In Hot Pursuit (30 page)

She strode toward the cosmetic store, intent on getting the make-up Ruthie had special-ordered for her wedding. It was ready and she was on her way in less than five minutes. She searched her purse for her cell to call Ruthie but it wasn't there. “Darn it, I left my phone at work,” she muttered as she hurried back to the parking garage.

$ $ $

Roddy called Logan again. “A black 'n white spotted Quinn's car in a Galleria garage. I'm going over there now to make sure nothing's going on.”

“Which garage?” Logan asked.

“You don't need to go chasing after Quinn. We've haven't had a sighting of Rebecca in Houston.”

“I want to make sure she's okay.”

“She's gonna be pissed if you show up and ruin her lunch or shopping trip.”

“I'll take that chance. Which garage?” Logan's voice was low and controlled.

Roddy shook his head, a grin on his face — true love. He rattled off the entrance number and headed for the Galleria.

He could pick up some take-out at the food court once he made sure Quinn was fine and dandy.

$ $ $

Quinn threaded her way through the crowds milling in front of the window displays of school clothes and electronics. She hurried to the glass door leading to the garage. She was eager to get back to the office to check her email. Perhaps the announcement Dr. Arnold mentioned had already been released.

She didn't notice the woman glare at her as she reached the door or that the woman reclaimed an object from her purse and hid it between the folds of her summer skirt. She didn't notice the woman stand and follow her into the garage. She didn't notice the footsteps trailing behind her.

Almost to the wagon, Quinn heard someone call her name. She turned.

A woman stood five or six feet away, in the middle of the ramp. She stood very straight and very still, with her hands hidden in the folds of a long skirt.

“I'm Quinn. Do I know you?” Quinn asked, apprehension fanning the back of her neck. This was strange.

The woman continued to stare. After a beat she said, “Yes, you do.” As she spoke, she raised her right hand toward Quinn, it held a pistol.

Recognition flooded Quinn as her body stiffened in shock. Rebecca had returned to Houston and apparently to shoot her, again. Fear and anger knotted inside her. This whole situation pissed her off. She
would not
let Rebecca see how much the gun freaked her out.

“Hello, Rebecca, I see you've crawled out of your worm-filled hole. What brings you back to Houston, the scene of the crime, so to speak.”

“Dear, dear Quinn, always the smart ass.”

“What do you want? I need to get back to work.”

“So you can call the police?” Rebecca wiggled the hand holding the gun.

“I don't have a phone with me. Just leave and run back to your hole. I don't care what happens to you.” The bravado in Quinn's words was false while the gun pointed at her chest was real.

“You don't want justice for HCU?” Rebecca snickered.

“Again, what do you want?”

“To get rid of you, everything is your fault.”

Panic like she'd never known before welled in Quinn's throat. Rebecca was close enough to shoot her straight through her heart, now cloaked in ice. Her first thought was of Cutter. The notion of never holding her sweet grandbaby again nearly had her lowering to her knees and begging for her life.

No, no way in hell. She be damned if she'd let Rebecca see the anxiety that threatened to undo her. She
would not
allow Rebecca to inhabit her life any longer. She pushed aside her jitters. She needed to formulate a plan, and quick.

“You want to get rid of me?” she said with a false laugh. “You already tried that once.”

“Let's give it another go.” Rebecca again wiggled the gun. “Where's your car?”

Quinn sucked in air, fear spurting through her. She had to stay calm. She had two options — get away from Rebecca or get the gun. She looked down the ramp. The garage was empty. What happened to all the people inside the mall? She was on her own.

“My car? That old bucket of bones. Nah, let's go inside the Galleria and have a glass of wine.” Quinn's voice was shakier than she would have liked. She took one step forward. “We can talk.”

Rebecca backed up a step. “Stop,” she said with cold determination. “Don't move.”

Quinn raised both hands in front of her. “Okay, no moving.” Rebecca was about seven or eight feet away. Could she dive towards her and knock her over? Or run behind a car? No, better to keep her talking until —

“You bitch, you never could follow directions.”

