exhausted, of course. Probably terrified, too. She’d been left with a stranger, carted hundreds of miles away from her home, and now she was in the dark woods waiting for something horrible to happen.
Quinn wanted to ease out from behind the tree and creep through the woods until she found her brother’s house. She was afraid, though, terrified of making a mistake. If Cory were here, he’d know what to do. A deputy sheriff in Echo Lake, he’d always known exactly what every situation required. He wasn’t there, though, and Quinn would have to figure this out on her own.
Somewhere beyond the tree, leaves crackled. She waited, expecting to hear men’s voices, a shouted warning. Fist against flesh. Something. Anything.
She heard nothing but that soft crackling sound.
She edged back until she was wedged between pine boughs, the sharp, tangy scent of broken needles filling her nose. Jubilee had gone still, one hand clutching the little bag of chocolate candy she’d been given, the other clutching a fistful of Quinn’s jacket.
She still hadn’t spoken, but those screams? They’d probably stay with Quinn for the rest of her life. They’d been the sound of profound terror. No child should ever have to feel that. She shifted her grip on Jubilee, listening for any sign that August’s friend was returning. Friend? Maybe. Quinn had no idea who the guy really was. He hadn’t introduced himself, and she hadn’t thought to ask how he knew her brother. She hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, either. She had noticed the scar that bisected his cheek, though. If she’d met him before, she’d have remembered that.
Jubilee shoved against her arms, trying to wiggle down. Quinn held tight. No way was she putting the child down, but August’s friend had been right about one thing—running with a five-year-old in her arms wasn’t going to be easy. Quinn had her mother Alison’s build—small-boned, short, thin. Her sprint from the Jeep had been fed by adrenaline. Now, she felt tired, her arms aching, her legs trembling. Still, she wanted to run. She just wasn’t sure what direction to go.
They couldn’t stay there forever.
Eventually, the night would pass, day would dawn, and they’d be sitting ducks, waiting to be spotted by whoever was after them.
Tabitha’s husband?
It was the only thing that made sense. Quinn had no enemies. She barely had any friends. Funny how people pulled away during times of grief. Strange how those that she’d been closest to seemed to have drifted the furthest after Cory was buried. Or maybe she’d been the one to drift away, separating herself out from the pack of happy, successful couples that she and Cory had once gone bowling with, camped with, biked and hiked with.
She shook the memories away, ducked beneath the pine boughs and stepped out of the shadow of the tree. She had to move or she’d be frozen forever, too terrified to do anything but wait for someone to find her.
Jubilee stared at her through eyes made dark by fatigue. Wisps of hair had escaped the braids they’d been plaited into. A few long strands straggled across her neck and curled up to touch the bruise on her cheek.
Poor kid. She hadn’t slept much during the long drive. She’d just sat in her booster, staring out the window. She hadn’t spoken, but she’d responded to questions with nods or shakes of her head. Obviously, she had a good receptive vocabulary. There was no doubt that she’d understood everything Tabitha had said to Quinn. She knew she was going to DC to see her biological father. Had she met Daniel Boone Anderson before? That was something Quinn should have asked, but she’d been too shocked by Tabitha’s sudden appearance to think straight.
A light flashed to the right. There. Gone. Someone searching through the woods, and whoever it was had probably heard Quinn shuffling through the dead pine needles and fallen leaves.
Quinn didn’t dare stop, didn’t dare go back to the tree or duck into another hole. They’d find her this time. She was certain of it.
She sprinted into a thicket, brambles and branches tearing at her hair and snagging the comfortable yoga pants she’d worn for the ride.
She barely felt it.
Keep going. That’s all she could think about. Run as fast as you can.
Jubilee’s weight slowed Quinn down, but she pushed through the other side of the thicket, dodging through trees. Her foot caught on roots that snaked out of the ground, and she fell hard, skidding on her knees, one hand on the ground, the other clutching Jubilee.
A man stepped out in front of her, appearing so quickly, she thought she must be imagining the dark form.
He moved toward her and she scrambled up.
“I have a gun,” she lied, her voice shaking.
“No, you don’t. You’re a pacifist to the core,” the man responded, his voice so familiar, she wanted to cry with relief.
