Smokescreen, page 11
17
The sun was barely up Sunday morning when Taylor pushed off her brand-new comforter and climbed out of her brand-new bed. She had hardly slept despite the fact that Quinn had practically tucked her into bed the night before and was even now sleeping in the apartment next door. The security system was on. In fact, if activated, she had a feeling the entire building would hear it go off.
She stretched her hands over her head, trying to shake off the last lingering effects of a restless night’s sleep. She took a quick shower and then pulled on an old pair of jeans along with her favorite sweater, one she had purchased in Milan last winter.
After packing up some supplies and grabbing her cell phone, she slipped on her sandals and stepped into the cool morning air. Instinctively, she looked around, relieved that no one was visible except for a few cars driving by. Part of her wanted to stay locked inside her apartment, but on another level, she knew she was going to go stir crazy if she didn’t give herself some time outside, some time alone. She hoped an hour or two on the beach would help her relax and find the sense of normalcy she craved.
She glanced at the door she now knew belonged to Quinn and noticed that there weren’t any lights on. She also had the odd realization that she had yet to be invited inside.
As she passed by his door, she found herself wondering how he lived when he was at home. When they had started dating more than a year ago, he had been on assignment in North Carolina where she had just finished college. At the time, she had been preparing to move overseas, and he had spent his days working with the other members of the Saint Squad, developing a course for law enforcement officers.
During their evenings, they had been together often, usually going out to dinner or dancing, bowling or to a movie. Sometimes Quinn and his friends had spent their free time in the apartment that Riley and Taylor had shared throughout college, and other times they had enjoyed the hiking trails and the lake nearby. But never could she remember going to hang out at his temporary quarters, even though Riley had gone there occasionally to see Tristan.
She supposed she would see the inside of Quinn’s apartment soon enough now that they were neighbors. He had already asked her for a ride to church since he had lent his car to a friend for the weekend. Taylor pulled her cell phone out and checked the time. 7:04. Quinn had told her that their church wasn’t until eleven. That would give her at least three hours to relax before she needed to head back and get ready.
When she arrived at the beach, it was quiet except for a few surfers a short distance away. Taylor looked over her shoulder, satisfied that she hadn’t been followed. Then she walked onto the sand and sat down several yards away from the water. Pulling her pad out of her bag, she grabbed a hunk of charcoal and let herself get lost in the simplicity of the moment.
* * *
Panic skittered along Quinn’s spine as he pounded on Taylor’s door again. He had come over nearly an hour earlier to check on her after he had called her on the phone and she hadn’t picked up. When she hadn’t answered her door either, he had assumed that she was in the shower, but he knew her well enough to know that it didn’t take her this long to get ready for church, not to mention that she wasn’t the type to get ready for anything two hours early.
The overhead light was on in the living room, a light that had definitely been turned off when he had left her apartment the night before, and still the pounding on her front door wasn’t yielding the desired results. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he dialed her number again. Relief pulsed through him when she answered with a casual hello.
“Where are you?” Quinn demanded, not stopping to consider how abrupt his tone might sound.
“I’m at the beach,” Taylor said slowly. “Where are you?”
“Standing outside your apartment.”
“It’s not time for church already, is it?”
“No.” Quinn shook his head and started for the stairs. “What are you doing at the beach? You shouldn’t be out by yourself.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Taylor said, and Quinn could visualize the smirk that was surely on her face.
“Where on the beach are you?”
“Quinn, I’m fine,” Taylor told him. “I just needed some fresh air and some time to relax. I’ll be back in plenty of time to get ready for church.”
“Of that I have little doubt,” Quinn muttered and then hung up his phone. He broke into an easy jog, his cell phone still in his hand. A couple minutes later he spotted her sitting on the sand, the ends of her red hair blowing in the breeze. Instinctively, he looked around and surveyed the area.
Three surfers were standing on the beach, their boards in hand as though they were getting ready to leave. A young father was walking along the water’s edge a short distance away with two little girls scampering along behind him holding plastic buckets and looking for seashells. The shops along the boardwalk had yet to open, with the exception of a surf shop a block away, but it didn’t look like it was doing any business at the moment.
Quinn walked toward Taylor, slowing as he approached. The tension he had noticed in her shoulders the night before was now visibly absent, her legs crossed in front of her as she stared out at the water. Then he realized that her hand was moving, and his focus shifted to the pad of paper she held in her lap. He stopped angling toward her, amazed at the way she moved the hunk of charcoal over the paper in seemingly random motions and managed to capture the feeling of the moment.
He realized now that it wasn’t the water she was watching but rather the surfers. The sketch revealed all three men, their surfboards standing vertically in the sand as they stood casually and chatted. One had stripped his wetsuit down to his waist, and Taylor had captured the water gleaming off of his back as clearly as the stripe down the center of his board. Quinn stared at her hand moving until she finally slowed her strokes and then used the edge of her thumb to lighten one of the lines.
“This is how you relax, huh?” Quinn asked, finally taking those last few steps so he was standing beside her.
