Her Private Avenger

  The town had rebuilt the broken rail, and as the three of them walked around, it became painfully obvious there was nothing to find. The river below was quiet, save for the soft sound of water spla against the muddy banks.

  Pausing at the railing, Quinn’s jaw tensed. The water wasn’t very deep, but deep enough to submerge a vehicle. He imagined Morgan’s car down there, slowly sinking to the silt at the bottom of the river. Anger clawed at his gut like a hungry animal. She could have died, damn it.

  “I should get going,” came Tony’s quiet voice.

  Quinn looked up to see Tony approach, a somber expression on his face. “We’re not going to find anything,” Morgan’s brother added, his gaze drifting over to where Morgan stood.

  She was still looking down at the water, the stiffness of her shoulders revealing her dissatisfaction over not discovering any clues out here.

  “You’re not staying the night?” Quinn asked.

  Tony shook his head. “I’ve got plans with Caroline tonight, and I promised I’d be back this afternoon.” He hesitated. “Look, can I be frank with you?”

  Quinn nodded guardedly.

  “The senator sent me,” Tony admitted, keeping his voice low. “He wanted me to bring her home.”

  “She won’t go back until she’s ready.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m not pushing. It’s obvious she’s not going to figure out what happened to Layla, and I think in a day or two she’ll realize that and leave voluntarily.”

  As opposed to by force, which was what her bastard of a father wanted. Quinn suddenly stared at the man beside him, baffled. “Why are you so loyal to him?” he couldn’t help but ask.

  Tony didn’t seem offended by the question. “He’s my father,” he said simply. “With Mom gone, Dad is all we’ve got. I see no harm in going along with him, within reason.”

  “And it’s reasonable to have your sister committed to a psychiatric word?”

  Tony flinched at the barb. “It wasn’t my idea. But to be honest, I’m still not sure she didn’t drive off intentionally. I was with her after the memorial, Quinn. She was devastated.”

  “Morgan wouldn’t try to kill herself.”

  “I’m not sure,” Tony said again. His eyes strayed to his sister once more. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you need to encourage her to quit investigating a case that’s not likely to be solved. The senator is getting impatient.”

  “Why?” Quinn shook his head in bewilderment. “Why does he care if she investigates?”

  “I don’t know.” Tony’s voice lowered. “But he’s determined to bring her home. He said he’d use extreme measures if need be.”

  Quinn clenched his teeth. “Send out the men in white coats?”

  “Maybe.” Tony sighed. “You know my father. He likes everything in a neat and tidy package. Looking good is his main concern, and my sister, unfortunately, has the bad habit of making him look bad. He doesn’t like that he’s unable to control her.”

  “Well, he better get used to it,” Quinn said with a humorless laugh. “Because Morgan isn’t easily controlled.”

  Tony smiled ruefully. “No, she certainly isn’t.” He glanced at the expensive Rolex on his wrist, then said, “Think you guys can drop me back at the house now? I need to get going.”

  “I’ll get Morgan.”

  Quinn walked in her direction, and quietly cleared his throat. “Morgan, we have to go.”

  She slowly turned away from the railing, and the disappointment and sorrow in her big blue eyes nearly tore him apart. “There’s nothing here,” she mumbled. “No second set of tire tracks, no paint flecks, no sign that there was another car.”

  “I know. That’s why we need to leave.” He gestured to her brother, who stood by the SUV. “And Tony wants to head back to D.C.”

  “All right,” she said.

  They drove back to the Kerr estate in silence, and Tony’s goodbye was subdued. He, too, looked disappointed that they hadn’t found anything. But Quinn could swear he also looked pleased. No doubt he’d go straight to the senator to deliver the good news that Morgan kept hitting a brick wall in the case and would probably be home soon. Senator Kerr would be ecstatic.

  By the time evening rolled around, Morgan went from depressed to frustrated to angry, and now back to depressed. She and Quinn spent the afternoon reading the case files again, coming up with nothing—again. Eventually they decided to take a break, and ended up playing a game of Scrabble. It should have been fun—they used to play a lot when they’d been together—but not even the familiar activity could lift her spirits.

