Twenty
Nick and Quinn were still at the scene of the crash later that afternoon when the Feds showed up.
Agent Gleason and his partner, Agent Powers, showed up unannounced and headed straight for Quinn.
She was leaning against a patrol car with her arms crossed beneath her breasts, wearing a patrolman’s hat to shade her from the sun.
Nick was back on the county road helping measure skid marks when he saw the Feds drive up.
“Sorry, guys. Those are Feds. I need to make sure Quinn doesn’t lose it on them, too. She’s reached her limit of everything today.”
“Yeah, sure thing. Thanks for the help, Saldano.”
He took off toward Quinn at a lope, reaching her just moments after the agents’ arrival. No one was talking, and he didn’t know exactly what was happening, but they were all staring at each other, as if waiting for a question to be answered. He walked up behind her, slid an arm around her waist and nodded at the men.
“Afternoon. Are you lost, or just sightseeing?”
“We heard about what happened and came to make sure Miss O’Meara was okay.”
Quinn looked up at Nick.
“What he just said is...they came to see if their witness was still breathing, no damn thanks to them.”
Nick raised his eyebrows.
“As you can see, she’s fine. In fact, we have her to thank for running Baba down. I’m sure you’ve heard that, too.”
Gleason nodded.
“A very brave thing to do,” he said.
“I got tired of sleeping with one eye open,” Quinn snapped. “So, is he still alive, or did we all get lucky?”
“He was coming out of surgery last I heard.”
“Too bad,” she said.
“And yet I heard you are the one who also pulled him out of the fire,” Powers added.
“Yes, I did do that,” she said.
“Out of curiosity, what prompted you to do that?”
Quinn shrugged. She didn’t owe this man any explanation. She’d basically done his job for him anyway.
Gleason sighed. She had the right to be angry. A lot of bad stuff had happened to her for trying to do a good deed.
“Have you officially served your arrest warrant on him?” Nick asked.
“We’re on the way to do that. We’ll have to wait until he comes to enough to hear us out, but by the time he wakes up in his room, he will find himself handcuffed to the bed and one of our men on his door until he can be released into our custody.”
“That’s good,” Nick said.
“When can we go home?” Quinn asked.
“Probably right now if you’re ready. We can give you a ride into Vegas,” Gleason said.
“We have a ride,” Quinn said.
The agents eyed the Harley, then shrugged.
“If this goes to court, we’ll let you know,” Gleason said.
Quinn turned her back on them, tossed the patrolman’s hat back inside his car and headed for her bike.
“Well, gentlemen, it’s been nice seeing you again, but I don’t want to miss my ride,” Nick said, and he left them standing in the sun staring at the remnants of a burned-out truck.
Quinn was already at the Harley, checking it out before starting it back up.
“Can I drive?” Nick asked.
For the first time in hours, she smiled.
“Do you know how?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then I would appreciate the ride home,” she said and picked up the helmet. “I don’t think this will fit you. I have some goggles, though.”
“You wear the helmet. I’ll take the goggles,” Nick said.
She dug them out of a compartment on the back of the bike and handed them to him. He adjusted them a couple of times before they felt right, and then threw one leg over the Harley and toed up the kickstand.
Quinn pulled the helmet onto her head and got on behind him, settling into the seat and wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Take me home, Nick.”
“You got it, baby. Just hang on.”
The Harley roared to life as Nick put it into gear and accelerated, zipping through the desert and then back onto the county road toward the main highway.
The heat waves were endless, dancing just above the pavement. A buzzard circled high above them in the sky, and the traffic and the roar of the engine was constant. Another biker passed them, giving them a thumbs-up. If only he knew.
The farther they rode, the more relaxed Quinn became until the tight grip she’d had on Nick eased. They rode into Vegas without stopping and headed straight for his house. Unknowingly, both of them were thinking about the chaos they’d left behind and all of the unpacking yet to do, but when they turned the corner on his street and Nick saw all the cars at his place, he smiled.
They rode up the driveway, weaving between the cars and all the way into the garage before he killed the engine.
Quinn took off her helmet.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m guessing one of the neighbors called my family. My car has a new back tire, and I can bet Aunt Juana is in the kitchen cooking.”
Quinn groaned.
“I look like a sewer rat, but I suddenly do not care. Lord, but I am so hungry.”
At that moment, Donny, the teen from the neighborhood, came running into the garage.
“Hey, Nick. Mom and Dad are in the kitchen with your parents. Dad got you a new tire. He said I was worth about that much to him. Are you guys okay? Did you catch the dude who shot at you?”
“Yeah, we sure did, D-Man. He’s under arrest in a hospital and then headed to jail later,” Nick said. “Let’s go into the house. It seems Quinn and I have some people to thank.”
