Rise of the Notorious (40 page)

Wyatt rubbed his
forehead with his hands, the old memory sickening to him. He knew what both Duke and Raoul were capable of, had known it all this time. Yet he had held back, biting his tongue and hiding his cards because he was so goddamn afraid of what Madison would say if she knew the truth.

How it would hurt her to know it was her friend’s handiwork that led to the greatest heartbreak of her life. Now the time had come to play out the hand and see if it paid off. After all, he had his own revenge beating on the door that he had to answer for. He’d waited eight long years for this day to come.

He opened his eyes and stared around at the hospital room, the sanitary, white walls and the soft drapes over the windows that let in filtered light. Blue blankets covered the bed he sat on; flowers, red and black lilies, graced the table beside it.

This was the reality of his decision. He was here because he had failed to warn Madison ahead of time what her own blood was capable of doing. What her greatest confidant held in his heart, this raging jealousy, that took over his senses and in turn caused her harm.

But not any longer. He would tell her the truth, and he would hunt down Duke and Raoul, and demand answers.

Because it was clear to him now that all this wasted time had only given the men who had destroyed his life more time to commit heinous acts. Acts that had nearly killed him and Quinn, and quite possibly Madison’s little sister as well.

He wasn’t going to have that girl’s blood on his hands.

D
o you have your cell phone?”

   “Yes, boss.”

   “And is it charged?”

“Of course.”

“Fully?”

“Grant. I’m fine.” Quinn crossed her arms and stared up at him, eyebrows raised. She shook her head with an amused smile. “Want to check for monsters in the fridge, too? Or, maybe there’s one hiding up under the range hood. Better make sure, I don’t want to get eaten while I’m sautéing mushrooms for Raoul today.”

Grant frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“What’s not funny is you stressing yourself out over me,” she corrected, motioning at the kitchen of
Cherir
with her arms. “What are you so afraid of, anyway? Jorja Hale is in custody. She can’t hurt us anymore.”

He sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck as he stared around the quiet kitchen. For whatever reason, he had been unable to shake the uneasy feeling he’d had ever since speaking with the detective about Jorja. While he wanted to be content that the matter was being settled, he couldn’t. It still scratched at the back of his brain, burrowing there and hissing at him every time he tried to relax.

Quinn coming back to work only made things more complicated. Now he had to deal with the possibility that a bomb had been planted in the kitchen or arsenic slipped into the food. In his mind, he pictured the whole place exploding with flames and his entire future burning to death within.

He had to protect her. As foolish as he wanted to believe all those scenarios to be, he just couldn’t help himself. If anything else happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

“If Raoul gives you any grief today for working slower because of your injuries, I want you to tell me.”

Quinn snorted. “The day I can’t handle myself in the kitchen, please shoot me.”

When he paled and his left eye twitched, she promptly shoved her foot in her mouth.

“Okay, bad joke.” She winced, reaching out to pull him into a hug. She rested her head under his chin and tried to be cheerful. “I’m going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. The police have Jorja, and I’m sure she’ll confess any day now. And then we’re going to move on. You’re going to get back on the right track with the company, Madison and Linc at your side. You’ll open up those new hotels and expand, bringing the Vasser name to even more cities across the country. And life is going to be amazing, I promise.”

“You forgot something important,” Grant murmured, tightening his hold on her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“What?”

“The part where I make you my wife.”

“Oh.” Quinn flushed, biting back a smile as she glanced up at him. “That is pretty important, isn’t it?”

He nodded, framing her face in his hands and watching her, his gaze taking on a powerful intensity. He found himself at a loss for words as he silently absorbed the warmth of her eyes, the sunny beauty of her face. She was so alive, here before him, in his arms. No monster was going to take away his light, not while he was still alive and fighting.

“I should get upstairs,” he said, running his thumb along her cheekbone tenderly.

She nearly melted into a useless puddle at his feet.

“In a minute.” She rose up on her toes and caught his mouth with hers, her arms reaching out to circle his neck. One of her sore ribs protested but she ignored the pain, pushing it aside to instead embrace the exhilarating jolt from the feel of his lips raging over her own. That lightning bolt of thrill and need and desire pummeled into her like a speeding train, drowning out everything else.

Grant pulled back and met her eyes, as always battling against his own wants to try and be professional. “I’ll come down to see you in a few hours.”

She only smiled. “Okay. I promise to whack any monsters I see on the head with my frying pan, so don’t you worry.”

His lips twitched. “They better watch out.”

“I also have a mean right hook.” She showed him with a playful punch in the shoulder, eyes dancing. “Now, go upstairs and get to work.”

“Yes ma’am.” He kissed her forehead on impulse and shot her an amused look. She watched him go, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

Though she felt more than a little ridiculous, a chill ran over her skin and brought goose bumps to her arms. She ran her hands over them, trying to chase away the ominous feeling as she stared around the kitchen.

Everything looked normal. The stainless steel counters were meticulously clean; the glass door refrigerator neatly stocked with fresh vegetables and fruit. The florescent lights above gave a stark, white glow to everything, but that was how it always looked.

So, why did she seriously consider checking the range hood for a monster?

