In Hot Pursuit (29 page)

“We've been here for almost two hours. She's in labor,” Dirk huffed.

“I'm on my way. Tell her to wait for me.”

“Just hurry.”

$ $ $

Quinn ran into Liz's maternity suite just as a baby boy emerged, sucked in that first breath, and began to wail. It was pure magic.

“Sorry I'm late,” she panted.

“Mom, finally,” Liz whispered.

The baby was quickly placed in Liz's arms, pink and perfect. Quinn pulled a camera from her purse, and did what grandma's do, took a dozen photos of her new grandson. After a minute, a nurse took the baby away for a bath and measuring.

Quinn looked from Liz to Dirk and gave them a thumb's up. “You guys did good. He's adorable. What name did you finally settle on?”

“Cutter Phillip Holmes,” Liz said. She was bright eyed and relaxed, hardly showing the stress from just giving birth. “We figure with Cutter, he'll be the only kid in school with the name.”

The nurse poked her head around the corner of a short wall. “He's twenty-one inches, seven pounds eleven ounces.”

Quinn patted Liz's hand. “Now that I know the details, let me go tell everyone that Cutter has arrived.”

She hurried to the waiting room and found Logan deep in conversation with Nana while Ruthie listened. Bob was reading a magazine. Dirk's parents were standing by the window, coffee cups in their hands. Jane and a man she didn't recognize, sat side by side on a short couch with their feet on a table. She'd obtain the details on him later. Jonathon stood to the side, not sure of his place.

“We have a baby.”

Eight heads turned to Quinn, anticipation in every pair of eyes.

She shared the details then grinned. “He's a looker, too.”

Everyone jumped up at once, talking over each other.

“When can we see him?” Nana asked.

“In a little while,” she said. “Let's give them time alone.” She spied the picnic basket on the floor. “In the mean time, is anyone hungry? Logan brought lunch.” She motioned to Jonathan. “Come over here, Grandpa, join us.”

After twenty minutes, the basket was empty and Dirk waved in the group to see Cutter. He nestled in his mother's arms. Quinn took more pictures. Logan took a turn with the camera, capturing the entire family. They soon left to give the new parents a much needed break.

On the way home, Logan asked Quinn if she wanted to go with him to visit his Grandmother. She declined as it was late and she had reading to do for a Monday morning meeting. He walked her to the townhouse porch.

“Don't forget I'll be calling tomorrow about that first date.” He kissed her then patted her butt.

She grinned and waved good-bye.

Inside the townhouse, Quinn plopped in her chair and allowed herself the pleasure of a few minutes to relax.

She felt on top of the world. She had a grandson, a perfect little guy who had his father's nose and his mother's eyes, Quinn's eyes. Tears spilled. She sighed. And, then there was Logan.

What a wonderful day
.

Two Months Later

Quinn couldn't complain. Life was good. Other than continuing to wear her controller bonnet along with the acting VP finance Stetson. The meetings were killing her — academia loved to talk. She'd started using the electronic calendar just to keep up. Thank heavens Ellie managed to keep her on time.

Happy to leave the workweek behind, Quinn arrived home at six o'clock on a Friday evening in August. She changed her clothes and checked her watch, where was Logan? He should be there already. He insisted on bringing dinner, something healthy. She needed to run again. The HCU workload limited her time for exercise and her ass … was spreading.

Logan arrived a minute later with flautas and enchiladas and all the fixings from Quinn's favorite Mexican restaurant. Healthy? She'd ignore her ass this one meal.

Logan spread the dinner on the kitchen counter then kissed Quinn thoroughly on the mouth. Even after the many times he'd kissed her, she still felt a butterfly in her stomach. This gorgeous man was her man.

“Did you have a good day,” he said, rubbing his hand along the curve of her back.

“Good enough.”

They made plates and perched at the counter to enjoy their meal.

“Babe, I told you about the tickets for tomorrow evening, right?” Logan said after a few minutes.

“Um, tickets? Oops, that's my cell.” She hurried to her purse for the phone.

