His (28 page)

Andrew

I feel like a caged animal in this plane. We’ve been in the air for hours, and I can’t take sitting still for much longer. Vanessa’s text an hour ago that she had Quinn and Bethy and was en route to El Paso helped a little, but I need to see Quinn with my own eyes before I’ll be able to relax fully.

It’s been hell not knowing if she was safe, and getting that frantic phone call from her made the bottom fall out of my world.

“Beginning our descent now, Mr. Wentworth,” the pilot says over the private plane’s intercom. “Seat belt fastened, please.”

“About fucking time,” I mutter, sliding the seat belt closed.

It takes forever to land. I’m close to using the seat next to me as a punching bag when finally, we come to a stop.

Quinn texted me that they’re in the airport lobby, and I scan faces rapidly as I walk through. Then I see her walking toward me. We break into a run at the same time and meet up in a fierce hug. I lift her feet from the ground and feel her warm breath on my neck.

“You’re here,” she says, sounding on the verge of tears.

“I’m here. Good luck leaving the country without me ever again.”

She laughs softly. When I set her feet back on the ground, she looks over at a wispy brunette girl.

“Bethy, this is Andrew. Andrew, my little sister, Bethy.”

She’s a pretty, younger version of Quinn with brown hair.

“Hi Bethy,” I say, reaching out to shake her hand.

She smiles and shakes my hand back. I realize I should have hugged her. Next time.

“Ladies, we’re getting right back on that plane and flying to New York,” I say. “They’re refueling it now.”

“I can’t wait to get home,” Quinn says.

I love the sound of that. My home is her home now.
Our
home. And it’s Bethy’s too.

Vanessa is standing to the side, and when I meet her eyes, she walks over to us.

“Everything good now?” she asks.

I reach out and hug her. “I owe you big. Thank you for this.”

She laughs and cups my cheek in her palm. “I’m pretty sure I’m still the one who owes you.”

I can’t tell Quinn because I’ve sworn to keep the identities of my partners a secret, but Vanessa is one of the five people in the Circle of Six with me. That’s the name of the group that funds the second-floor operations at the warehouse.

“See you later, Andrew,” Vanessa says.

As soon as she steps back, I sweep Quinn back into my arms and kiss her on the mouth, pouring all the worry and uncertainty of the past few hours into it.

We’re both breathless when she breaks the kiss.

“I love you, Quinn,” I murmur against her lips.

“I love you, too.”

We board the plane then, and Bethy immediately goes to sleep in one of the reclining seats. I cover her with a blanket and sit down next to Quinn. She snuggles against my side and is asleep within a couple minutes.

A few hours later, I’m carrying Quinn down the hall to our bedroom. Despite sleeping a couple hours on the plane, she’s exhausted. I am, too. I put Turner in charge of getting Bethy fed and settled into her room and canceled my day at the office. I’m planning to sleep away the morning with Quinn.

I get her out of her clothes and into one of my T-shirts and lay her on the bed while I strip down to my boxer briefs. When I climb in next to her and pull the covers over us, she opens her eyes and looks at me in the dim light of the room.

“He’s my stepfather,” she says softly.

“Who is?”

“That’s who we’re running from. We’re from Colorado. My name is Quinn Bradley.”

I smile and wrap my palm around her hip. “Your last name’s not really Jones?”

She smiles back. “No.”

“Why did you leave? What did he do?”

With a soft sigh, she tucks her hair behind her ear. “My mom married him a couple years after my dad died. She’d run through a lot of money, and Paul, my stepdad, is wealthy. I never liked him. I’d just turned sixteen, and we were in the kitchen one day and . . .” She pauses for a couple seconds. “He rubbed his erection against my ass when I was reaching into a kitchen cabinet. Scared the absolute shit out of me. He grabbed me and said I needed to stop shaking my ass in front of him and it was time to do something about it.”

A knot of anger forms in my chest. “I’m sorry, Quinn. Did he . . . ?”

