“Owl,” Quinn says, walking over and beaming at us. “He wasn’t at the house when I left, so I knew he must’ve tried to help her, somehow. He knew Tory was in danger, and it looks like he did what he does best. Rounded up the tribe and brought us reinforcements.”
“I still can’t believe it,” I say, shaking my head.
I also know if the animals hadn’t shown up, Quinn would’ve saved me without their help.
Bat Pickett never had a chance against the four fiercest men in Dallas.
In no time, Grady, Ridge, and Drake hog-tie Bat and the other men. All they’re missing are bows on their foreheads for the cops.
The deputies show up with a couple dozen other officials in tactical gear and black suits. While Quinn, Grady, Ridge, and Drake are busy talking, I stay busy keeping Owl and the goats away from the commotion.
Incredibly, all eighteen are here and accounted for.
And that’s when I finally let myself smile. I bet I’m the only woman who’s ever been saved by eighteen goats, one bull of a mastiff, and the most amazing, kind, and fearless man on the planet.
The man I owe my heart to.
I also want to apologize, even if our hissy fit before this started was a two-way tango, but first I need to get the goats home. Borrowing Quinn’s phone, I call Uncle Dean and tell him to pick up the truck and trailer, then bring it to the old Maddock farm.
I’m amazed he’s even awake, considering it’s after three in the morning, but the man never misses a monster movie marathon on cable. And I guess if he shows up in time, he’ll get a glimpse of a real monster.
It couldn’t be more fitting.
Dropping down on an old crate, I wait, stroking Owl’s head, watching Quinn’s handsome profile in the shifting cascade of blinking police cars and floodlights.
Fitting might just be the best word for everything tonight.
The sun is up and burning my tired eyes by the time the goats are settled at Uncle Dean’s place and I finally drive the truck home to Quinn’s.
Guilt strikes hard when I’m alone, and able to think. How I hadn’t taken his warnings seriously enough.
I don’t know why. Maybe because no one’s ever had my best interests at heart before, and for some reason, I refused to believe it was possible.
Quinn isn’t home. He’s still at the sheriff’s office, meeting with the FBI people.
From what I’ve gathered, that Goode guy was some sort of high-level police official back in Oklahoma City, but he’d been a double agent of sorts, playing the streets and the law to line his own pockets.
It’s sickening. There’s a lot more to it, I’m sure, like Goode having a hand in Quinn’s partner getting killed…
But my mind is about as cooked as a scrambled egg.
It might be a year before I pick up a thriller again, books I usually love.
The fact that this is way too real still freaks me out.
Having a taste of the life Quinn lived for years during our little intermission scares the crap out of me.
Seriously.
What if there are other dangerous men out there with axes to grind? I’d like to think this insanity was a one-off, but…the mere idea of more makes me tremble from head to toe.
I take a shower, and though I’m dog-tired after being up all night, I know I won’t be able to sleep until Quinn gets home.
So I get dressed, feed Owl, and then go to the barn to finish what Pickett’s men so rudely interrupted the night before. Honestly, I don’t get very far, hanging off a few silks before I’m out of breath and limping to the blanket in the corner.
Even fear can’t keep a girl up forever when she’s this exhausted.
I’m still there napping, dreaming of how my entire life has changed since summer, when I hear footsteps.
In my groggy state, it scares me.
I jerk up so hard I almost crash right into him.
“Whoa. Easy. Didn’t think I’d find you here. Haven’t you had enough exercise for one day?” he asks, crouching, laying those big calloused hands on my shoulders.
His grin lassos my heart. I flash him a shy smile.
“Sure, but I didn’t want to fall asleep until you were home. I tried to stay awake, but…”
“Never any shame in a power nap, darlin’.” He cups my face with both hands, melting me alive with the hottest emerald-green eyes in existence. I think I’m a puddle by the time his lips mold to mine and he kisses me fully awake. “Have you eaten yet?”
“I’m not hungry. Did you get everything sorted out?”
His eyes darken and he shrugs.
“Eh, it’ll be a while. Weeks, maybe months, before everything gets fully sorted and cases closed. I’m finished with the after-action stuff for now, though.” Taking my hand, he leads us to the door. “I brought home some Chinese takeout. You up for a bite?”