“It's Roddy, long time, no talk.”

“Right, I haven't heard from you in a while.” She leaned against the counter, knowing full well this call wasn't good news. Roddy wasn't a chit-chatty kind of detective. “Okay, what's up?”

“You're too smart for your own good.”

“Right. What's up?”

Logan perked up and she motioned for him to be quiet.

“I miss playing detective with you, but something is up … per the FBI, Rebecca Holland left Brazil.”

“Brazil?” Quinn rubbed her forehead. “That's where she's been hiding? Where'd she go?”

“That is the one fact we don't know.”

“Why did she leave?”

“Don't know that either.”

Rebecca must have a very good reason to leave Brazil. “My guess is figure out the why and then you'll know the where.” She clicked off.

She found Logan on the couch in the living room flipping channels with the TV remote.

He took her hand and kissed the palm. “Hmm, you taste good.”

“You smell good.” She kissed him on the neck.

He looked at her with a serious face. “What did Roddy say about Rebecca? I hope she's not coming after you.”

“Why would she bother with me?”

“Don't forget you're the one who set the police on her.”

“Old news.” Quinn didn't want to think about Rebecca and what she might be planning to do. As she'd concluded after the gunshot in Rome, running after Rebecca was the job of the police. She grabbed the remote. “What's on TV?”

She found an Astros baseball game and they settled in. “How about a glass of wine?”

“I'll get it.”

How nice to have a man around the house to pour the wine.

Logan returned with two glasses and they settled on the couch side by side.

“This is nice,” Logan said. “Something I could get used to.”

“What? Drinking wine in front of the TV?”

“Yes, with you.”

She patted his thigh. “Aw, you are so sweet tonight.”

“I mean it. I think we should move in together.”

She nearly choked on the wine, cleared her throat. “That's not something I've ever considered.”

“I figured that. I've not either. But I think it's the perfect solution.”

“Solution to what?”

“Your hang up about getting married again.”

She scooted to the edge of the couch and turned to him. “Hang up? I do not have a hang up about marriage. It's perfectly fine for other people, not me.”

“That's exactly what I mean. Why won't you even consider it?”

“Because I'm lousy at it.” She sighed and flopped against the back cushion.

“See? You have a bad attitude.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I think of myself as being honest.” She did not want to continue this conversation.

“That you are. But I still think we should move in together and see how it goes.”

“We don't know each other well enough. What has it been, three months?”

“And, that's plenty of time for me to know what I want.”

Quinn patted his cheek. “Sweetie, you are so cute.”

He captured her hand and gazed at her face, his smile a galaxy away. “Don't do that. Don't trivialize my feelings.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.” Quinn never wanted to hurt him, ever. “Okay, I'll think about it.”

$ $ $

By the middle of the next week, Quinn had managed to put Logan's words behind her, mostly. She did not consider herself the type of woman to trivialize a man's feelings or words. Yet, she wasn't ready to wrap her head around the thought of them moving in together.

Did that mean she was old fashioned? Probably, maybe. The truth — she was terrified of commitment. It equated to fun like watching a rattle snake slither out of a toilet bowl. You just never know when it might bite you in the ass. But Logan deserved her taking his suggestion seriously and with soul-searching.

Dr. Arnold called and told Ellie he was heading over. It was almost two in the afternoon and Quinn had no idea what might be on his mind. She wondered why he hadn't summoned her to his office…good news or bad news? She had no clue how these things worked.

Before she could rationalize her last thought, Dr. Arnold walked into the office. She rose, walked around the desk to meet him.

She thrust out her hand. “Dr. Arnold, good to see you today.”

He shook her hand, briefly she noticed, then sat at the small round conference table. Being quick on the draw, she seated herself across from him.

“I know this is unusual and you're still making the transition from controller to VP.”

Transition? To VP? She assumed he was here to tell her a search committee had been set up for the VP position.

“Things have been easier this last month,” she said, physically forcing her hand not to smooth her hair.

“I assumed that would be the case.” Dr. Arnold smiled that small smile he had down to an art.

