Chapter Twenty-One

Ree ate, showered and crawled into bed without saying a word. She kept an earbud in and listened to some of her favorite tunes. “Middle of Nowhere” by Vancouver Sleep Clinic was her go-to song. But even that couldn’t soothe her heart tonight.

By the next morning, Quint was back at the restaurant and she breathed a sigh of relief. Having him in the room and knowing this temporary situation was about to end sucked the air from her lungs.

She did her best to shake the feeling, reminding herself to breathe. She poured a cup of coffee and threw together enough of a breakfast to keep her from wanting to chew her arm off. The thought produced a melancholy smile. Hadn’t she said the same thing to Quint not long after they’d met?

Grabbing her phone, she scrolled through their fake social media page. Bad idea. The two of them appeared so happy and in love. She had to admit, they were both good actors. If this law enforcement gig fell through, they could make money in Hollywood.

Ree scribbled down the name of the shelter in Austin along with its website, tucked the piece of paper in her apron after she dressed for work.

Quint must have gotten sucked in by Charley because he still wasn’t home by the time she headed out for work. Granted, she left fifteen minutes early so as not to spend any more time alone in a room with Quint than absolutely necessary. If she’d had a fantasy, even for five minutes, that something special was happening between the two of them he’d quashed any hope last night with a sledgehammer when he’d brought up the fact it was a bad idea to date a coworker.

No one had to tell Ree twice not to go where she wasn’t welcome.

Zoey was already at work. There was no sign of Adrian. Ree figured this was a good time to hand over the note. She walked into Zoey’s station. Out of the corner of her eye, she could swear she saw the guy from the bar, the one in the flannel shirt. Phillip.

“Hey,” Ree said to Zoey’s back.

The young woman jumped.

“Sorry.” She turned around. There was no amount of makeup in the world that could cover those red, puffy eyes.

“Everything okay?” Ree asked, taking Zoey’s hand and discreetly placing the folded-up slip of paper in it.

“Yeah. Sure. I always look like this when I don’t sleep,” Zoey said, brushing off the seriousness of what seemed to be happening at home.

“Take a look later.” Ree nodded toward the paper in Zoey’s hand.

The young woman quickly tucked it inside her apron. “I don’t want to get yelled at for talking, so...”

“Of course not.” Ree turned and walked back to her station, praying the teen didn’t just toss the paper in the trash.

Adrian blew in at the last minute, looking frazzled and upset.

“Everything okay?” Ree asked as the woman breezed past.

“Is it ever?” Adrian asked before pushing open the kitchen door. “I need coffee.”

“That’s not an answer,” Ree said, following. “Seriously, are you doing all right?”

“I won’t be if I get my butt fired,” Adrian said, grabbing a coffee cup. “This job is how I keep a roof over my head and pay my babysitter.”

“You have a kid?” Ree asked, realizing how little she knew about Adrian.

“Yes, but please don’t tell anyone about him,” she whispered. “He’s a year old.”

Adrian pulled her cell phone from her apron and tapped the screen. “Here he is.”

“What a cutie,” Ree said and meant it. Was Fender the father?

“Thanks. He is my heart.” Adrian practically beamed as she tucked her cell inside her apron and fixed a cup of coffee.

“Do you want me to put your stuff in your locker?” Ree asked.

“Would you?” Adrian asked, handing over her handbag.

“Go to the bathroom and fix your hair before Charley sees you,” Ree whispered. Then she held up the bag. “Do you need anything from in here?”

Adrian grabbed a comb and a travel-size bottle of hairspray before rushing out of the room. Ree listened for the sound of keystrokes coming from the office. Click. Click. Clack.

She walked over and knocked on the door before sticking her head in.

“Missed you this morning,” she said to Quint.

“Class was canceled, so I decided to stick around and see what I could get done today,” he said before stretching out his arms. He pushed to standing, leaned over and kissed her. The minute their lips touched, a familiar jolt of electricity rocketed through Ree.

“I might just stick around for lunch at this point,” he said, a little breathless from the kiss.

