Chapter Ten
After dinner they strolled the few blocks to the place where Santa Monica Boulevard met the Pacific. There, at the edge of the small park, they found a bench that overlooked the beach and the water beyond. Quinn felt like they sat at the cusp of two worlds: a continent ablaze with the lights of civilization behind them and the vast darkness of the ocean before them. She couldn’t help but feel insignificant.
Quinn pulled the front of her jacket tight and gave voice to her musing.
James reached over, gently pulled her hand out from where it was tucked, and laced their fingers together. Resting their entwined hands on his thigh, he closed his other hand around hers, too. He said, “You might be a tiny speck on this big planet, but you are by no means insignificant.” His voice was as warm as his hands.
Her stomach somersaulted so ferociously she could barely breathe. They were holding hands. She tried not to read too much into it. Maybe it was just a gesture of friendship. But judging by the way their evening had gone, the undeniable chemistry between them, the way he sometimes looked at her, she was fairly certain this was something more than friendship. She’d never felt anything like it. She was thrilled and overwhelmed and happy and terrified all at the same time. And overarching her jumble of emotions was the whispered feeling she and James simply fit.
Her words came haltingly and her voice was thick with emotion. “You’re important to me, too.”
The soft squeeze of her hand was his wordless and perfect response.
They sat hand in hand and watched the white foam appear with each breaking wave and then disappear as the surf rolled up the sand. It was as if they both understood words would break the tenuous, magical spell.
It was only when the hour grew late and they felt a spit of rain that they finally rose from the bench. They walked back to James’s car, holding hands the entire way.
They were in a contented, mellow mood during the drive back to Quinn’s apartment and chatted quietly over the soft music coming from the car’s speakers. When James parked in front of her building, she was disappointed. It meant the evening was coming to an end.
She slipped her hand into the crook of James’s arm as they sauntered along the walkway toward her door. James dug his hand into his pocket, pulled out his money clip, and peeled off a five-dollar bill. He held the note between two fingers and offered it to her. When she gave him a puzzled look, he said, “Seed money for your great adventure jar.”
She stared down at the money and murmured, “James, that’s very sweet, but I can’t.”
“Please. Take it. It would be my honor to help you get started. Perhaps you’d consider putting London at the top of your list of places to visit.”
She couldn’t hurt his feelings by refusing. “I think I can do that.” She took the bill and tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her heart rate increased as they climbed the steps and stood on the landing outside her door. She wasn’t sure what to do next and surprised herself by asking, “Would you like to come in for a little while?”
“I would, but it’s getting late and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“Oh, okay.” She swallowed and said, “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”
“You’re welcome. I had a great time.” His eyebrows rose. “Can I ring you tomorrow?”
“Of course. I’d like that.”
“Great. Talk to you tomorrow.” He bent and pressed his lips to her cheek. “Good night.”
Her legs went a bit wobbly, but she managed to stay upright and murmur, “Good night.” She turned, unlocked the door, and opened it. “That’s weird,” she muttered when she saw her apartment was completely dark. She was sure she’d left the lamp on. She flipped the switch up and down. Nothing.
“Quinn? Is something wrong?”
“I think the bulb in the lamp went out while we were gone.” She left the door open to let in some light, walked to the kitchen, and dropped her purse and keys on the counter. When she flicked on the lights and looked into the living room, adrenaline exploded in her chest as she let out a strangled yelp.
“Quinn!” James bolted to her side. “What—”
She was barely aware he was there. All she could see was her overturned couch, her lamp lying broken on the floor, and every book from the bookcase strewn about.
James sprang into action. He lifted the hem of his jeans and slipped a pistol from an ankle holster. “Stay here,” he said in a low voice. Gun raised, he hurried toward her bedroom. The second he disappeared into the room, she heard a shout, followed by a crash, then thumping and grunting.
“James!” She was about to run to her bedroom when a man in a black hoodie barreled toward the front door with her laptop tucked under his arm.
Without thinking, she grabbed her keys, stepped in front of him, and stabbed her car key at his face, ripping through the flesh of his cheek.
He crashed into her and sent her stumbling backward. She slammed into the wall.