She never knew what he was thinking or his real opinion on a subject. Unlike Quinn, whose face had a neon sign flashing her thoughts.

“Thanks for your support,” she said. How lame was that?

“Please look over these proposals.” He handed her an envelope and rose. “The Board approved your appointment as VP finance. Congratulations.”

Quinn's skin tingled — finally, it was real. She wanted to shout with joy, then noticed Dr. Arnold watching at her.

“Thank you so much. I'll do my best.”

He smiled lamely. “I'm sure you will. The appointment includes a forty percent salary increase. An announcement to the campus will go out this afternoon.” He shook her hand and left.

Quinn mouthed “holy shit,” performed a fist pump, then picked up the phone to call Logan. She replaced the receiver. This news, she'd tell in person, to observe the look on his face. She punched in her current pay rate on a hand calculator and computed her new salary. Nice.

$ $ $

Wednesday, 11:15
A.M.

Roddy shifted in the seat of his car, grabbed the phone from the dashboard on the second ring.

“It's Logan. I've been thinking about your call to Quinn the other night.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Have you received any information on Rebecca's location?”

“Nothing concrete.”

“She could be anywhere, Houston even.”

“That's a possibility. The FBI received a tip in San Diego at an airport rental car agency. A clerk called in a report of renting a car to a woman who sorta, kinda, maybe looked like Rebecca.”

“San Diego, huh? Is the return there?”

“One way, return in New Orleans,” Roddy drained the coffee cup. He wished he had a thermos.

“Houston's on the way.”

“That's why I'm outside Quinn's office building.”

“You want company?”

“Hell, no.” Roddy nearly laughed. “Why don't you go back to the FBI?”

“It's complicated.”

“Yeah,” Quinn's wagon exited the parking lot and turned right at the corner. “Gotta go, Quinn's on the move. Do you know where she's going?”

“Probably lunch. Let me find out where. I'll call you back.”

Roddy clicked off and concentrated on following Quinn. Calling would spook her. She was too smart not to ask why he wanted to know where she was lunching. She turned left, heading west. He stayed three or four vehicles behind her. He doubted she'd recognize his car but didn't want to take a chance.

After a few minutes of driving, she pulled into a strip shopping center anchored by a home decorating store. He parked several cars away. Quinn rushed into a bookstore. She came out after a few minutes carrying a shopping bag, backed out and pulled onto Richmond Avenue. He did the same.

He called Logan who hadn't been able to reach Quinn on her cell and no one answered her office phone. Logan said he'd keep trying. The traffic ahead slowed at a set of four uneven railroad tracks. The lights began to flash and the arms starting moving down.

“Go, asshole,” he yelled at the car in front of him. The car braked as a white Lexus behind Quinn zipped over the tracks just before the arms fell into place. Quinn's wagon sped down the street. He pounded the steering wheel. “Dammit.”

Roddy had no idea where Quinn went. Her car was long gone by the time the crossing arms opened and he crossed the tracks. He tried Logan again.

“Have you talked with Quinn?”

“No, but I left a message for her best friend, Ruthie. She might know where Quinn likes to go to lunch.”

“You don't know that?” Roddy growled.

“No, I don't.”

“Put it on your damn to-do list. Call me back as soon as you hear.”

Roddy wanted to throw the phone at the windshield. Where the hell was Quinn? He had a bad feeling about that tip in San Diego. All he could do was drive around the area and look at cars in parking lots, hoping to catch sight of Quinn's car. He called the dispatcher, issuing a Be On the Look Out bulletin for all patrol cars in the Inner Loop area to look for Quinn's vehicle.

He prayed it would be a waste of effort.

Galleria Mall, 11:47
A.M.

The Galleria was always busy. Why didn't people work anymore? Quinn noticed a number of teenagers hanging over the railing, watching the ice skaters below. Then she remembered the fall school term hadn't yet started. The summer had gone by so quickly. Guess that's what happens when you're busy doing two jobs. Now that she was officially VP she could hire a new controller. Good news.