“August?”
“Yeah, and you’re lucky it is. Didn’t Malone tell you to stay hidden?” he responded.
“Not exactly,” she hedged.
“Exactly,” a man said, his voice coming from behind Quinn. “I told you to stay put until I got back.”
“I decided I’d be safer heading to my brother’s place.”
“Your brother was the one I saw walking through the trees. If you’d given me half a minute to check things out, you could have saved us all some time.”
“I gave you more than half a minute.”
“Learn a little patience. It might save your life one day,” he retorted, his eyes blazing through the darkness.
“How about we discuss this at my place?” August cut in. “I’ll feel a whole lot better about everything once we’re not standing in the woods making it easy for any sniper who happens to be skulking around.”
A sniper?
That wasn’t something Quinn wanted to think about.
She shuddered, clutching Jubilee a little tighter.
“I agree,” Malone said. “I don’t know about you, McConnell, but I’m not liking the way things are playing out.”
“You want to walk or go back to my SUV?” August asked. The fact that he was asking surprised Quinn. August had been doing his own thing and going his own way for as long as she could remember. He’d joined the marines at eighteen, been discharged honorably five years later. Now he worked private security, traveling around the country doing work for a high-profile security firm. He didn’t ask anyone for advice, and he never seemed to need help.
“It’s your call. You know the area better than I do,” the guy responded. Malone? That’s what August had called him. Maybe they were old military buddies. Quinn would have to ask. After they got out of the woods.
“Let’s walk to my place. I’ll come back for the SUV after law enforcement gets here.”
“You called the police?” Quinn had promised Tabitha that she wouldn’t. She’d kept that promise the same way she’d kept so many others. She was big on that. Keeping promises. Mostly because her father had never kept his. Not to her mother. Not to her. Not to any of his children, friends or relatives.
Danner McConnell had been a conman. A liar. Sometimes even a thief. He’d been charming, too. Funny. Always at every dance recital or school performance. He’d liked people, and people had liked him, but he’d never made a promise he hadn’t broken. He’d never sacrificed anything for his family. He’d died of a massive heart attack Quinn’s senior year of high school. She’d been sad, and she’d been relieved. For the first time in nearly three decades, Quinn’s mother had been free to live her life happily. No husband scheming and jostling to get whatever he could from whomever he could. No explanations needed for money borrowed and never repaid, tools taken and not returned. The jovial, sweet guy who’d mowed the lawn for the neighbor and cheered from every audience was what Quinn tried to remember, but in the back of her mind, she couldn’t quite forget all the promises broken and all the nights she’d heard her mom crying in her room.
“I called the police when I found your Jeep. The door was open, the keys were in the ignition and you were gone. The police seemed like a good idea,” August replied as they walked back the way Quinn had just come. Apparently, she hadn’t been sprinting toward his house. Who knew where she and Jubilee would have ended up if August and Malone hadn’t stopped them.
“I guess they were, but Tabitha—”
“Is just like our father was. You know it. I know it. She’s a liar, a thief, a con woman.”
“Was those things. People change.”
“Some people change,” he grumbled. “Our sister isn’t one of them.”
“Jubilee is her daughter,” Quinn retorted. “How about you have a little respect for that?”
To his credit, August didn’t say another word about Tabitha. “Sometimes we have to break promises to keep our word, Quinn,” he said instead. “You’re going to have to tell the police everything she told you.”
“I can’t do that. Tabitha said—”
“A promise isn’t a good one to keep if it gets you killed,” Malone broke in, lifting Jubilee from her arms. “Whatever she said, whatever she told you, doesn’t matter in light of the fact that you’ve been followed here. The more the police know, the easier it will be for them to figure out what’s going on.”
He was right. She knew it, so she kept her mouth shut, and trudged behind August, Malone right beside her. Jubilee seemed comfortable enough in his arms, her head resting against his chest, the candy still clutched in her hand.
She’d felt heavy, but Quinn knew she was small for her age. Probably an inch shorter than the smallest kid in Quinn’s kindergarten class. Someone had painted her fingernails pink with tiny flowers in the middle of each nail. She had a pretty diamond and gold necklace that Quinn thought was the real deal, a beautiful coat that had probably been purchased at some fancy designer shop, patent leather shoes, and the look of a child who had been given just about anything and everything she wanted.
