Here Comes Trouble (10 page)

Adrenaline pumped into his bloodstream, making his heart pound. He expected to react this way
during the thrill of chasing down a lead or while
undercover on a story.

He anticipated where she'd head next, and crisscrossed under the tree house, expecting to catch
up with her. Stella compensated and ran the other
way. Tramp got into the act and began to chase
her along with Quin.

Littlemouth, Kansas, wasn't supposed to be exciting. Yet somehow Stella made the simplest
things, like rushing around her back yard and arguing over a dog, feel-exhilarating.

He ran faster toward her, although he wasn't
quite sure what he'd do once he caught her. He
wasn't about to let that deter him. Tramp neared
her, then grabbed her jeans cuff in his jaws, tripping her.

Quin was just in time to catch her as she fell
into his arms. He was going to have to give that dog a treat. Then Tramp grabbed his cuff, sending
Quin, arms full of woman, sprawling. He cushioned their fall as best he could, shutting his eyes
when they made contact with hard ground.

A stab of pain shot through him as he landed,
jarring the same body parts as had been bruised
after his run-in with the bandits.

Wow. His body lie crushed beneath some substantial weight. Stella was a lot heavier than he'd
thought. Something warm and moist brushed his
face. She must like he-man antics. Quin opened
his eyes, ready to do some serious kissing.

Stella was lying in his arms, he could feel her
there, but Tramp was on top of both of them,
drooling on Quin. "No treat for you, mutt."

"Do you think you can get him off us?" asked
Stella with a laugh in her voice. "I think your hip
bruised me, but thanks for taking most of the fall."

Quin gave Tramp a small push and the dog reluctantly backed off. "Are you okay?"

Stella hopped up. "I'm fine." As she brushed
herself off, Quin noticed Tramp standing between
them. Then Quin's attention fixed on Stella's face.
He wanted to kiss her. He was homesick and Stella
was home.

With great intent, he reached for her. Tramp evidently decided enough was enough though, because he placed himself squarely between them
and began to pull on Quin's jeans leg. But this time Quin was prepared and managed to fend off
the animal.

Tramp, however, was a very determined dog.
He scampered directly to the seedlings Stella had
been in the process of planting and began to dig.

Stella yelled as a shower of soil volcanoed into
the air. Quin yelled, "Stop that," but Tramp paid
no attention. He was on those plants with the determination of a terrier after his rat.

Quin ran over and grabbed Tramp's collar, momentarily halting the animal's destruction of
Stella's beloved garden. "No!" he shouted.

Stella joined them and moaned softly. "My babies. He murdered my babies. I brought them up
from seeds. It took weeks."

Quin couldn't bear to see her like this. While
trying to keep a firm hold on Tramp's collar, he
used his toe to tamp down a few of the survivors.
Glaring at the animal, he said, "You did this on
purpose, didn't you?"

Tramp lowered his head but couldn't quite manage to look contrite.

"I'm ashamed of you, mutt." Quin turned to
Stella. "I suppose this means you won't keep him
after all?"

"The damage isn't all that bad, Quin," she said,
obviously trying to make the best of a bad situation. Quin felt horrible.

"Let's take him inside where he can't wreak more havoc," Stella suggested. "I'll train him to
stay out of the garden later."

"Good thinking."

"Besides," Stella added as she sashayed through
the back door, "you need to wash off some of that
mud."

"No matter how much I got into, it couldn't
equal what you've had all over your face since I
got here."

"What?" Stella ran to check. "Why didn't you
say anything?"

Quin bit back a laugh. He wouldn't laugh. No
way. Latching the screen door after Tramp came
in, he went over to the sink and dampened a cloth
to clean off the dog's paws.

Stella called out, probably from her bedroom.
"I'm taking a quick shower and I'll be right out."

Quin answered, "We'll be fine. I'll get Tramp
acquainted with his new home."

Determined not to think about Stella, he looked
for things to keep his mind occupied. Tramp sat
at his feet and stared at him. The animal must be
hungry again.

Quin went over to where Stella had mounds of
goodies beside the refrigerator. Opening one box,
he pulled out a donut. Tramp stood up on two legs
and begged.

What a smart dog. Quin gave him the treat.

Next, he opened a sack but inside it wasn't the cookies he'd expected. Pulling out the book, he
read the title, but couldn't quite keep a pleased
smile off his face.

"Stella must like us, old boy," he said to Tramp
who barked for another treat. Quin shuffled around
in the pile of goodies and pulled out another book
on dating.

She must like him a lot more than he'd thought.
Maybe she did want to go to the reunion with him.
Unless—

What if she was using the books to help her
catch some other guy?

Quin sighed.

Tramp quickly gulped down the cookie Quin
offered him, then they both sat to wait for Stella.
Within minutes, she came into the kitchen, wearing a fresh T-shirt and jeans. She smelled of dusting powder, soap, and roses, a heady mixture for
Quin, who'd become used to women wearing
heavy scents. Even with her hair still wet from the
shower and without a lick of makeup, she looked
positively delicious and exactly like his favorite
sort of dessert.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me I was covered
in mud, Quin," Stella complained as she entered
the kitchen. She wondered why he was eyeing her
so intently. When he arose from his chair at the
table, she began to feel like a stalked animal as he
walked toward her.

Rubbing her hands together nervously, she
evaded him and moved to the refrigerator. "I've
got pies to bake for the fair tomorrow."

"Can I help?" he asked, coming up behind her.

Stella jerked away and swung open the refrigerator door, careful to wedge herself inside rather
than be trapped by Quin. "Haven't you heard the
saying, `Too many cooks spoil the pie?' "

Pulling out a plastic bag filled with apple slices,
she darted a look at him. He leaned on the counter
between her and the sink, with his arms crossed
and another slug leer on his face.

