Midnight Lies: The Wildefire Series (40 page)

“We’re all safe now and we’ll stay that way,” Samantha said. “Once Zach finds the
Daytons, we can go back to finding this killer.”

He took her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm, and surprised her by asking, “What do
you want for Christmas?”

Loving him even more for his calm, steady courage, she drew in a long breath and shared
one of her fantasies with him. “I want to wake up in your arms on Christmas morning,
in this house. After a delicious breakfast, we’ll sit in front of our giant, beautifully
decorated tree and unwrap presents. Then we’ll get dressed and go over to the Wilde
house for a Christmas feast and open more presents. In the early evening, we’ll return
home and drink hot chocolate in front of the fireplace.”

“You left out one important thing,” he said softly.

She shivered at the gravelly, sexy voice. “What’s that?”

“You forgot to mention when I do this.” Leaning forward, he captured her mouth with
his, roaming gently and thoroughly.

Before she could deepen the kiss, he pulled away and whispered, “And this.” His fingers
deftly unbuttoned her blouse. Already anticipating his mouth on them, her nipples
went instantly erect.

Unclasping the front closure of her bra, he pulled both her blouse and bra away till
they draped on her shoulders. His eyes devoured what he had uncovered and Samantha
felt exposed, sexy, and beautiful.

A long, masculine finger traced her erect nipple, making
it tighten even more. “Have I ever mentioned that you have the most beautiful breasts
in the world?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Very remiss of me. Let me clear up any doubt. Your breasts are beautiful, sweet … infinitely
suckable.”

Mesmerized and totally aroused, Samantha sat en-rapt as he seduced her with his words
and voice.

“Now, where were we? Oh yes, what you left out of your perfect Christmas Day. You
forgot the part when I do this.” His hands went beneath her knees and pulled her to
the edge of the couch, then he spread her legs with his.

Samantha held her breath, the anticipation of his next touch almost more than she
could bear.

Large, competent hands glided up her thighs, heading in the direction she desperately
wanted him to go. Heat and moisture pooled at her core; she was throbbing, wanting,
needing. Almost to the edge of her panties, he stopped and said, “Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Breathe. I don’t want you passing out before the good part.”

As far as she was concerned, the good part was every single moment she spent with
this amazing man. However, she did need to breathe. Slowly releasing her breath, she
was rewarded when one of those long fingers eased beneath the lace of her panties
and delved gently, tenderly into her crease.

Moaning, she whispered, “Quinn … please.”

“Oh, I will, sweetheart. I promise. I—”

She was so immersed in the sensual seduction, the cheerful Christmas jingle barely
penetrated her consciousness. It was when Quinn stopped and pulled away from her that
she realized her cellphone, only inches from her, was ringing. She had set the song
as her ringtone,
hoping it would cheer her. The sound of it was most definitely not cheering her now.

Giving her a grin, he kissed the tip of her nose and growled a promise: “Later.”

Samantha watched longingly as he headed to the kitchen. Blowing out a frustrated breath,
she grabbed the phone and answered, “This had better be good.”

“Sammie, it’s Savvy.”

Any other time, she knew her sister would have laughed at her greeting, correctly
guessing that she had interrupted something steamy. The seriousness of her tone alerted
her something wasn’t right.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something fishy came back on Blaine Marshall.”

Wedging the phone between her ear and shoulder, she quickly closed her bra and buttoned
her shirt. “What’d you find out?”

“I was looking for a connection between Blaine and Quinn.”

“And?”

“I didn’t exactly find that but I did discover that he went to Atlanta a few weeks
ago.”

“Really? He told me he went to Indiana, to take care of some business. Said there
was two feet of snow the whole time he was there.”

“I can’t find any evidence that he went to Indiana. He flew from Mobile to Atlanta
the day after Quinn left. He was there for two weeks and came back the same day Quinn
did.”

“That can’t be a coincidence. Any idea what he did when he was in Atlanta?”

“I know that he stayed at the Marriott downtown, but other than that, no, I don’t
know what he did. I’ll keep digging.”

“I still need to set up a meeting with him to return that gift.”

“Maybe you should wait on that. Finding this information has kind of freaked me out.”