Startled, Taylor turned and looked up at him, lifting a hand to shade her eyes. She took a breath as though trying to steady her nerves and then managed a smile. “Hi.” She looked around the beach and then stared back up at him. “Are you checking up on me?”
Quinn shrugged and then sat down on the sand beside her. “It’s a nice day out. I thought I’d come see what you were up to.”
“Really?” Taylor looked at him quizzically.
“I also wanted to make sure you weren’t hanging out on the beach by your sister’s place all alone when there are possibly people after you,” Quinn admitted. “You can’t blame me for worrying after the week you’ve had.”
Taylor gave him a timid smile. “You’re sweet to worry.”
“Sweet?” Quinn grimaced. “Please don’t say that around any of the guys.”
Her smile widened. “Afraid I’ll ruin your bad boy image?”
Quinn flashed her a grin now. “It’s not an image.”
“Right.” Taylor chuckled. She closed her sketchbook and then looked over at him. “All of the bad boys I know spend their Sunday mornings checking up on their neighbors before going to church.”
Quinn wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe I’m undercover.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s it.” Taylor slid her supplies back into her bag and then stood up. She hesitated briefly before offering a hand to Quinn. “Are you going to walk me home?”
“Maybe.” Quinn took her hand and let her help pull him to a stand. He then took a step toward the road keeping her hand in his. His eyes scanned the area, and again he didn’t see anything suspicious. Maybe Taylor’s move was exactly what was needed to keep her safe.
“I meant to ask you, how are you getting to work tomorrow if you don’t have a car?” Taylor asked.
“Tristan will pick me up on his way in.”
Taylor nodded absently and fell silent.
“Why?”
“I was just wondering.” Taylor’s shoulders lifted. “I need to figure out how I’m getting to the train station tomorrow, but I think I’ll probably just take my mom’s van and leave it in the parking lot.”
“Where are you going tomorrow?” Quinn asked.
“New York.” Taylor’s eyebrows drew together as she looked at him. “I told you my agent wants me to go up there to help identify the damaged paintings.”
“I didn’t know you were planning to go tomorrow,” Quinn told her, suddenly apprehensive. “What time is your train?”
“I haven’t gotten my ticket yet, but I thought I’d take the one that leaves at nine-thirty.”
“Can you push it off for a day?” Quinn asked. “We have a training exercise tomorrow I can’t get out of, but after that I should be able to take a few days off so I can go with you.”
“You’re going to come with me to New York?” Taylor looked at him, and Quinn saw the surprise in her eyes.
“Is that okay?” Quinn stared back at her, an unexpected streak of insecurity pulsing through him. “I mean, is there a reason you don’t want me to come? Some boyfriend up there I don’t know about?”
“Hardly. I just didn’t expect you to take off work and everything just because of a fire.” She stopped walking and tightened her grip on his hand so he would stop too. Her emotions were raw. “Do you know why all of this stuff has been happening to me?”
“No, but I’m not going to rest easy until we find out,” Quinn promised. He slipped his arms around her, hoping to reassure her. Her hands came around his waist, and Quinn noticed the way Taylor clung tightly to him as though he were her lifeline. He could almost feel her expectations crashing over him, but he couldn’t manage to pull himself free. For once, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Instead, he stared down at her, wondering how he was supposed to handle the rush of emotions Taylor kept pulling out of him.
Insecurity filled Taylor’s voice. “Are you sure you can get leave to come with me?”
“I’ll work something out,” he promised, more than a little surprised at the way Taylor’s needs had become such a priority in his life. He gave her a reassuring smile as he tugged on her hand to start her down the street once more. “Besides, after what happened in Paris, I don’t want you staying anywhere alone.”
Taylor stopped walking again and looked at him warily. “You can’t honestly expect me to share a hotel room with you.”
Again, Quinn nudged her into motion. “We’ll get a suite. His and hers rooms.”
Taylor managed a smile. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very overprotective?”
“I have three younger sisters,” Quinn reminded her. “Of course they have.”
18
“What’s with the new artwork?” Jay asked when he walked into Quinn’s and Tristan’s office on Monday morning.
“We’re redecorating,” Quinn said simply.
“Oh, okay,” Jay said, accepting the brief explanation. He held out a set of keys to Quinn. “Thanks for letting me use your car this weekend.”
“No problem.” Quinn took the keys and then considered for a moment. “Have you had a chance to call about your car yet?”
“Yeah, I called the service station, and they said they have to order the part. It should be in by Wednesday.”
“In that case, why don’t you hang onto these until then?” Quinn suggested. “I’m heading out of town tomorrow anyway, so I won’t need it.”
“Where to?” Jay asked as Brent walked through the door.
Brent’s eyebrows lifted as his eyes met Quinn’s. “Yeah. Where to?”
Quinn gave Brent an awkward grin. “Hi, Brent. I need to talk to you about taking some leave.”
“So I heard. What’s going on?” Then he waved at two of the paintings on the wall. “And where did these come from?”
Before Quinn could respond, Seth wandered into the office, looked at Quinn and Tristan, and asked, “Did you tell him yet?”