“Why did you take the money?” Quinn watched the woman shift in platform sandals that looked uncomfortable and made her decision.

“Because I could,” Rebecca spat out.

“You're a smart lady,” Quinn smiled, gritted her teeth and prayed for strength. “But not smart enough.”

Quinn pushed off from the balls of her feet. As she rushed forward and toward Rebecca, the motion seemed slow as though it wasn't her body. Her arms pushed out, away from her body and the purse in her right hand contacted with Rebecca's left hip, pushing her off balance.

Quinn followed Rebecca to the floor of the garage. The purse went flying yet the gun remained in Rebecca's hand. Quinn landed on Rebecca's left side and pain shot up her back. She ignored it and focused on getting her hands on the gun.

Rebecca squirmed like a snake, attempting to push Quinn off of her. Quinn pounded her fist on Rebecca's chest then on the forearm of the arm holding the gun. The fingernails of Rebecca's free hand dug at Quinn's face as she leaned over Rebecca's chest.

Her cheek burned but she didn't release her hold. Quinn pushed the weight of her body against Rebecca, trying to force her to stop twisting from side to side. “You damned bitch, stop moving.”

“Go to hell,” Rebecca shouted, trying to buck off Quinn. “Get off me.”

That pissed her off even more, so Quinn wiggled to the point she ended up lying full on top of Rebecca. She pushed her right forearm against Rebecca's throat and used her free fist to pound the arm holding the gun.

Instead of breaking Rebecca's grip, the gun fired, binging on the ceiling of the garage.

Quinn's mind reeled in momentary confusion. She stopped beating Rebecca's arm.

Rebecca stopped moving.

Quinn glanced toward the ceiling and didn't notice the change in the angle of the gun. But she heard Rebecca grunt and turned her head away from the ceiling. The first thing she saw was the gun pointed at her face.

She swallowed hard and without thinking gripped Rebecca's hand to push it away. “Stop it,” Rebecca growled, pushing just as hard against Quinn. “You need to die.”

Time seemed to pass in slow motion, yet Quinn realized only seconds had passed since she'd tackled Rebecca. She had to end this game.

Quinn released Rebecca's hand and fisted her hands together, swinging them like a baseball bat toward Rebecca's face using every ounce of power and momentum she could gather together. Her aim was off and she pounded into Rebecca's jaw.

The exact details of what happened next were lost in the blur of a car nearly hitting them on the ramp, someone shouting her name, the gun being grabbed, and strong arms pulling Quinn upward.

“You've got one helluva punch.” Roddy led her quickly to the side of the ramp as a security officer ran out the Galleria entrance door and rushed over to them.

“What's going on?” he demanded. “We have a report of a gunshot.”

“Under control,” Roddy replied while displaying his badge. He threw a pair of handcuffs to the guard. “Here, put these on the woman on the ground.” He then pulled out a phone and made a call. He gazed at Quinn and mouthed “You okay?”

She nodded and closed her eyes briefly.

Rubbing her jaw, Rebecca tried to sit up as the guard approached. She attempted to fight him with flailing arms, but the beefy guard easily flipped her to her stomach. He pulled her arms back and expertly wrapped the cuffs around her wrists. He pulled her to a standing position.

“Put her in the back of my car for now,” Roddy said. “A squad car will be here any minute.”

Quinn leaned against the back of her car and watched the scene with her mouth open while rubbing her right hand. That last punch hurt like hell. Just thinking about their struggle over the gun had Quinn shaking. She pressed her palms over her eyes and sucked in a hard breath.
Stay calm …it's finally over.

She didn't see Logan's car park behind Roddy's but she heard him call her name.

“I'm over here.” She stepped away from the Volvo and rushed into his arms.

“Thank god, you're safe.” He kissed her forehead then rocked her for a few seconds, his arms tight around her. He stepped back then stroked a finger along the side of her face.

“Ouch. Anything else hurt?”

“Just my hand. I tried to get the gun.”

“She had a gun?” he said, his voice squeaking.

