Chapter 22

She couldn’t believe it.

Couldn’t believe someone would do something so cruel.

Why would Monty take the dog?

Quinn’s heart ached as she stared at the empty kitchen floor.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

Her purse lay on the kitchen counter, her phone next to it. Without thinking, she picked it up and tapped the screen, calling the first person, the only person, who came to mind.

The one she’d always needed.

He hadn’t always been there for her in the past, but she sent up a silent prayer that he would be there now.

“Hello.”

He was there.

The sound of his voice caused her shoulders to slump forward, and she leaned against the side of the counter for support. “Rock.” She breathed out his name, a whisper that was a cross between a cry and a weep.

“Quinn. What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m here. I’m home. But he’s gone. He took him.”

“Took who? Quinn, take a breath and talk to me.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “The puppy. Max’s puppy. He took him.”

“Who did?”

“Monty. He was angry. He took the puppy to hurt me. To get back at me.”

“Stay there. I’m already in my truck. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

The phone went dead.

She tried to catch her breath, to think. But all she could focus on was the bone-deep ache in her heart. This would kill Max. And it would be her fault.

This was all her fault for letting that man back into their lives.

The sound of a truck engine broke through her thoughts. She ran out onto the porch to see Rock’s pickup tearing down the driveway.

He pulled to a stop in front of her, gravel flying as his tires skidded across the dirt. Opening the door, he growled, “Get in.”

She flew off the porch and scrambled into the truck, pulling the door shut behind her.

Rock’s face was a mask of stone, his mouth set, his brows drawn tightly together. But his eyes widened as he turned his head to look at her. “What the hell happened to you?” His lips formed a tight line, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Did that fucker hurt you?”

She looked down at her torn shirt, at the bruises forming on her arm, at the broken necklace still clutched in her hand. Opening her fist, she held it out to him, her voice faltering as she whispered, “He broke my necklace.”

He spoke his next words slowly, enunciating every syllable. “I’m going to break his fucking neck.”

After such vehemence in his words, she was surprised when he reached out and tenderly touched the red marks on her arm. And even more surprised at the tears that welled in his eyes.

He drew his arm back, squeezing his eyes shut and drawing the back of his hand across his cheek. “Put on your seat belt,” he ordered, then put the truck in gear and sped out of the driveway.

He didn’t speak as they drove toward Monty’s brother’s house, and she didn’t push him. The muscles corded in his forearms, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. His eyes stayed focused on the road, his jaw set, his teeth clenched together, fury radiating off him so strongly she could almost feel it, as if it filled the cab of the truck, pushing her back against the seat.

The distance between the two towns was close to twelve miles, but Rock tore up the highway, pushing the truck, and she was afraid to look at how fast they were going.

“They still in that shitty dump just east of town?” he finally asked, still not taking his eyes off the road.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

He spotted the broken-down farmhouse and slowed the truck as he turned into the drive. Monty’s car was parked next to the house.

He hit the brakes, and dust and gravel went flying. “Stay in the truck,” he ordered as he slammed the door and strode toward the house.

“The hell I will.” She clambered out after him, suddenly terrified that Rock really was going to kill Monty.

He raised his fist and pounded on the front door. “Open up, Hill. I know you’re in there.” They waited a few seconds, then he turned the knob and pushed the door open, barging through the front door of the house.

Monty stood next to the sofa, his cell phone gripped in his hand. “You can’t come in here. That’s trespassing.”

“Not if we’re invited,” Rock said. “And I swear I heard you say ‘Come on in.’ Didn’t you hear him say that, Quinn?”

“Yep. Sure did. Clear as day.” Her bravery had returned as she stood next to Rock.

A whimper sounded, and her gaze shot to the corner of the room where Truman’s furry brown head poked over the corner of a liquor store box.

Monty took a step toward the puppy, but Rock moved faster, holding out his arm and fixing the other man with a steely stare.

He picked up the box and handed it to Quinn. “Take the dog out to the truck. Wait for me there.”

She took the box and backed toward the door, the puppy crying and climbing up the sides, its nails scratching the cardboard as it tried to lick her face.

“You can’t take that dog. That’s stealing.” Monty held up his phone. “And I already called my brother. He’s a cop, you know. He’s on his way.”

“Good. We can show him the bruises you put on Quinn’s arms and neck.”