“I’ll see you later, then,” Ree said. She rushed to put up Adrian’s bag and hurry back to the floor. The doors had already opened, and Zoey waited on the first table as two men walked inside the restaurant. Bald Guy and Ruddy Complexion. Ree’s heart hammered her ribs from the inside out.

“Welcome to Greenlight,” she said, forcing a smile. “Table for two?”

Bald Guy nodded. There was something decidedly creepy about this man. She’d arrested some dark individuals. There was something truly evil in the eyes of the most hardened criminals. Bald Guy fit into that category more so than Ruddy Complexion.

Ree led them to one of her tables in the middle of the room. She turned around to Bald Guy, who was shaking his head. He motioned toward the bar area.

“Sorry, it’s closed,” she said.

Bald Guy shot a murderous look at her. He motioned toward the bar area again.


QUINTS STOMACH GROWLED. He glanced at the clock. Lunch called. He powered down the computer, grabbed his coffee mug and headed to the dining room. He walked around to the counter and took a seat.

One look at Ree, and he knew something was up. She stood at a table talking to a couple, shifting her weight from left to right, and back. She nodded her head a little too enthusiastically. Something was off with her behavior.

He wished he could scan the dining room. This spot gave him a view to the kitchen.

Three cups of coffee kicked in and he had to use the bathroom. He opened the napkin in front of him and took out the knife and fork so someone would realize he was sitting there after setting his coffee cup down.

He took care of business and stood at the sink, washing his hands as the door opened. Bald Guy stepped inside, his gaze intent on Quint. His hand was inside his shirt.

Bald Guy pulled out a Glock, and then pointed the business end directly at Quint. There was a silencer on the end of it, which would keep the shot quiet. At this distance, Bald Guy couldn’t miss. “You’re a cop.”

“No. What are going to do with all the blood?” Quint asked. “Have you thought about that? Because you should. This is a small room and I’m a bleeder.”

The question seemed to catch Bald Guy off guard.

“Didn’t consider that before you came in here and pulled that thing on me?” Quint goaded.

Bald Guy pulled a cloth bag out of his back pocket. He tossed it at Quint’s chest.

“Put it over your head,” the man said, his voice vaguely familiar.

“Where do I know you from?” Quint asked.

“Just do what I say,” the man demanded.

This wasn’t going well. If Quint recognized this person’s voice, it was highly likely he’d been involved with another case. Did Bald Guy realize Quint was an agent?

This was bad. Quint took two seconds to evaluate his options. He could possibly fire off a kick in time to knock the weapon out of Bald Guy’s hand. But his finger hovered over the trigger as it was, and he could pull it by accident. Of course, he could pull the trigger on purpose and that wouldn’t bode well for Quint, either, at this range. The distance between where Quint stood and the door was too far for Quint to make a move.

Just when he was about to place the bag over his head, the door opened, slamming into Bald Guy’s back. He threw an elbow to stop the person on the other side from opening the door all the way. But the moment of distraction gave Quint the window he needed. He fired off a roundhouse kick, connecting with Bald Guy’s hand, which was knocked hard to the right. The weapon fired soon after Quint’s left heel connected. The cold metal slammed against the opposite wall.

A momentary look of panic washed over Bald Guy’s face, but he recovered. He lunged toward Quint. This guy had the size and speed of a linebacker going after a quarterback. Quint used it against the guy. As Bald Guy dove toward Quint, he grabbed two fistfuls of Bald Guy’s shirt, dropped down on his back, and helped momentum toss Bald Guy into the wall, headfirst.

There was a concussion waiting to happen as Bald Guy’s head snapped to one side and his neck took most of the impact. At the same time, the door opened.

“Quint,” Ree said, rushing inside and closing the door behind her. She pulled out her cell and immediately called the situation in.

Bald Guy lay crumpled on the tile floor as Quint located the man’s Glock and immediately emptied it. Quint patted the guy down to see if he had any other weapons. He didn’t. Quint tucked the empty gun in the back of his waistband as he ushered Ree out the door.

Charley was running down the hallway toward them. “What happened?”