Except for the bruise.
That was the one discordant note in an otherwise perfect picture, and it made Quinn’s heart ache. To have everything you wanted and nothing that mattered? That was the cruelest irony of all.
The faint sound of sirens drifted from somewhere in the distance, the local police responding to August’s call.
Or the state police?
Either way, the promise Quinn had made Tabitha had been broken. There was no way to undo that, and Quinn didn’t know if she’d have wanted to. Despite what she’d said to August, she knew Tabitha had looked her square in the eye and lied.
There’s nothing to worry about, Quinn. You’re not breaking any laws, and my husband couldn’t care less about Jubilee. Not his kid. Not his concern. It’s me that he wants. Plus, he’s got no idea that I came here. Vegas is far away, and he doesn’t know I have a sister in Maine.
Maybe not, but he’d figured it out, and Quinn was sure her sister had known he would. Tabitha had been edgy and anxious when she’d stood on Quinn’s doorstep. She’d refused to go inside, refused coffee, tea, food. She’d kissed Jubilee once, told her to be the best girl she could and taken off before Quinn could ask questions.
It had all happened fast, and Quinn knew that was purposeful, knew that her sister was protecting herself more than she was protecting her daughter. She had to have understood just how easily her husband could find her and Jubilee. She should have warned Quinn. She should have told her to be prepared for anything. Instead, she’d smoothed things out, made them nicer than they were.
Just like August had said—she was like their father.
Her daughter could have died because of it.
Her daughter...
Malone had called Jubilee by a different name.
Kaitlyn? Kendal?
Quinn had been too terrified to really listen to what he was saying. She needed to ask more questions, she needed to get some answers. First, though, she needed to get to August’s house and away from whoever might still be lurking in the woods.
* * *
They made quick time, heading east on a path August led them to. It wouldn’t take long to get back to the ranch-style house that stood in the middle of acres of corn fields and pastures. That was good, because Malone didn’t like the feeling he was getting. Trouble. It seemed to pulse around them, mixing with the howling of sirens and the soft rustle of leaves and pad of feet.
“Where’d you tell the police to meet us?” he asked. “If they’re at the Jeep, you might want to call and let them know we’re heading toward your place.”
“I gave them my address. They’ll be there when we arrive.”
“Do you think they’ll take Ju...” Quinn’s voice trailed off. She must have realized it wasn’t a good question to ask in front of the five-year-old. The kid had already been through a lot. She’d been thrust into the arms a stranger, driven from Maine to Maryland. Everything she’d known, everyone who was familiar, was gone.
She didn’t cry, though. Didn’t complain. Didn’t ask for Quinn, her mother or her father. She just rested her head against Malone’s chest, the bag of candy he’d given her hanging from her hand.
Odd. Maybe even a little alarming. Most of the kids he brought out of traumatic situations wanted the familiar, begged for whomever it was they were closest to. This kid didn’t seem as if she wanted anyone or anything. Except, maybe, to be left alone.
If she really was Boone’s daughter, he’d have his work cut out for him. Building a bond with a child who didn’t seem to have bonded with anyone wasn’t going to be easy.
Then again, maybe she had bonded. Maybe she was in shock or so terrified she was afraid to speak.
He patted her narrow shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay, kid,” he said, and she looked square in his eyes. For just a second, just enough time to make his pulse jump, he saw Boone in her face. Something about the tilt of her eyes, the freckles that were definitely on her nose. It was enough to make him want to put her in his SUV and drive her straight to HEART headquarters, keep her safe there until Boone arrived.
He couldn’t. Not without getting into a boatload of trouble with the local PD and with Chance. Malone’s boss liked to play by the rules. He liked to do things by the book. He did not like to get on the bad side of law enforcement.
They trekked up a small hill, pushing through thick foliage. Despite her short stature, Quinn kept up, her pale face and panting breaths the only sign that she was wearing down.
“You doing okay?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Dandy,” she panted, the response almost making him smile.
“I hope you feel that way when we get to the house,” August grumbled. “You could go to jail, sis. You could be charged with kidnapping. You know that, right?”