Monty’s face paled, then returned to his scornful sneer. “I didn’t touch her. And she’s lying if she says I did. If she’s got bruises, they’re probably from you. I know you’ve got a real bad temper. I’ve seen you on TV, always getting into fights.”

I thought he said he didn’t know who Rock was. The thought flitted through her mind, then disappeared as Rock turned to her, his features hard and angry. “Take the dog out to the truck. I need to have a word with Hill. Now, Quinn.”

She stood frozen, indecision holding her in place. She didn’t want to leave Rock alone with Monty, but she also wanted to make sure they had possession of the dog by the time his brother showed up. If he really did show up.

“Okay.” She backed through the door and onto the porch, clutching the box to her chest.

Panic filled her as she saw Rock slam the door behind her and heard the dead bolt slide into the lock.

* * *

Rock turned from the door to face Hill, his fists already clenching at his sides, aching to drive them into Monty’s stupid face.

Hill held up his hands as Rock walked slowly forward. “You can’t touch me. My brother’s a cop.”

“I don’t give a shit who your brother is. You don’t ever lay a hand on Quinn again. In fact, I don’t want you to even look at her. Her or Max. You had your chance. And you blew it. Now you’re going to leave.”

“Oh yeah? Are you going to make me?” He acted tough but scooted behind the table as Rock advanced toward him.

“Oh please, just give me one reason. I’m already planning to punch you in the throat for laying your hands on Quinn. All I need is for you to say one more thing—give me one more reason to smash my fist into your disgusting face.”

Monty held up his hands. “Hold on. Nobody needs to punch anybody.”

Rock laughed. He wasn’t going to let Hill get in a single punch.

“You want me to leave?” Monty stammered. “Fine, I’ll leave. You just gotta make it worth my while.”

“Worth your while? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You got plenty of money, Mr. Big Shot Hockey Player. You have what it takes to get me out of Quinn’s and Max’s lives. What do you think I came back here for? I know that guys with cash will pay to keep me out of the lives of the women they love. But I won’t go for so cheap this time. Ham’s measly ten thousand bucks didn’t last very long. So if you want me gone, it’s gonna cost you fifty.”

Ham’s measly ten thousand bucks? Hamilton had paid this guy off to leave Quinn and Max alone? No wonder he was so pissed at having him back. Ham could barely see straight when Monty was around. Hell, he’d probably been waiting to get him alone so he could punch him in the face too. Just wait until he saw the bruises Hill had put on his daughter.

Rock could probably leave now without laying a hand on him and it wouldn’t matter. Ham would track him down and kill him later.

But then he’d miss out on the satisfaction of feeling his flesh collapse under his fist. And of spilling the man’s blood who had dared to harm Quinn and was now demanding a payoff to disappear again.

“Fifty thousand dollars?” Rock asked, regarding the man with scorn. “That’s what your child is worth to you?”

Max and Quinn were priceless to him.

The very idea that someone could put a price tag on their son’s head was repulsive.

It wouldn’t matter if someone offered him fifty thousand or fifty million. He would never consider giving away his family for money.

“You better take me up on it quick, before I change my offer and make it sixty,” Monty threatened.

Rock shook his head, both at the absurdity of the fact that this guy was bartering his family away and that he had considered for a moment paying him the money just to make him disappear. “You know what you’re going to get from me, Hill? Fifty thousand fuck yous.”

A sarcastic sneer played across Monty’s lips. “Are you sure about that? Sure you don’t want to change your mind?”

“The only thing I’m changing my mind about is the fact that I had decided earlier that I’d let you keep your teeth.”

Hill’s face paled, but he wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t shut up. “You can threaten me all you want, but I hold all the cards, James. Because Max is my son, and I’ve only gotten started with him. You don’t want to pay now, but I guarantee you’re going to wish you would have.”

That was all it took, the final straw to tip him over the edge. Fury boiled in his blood at the threat to Max, and Rock couldn’t hold back.

He took two giant strides and kicked the chair out from in front of him before swinging his fist into Monty’s face.

The feel of Monty’s bone cracking under his knuckles did little to appease his anger. Neither did the anguished cry or the blood that spurted from his broken nose.

Rock wanted to hurt him, wanted to cause him pain. Pain that would last a long time—that would remind him with every throb of agony that he shouldn’t have touched Quinn, shouldn’t have threatened Max, shouldn’t have messed with Rockford James, or his family.