Deciding she was letting Grant’s stress get the better of her, Quinn put a smile on her face and slipped on her white apron. She set about cleaning and slicing lettuce and carrots for the day’s side salads, her movements quick and efficient.

There, everything is just like normal, she told herself, feeling better. She would spend some time down here, then make her way upstairs to help Grant out with any filing or paperwork he needed processed. Then they would go home, she would cook for him like she always did, and they could share a bottle of Cabernet on the balcony under the stars.

She was lost in her reverie and didn’t hear Raoul enter the kitchen. It wasn’t until he moved in her peripheral and she caught a glimpse of a dark figure that she nearly jumped out of her own skin. A small yelp escaped her throat as she whirled around to face him, her knife up and ready.

Raoul only scowled at her, mean-spirited as always. “I see my apprentice is feeling better.”

Quinn let out a half laugh, her free hand flying up to her furiously beating heart as she lowered her other hand. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were—”

“A monster?” he asked, one dark eyebrow lifted.

She blinked, panic skittering down her spine for one brief moment. She fought it back, realizing it was stupid. He wasn’t dangerous. He was Madison’s best friend…

“Maybe.” She shrugged, then attempted a small smile. “I know you’ve missed me a little, Raoul. It’s okay to admit it.”

He waved off her comment with a dispassionate grunt as he turned around to rummage through the refrigerator, pulling out containers filled with vegetables.

She watched him quietly, wondering if and when she would ever get him to like her.

“My mother is in town. I know she’d love to come by and see the kitchen and meet you,” Quinn began, gauging his reaction as he slammed the refrigerator door shut and gathered up the containers filled with bell peppers and onions. He turned to set the containers on the counter she was working at, though he avoided her eyes.

“We are very busy,” he replied, pushing up his sleeves as he snatched a couple of onions and started chopping.

She smiled knowingly and was about to argue with him, but her eyes landed upon his right forearm and the deep scratches that marred his skin.

“What happened to your arm?” she cried, concern clouding her features as she rounded the counter to inspect him.

He abruptly pulled his sleeve down and glared at her, eyes suddenly dark and violent. “It is nothing. Leave me alone.”

Quinn froze, startled by the fierce hostility in his voice, in his expression.

“Okay...” Her mind raced with thoughts and suspicions as she returned to her workstation and continued cutting up carrots, instinctually keeping an eye on him. His movements seemed more abrupt, more angry, but he didn’t say another word.

The simple fact that he was so touchy about the scratches meant that it was something serious, something he didn’t want to share with her. She had to assume that if the scratches were caused by a cat, then he wouldn’t be so hostile about them.

Which left only one other possibility. The scratches had been caused by a human, probably a woman.

Or a girl.

She felt sick to her stomach then as her hand trembled, her knife skipping off the surface of the carrot and smacking into the cutting board. Raoul glanced over at her, but said nothing as she attempted to recover and hide her nerves.

Realizing she couldn’t fake it any longer, Quinn dropped her knife onto the cutting board and cleared her throat.

“I have to use the restroom,” she lied, not even sparing him a look as she fled from the room, the stainless steel doors swinging closed behind her. She tore through the restaurant and out into the lobby, then hopped on an already full to capacity elevator on its way up.

She reached over and punched the button for the second floor just moments before they nearly passed it, then hopped off and raced toward Madison’s office.

Carrie looked up curiously as she walked past, but Quinn ignored her and shoved open Madison’s door unannounced.

Madison was seated at her desk, eyes narrowed as she looked over a contract. She glanced up at Quinn as the door clicked shut.

“I have to tell you something,” Quinn said breathlessly, approaching the desk. Her hands twisted together in front of her, a sure sign she was anxious.

Madison’s brow lifted. “What is it?”

Quinn took a deep, measured breath, then launched into her explanation. “I was downstairs in the kitchen slicing some carrots and lettuce for today’s salads, and Raoul came in. He started working on cutting the onions and was across from me at the counter, and I started talking to him and he rolled up his sleeves, and I noticed scratches on his arm. When I asked him about it, he got angry with me and—”

“Get to the point, Quinn,” Madison said firmly, coldly.

Quinn sighed. “I think Raoul has Kennedy.”

For a brief moment, the two women held eyes and neither seemed to breathe. The office around them was hauntingly quiet. The damning words just spoken were hanging like a noose in the air, anxiously awaiting a soul to squeeze the life out of.

When Madison did speak, Quinn noticed the disdain in her voice. “Because of a few scratches, you assume Raoul kidnapped my sister?”

“He was very defensive about it,” Quinn argued, resting her hands on her hips. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but please just consider the possibility. How else would he have gotten scratches like that on his arm?”

“A cat.”

“Does he own a cat?”

Madison’s heart panged once, hard and hollow. “No.”

Quinn felt sorry to have to even bring this to Madison. But if she didn’t, and Raoul really
did
have Kennedy, then not acting could result in the girl’s death. That is, if she was still alive at all.

“Just go talk to him. Ask him about the scratches,” Quinn pleaded, brow creasing with distress. “He wouldn’t tell me. But he might tell you.”