Quinn (34 page)

“Why did you smother Micah?”

“Honestly?” He turned with a smile. “I hate that old man. I’ve always hated him.”

“But why? What has he ever done to you except feed you and make you feel welcome?”

“Oh, gee. You’re breaking my heart. What do you care? He’s nothing.” Austin snapped his fingers. “Less than nothing. I don’t want to talk about him. Let’s talk about you. Micah said you’re in love with Conway. That you’re going to marry him and give up the ranch. That true?”

She went very still, weighing his words. “When did Micah say this?”

“Yesterday, when you and Conway left your ranch. The old man said you had the look of a woman in love.”

“And that’s why you followed us? This is all about me, and my feelings for Quinn?”

“You don’t get it, do you? It’s all about me. Let’s just say I’m curious.” He glanced over, but this time he wasn’t smiling. “This happened awfully fast. One day you’re staying at his ranch; the next you’re sleeping with him in his”—his hand swept the cabin looming before them in the woods—“his little love nest.”

Her throat went dry as he brought the truck to a sudden halt. He was out the door and around to hers before she could blink. He dragged her roughly out of the truck and up to the front of the cabin.

With his booted foot against the door he shoved it inward and pulled her inside before kicking the door shut.

He caught sight of the blood soaking the sleeves of her shirt. “You wasted all that effort for nothing. You think you can break through those?” He gave a short laugh. “The harder you fight against them, the more you hurt yourself. Go on. Try all you like. All you’ll get is more pain.”

He pushed her into a chair before crossing to the bed, where he opened a backpack and began removing things from it. A handgun. A knife.

Whistling a tune, he walked to the kitchen area and began making a pot of coffee. When it was ready he poured himself a cup.

“Sorry you can’t join me, but it’s kind of hard drinking without a free hand.”

He laughed at his little joke, and Cheyenne wondered how she could have ever thought of him as normal. Even his laughter sounded manic. Especially when she could see the spark of madness in his eyes each time he looked at her.

“Let’s get nice and comfy.” He sat, tilting back his chair, propping his feet on the table, and sipping his coffee. “We have to wait for the second act.”

“Josh?” Quinn maneuvered the truck with one hand while shouting into his cell phone.

The rutted pathway had his truck rocking from side to side as he took each twist and turn at top speed.

“Yeah, Bro. You sound excited about something. Did you get that pretty woman to finally kiss you?”

“I’m in trouble, Josh.”

“Nothing new for you.”

Quinn swore.

Hearing the change in his brother’s tone, Josh was instantly alert. “Okay. Spill it.”

As quickly as possible Quinn laid out what he’d learned from Chief Fletcher.

“Where are you now?”

“Just coming up to my cabin. I can see one of Cheyenne’s ranch trucks parked out front.”

“You going to just charge in there like the U.S. Cavalry?”

“There’s no way to hide. We’re in the middle of wilderness. They could hear my truck coming a mile away. Besides, with only one way in or out, he’s bound to be watching me driving up this path.”

“Okay. You got your rifle?”

“Yeah. But I have a feeling he’s not stupid enough to let me walk through the door with it.”

Josh’s voice began to fade in and out, and Quinn could tell he was running through the barn. “I’ll have Big Jim take up the plane.”

“There’s no place to land it here.”

“We’ll find a spot. It’s the fastest way I know to get there. So do whatever you have to do to keep this crazy guy from killing both of you until we can get there.”

“I’ll do my best.” Quinn took a breath as he brought his truck to a stop. “Tell Pa and Big Jim—”

“You tell them yourself when this is over, Bro.” Josh rang off.

Quinn opened the truck door and grabbed his rifle before striding toward the cabin.

When he was halfway there the door was flung open
and Cheyenne was framed in the doorway. Her hands and ankles were bound, and blood dripped from her wrists, causing Quinn to suck in a breath of horror at the sight of her. It was one thing to imagine her in peril. It was another to witness the real thing.

From behind her came the familiar, too-pleasant voice of the man who’d called himself Austin Baylor.

“Come on in. We’ve been expecting you. But before you take another step, you’d better toss that rifle this way. It just isn’t neighborly of you to bring a weapon into our little lovefest.”

Q
uinn paused at the foot of the steps, his rifle at his side. It took all his willpower to tamp down the wave of fury he felt at the sight of Cheyenne looking so wounded.

He fought to keep his tone level. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m—”

Austin’s voice broke in. “No small talk until you toss that rifle.”

Cheyenne’s head came up sharply. “Don’t do it, Quinn. He’s already killed Micah. Now he’s going to kill us, too.”

“Micah isn’t dead.”

She shook her head. “He is. I saw Austin smother him.”

“He may have tried to, but he didn’t succeed. I just left the clinic, and Micah’s going to be fine.”

At the news Austin swore savagely. “I said toss me that rifle and be quick about it unless you want to watch your precious woman die right now.”

Quinn tossed the rifle and Austin caught it in midair
before yanking Cheyenne viciously by her hair and dragging her backward into the room.

As Quinn stepped into the cabin, Austin shouted, “Close the door and lock it.”

“Afraid of visitors?”

“I just don’t want any surprises.”

Quinn pulled the door shut and set the lock. Before he could turn around he heard Cheyenne’s cry of alarm and felt a blow to his head that staggered him and had him dropping to his knees. He shook his head to clear the stars that were dancing before his eyes, only to find Austin standing over him, the rifle held like a club in his hands.