  She felt like a failure. For ten years she’d come back to Autumn, asked questions, read the reports, and for ten years she’d returned to D.C. with nothing. Layla had disappeared a decade ago, last seen going into the woods, and a decade later, her body had been found. That was all they knew. All they’d ever know.

  The discouraging details filled her with despair, and as much as she hated admitting it, maybe it was time to give up. She spent most of the evening going back and forth on the subject, battling her own nature. She wasn’t a quitter, never had been. But how long could she keep looking under stones and find nothing but dirt underneath?

  Quinn wisely said very little as she pondered. He prepared spaghetti for dinner, which they ate quietly, and then Morgan retreated to her study, where she sat for two hours, trying to figure out what to do.

  In the end, she decided to do nothing. For tonight, anyway. She would go to sleep, rest her tired brain and figure it out in the morning.

  Rising from her chair, she headed for the doorway, just as the phone rang. She sighed and went back to the desk. Her brother’s cell number flashed on the phone’s digital screen.

  “You again,” she said, half teasing, half sighing.

  “Hey, Mor. Sorry to bug you, but I forgot to tell you some thing earlier. Caroline’s birthday is next week, and I’m throwing a surprise party for her.” He sounded almost boyish as he said, “I’d like for you to come. I think you two would get along well.”

  She was touched that he’d invite her. She and Tony hadn’t spent much time together since their mother died. “I’d love to,” she said. “Did you get back to the city okay?”

  “Yep, barely any traffic. I just left Caroline’s apartment and I’m heading home now.”

  “Drive safely,” she said. “And thanks for the invite.”

  “I’ll talk to you soon,” her brother said, then hung up.

  Morgan set down the phone and left the study, shutting the door behind her. At the foot of the staircase in the foyer, she hesitated. Should she go up to Quinn’s room, or her own? After the constant letdowns of the day, she was aching to fall into his arms and make love to him. But she wasn’t sure if he meant for last night to be a one-shot deal.

  In the end, she went up to her own room. Quinn had been very supportive today, but she still had no idea where his head—and heart—was at. And the last thing she wanted to deal with right now was his rejection.

  She changed into her pajamas and turned off the light, bathing the bedroom in darkness. Sliding under the covers, she shifted around until she found a comfortable position. She’d thought sleep would be hard to come by, but to her surprise, the fatigue of the day got the better of her. She was just drifting into that half-asleep, half-awake state, her muscles loose and relaxed, when a soft knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in,” she said sleepily.

  The door opened and light spilled in from the hallway. She opened her eyes in time to glimpse Quinn’s silhouette fill the narrow door frame.

  “Hey,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

  “No, I was only kinda sleeping.”

  Even in the dark, she could see his green eyes gleam with amusement. “Kinda? It looks like more than kinda.”

  She rolled onto her side, rested her cheek on the pillow and said, “Is there something you want, Quinn?”

  He sounded gruff
. “Just wanted to let you know I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. I wanted to say good-night.”

  “All right.” A tiny pang of regret tugged at her belly. So, she’d been right not to go to him. He evidently had no intention of repeating last night’s passionate activities.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Do you want me to come up when I’m out of the shower?”

  Her heart jumped in surprise. Okay, so maybe she’d been wrong. She lifted her head off the pillow, and her breath hitched when she saw the look in his eyes. It was a cross between sweet uncertainty and sinful promise.

  “Yes,” she whispered in response to his question.

  He turned for the

  “You can shower here, you know,” she said.

  “I need to charge my phone and grab some boxers.” His eyes twinkled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be up soon.”

  He shut the door carefully and the bedroom went dark again. Ribbons of happiness uncurled in her body. She released a contented sigh and let herself drift off again, longing for Quinn’s return. She imagined him sliding under the warm covers, wrapping one strong arm around her. God, she’d missed sleeping with him.