“It is weird but not exactly a smoking gun. There could be all sorts of reasons he
went to Atlanta. When I see him, I’ll—” Her breath caught in her throat as she was
plunged into darkness.

“Sammie, you there?”

Her heart slamming against her chest, she whispered into the phone, “The lights just
went out.”

“Where’s Quinn?”

“In the kitchen.”

“What about the deputies?”

Blindly she reached for her Glock that had been beside her cellphone. Its reassuring
weight in her hand, she walked toward the window and opened the blinds. Thankfully
the night was bright enough to see that the patrol car was still in front of the house,
but she couldn’t see anyone inside it.

“Savvy, call Zach.”

“Sammie, please be careful.”

“I’ll be fine. Just call Zach.” Closing the phone, she called out, “Quinn?”

No answer.

With dread and a stark fear, she moved toward where she believed the kitchen was.
It was so damn dark. Halfway there, the lights flickered and then blazed back on.
Breathing out a relieved sigh, Samantha dashed to the kitchen and then came to an
abrupt stop. Quinn lay facedown on the floor, unmoving. Clark Dayton, Carl Dayton,
and two men she didn’t know stood over him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Samantha yelled.

“We’re taking justice into our own hands,” Clark snarled. “Gonna teach this murdering
son of a bitch a lesson he won’t ever forget.”

She tried not to stare at Quinn. Was he breathing?
Oh God, please let him be okay
. Bringing her gun up, she
held it steadily on Clark, who seemed to be the ringleader. “You’re an idiot, Clark.
If you would just think rationally for a minute, you’d realize that Quinn had nothing
to do with Lindsay’s death.”

“You only believe him because you’re screwing him.”

“I believe him because I know he’s innocent.”

Clark smirked. “I always knew you were the stupidest of the Wilde girls.” He reached
down toward Quinn.

“Touch him and I swear I will blow a hole in your gut.”

He glanced hesitantly around at his father and friends as if looking for encouragement.
When he moved his gaze back to her, his eyes appeared to see beyond her, to something
over her head. The obnoxious smirk became a full-fledged grin.

And that’s when she felt a presence behind her. She managed only a half turn before
she felt a sharp pinch on the side of her neck. She tried to complete her turn but
stumbled unsteadily back. Her legs wobbled and the faces of the four men blurred into
one giant blob. Samantha knew she was about to pass out. If she did, what would happen
to Quinn?

Fury helped burn some of the grogginess away.
The bastards
. She didn’t care if she killed them all. Barely able to keep her grip on her gun,
she raised it slightly higher to make sure she didn’t shoot Quinn and fired.

She heard a shriek and a curse, then something slammed into her head and she felt
herself falling forward. She flung her hands outward to catch her fall but they were
useless as she fell on top of Quinn.

Breathing in his beautiful masculine scent, Samantha felt tears fill her eyes. Her
mind registered shouting, angry voices. And then she fell into a soft, deep darkness.

“What if he really didn’t do it?” a harsh male voice whispered.

“Yeah,” another male voice said, “that Samantha Wilde seemed pretty sure about that.”

“Stop it, you two. You said you were on board with this. Remember, my sister is dead
because of this bastard.”

Pushing past the throbbing ache in his head, Quinn lay still and tried to get his
bearings. He knew he was in a vehicle, probably an SUV. His hands were tied behind
his back and he appeared to have some sort of cloth bag over his head. The people
who’d abducted him, Dayton and his buddies, were arguing about whether they should
have abducted him—a little too late in his estimation.

Where was Sam? Had they hurt her? Even though he couldn’t see, he knew she wasn’t
in the vehicle. Rage boiled within him. If they had touched one hair on her head,
they were going to die. He wasn’t a violent man. After leaving the service, he’d deliberately
avoided war movies and rarely talked about his time in the service. Hell, he didn’t
even own a gun. But if they harmed Sam, he wouldn’t hesitate to tear them limb from
limb.

“What do you think that man is going to do with Samantha?”

Quinn stopped breathing. A man had Sam? Who? From the sound of it, he was someone
they didn’t know.

“I don’t know,” Clark answered. This time there was worry in Dayton’s voice. “He seemed
like a nice fellow. And he said they’d dated.”