“Tell me what?” Brent looked over at Seth.
Seth closed the door and motioned to where Tristan was sitting at his desk. “We had an incident at Tristan’s place this weekend.”
“What kind of incident?” Brent asked.
“The kind that involved the coroner,” Seth told him. He went on to explain what happened.
“I must be completely out of the loop here.” Brent shifted his attention to Tristan. “Explain to me why Seth was putting up surveillance at your place.”
Tristan explained the events since Taylor had arrived in Virginia Beach and their concerns that Taylor may have inadvertently painted something she wasn’t supposed to see.
“This is crazy.” Brent looked at Quinn. “Have we looked at these paintings?”
“The four that we hung up here are the ones that were in her car,” Tristan told him. “Quinn thought they would be safer here than with Taylor.”
Brent nodded in agreement. “Smart move. Even if someone thinks to look here, they’d never get past the guards at the front door without being noticed.”
“Exactly,” Quinn said. “And I don’t want them in an empty apartment while Taylor and I are in New York.”
“Which brings me back to my original question.” Brent’s eyebrows rose. “Why do you need to take leave?”
“Taylor has to go up to New York to identify which two paintings of hers were damaged. After what happened in Paris, I don’t want her traveling alone.”
Brent looked from Quinn to Tristan. Then he looked back at Quinn with a new understanding. “What are the chances that all of these incidents could be tied to our national security?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn answered impatiently.
In response, Brent gave Quinn a deliberate and meaningful stare.
It took several seconds for Quinn to catch on. Then he cocked his head to one side. “Actually,” he said slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. “It could be very relevant to our national security. In fact, there’s a sketch artist from NCIS who’s coming over to meet with me this afternoon.”
Tristan suppressed a smile. “If Taylor did paint something important enough for someone to try to steal, we owe it to her to find out what it was.”
“And I’m sure NCIS would appreciate the help in finding a motive for this guy that broke into Tristan’s place,” Seth added.
Beside him, Jay looked at each of his teammates, the confusion obvious on his face. “Is this one of those times that I’m not supposed to ask any questions?”
The other four members of the Saint Squad all nodded in unison.
Seth put a hand on Jay’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jay. You’ll learn how to read our minds eventually.”
“But for now, go see if you can find Amy,” Brent told him. “I need to see what’s on the training schedule, but as of this afternoon, Quinn, you’re on protection detail.”
Jay had taken a step toward the door, but now he turned around to look at Brent. “What about the rest of us?”
“I think it may be time to hone up on some of our investigative skills,” Brent told him cryptically as the door opened and Amy walked in.
“There you guys are.” Amy looked at them impatiently. “You need to get going. You have a dive in less than two hours.”
“We’re coming,” Brent told her. Then he turned to look at Quinn. “You realize you won’t be able to fly for a couple of days since we’re diving today.”
Quinn nodded. “We’re taking the train.”
“In that case, let’s go.”
Amy looked at all of them, confused. “Who’s taking the train?’
* * *
Taylor parked her mom’s van in the parking lot of the train station in Williamsburg where Tristan and Riley would pick it up later in the day. Then she shifted to face Quinn. “Are you really sure you don’t mind coming with me?”
“Why do you keep asking me that?”
“I don’t know.” She let out a sigh, grasping at some way to explain her insecurities. How could she ask if he was coming because he cared about her or if he was just doing a favor for Tristan? She was almost afraid to hope that his feelings for her might mirror what she felt for him. She could also admit, at least to herself, that she had once again begun visualizing a future that included Quinn in it. After what happened the last time she had let herself dream of such a future, she needed to know how Quinn felt.
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Is this going to be one of those ‘where does our relationship stand’ kind of talks?”
A little surprised that he seemed to have picked up on her thoughts, she shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Taylor, stop analyzing everything,” Quinn insisted. “You matter to me, okay? I’m coming with you because I want to make sure that you’re safe. It’s as simple as that.”
She stared at him for a long moment and knew that their history together was anything but simple. “There’s something I need to know,” Taylor said, forcing the words out before she could reconsider. “What happened at Tristan and Riley’s wedding that made you not want to see me anymore?”
Quinn shifted in his seat to face her, his eyes unreadable. Then he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Taylor. It wasn’t anything you did.” He paused for a moment as though trying to choose his words carefully. “I guess it freaked me out when everyone kept talking about us getting married. I wasn’t ready to deal with it, especially with us living on different continents. Does that make any sense?”
Taylor considered his words. Then slowly she nodded. “I guess so, but I’m not sure where I stand with you now.”
Quinn’s eyes met hers. “I’m worried about you.”
“Is that all?” Taylor managed to ask.
“No, that’s not all.” Quinn shifted in his seat and reached out to run his fingers through her hair. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her gently.
As soon as his lips were on hers, Taylor felt her world spinning out of control. Slowly, her insecurities melted away and warmth seeped through her. Her survival instinct faded as Quinn changed the angle of the kiss, and she lost herself in the sensation. She wanted to protect herself from being hurt again, but she no longer knew how.