His fist swung in a wide arc, and he landed another punch into the side of Monty’s cheek, splitting the skin under his eye.

“Rock, stop it!” Quinn screamed, running toward him from the kitchen.

He heard Quinn’s voice, but it sounded far away, barely discernible over the rush in his ears. She must have gone around and come in the back door of the house.

She grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back from Monty, who now lay crumpled in a ball on the floor, his hands covering his head in defense. “You have to stop. We need to go. I heard the sirens. Monty’s brother is on his way. We have to get out of here.”

Taking another step back, he shook his head to clear it as he tried to focus on her distressed face. “No. He hurt you, and I can’t let that stand. I don’t care if his brother shows up. He deserves this.”

Quinn glanced down at Monty, and her lips pulled back in a sneer. “He deserves a lot worse than this, but not from you. Not right now. Please, Rock. Think of your career. Think about Max. He’s still his dad.”

That comment stopped him in his tracks, and he let his fists fall to his sides. This asshole had just offered to give up that privilege for fifty thousand dollars, so he wasn’t stopping for Monty’s sake, but for Max’s. For the little kid who wouldn’t understand why he’d punched his dad in the face.

“Please,” Quinn begged. “We have to leave.”

She grabbed his hand, and he let her lead him out the front door and toward the truck. The wail of sirens filled the air, the sound finally getting through to Rock, and they raced to get in the vehicle and get out of there.

Quinn had put the box on the floor of the cab, and she scooped up the puppy and held him to her as he sped down the highway and away from the direction of the sirens.

Rock held out his arm, and she scooted across the seat and pressed against him as he curled his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head on his chest and slid her arm around his stomach, holding onto him and cuddling the puppy between them.

He kept his eyes on the road but pressed a kiss to the top of her head and felt her tense muscles relax against him. That was all he needed for now.

They didn’t talk as they drove back to the ranch. They didn’t need to. It was enough to just take comfort in holding on to each other.

Pulling up in front of the house, Quinn sat up and looked around the driveway. “I can’t believe my dad isn’t even back yet. They’re probably sitting in the café, blissfully eating apple pie and vanilla ice cream.” She shook her head. “I guess it’s really only been a few hours, but it feels like a lifetime since I left your house and came back here to find Monty in Max’s room.”

“What the hell was he doing in Max’s room?”

“That’s what I asked him. He was stealing Max’s money from his piggy bank.”

“What?”

“Yeah, that’s what started this whole thing. I caught him stealing money from his own son—money that Max had saved for church.”

“I would have kicked the guy out on his ass.”

“That’s what I tried to do. That’s when he attacked me. I didn’t realize until just now that I haven’t even told you about it. I got so caught up in getting the dog.” The puppy had fallen asleep, and she lifted him from her lap and set him down gently in the box so as not to wake him.

“I didn’t need to know everything that happened. All I saw were the bruises on your skin and I…” He took a deep breath, knowing it wouldn’t help to rehash it. “Do you want to tell me about the rest of it now?”

She nodded, then leaned back against his arm, which was still resting along the back of the seat. His hand moved to her shoulder, to offer comfort as she told him what had happened in Max’s room. He had a feeling she was leaving out some of the details. But what she did say was bad enough.

Rock’s teeth clenched, and he struggled not to put the truck in gear and drive back over to Monty’s to finish the job he’d started.

He pounded his fist against the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I didn’t know. Hell, maybe I did. But I didn’t want to know—didn’t want to be right. For Max’s sake. For that sweet little kid, I wanted Hill to have changed—to have turned into a decent guy.”

“I wanted that too. I swear, I wanted to believe him. Believe in him. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Max. How I’m going to break it to him. He thinks Monty hung the moon.”

“It’s going to be tough.” He pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her shoulder and holding her tightly. Pulling back, he brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers and looked into her eyes, hoping she saw the sincerity there. “I’ll help if I can. I’m here for you.”

He dipped his head, unable to hold back, and pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss.

She melted into him, clutching the fabric of his shirt in her fists as she deepened the kiss. A soft sound escaped her lips, a cross between a moan and a sigh, and he wanted to pull her onto his lap, to hold her and protect her. And to peel her clothes off and lay her down on the seat of his truck.

Slanting his mouth across hers, he cupped her cheek, holding her face with both hands as he tasted her lips.