  The door creaked open again. It seemed too fast—hadn’t he just left? She was too lethargic to open her eyes, simply murmuring, “Back so soon?”

  Quinn didn’t answer, but his footsteps thudded softly on the carpet as he approached the bed. Smiling, Morgan reached to pull up the covers. Instead of joining her under the blanket, he whipped it aside. The sudden loss of warmth surprised her. She blinked her eyes and found an ominous face covered by a black ski mask hovering over her.

  And then a gloved hand clamped over her mouth.

  Chapter 14

  Panic pummeled into Morgan’s chest like angry fists. She tried to scream, but the intruder’s hand tightly covered her mouth, her frantic sounds muffled against the leather glove he wore. So she used her teeth instead of her voice, wildly biting the long gloved fingers but failing to dig her teeth in.

  Her attacker snaked his other arm under her back and forcibly hauled her off the bed. She landed on the carpet with a thud and for a moment his hand slipped from her mouth. Hope burst inside her and she opened her mouth to scream for Quinn but Ski Mask quickly slapped his palm back into place. He didn’t say a word as he dragged her across the carpet, while she kicked her legs hoping to connect with something. Fear seized her spine. She couldn’t let him take her. She had to make some noise, alert Quinn.

  And there was no doubt the intruder planned on taking her. She didn’t know how he got into the house, why none of the alarms had gone off, but his iron-tight grasp and purposeful strides made his intentions clear.

  Adrenaline sizzled through her veins. She kept kicking, trying to bite, screaming muted sounds against the glove, but whoever this guy was, he was strong. She’d taken self-defense classes over the years, but she was no match for Ski Mask.

  Or so she thought. The second he got her to the door, his hand slipped again, and this time she managed to rip out a shriek so loud she was surprised the crystal chandelier downstairs didn’t shatter into a million pieces. But it got the job done. Her attacker instantly froze. Then, to her extreme shock, he let her go. Shoved her so hard she fell backward, her butt landing on the floor.

  Her attacker’s hurried footsteps burned tracks on the hardwood floor in the hall. She stared in shock as he sprinted off, as if he’d decided not to go through with his mission.

  Dazed, she stumbled to her feet. Downstairs the front door slammed, and then absolutely nothing. No hum of an engine starting, no tires screeching on the driveay. Wherever he’d gone, Ski Mask hadn’t done it by car.

  Unable to comprehend what just happened, she tore down the hall toward the stairs, taking them two at a time as she raced up to the third-floor guest room. Breathing heavily, a pure dose of adrenaline still pumping through her, she threw open Quinn’s door and found his room empty. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. He was in the shower. She’d nearly been kidnapped and her big tough mercenary was in the shower.

  Her hands shook like crazy as she stormed into the bathroom. Not even the sight of Quinn’s wet, naked body through the glass shower door could dispel the fear and fury churning inside her.

  Quinn’s eyes widened at her sudden appearance. Instantly shutting off the water, he whipped open the door of the shower stall. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

  “Someone just attacked me in my room,” she blurted out.

  Without hesitation, Quinn stepped out of the stall and pulled her into his arms. Water dripped from his body, soaking her pajamas, but she didn’t care. As tears pricked her eyelids, she buried her face against his damp chest.

  “He was wearing a ski mask…I thought it was you at first…he tried to drag me out…I…” Each sentence shot out like a bullet from a rifle. “I screamed and he took off…I didn’t hear a car start. He might have run into the woods.”

  Quinn released her and bounded out of the washroom. She followed him into the bedroom and watched as he slid a pair of gray sweatpants over his legs. He charged toward the nightstand, grabbed his gun, then bent down by the duffel near the door and unzipped it. He retrieved another weapon, a menacing black Glock, and stuck it out in her direction, butt first. “You remember how to use this?” he asked, his tone deadly.

  She nodded numbly.