Donny followed them inside and into the kitchen. The noise level was already loud, but when they saw Nick and Quinn, it erupted.
“What happened! Are you two okay?” Tonio asked.
“Is any of that yours?” Juana asked, pointing to the blood splatters on Quinn.
“No, ma’am. Nick shot Baba twice before he got away,” Quinn said.
Juana frowned.
“Nick’s not the one covered in blood, so how did all that get on you?”
Quinn sighed.
“It’s a long story and I’m filthy, but could I maybe have a tortilla and some guacamole before I go shower? I’m starving.”
“Poor baby,” Juana cried and headed for the table.
Lara slipped through the crowd and put her arms around Quinn’s neck, hugging her as she whispered in her ear.
“I am so glad you’re okay. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Quinn’s eyes welled. “Just don’t let them eat all the good stuff before I get back.”
Lara grinned. “I’ll do what I can, but you know Santino. He is shameless.”
Quinn held on to the laughter to keep from crying. She’d always been better with anger than sympathy. And then Juana came back with a soft, homemade tortilla filled with spicy carne asada and topped off with sour cream and guacamole.
“Here you are, daughter. You go make yourself feel better, and we’ll be here when you get back.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said and took a quick bite to keep from crying as she hurried out of the room. She had never been anyone’s daughter before.
Nick tried to pay Donny’s parents for the tire, but they immediately refused and thanked Nick for making sure their son stayed safe during the shooting. After more hugs and well wishes, they left the family on their own to catch up.
As soon as the neighbors were gone, the family started in on Nick.
“What really happened out there, Nick? What happened to Quinn?”
“If I told you she rode Anton Baba down out in the desert, shot out both of his back tires and then pulled him out of the burning wreck, would you believe me?”
There was a collective gasp and then silence until Santino spoke up.
“Are you serious?”
He nodded.
Juana pressed a hand to her lips to keep from crying, then made the sign of the cross.
“She is blessed by God,” Tonio said.
Nick wasn’t going to argue with that.
“Hey, guys, I’m going to change shirts and wash up a little myself. I’ll be right back.”
“No worries,” Juana said. “I’m still making queso.”
Nick gave her a hug and hurried down the hall to his bedroom. Quinn’s door was closed. He honored her need for privacy and went into his room to change.
* * *
Quinn stood looking out her bedroom windows as she ate, too dirty to sit down on anything in the room. Once she’d polished off the food, she stripped where she stood and headed for the bathroom.
She turned on the water in the shower and then checked the healing wound on her shoulder. It looked fine. Nothing had come open. Nothing was bleeding.
She grabbed a clean washcloth, checked to make sure there was shampoo and conditioner inside the shower and then stepped inside.
The water was hot, almost too hot, but she didn’t care; she wanted every trace of Anton Baba scrubbed from her skin. She was angry enough about being shot at, but when those two federal agents showed up to make sure their witness was okay, she lost it. They weren’t worried about her. They were just worried about their case. She was sick and tired of always feeling used, but she no longer felt like a victim.
Pointing a gun at the man who’s trying to kill you is an empowering moment. Pulling the trigger a second before him was even better. Knowing she’d scared the crap out of him was priceless. By reacting instead of hiding, she’d taken herself off the victim list and liked how that felt. She felt powerful. She’d stood up for herself in a way that she’d never done before.
The water was hitting her in the chest now, just below her chin. This was the moment where her stomach always knotted and her panic exacerbated, only that wasn’t happening this time. Everything suddenly felt different, and she remembered hearing once that as long as you continue to do the same things, you will always have the same results. It’s only when you change, the world will change around you.
She lifted her hand up to face the showerhead and felt the jets pulsing against her palm.
“It’s time to do something different,” she said and took a deep breath and stepped beneath the spray.
The only thing that happened was she got wet. There was no panic, no heart-stopping feeling of drowning. She squirted a handful of shampoo in her palm and started washing her hair, thinking that she wished she’d had a shot at Pappy Whitlaw when he’d tried to hurt her instead of running away. That’s when this fear had all begun. He’d made her feel so helpless that all she’d known to do was hide.
She rinsed, conditioned and rinsed again, then grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed until her skin tingled. After enjoying the warmth of the water a few moments more, she got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her hair.
Now that she was finished, she couldn’t move fast enough to get back into the kitchen. She dried herself, then towel-dried her hair and headed for the closet.
Again, her choice of clothing was minimal. One of these days she’d have to rectify that, but for now she just chose what was clean.
When she left her room, she had on jeans and a long, loose T-shirt. Her hair was damp and hanging loose around her face as she hurried barefoot down the hall.
The sound of Nick’s voice and his laughter made her heart skip a beat as she moved toward the sound of happy voices.
She was getting the hang of having family.