“I grabbed a pan from the stove and hit him over the head with it, and I ran out of the room. He made this crazy roaring sound. I’ll never forget it. And then he said, ‘You’ll pay for that, you little bitch. Run all you want. There’s no escaping me.’”

“Jesus, what a prick.”

“He is. I found out a few days later what the price was when I caught him in Bethy’s room while she was asleep. He’d pulled her covers down, and . . . he was jerking off next to her bed.”

“Holy shit.”

“I told my mother, and she was so angry at me. She said I was lying and was just mad about her getting remarried. I didn’t feel like I had any options. My dad asked me before he died to take care of Bethy always. I couldn’t let Paul . . . I felt like we had to run.”

“Yeah, I can see why.”

Her eyes are drifting closed. “I just wanted you to know. No more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” I say, kissing her forehead. “Never again.”

“There’s one more thing I need to tell you,” she says softly.

“What is it?”

“My stepfather . . . he’s Paul Shriver.”

I just look at her for a couple seconds as disbelief sets in. “Paul Shriver? The senator?”

“Yes.”

Fuck. This complicates things. I don’t want her to know I’m rattled by it, so I kiss her forehead again.

“Just sleep, baby. We’re leaving for Europe tomorrow. The three of us. It’s over.”

Quinn

I stuff the last of my toiletries into my suitcase and zip it. It’s really happening. I don’t have to choose between Andrew and Bethy—now I can have them both.

Dawson took Bethy shopping for clothes and other Paris essentials, so I can pack my things and Andrew’s and we can fly out this evening.

I’ll miss the warehouse, the shelter, Turner, and Anna. A big part of me will miss this city because, even with its rough edges, it kept Bethy and me together and safe for more than four years.

We weren’t safe from hunger, cold, or sickness. We weren’t even safe from threats of violence. But those things were better than what Paul had in mind. I think my father would be proud that his sixteen-year-old daughter managed to outsmart a US senator with nothing but brains and $180 of babysitting money in her pocket.

Our stuff is packed, and all I need to do now is pack Midas’s few things. We’re taking him with us, of course, and I want him to have his bed and favorite blanket.

“Midas, where are you?” I call as I walk into the living room.

I see him curled up on the couch asleep, and I walk up to pet him. Before I reach him, a hand wraps around my waist.

“Hello, Quinn.”

It can’t be. It can’t possibly be. Not here, in my safe place. My home.

I turn and meet the dark, calculating gaze of my stepfather. He takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it, grinning. It’s a printout of a photo from an online magazine. Andrew is kissing me on the forehead. I’m wearing the cream gown in the photo, so it has to be from the fundraiser we went to. Steve apparently didn’t buy all the photos.

I’m not a sixteen-year-old girl anymore. I’ll keep my chin high, and I won’t let him see me cry.

“Your stalking game is strong,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “What else do you want me to say?”

“I have to say I’m surprised at you, Quinn. You must have something hot between your thighs to pull Andrew Wentworth.”

“Fuck you.”

The paper falls from his hand and sails to the ground as he advances toward me, his face twisted into a mask of rage.

“You thought you could outsmart me, you little bitch, but you didn’t. I found you. No more running, Quinn.”

His hands are outstretched, and I know he’s going to choke me. I look around frantically. There’s no pan in reach this time. It’s just him and me.

I suck in a breath of air and crouch down to lower my center of gravity. He’s just a few feet from me when I say the only words that can save me now.

“David Alan Wentworth.”

I practically yell it as fear courses through me. I hope it was loud enough. Paul wraps his powerful hands around my neck and squeezes away my ability to breathe.

I try to knee him, but my feet are dangling in the air. I’ve got no momentum. I’m clawing at his hands around my neck, but it’s not enough. His face becomes a swirl of colors that fades to gray. My hands are too weak to fight anymore. I’m fading. My eyes slide closed, and I give in to the pull of darkness.