Deadly Secrets (45 page)

“I don’t think my wife would approve, or my brother. Not sure which would kill us first.”

Without another word, she walked to the bedroom. She shut the door and locked it. She didn’t want to talk to any of them. Didn’t want to see them. Didn’t want to hear what they had to say, or their damned questions.

She didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to have to listen to more . . . more . . .

Why weren’t they out looking? Wasn’t that what Ian was supposed to be doing? He found things, Quin had told her. She’d told the cops everything she knew, again and again and again.

With a curse, she walked into the large master bath and turned the water on in the shower. She had a damned appointment today with an ob-gyn. Not her normal doctor. Because she didn’t trust anyone anymore out at the Nursery. No. Someone else would be checking things. Fine.

She gathered what she needed and shut and locked the bathroom door as well. She heard someone knock on the outer door, probably Quin, but she needed and wanted some time alone.

. . . All you do is mope about and cry.

Had she been moping?

. . . you’re more a liability than an asset . . .

He was right. She wasn’t helping.

She unwrapped her wrists and tossed the bandages in the trash. She moved her hands one way and then the other. As she let the almost scalding water beat down on her, Ian’s words circled around and around in her heard. Did he hate her? Blame her? Maybe.

Was he right?

Yes.

Yes, he was. Which pissed her off even more. She
was
moping, even if she’d been given a raw deal, as he’d said. She hadn’t stopped crying since she woke up in the hospital. Granted, the pregnancy book she’d read way back when said that was common and normal. Nothing about this whole situation could be termed normal and she hated to cry. She hadn’t been a big help to the authorities because she was just too numb. So what if she had to go over the same things again and again, maybe she’d remember something she hadn’t even known she’d forgotten.

The numbness had protected her. She’d been too scared. Too frozen to feel anything.

Until a little while ago.

She stuck her hands out. They still shook from fury.

. . . couldn’t even save your own child . . .

She’d tried. She’d fucking tried! Didn’t he know that?

Rage still pounded through her at his words. Bastard. Even she agreed with him. Fury he’d pulled out of her taunt by taunt. No less than the truth, what everyone surely thought, but didn’t dare say. He didn’t really care. Not that one. He’d do whatever had to be done. Whatever had to be done to get a baby Kinncaid back.

Whatever had to be done.

Even if he pissed her off to do it.

Quin had coddled her and she was glad, that’s what she needed from him. She’d wanted and needed a safe place, a haven, and Quin gave her that. He was her safe haven, God love that man.

His brother, though?

Ian.

She felt as if her head had broken the surface of a lake. No longer frozen, she wanted to get out. Wanted to hunt the bitch down that had put her in this place. This horrible, horrible, shell-shocked place, but Lisa was dead.

Her daughter was out there, and if someone had to be mean to her for her to pull her head out of her ass, then so be it.

She’d thank them.

She smiled. Quin’s brother might be an ass, but he got things done.

By the time she got out of the shower, exhaustion pulled at her. So damned tired all the time and she didn’t have
time
to be tired. She took care of matters and dressed in more yoga pants and a long-sleeved tee and a long sweater, pushing the sleeves up her forearms so they stayed off her wrists.

She towel-dried her hair and looked in the mirror.

“No more. No more hiding. No more whining. Whining gets nothing done.”

It was time to
do
. Something. Anything. Her eyes glittered back at her. Not since Lance had walked away from her had she wallowed. And this was no time to wallow. Now she needed to
do
. As her mother used to say: Just do what needs to be done.

Chapter 33

Ella took a deep breath and walked back into the bedroom. It was quiet. The sitting area was still messed up from where she’d been earlier with her pillow and blanket.

Raised voices filtered through the doorway. Didn’t matter. Not really.

She’d never hidden, never cowered before, why would she start now? Even with Lance she hadn’t fallen this far into bleakness. What the hell had happened to her?

They’d whittled her down, almost broken her, by God, had almost
killed
her.

She opened the door and strode out, tired to the marrow of her bones.

Quinlan stood with his arms crossed, glaring at his brother Ian. Aiden stood beside Quinlan, saying, “Not everyone is like you or Rori, Ian.”

“So?” Ian asked, calm as ever.

Man was irritating as hell.

“So?” Quinlan asked. His cane thumped as he walked to his brother. He rammed the cane into Ian’s chest. “She’s my
wife
. What the hell would you have done to any of us if we’d treated Rori that way?”

“Leave him alone,” she said, coming into the room. Not looking at any of them, she sat at the table, wanting to lay her head on it. “I’m fine.”

Someone snorted.

“All right,” she snapped, or tried. “I
will be
fine. When I find my daughter, I’ll be fine. After I’ve made them pay, I will be fine. Until then, I will tell whoever asks that I’m fine and if they don’t like it, too damned bad.”

No one said a word. She looked at Ian, caught the edge of his mouth kick up just a smidge. Aiden’s brows were raised. She had no idea where anyone else was. Finally, she looked at Quinlan. “I’m okay, Quin. He didn’t hurt me.”

Quinlan walked to her, his gaze narrowed. “No one, not even one of my brothers, has the right to treat you that way.
Ever.
”

She thought about that, and smiled, a small smile, but a smile. “You are a really good man, Quinlan Kinncaid. But sometimes you miss the point.”

“What the hell was his point then? Because from where I stood, it wasn’t good, whatever it was.”