“Then why’d he drug her?”

“Hell, I don’t know. I got enough problems without worrying about somebody else’s.
I just—” Dayton broke off and then said, “Wait, there it is.”

The vehicle jerked to a stop. Quinn clenched his jaw to prevent a groan as his head
rammed into something hard.

He heard shuffling as the door clicked open and Dayton and his friends got out of
the vehicle. Quinn stayed
still and prepared to strike. Sam was in trouble. The only way to get back to her
was to go through these idiots. He had to work as quickly as possible.

The back of the SUV squeaked open. Quinn waited … waited … Someone grabbed his ankle.
With a violent kick, he shoved his foot forward and connected with a soft cushioned
body part—maybe a stomach. He heard a grunt and a curse.

“He’s awake!” Dayton shouted. “Watch his legs.”

“No shit, asshole,” Quinn snarled. “Think you’re man enough to take me on without
tying me up?”

“You’re going to get the beating of your life tonight, you bastard,” Dayton said.

Quinn stayed silent. Telling them once again that he hadn’t killed Lindsay would do
no good. They were out for retribution. Why let a little thing like his possible innocence
stand in the way?

Having learned a lesson, they were more careful when they reached for him again. A
man grabbed one of his feet; another man grabbed the other one. With a massive yank,
they pulled him from the back of the vehicle and threw him down on the ground, where
he landed faceup. Quinn barely felt the impact. Adrenaline was surging through his
system like a geyser, washing away everything but his one purpose. The quicker he
dealt with these sons of bitches, the sooner he could get to Sam.

With his hands tied behind him, he was limited in his ability to fight, but he was
far from helpless. Hell, how many times had he trained for this exact scenario? Just
because he hadn’t practiced it in years didn’t mean he didn’t remember exactly what
to do.

Still, he gave goading them one more try. Having his hands free would make this go
much faster. “You guys really are macho, beating up a tied-up man. Why don’t you untie
me and let’s see who’s got the biggest balls?”

Hard hands grabbed his arms, jerked him to his feet.
“Shut up,” Dayton said, “or I’ll forget about the ass-whooping and go straight for
the kill.”

Maybe he couldn’t get them to untie his hands, but it’d help a hell of a lot to be
able to see. “At least let me see who’s going to whoop my ass.”

“I don’t—”

“Take the bag off, Clark.” The voice was that of an older male, one Quinn hadn’t heard
before.

“Daddy, you okay? I didn’t think you were going to wake up.”

“It’ll take more than the peashooter that Wilde girl had to put me down.”

Sam had apparently been able to get off a shot. Even though he was up to his neck
in assholes, Quinn smiled. That was his tough, beautiful Sam.

Abruptly the bag was yanked off his head. Swaying slightly, Quinn faced his opponents.
They were a scraggly-looking bunch. Three of them, including Clark Dayton, were medium
height and slightly thick in the middle. Handling them with his hands tied behind
his back was no big deal. The fourth man was the one he needed to worry about. The
guy was about Quinn’s height of six two but outweighed him by about fifty pounds.
This was the one he needed to take down first.

Clark and another of the smaller men rushed him at the same time. Quinn gave them
no time to touch him. He threw out a kick, slamming one man in the nose, then whirled
and kicked again. His foot connected with Clark’s mouth. Blood spurted like a busted
water pipe and both men held their hands over their faces. Unfortunately they were
still standing.

The big guy came next. This was the one he wanted. Wasting no time on finesse, Quinn
went straight for the groin shot and kicked as if he were making a one-hundred-yard
field goal attempt. A squeal of anguish
echoed through the trees, and the man toppled like a giant oak.

Clark and his bloodied friend came at him again. One managed to slam a giant fist
into the side of his head. Temporarily stunned, he barely felt Clark’s fist punch
him directly in the face. Quinn saw the blood but paid little attention. Kicking out
once again, he slammed one foot into Clark’s face and then followed it up with another
kick to his stomach. And before the other man could come at him again, Quinn whirled
once more and kicked the man in the groin with only a little less force than he’d
used on the big guy. Another squeal and then the man went down.