“That was just to let you know who’s in charge here. Unless you do exactly as I say, you’ll get something worse.” He pointed with the butt of the rifle. “Sit over there, next to your woman.”

Quinn crossed to Cheyenne and touched a hand to her cheek. “Stay strong, baby.”

“I didn’t say you could touch her.” A shot rang out and Quinn heard Cheyenne’s scream just as a searing red-hot pain shot through his arm. In the same instant his limb dropped uselessly to his side while blood spurted from the wound like a fountain.

The pain had him clutching the edge of the table, struggling to hold on.

When he turned, Austin was smiling that bright megawatt smile he could turn on and off like a switch. “Told you. I’m in charge. Bet you won’t forget it again.”

With her hands behind her back, Cheyenne was helpless to do more than watch as Quinn absorbed wave after wave of pain. “Oh, Quinn, I can’t bear to see you hurt like this.”

“That’s nothing to what you’ll both get if you don’t pay attention. Now,” Austin said as cheerfully as though he were talking about the weather. “Sit next to your lady love where I can keep an eye on you.”

“There’s no reason to do this,” Cheyenne cried. “You can see he’s wounded, Austin.”

“His name isn’t Austin. It’s Abbott. Abbott Monroe.” Quinn’s steely gaze bored into his opponent, pleased to see that he’d caught him off-guard.

“How do you…?” Abbott’s mouth opened and closed while he struggled to regain control of the situation.

Seeing it, Quinn knew at once that control was very important to this madman.

Abbott brandished his weapon. “What do you know about Abbott Monroe?”

Quinn dropped into the chair beside Cheyenne and ripped aside the sleeve from his plaid shirt, using his teeth and his good hand to tie off the wound. It didn’t really help ease the pain, but it helped slow and absorb a good deal of the blood. “Only what the state police have said. They know all about your little charade.”

Cheyenne stared from one man to the other. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about, Quinn?”

“Our friend here assumed the identity of a dead man, so that his own criminal history couldn’t be traced.”

“Criminal history?”

“When you gave your personnel records to the state police, they learned that Austin Baylor has been dead for years. He died in a mental facility.”

“But how did you…?” She turned to Abbott. “How could you know about a dead man in a mental facility?”

When he said nothing, Quinn gave a dry laugh. “He
knew because he was there, too. He was one of the mental patients.”

“Shut up!” Abbott lifted the rifle and swung it at Quinn’s head.

Quinn’s ears were ringing from the blow, a strange, faraway buzzing, and he wondered how much longer he would be able to remain conscious. He knew that he needed to buy some time. Time enough for Chief Fletcher and the state police to get here. Time for his family to fly here. But how long would it be before this crazed animal would lose control completely and kill him? Not that his life mattered right now. His only thought was saving Cheyenne. He had to distract Abbott until someone could get here in time to save her life.

Now that he was face-to-face with this monster, he realized just how dangerous Abbott Monroe was. He’d never before dealt with a psychopath. Charming as hell one minute, a vicious, cold-blooded killer the next.

Quinn made a vow to himself. He would save Cheyenne at any cost. And that meant that he had to keep Abbott talking, even if it meant bearing the brunt of his fury to do so.

“It seems Abbott has a history of getting rid of people that get in his way. He likes to set fires. Isn’t that right, Abbott?”

Instead of the angry response he’d expected, Abbott surprised Quinn by puffing up his chest. “I set my first fire when I was six. You should have seen my baby brother’s face get all red and twisted when his blanket started to burn.” He threw back his head and chuckled. “When my mother found us, I went into my innocent act and actually helped her put out the flames. That night I was
hailed on TV as a little hero.” He began to laugh, that high, wild sound that scraped on nerves already stretched to the breaking point. “Nobody would ever believe that a sweet little kid like me could do something like that on purpose. When I realized I’d managed to get away with my little lie, I decided to try it again. That time my stupid parents and little brother didn’t survive. Poor me. A little orphan at the age of twelve.” His eyes went flat. “But then I got a foster family, and they weren’t any better. So…” He shrugged. “I figured I’d take them out the same way I’d taken out my family. And it worked. Only that time, the shrinks and government agencies got into the act and put me in a mental hospital for ‘evaluation.’ ” His voice lowered. “I knew I had to get away for good, or I’d rot in that stinking place. So, when Austin died, with no family around to mourn, I decided to be him if I ever managed to slip away and get another chance. I watched and waited, and one day the opportunity came. And here I am.”

“The fire at my ranch. It wasn’t an accident. You set it.” Cheyenne couldn’t keep the horror from her voice.

“That’s why he insisted on the quick cleanup, isn’t it, Abbott? To hide the rags you’d used to start the fire?”

“Clever, wasn’t I? By the time the insurance investigator got there, the evidence had disappeared.”

“And now you tried to kill Micah in a fire, too.” Cheyenne’s tone was one of disbelief.

Abbott swaggered across the room and tossed the rifle onto the bed before picking up the handgun and knife, as though preferring his own weapons to Quinn’s.

He turned to her. “Micah should have died. I gave the old guy a whack on his head that would’ve killed most men. Then I set the fire and left, thinking he was a goner.”
His smile faded as he tucked the pistol into the waistband of his pants. “If I’d thought for one minute that he’d manage to crawl away from that inferno, I would’ve stayed and finished him off.”