  “Good.” He made for the door. “Lock yourself in the bathroom. Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

  Her eyes widened as he raced off. He was going after the attacker. Dear God, don’t let him get hurt. Her instincts told her to run after him, but Quinn’s orders had been nonnegotiable. With tears running down her face, she locked herself in the bathroom as he’d requested, then sank down onto the wet floor and leaned against the side of marble tub. She held the gun with both hands, keeping it aimed at the door. And then she waited.

  And waited. And waited.

  It was a good thirty minutes later when Quinn came back. He knocked and told her to open up, which she did immediately.

  “Well?” she demanded, clutching the gun in her hands.

  His chest was still damp, but now from sweat. His ragged breaths indicated he’d been doing some serious running. But the look on his face was one of puzzlement. “There’s nobody here,” he said.

  Relief and confusion collided inside her. She followed Quinn into the bedroom, where she lowered herself on the edge of the bed, setting the gun on the mattress. “You didn’t find him?”

  Quinn stood in front of her, an odd flicker in his eyes. “No. In fact, I found nons that anyone had been in the house. The front door was locked, Morgan. The alarm was armed.”

  A chill scurried up her spine.

  “I walked the perimeter,” he continued, still eyeing her with that indefinable expression. “I checked the yard, scoured the edge of the woods for tracks, circled the entire house. I couldn’t find any trace of the guy.”

  “He’s good then,” she murmured.

  Quinn didn’t respond. His silence caused a warning bell to go off in her head, and when she lifted her head to meet his eyes, she finally deciphered the peculiar expression.

  It was doubt.

  He didn’t believe her.

  Her chest felt as if it had been crushed by a five-ton weight. “You think I’m making it up?” she said in a small voice.

  Quinn’s brows furrowed with indecision. “No, I don’t think you’re making it up. I’m leaning toward, uh, maybe a nightmare?”

  Disbelief whipped around inside her like an unsecured cable in the middle of a windstorm. “A nightmare? You think I don’t know the difference between a nightmare, and actually waking up to a strange man dragging me out of bed?”

  He faltered. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would he try to drag you off, then run away like a scared rabbit? How did he get in the house? Why is the alarm on and the front door locked?”

  Morgan’s cheeks scorched. She curled her
fingers into fists and sent Quinn a venomous look. “I did not dream this, or imagine it.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “And I can think of a very good reason how the intruder got inside. My father sent him.”

  She stumbled off the bed and stalked to the door. “The guy probably had a key, a code for the alarm, and I’m sure my dad told him exactly how to get off the property through the ravine.”

  Quinn cursed softly from behind. “He just wanted to scare you, not take you. Wanted to freak you out enough that you’d leave on your own.”

  “Probably.” She tossed him an icy glance over her shoulder. “But then again, I could have dreamed that, too.”

  Without another word, she stormed out of the guest room, her heart thrashing angrily in her chest. He’d doubted her. After everything they’d shared, after all those times she’d confessed her insecurities, told him how much it hurt hearing other people accuse her of being nuts…after all that, he’d doubt ed her.

  She’d barely reached the landing when Quinn tugged on her arm and yanked her back, forcing her to stop. “Morgan, come on. Look at me.”

  She childishly kept her gaze on the floor.

  “Look at me,” he repeated firmly. When she still refused, he cupped her chin with both hands and forced the eye contact.

  “You didn’t believe me,” she muttered, unable to stop the pain that seeped into her tone.

  “I’m sorry.” His green eyeslittered with remorse. “But you’ve got to see it from my point of view. I was in the shower, so I didn’t hear a thing, and I just spent the last half hour combing the woods for a phantom. It made no sense.”

  “So you just assume I imagined it all?” she said sardonically.

  He released her chin, but didn’t let her go. His hands merely drifted down to her waist. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t until you mentioned your father that I remembered…extreme measures,” he said quietly.

  “Huh?”

  “Tony said those words earlier. Don’t get angry, but he admitted your father sent him here to bring you home—”

  “I knew it!”

  “—and that the senator was willing to take extreme measures to get you back.” Quinn gave a cynical smile. “I guess this is his idea of extreme.”