“Of course,” Quinn said with more boldness than she felt. “Doesn't she always have a gun when I'm around?” She watched a HPD cruiser stop behind Logan's car. Roddy pulled Rebecca to it and shoved her in the back seat.
Good riddance.

Roddy walked over to them. “You made good time getting here, Logan.”

Logan nodded. “Can we leave?”

“In a minute.” Roddy turned to Quinn. “You'll need to give a statement.”

“I figured as much.”

“Can't she do that at home?” Logan asked, clearly protective of Quinn.

“I'm going back to work,” she said firmly.

“No problem,” Roddy said. “I need to process a couple of things here then we can do it. Where?”

“My office.”

“My house,” Logan countered.

Quinn's hand was throbbing like a frog croaking at night. The smart thing would be to take it easy for the rest of the day. Nana hadn't raised a dummy so she decided to call Ellie and give her the news. “I'll be at home for the rest of the day. You can come by any time for my statement. Logan, may I borrow your cell phone?”

He grinned and handed her his phone.

Great … he could make lunch and open a bottle of wine. A celebration was in order.

A Friday in Late August

The Rice family jet touched down in Las Vegas shortly before two o'clock in the afternoon. The stairway descended, a dozen people deplaned. Two limousines waited in the shade. Logan and Quinn piled in the second one along with his grandmother and Billy, and Jenny, Billy's cute as a button wife.

“Quinn, once the wedding festivities are over, we expect you and Logan to join the family on the tour of Hoover Dam on Monday.” Grandma Rice smiled, knowing full well her wish was a command everyone in the family would comply with — power, plain and simple.

“Yes, ma'am. It's a date.” She patted Logan's knee. “Right?”

Logan nodded. “We'll be ready at nine-thirty Monday morning.”

The limo dropped Logan and Quinn off at the Bellagio. The family suite at the Grand was full so they opted to stay at the same hotel where Ruthie's wedding would take place. It was a much better idea than staying with the Rice family which could be awkward when it came to sleeping arrangements. Quinn respected Logan's grandmother and didn't want to create an uncomfortable situation.

After they settled in a beautiful suite, she called Ruthie to let her know they had arrived. The plan was to meet in the Bellagio bar for a drink then walk over to Spago at Caesar's for a pre-wedding dinner with the family.

“Okay, Logan, we have three hours before we meet Ruthie. What shall we do?”

He smiled suggestively, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. “Let's take a nap.”

$ $ $

Saturday morning dawned clear and warm. Quinn convinced Logan to run with her at seven o'clock. They ran the same route she had on her first visit. It was different though, running with another person next to her, matching her stride. She liked running with Logan. He could leave her in the dust, but he was too much of a gentleman to exert his superior strength. Another trait she admired in him.

She also appreciated his restraint. He hadn't pressed her about moving in together since he'd suggested it three weeks earlier. He deserved a response. Thinking about what she might say made her jittery.

After they entered the suite, Quinn grabbed her ringing cell phone.

“It's Roddy, how's it going?”

“How are you?” Logan threw her a towel. She caught it and wiped sweat off her face.

“Good. I told you I'd call when I had a complete story for Rebecca Holland.”

“Yes, you did,” Quinn replied. “Let me put you on speaker so Logan can hear.” She handed her new phone to Logan. “Where's the speaker button?”

He grinned then punched one of the little square keys. “It's Logan. What have you got?”

“This is a quick summary as I've emailed a sanitized version of our report to both of you. By the way, your PI, J.W. McKenzie, provided good information for us and saved me a lot of leg work.”

“She's cute isn't she?” Quinn said.

Roddy chuckled. “Don't know about that but she's got a real knack for doing background work.”

Logan rolled his eyes, impatience flaring. “Did you find out how Rebecca changed the wire instructions?”

“Her friend is a computer hacker. He did the coding and attached it to the black cat email.”

“Thanks, Roddy,” Quinn said. “Why did she steal the twenty-five million?”

“Plain old greed,” Roddy replied. “She was tired of working and wanted the easy route to retirement.”

She shivered. “A lot of people are tired of working but they don't kill to get ahead. It's disgraceful.”