She started to stand, and instead he sat in the chair beside her, their chairs facing each other. She looked at Ian. “I’d like some tea, please.”

“And some breakfast.” He crossed his arms over his chest and held her stare.

She narrowed her gaze. “You are a pain in the ass.”

“So everyone tells me.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Waffle and eggs?”

“Fruit. Maybe some bacon.”

The edge of his mouth definitely kicked up.

She looked back at Quinlan, who took her hand and was looking at her wrists. “I am fine. Did I like what he did? No, but . . .”

“But what?” he snapped, looking at her wrists.

She took a deep breath. “You remember when you told me about your time in the hospital and all the visitors and everyone being so careful with what they said and what they did?”

He nodded, and brushed a hair behind her ear. He was always touching her. Holding her hand. Even if she started or jerked away, he simply waited her out and then he reached again. Perseverance. Always proving he could because . . . just because.

“Yes, so?”

“So, out of all the visits and all the words, who was the one that made you see the clearest? That brought you back to where you were and what was really important?” She laced her fingers through his.

“You,” he answered without hesitation.

She felt a grin pull her mouth. “Not me. Then. When you were in the hospital after the shooting.”

His mouth twisted. “Ian, damn him.”

She smiled again. “Yeah. Well, that’s what he did.”

“I don’t care.” His eyes narrowed on hers. “He can do whatever the hell he wants with me, with anyone else, but he will not treat you that way. Ever.”

She brought their hands to her mouth, kissing his knuckles.

“You, Quinlan, were what I wanted most, what I needed, ya know? So much so, I couldn’t breathe or sleep for way too long, and when I woke up in the hospital and saw you standing in the doorway, I thought I was dreaming. But at the same time, being safe with you . . . all the fears came crashing in, swirling around, just waiting.”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he told her quietly. “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

She nodded. “I know, I’ve just been alone for so long, that . . . With you there, I trust you, I could fall apart.” She cupped his jaw. “With you, sugar, I could be scared because I had someone to say it would be okay, even if I didn’t know if I believed it. But the fears, once let out . . . I couldn’t get ahead of them, or out of them, or just enough away to breathe. It was like being frozen or something. Ian . . .” She cut her eyes to the side toward the kitchen, where she knew Ian had gone for her tea. “Ian just sort of microwaved me in less than a minute.”

He shook his head.

“I’m pissed,” she said, no longer smiling, no longer making her voice light. “I was so busy wallowing I wasn’t thinking. So scared of what-ifs, I wasn’t even
helping
in any way I could to find my own daughter and—”

“Our.”

She stopped.

“You always say
my
daughter. She’s
ours
.” He leaned in so their noses touched and she saw the anger in his own gaze. And the hurt. “She. Is.
Our.
Daughter.”

She nodded. “Yes. I know. Our.” Something in her warmed. She had no idea where they’d go from here, but right now, she really didn’t care. He was Quinlan. Always there. Always steady. Just . . . always.

She swallowed, cleared her throat and said another silent prayer.

“So, I went from the fear chewing me up to being pissed off. I’d rather be pissed. I can think when I’m pissed, you know? I can see things a bit more clearly. I have to do everything to find her, to help others find her, to stop them. We have to stop them. And if Ian’s tactic this morning, though a little surprising and maybe a bit brutal, knocked me back into my head, then I’ll thank him.”

“Not necessary,” Ian said as he set a mug on the table in front of her. “I’m just glad you’re more with it. We can use all the help we can get, you know. Don’t be so hard on yourself though. You’ve been through hell and they almost killed you.”

She nodded.

“Well, he can question all he wants to, but after breakfast you are not missing your doctor’s appointment. Rather, we are not going to miss it.”

Quinlan didn’t miss the way her hands tightened in his, didn’t miss the way she seemed to pull into herself. “I don’t want to go.”

He had to change the subject from Ian and the morning incident to something else or he would hit his brother.

“Well, you’re going. They’re just going to check you out and make sure everything is okay.” He pulled himself back and looked at his brother. “Breakfast?”

“Should be here in about twenty minutes, they said.”

“You know, we ought to look into purchasing a hotel here in Albuquerque,” Aiden muttered. “They are in need of better—”

“Don’t even think of it,” Quinlan snapped. “I do not want a single piece of Kinncaid property anywhere near here.”

No one said a word.

He shifted. “Look, I just meant—”

“Understood. I wasn’t thinking,” Aiden said.

“Well, you can all do what you want, but once we have her back, I don’t ever want to step foot here again,” she muttered.

“That’s the spirit,” Ian said. He hurried into his own room down a short hallway in the suite and returned with an iPad and paper and pens.

“Do you mind working while eating?”

Someone knocked on the door.

“Great. Probably the feds already. Don’t they ever sleep?” Ian muttered.

But it wasn’t the agents. It was Mr. Brasher. She didn’t understand what they were all doing here, not really. She hadn’t really paid all that much attention.

Just as the door was about to shut, the federal agents showed up. Sabino and Landry paused in the doorway, looking in. She’d talked to them before, several times, but so much was a blur.

Breakfast arrived and everyone ate. More than enough food had been ordered that the additions did not go hungry. She wondered for a moment how normal this was with kidnappings. Was this the way it always went? She pushed her food around her plate. It had no taste and landed like paste in her stomach.

Had she asked that question at any point? She couldn’t remember.