He dropped her computer and slapped a hand over the gash. “Bitch!” he spat and lunged at her.
When she could smell onions on his breath, she pushed away from the wall and rammed her knee up into his danglers so hard, he grunted out a strangled “oof.”
Wild-eyed and red-faced, he doubled over in pain. Blood seeped through the fingers clamped over his cheek while his other hand clutched his injured privates.
Quinn raced past him. Edward Walker could turn any object into a weapon. She scanned the living room hoping to do the same. Inspiration struck when she spotted one of the two large hardcovers from her set of the Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary. She hefted the eight-pound “P-Z with Supplement and Bibliography” volume with both hands. The intruder turned around and charged at her again. She reared the book back and swung it like a baseball bat. It caught him solidly on the side of the head. There was a resounding crack. He dropped to the floor like a bag of rocks and didn’t move.
She heard grunting and scrabbling coming from the bedroom. She spun, and still armed with her reference book, burst into her bedroom just as James threw a haymaker at the face of the second, bigger man. His head snapped around at the force of James’s punch.
Quinn saw her chance. She took dead aim at the man’s jutted chin, stepped into her swing, and brought the book up from below. The spine of the book connected squarely with its target, sending the second man crashing to the floor. Blood dribbled from his mouth and collected in a dark pool on the carpet. Paralyzed, the only thing she could think was that she’d never get her cleaning deposit back when she moved out.
She glanced around the bedroom and noted the open window and smashed-in screen. Her vision went wonky and the book dropped to the floor. The shaking that started with her hands swiftly overcame her entire body. She would have joined the tome on the floor were it not for James’s arms around her. She was vaguely aware of his voice imploring her to stay with him.
Quinn wasn’t sure how long they’d stood like that when the shivering stopped. The fog in her brain lifted and she found that her head was resting firmly on James’s chest. The side of her face was wet and his sweater was damp from the tears she’d been shedding. She lifted her head, swiped her hands across her cheeks, and ran a palm over the wet spot on his chest. “I’m sorry. I got you all soggy.”
He squeezed her tightly and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be your handkerchief anytime.” He loosened his embrace and leaned his head back. With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face toward his and searched it with worried eyes. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m okay.” She sucked in a gasp when she saw the rapidly swelling cut on his lower lip. “We need to get you some ice,” she said and lightly brushed her fingertips over the angry red mark on his jaw.
“Maybe later.” A smile flickered on his lips. “You’re pretty lethal with that book of yours.”
“My trusty OED.”
“Did you take out the other guy with it, too?”
Her lips pressed together in a hint of a smile and she lifted a shoulder.
“Whoever said, ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’ never met Quinn Ellington.” His smile faded and he asked again, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded and, although he seemed reluctant to do so, he released her. He walked over to the far corner of her room, picked up his pistol, and slid it back into his ankle holster.
Her stomach tightened. “You need to tell me why you’re carrying a gun.”
He squatted down next to the unconscious burglar and rifled through his pockets. Coming up empty, he grabbed the man by the wrist and rolled him onto his stomach. He continued his search as he said, “I’ll explain later.” He removed a piece of jewelry from the criminal’s back pocket. He held it in his open palm for her to see.
“Hey! That’s my great-grandmother’s cameo. The other jackass tried to run out the door with my laptop.”
James’s face turned grim.
“We need to get the police here,” she said and took the phone from her pocket.
James leapt up and put his hand over the phone. “No.”
“What? Why not?”
When he hesitated, she threw his hand off hers and said, “I’m calling the cops.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
Icy tendrils of fear slithered around her heart. She backed away from him. “James, you’re scaring me.”
“Trust me, Quinn. It’ll be okay,” he said in a calm, soothing tone. “I just need you to not call the police and let me handle this.”
Her head spun. Two men had broken into her apartment and were now both unconscious on her floor. Her date had a gun. All she knew was that she had to get away from them. All of them.
She wheeled around and raced for the door. She was halfway across the living room when she heard what sounded like a muffled gunshot. A sudden and intense pain exploded in her right shoulder blade. She dropped to her knees and fell forward, flat on her face. Her final thought as her vision went black was that this was definitely the worst ending to a date. Ever.