Page 35 of Long Past Deadly

“Well, you make sure she gets everything she needs.”

“I will. She’s tough, Granddad.”

“Finally, not a piece of fluff.”

“Definitely not that. I’ll make sure all goes well with her, and I’ll try to call with an update.”

“Who wants to hurt you?”

“It’s not me. It’s Alanna he wants. And I’m going to stop him cold.”

“Now you’re talking. Who is he?”

“No identification yet. But QM and the police are searching for him. We’ll find him and bury him.”

His grandfather cleared his throat. “You just take care, and have Elizabeth call me, too. She’s not answering.”

“She’s asleep. We’re running on a crazy schedule at the moment. I’ll tell her when she wakes.”

“I worry. She’s been unstable since Wylie died. So when she doesn’t answer, I go to bad thoughts.” He cleared his throat. “I love you both. Call soon.”

“I will. I love you, too, Granddad.”

He disconnected and sat for a moment. His grandfather hadn’t said ‘I love you’ for a long time. His sentiments were usually shown with action or money, a habit Quaid copied. But the silence strangled their closeness. He would fix that, too. For his sake and for Elizabeth’s.

Chapter Seven

In a perfect world, roses bloomed, kids thrived, moms and dads loved each other, and everybody followed the law and got along. Alanna stared at the white textured ceiling in the guest suite. Overwhelmed with the luxury and comfort around her, she contemplated a multitude of subjects from how much her body and ears still ached to why all this luxury bothered her. She moved on to her six years of advanced degree work in criminal psychology and her seven years in the FBI used to little success in the search for a man who’d been her anchor during the hard times. Thirteen years and she came up empty. Why?

Truthful with herself always, though, she admitted something else that nagged at her. She’d snapped up the consulting request from QM with less than pure motives, shocking her boss in the process. It hadn’t been the case that had been the draw. She’d needed back in San Diego to use QM’s assets to find Whit. Only now she didn’t. Her whole plan, no matter what her intentions, was up in smoke. She kept her past and personal needs private. She had a reputation for being unapproachable for that reason.

Whenever she let these memories out, they ripped like broken shards of glass slashing deep into her skin. To be stuck in moments from being fifteen, with no control against the violence and the threat, screwed her sense of safety, and she hadn’t recovered. Not with FBI weapons and tactical training or behavior therapy or more education. Couldn’t even try anymore because to examine those moments as an adult didn’t change the interpretation of a young girl.

Even with her successes, she hadn’t lost her brown thumb that killed plants, found any peace from parents that drowned in a flood, or forgiven a grandfather for dying and leaving her in the streets. Illogical, but feelings sometimes were. Mercer’s violent face was a constant in her dreams, and Whit continued to be her only mental and physical lifeline.

And in a bit, Quaid was going to knock and want her to talk. Who would he bring with him? Didn’t matter. She couldn’t find words to tell him. How would he even understand? She shoved back the covers and went to the bathroom, hand over her mouth like it would contain the nausea along with the memories.

Niles had done a fantastic job of unpacking her possessions and putting things back in a similar arrangement to her assigned quarters. She slapped a waterproof bandage over her stitches and turned on the huge shower. The towels were soft upon soft, the tiles squeaky clean, and the new clothes hanging from the hook behind the door were more trendy than anything she’d buy herself. There were lotions, makeup she wouldn’t wear, and dang the efficiency of the man, a new toothbrush.

She was Alice falling into the rabbit hole. She’d read Alice in Wonderland in college and searched her memory for the quote she’d loved, making a face in the mirror while repeating it out loud. “If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn't.” Truth that.

She stripped out of her leopard print pajamas. “I’m losing my mind. Next the Queen will be screaming off with her head. Get in the shower, Alanna, or you’ll be naked when Quaid gets here.” A sharp spark beaded her nipples and she gasped. No. No. No. She stepped into the hot spray.

Places on her skin stung from the cuts, others hurt from bruises, but mostly she sagged into the comfort of the hot water. “Snap out of it, sister. You always fight with everything you have. Today is no different. Make them understand.”

Finally finished, she turned off the shower, stood long enough to stop dripping, and stepped onto the inches thick bath rug. Lord have mercy, the towel floated over sore skin and comforted. She wrapped her hair and checked the new clothes only to find no underwear. Which was fine. She didn’t want Niles handling her undergarments. That would be a creepy bridge too far. She pulled another towel and wrapped her body. The extra large towel tightened easily over her breasts.

She opened the door, eyeing the escaping steam, and took a step into the room. A tingling sense stopped her. She gritted her teeth. “Quaid? Why are you sitting on my bed? And how did you get in?”

“Master key – owner, and I knocked. You didn’t answer. I was worried.”

“Out.”

His eyes traveled over her from head to toe.

Temper sizzling, she tamped down the response. Could she stab him? Yes. Should she? No, not in her current mood. “Dr. Cait was already here and gave me proof of life. I’m betting she passed the ‘she’s okay’ message on.”

“Hours ago, yes.”