She kissed him, hard, balling her hands into fists, then pushed him away. “No. Stop. You can’t do this to me. You say you want to help, that you’re here for me. But you’re not. You weren’t.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I’m here now.”

She scooted back, away from him. “I can’t. I can’t take it again. You left me back then, broke my heart and left me behind. And I thought I’d die of it. Instead, I made a stupid choice and wound up a single mom. And I swore I would never trust another man. Not after you left me, then Monty left me.”

She shook her head, a tremor sounding in her voice. “But I did. I trusted you. You came back and seduced me with your sweet words and your thoughtful gestures. You made me believe in you again. Believe in love again. Then just when I thought we might really have a chance at this thing, you turned tail and ran. Again.”

“I didn’t run.”

“Oh no, you’re right. You let me go. Isn’t that what you said? Some bullshit about loving me enough to let me go?”

“It wasn’t bullshit. It was real. And it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I was trying to do the right thing—do what was best for you. And for Max.”

“Well, that’s what I’m doing too. And I think what’s best for me and for Max right now is for my son to see that he has a strong woman for a mom. A woman who doesn’t have to depend on a man. Who can stand up for herself, on her own two feet.”

“He’s already seen that. You’ve been doing that for years.”

“Not really. Not totally. Because in my heart of hearts, I always hoped—always prayed—that you would come back. Come back and save us. And then you did. You came back to me, but you didn’t save us. You didn’t make things any better. You did for a very short time when I thought you had really come back, when I thought we had a future, and I could see you getting close to Max and filling up my heart again. But then you left once more. I know what it’s like to love you, Rock, and then have you walk away. And I can’t let that happen to my son. I can’t let his heart be broken the way mine has been.”

Her words were like shards of broken glass piercing his heart. He knew he’d hurt her, knew he’d screwed up when he’d walked away the first time, but damn it, this time he’d been trying to do the right thing. The best thing for all of them.

“Quinn. I’m sorry I hurt you. I never wanted to do that, and I never want to hurt Max. I love that kid. If we could just—”

She held up her hand, cutting off his next words. “Don’t. This is hard enough as it is. You say you don’t want to hurt us, then don’t.” She opened the truck door and slid out of the seat.

Picking up the box with the puppy inside, she stood next to the cab and lifted her chin as she looked him square in the eye. “You said you wanted to let us go. So do it. Let us go. It’s not like it’s going to be that hard—you’re going back to Denver anyway. As soon as you recuperate, you’ll go back to the team, back to your life. Your real life. You can look back on this time as a momentary distraction and get back to the business of being who you really are—Rockford James, team legend, hockey superstar.”

“That’s not fair.” He leaned forward, reaching out his hand, afraid that the best thing in his life was slipping away from him and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Quinn shook her head and let out a hard breath. “No, it’s not fair. None of this is fair. It’s not fair that you came back and let me fall in love with you again. It’s not fair that you’re leaving and going back to the life you have without us. But that is life. And life’s not fair.”

Her bottom lip trembled as she spoke, breaking Rock’s heart further.

He knew this was hard on her, and it was killing him, but what she said also hit a nerve. He did have a life in Denver, did have a career that he was going back to, a team that was counting on him. He didn’t live here. He lived an hour and a half away.

But it might as well be twenty hours away or a hundred, because even though his house was in Denver, he was hardly ever there. He was always at the rink or on the road, traveling with the team.

“You know what I’m saying is true,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “I can see it in your face. You know you’re going back as soon as you’re well enough to play. So go back. I’m not asking you to stay. I’m asking you to do what you said you would do this morning. Let us go.”

She took a step back, shut the door of the truck, then turned and ran up the porch steps and into the house.

Rock sat in the truck, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. No, not punched. Stabbed. Like someone had ripped a hole in his stomach, then reached in and pulled his insides out.

Nausea swelled in his throat, and he leaned his head on the steering wheel, fighting the urge to open the door and throw up.

He rubbed his chest, trying to quell the pain in his heart. Pain that burned his throat, that made his bones sore, his soul ache.

He’d been in hundreds of fights in his career, on the ice and off. He’d been punched and kicked and tomahawked with a hockey stick. He’d had his teeth busted and his eyes blackened and more stitches than he wanted to count, but nothing hurt or felt as painful as watching Quinn walk away and knowing there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Because everything she’d said had been true.