Grabbing the salt shaker, she said, "Don't force
me to use this. I've got pies to bake, Quin."

He continued with that leer and she could tell
he was hoping for another kiss. She didn't want
to get started smooching with him again. Getting
involved with him would be ridiculous, especially
since she knew better. She simply wasn't the kind
of woman who could settle for anything less than
a real relationship. Why wouldn't he take a hint
and leave? "Isn't it about time for you to be going
somewhere?"

"I've got nothing better to do." He reached to
remove the salt shaker from her hands and like a
fool, she was the one who almost melted-from
the tingle of his touch.

"Nothing better than standing around and getting in my way, you mean?" She had to get him out of her kitchen, her house, her life before she
did something she'd regret for the rest of her life.
There was no doubt that if she allowed herself to
get too involved with him he'd break her heart.

Just as Stella was about to tell Quin to go home,
there was a frantic knock at her front door.

"I wonder who that could be," she said as she
went to answer it. Opening the door, she found
Terri Andrews with her son in tow.

"I'm so glad you're home. Your mother told me
you would help me out." Terri urged Ian inside,
but didn't come in herself.

"What's wrong, Terri?"

"An emergency meeting has been called to discuss the fireworks for the fair. I've got to go, but
I can't bring Ian with me. Supper is on the stove
and his bed time is in an hour."

Stella gulped. The child had terrorized his last
three babysitters. But that was beside the point be cause by the time she opened her mouth to tell
Terri she couldn't watch Ian, his mother had
dashed off.

Stella called out, "But I have pies to bake!"

Terri either ignored or didn't hear her and continued on her way.

Stella gaped at Ian. What was she going to do
now? She had to bake the pies for the booth tomorrow. As she closed the front door, Quin joined
them in the entry area.

"Hey, Ian," he said, then asked Stella, "What's
up.

"Terri just dropped him off for me to babysit
him. She didn't wait to hear that I've got to stay
here and bake pies. Do you think you could run
over to his house and turn off the stove? She said
supper was cooking."

"No problem. Why don't I watch Ian while you
work on the pies?"

"Quin, you don't know what you're getting
yourself into."

"Sure I do." He ruffled Ian's curls. "Ian and I
are great friends, aren't we, pal?"

"Yeah," replied the boy. "We can watch the Super Spaceman movie."

"See?"

Stella saw that she didn't have much choice.
Since Quin wasn't a real babysitter, maybe the child would behave. They seemed to get along all
right. "Thanks, Quin. That would be a great help."

"Come on, Ian. Let's allow Stella to get to her
pies." He leaned forward and brushed his lips
across her cheek.

She placed her fingertips over the spot he'd
kissed. As they turned to leave, she called Quin
back. "Whatever you do, don't play hide and seek
with him."

Quin nodded and rushed after Ian who had already started on his way home.

Stella didn't much like sending Quin into disaster, but he was a grown man. He'd chased war
criminals. Surely he could handle a five-year-old
boy.

An hour later, all was not well at the Andrews'
house. Quin stood in the basement, lit only by a
single bulb in the middle of the room, hoping to
see some sign of Ian.

"I told you, no hide and seek."

The only answer was a childish giggle.

Quin turned in that direction. He'd been in the
middle of clearing up their dinner dishes when Ian
had dashed to the basement door and declared that
Quin couldn't find him, then the boy rushed down
the stairs.

Quin put his hands on his hips. "Come out
now."

Silence. Where was the kid?

He heard a slithering noise and hoped it was Ian
rather than rats. Then he realized the sound came
from the basement steps. Before he could reach
them, he saw Ian running up the steps to the door.

Quin chased after him, but Ian was too quick.
When Quin reached the top of the stairs, the basement door shut in his face and he heard the sickening sound of the lock turning.

Grabbing the knob, he twisted, but the door
wouldn't budge. Then the light went out.

"Turn that back on!" he called.

"You can't get me," cried Ian gleefully, but he
didn't switch the light back on.

"Open the door!"

"I'm getting a cookie," replied Ian, his voice
tapering off as he evidently walked away.

Quin sighed. This must have been what Stella
had meant about not playing hide and seek with
Ian. If she'd explained, he wouldn't be in this fix.
Slowly lowering himself to the basement steps, he
took a seat and wondered how long it would be
before Ian's mother came home.

Long minutes passed. He seemed to be sitting
there forever. The enforced solitude began to grate
on his nerves. Quin didn't like thinking about his
motives in the best of times, and this was far from
the best.

Maybe life had become too easy for him. Maybe he was off his game entirely. Perhaps that explained how not only the bandits but also a little
kid could get the best of him.

The only thing he was sure of was that going
back to life as it was, chasing bad guys and writing
about them, didn't hold much appeal. He loved the
excitement, but going from battlefield to battlefield
had become depressing. Right now, all he wanted
was to get out of the dank basement, then go sit
at Stella's kitchen table and watch her bake pies.
In fact, he couldn't think of a better way to spend
the rest of his life.

He wouldn't mind catching up with Ian too. As
if thinking of the hoodlum conjured him up, just
then Quin heard the sound of a window opening.

"Are you still in there?" asked the boy.

"Still here. Can you turn on the light now?"

"No, 'cause you'll find me."

Quin's eyes had become accustomed to the dark
and he made out the image of the boy's face peering in a small window near the basement ceiling.
Cautiously, and as quietly as possible, Quin descended the stairs, making good use of the stair
rail on his way down. He toe-heeled to the window, hoping Ian wouldn't hear or see him.

As he neared, he saw the window wasn't large
enough for him to get out that way. But maybe he
could talk the kid into setting him free? "What about that Super Spaceman movie? I sure would
like to see it."