Loving Quinn Novel by North Rose

(Annora)

It has been hours since Quinn and I brought Grace home, yet I can’t stop staring at her as she sleeps with her head on my lap. We are still in the living room on one of the two sofas. My parents went home an hour ago. Shawna is curled up sleeping on the other sofa with a blanket over her after she refused to be taken home.

Aaron has also refused to go home so he will sleep in the guest room. I appreciate both of them staying here with us, but it really isn’t necessary. Quinn doubled the number of guards) downstairs, and two uniformed officers are at the garage gate.

Knowing Dionne is in a cell tonight should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. A very dark part of me wishes that Quinn had shot her with a live round instead of a tranquilizer. I understand why he used tranquilizers instead of killing her.

It was for the best, but I don’t have to like it right now.

I want that woman to be rotting in a bag in the morgue for what she put Grace through. A shiver runs through my body as that thought races across my mind. I have never wished anyone dead before. It is a strange feeling.

Dionne deserves to rot in jail for a long time, but she doesn’t deserve to die.

Even if that is what would be for the best.

“Hey, let’s take her to her room.

Quinn’s voice pulls me out of my dark thoughts. I look up at him briefly then back at Grace. I can’t stop touching her. A stroke of my hand over her head. A soft graze of my finger across her cheek. I just don’t want to be separated from her.

Not anytime soon anyway.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

“No. I don’t want to be separated from her.”

“Then she can sleep in our room with us. Tonight, tomorrow, or however long we all need.”

I

look up at him. He is standing at the end of the sofa staring at Grace. His eyes are emotionless,

and it looks like he has aged years in one night. Seeing him standing there makes me remember that I wasn’t alone in this.

How is he feeling right now? What is going through his head? Instead of asking questions, I nod my head.

“I will carry her upstairs,” I tell him.

He gives me a nod then stands there watching us. Alarm bells go off in my head at the way he is just watching us and not saying anything. I ignore them. All I can focus on right now is my daughter right now.

After I ease Grace’s head off my lap, I stand up and scoop her into my arms like I have done so many times throughout her life. She is bigger and heavier than all those other times, so I st**r a bit but quickly regain my balance. The last time I held her like this was a few years ago when she was sick with the flu.

I miss the days when she was a baby and would cuddle with me as she fell asleep. The days where I would carry her around for hours because the second I tried to lay her down she would wake up and scream b**y murder.

Those days are long over.

With a sigh, I head towards the stairs. Quinn silently follows us. He is like a shadow as he follows us up the stairs.

Dark and silent.

I am

Any other time I would want to know how he is doing with all that has happened. Right now, barely processing how I feel about it all. Tonight, I am putting my needs above his. I can tell he isn’t doing well with it, but I just can’t find it in me to care.

Not tonight.

Maybe not even tomorrow.

it

may

Hell, like in the n

take some time for me to care about anyone else other than Grace and myself. Just past when it was just the two of us. Her needs were always above my own. That is how things will be again until I know that she will be alright.

That I will be alright.

When we reach our bedroom door, Quinn slips around me to open it for me since my hands are full. He silently watches as I walk into the room. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk to the bed. His silence is getting on my nerves, but I don’t want to talk right now either.

After laying Grace on the bed, I crawl in next to her and pull her close to me. I close my listen to her breathing. Even and steady as she sleeps.

I pray that she is not plagued with nightmares from this incident.

s and

A few minutes later I feel Quinn lay a blanket over us. I open my eyes expecting him to join us on the bed. All I see in the darkness of our room is his retreating back as he walks out the door. Instead of calling for him to come back I just close my eyes again.

Sleep will make this nightmare of a day better.

The morning light will wash away every negative thought I have had throughout the many hours. since I learned my daughter had been kidnapped.

Who am I kidding? Nothing can wash those thoughts away. I wished two people were dead. Their deaths were carried out in a variety of ways. I enjoyed imagining each way I would like to see

Dionne die.

That makes me smile.

It also makes me want to confront the monster who took my child. I want to look her in the eyes as she tells me why she did it. What was she hoping to gain? I would like to know everything

A sound in the darkness makes me open my eyes. Quinn walks into the bedroom. From the small amount of light coming in through the window I can see that he has changed clothes. His hair is wet so I can only assume he took a shower.

I’m glad that he can think of bathing after what our daughter has been through.

I follow his movements as he walks to the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony. He opens the door, slips through it silently, then closes it behind him. My brain tells me to go out there to soothe him, but I can’t tear myself away from Grace.

Quinn is an adult. He will be fine. I will be fine.

Eventually.

Soon, the gentle sound of Grace’s breathing lulls me to sleep. My last thought before I slip into the comfort of sleep is not a nice one. I want Dionne Masters dead.

(Quinn)

I woke up in a lounge chair on the patio with the bright sun shining down on me. It’s not the first time I have woken up outdoors, but I hoped to never do it again after I left active duty. My first

thought as I stood up to stretch my back out was for my daughter.

Grace was very quiet when we brought her home last night. Just like I predicted, her grandmother had food ready by the time we arrived. She ate only because she hadn’t had anything to eat other than that granola bat since lunch.

Later, when everyone was sitting around the room lost in their own thoughts, she curled up next to Annie. There she remained until she fell asleep while Annie stroked her hair soothingly.

All the while I felt like a stranger in my own skin.

I wished to hold them both very much but felt my interference would not be welcome. Annie couldn’t take her eyes off Grace, and I didn’t blame her since I was the same way. My eyes followed every move she made from the moment we returned to the penthouse.

For the rest of the night all I could think about were all the different ways the kidnapping could have ended. Dionne or Michaels could have hurt her. Mac’s contact could have come up empty on the fingerprints. We could not have gotten the location of the house from McAllister.

If none of that had gone my way I would have had to wait and rely on the police to find her. It would have driven me crazy. Would Dionne have called my phone to taunt me? Would she have asked for money to return Grace?

Asking for money seems out of character for Dionne.

The sound of my cellphone vibrating on the small end table makes me glance down to see who is calling this early. The time shows that it is eight in the morning. The number that shows up on the screen is the care facility my father is in.

I visited him a few weeks ago. Things were okay. He was lucid for a few hours which was a surprise. He asked about my work, so I showed him the plans for the outreach center. When I talked about it, he was filled with pride, and I could see it in his eyes.

It was probably the most meaningful conversation we had in years.

Seeing the care facility’s number on my phone at eight in the morning causes a ball of dread to form in my stomach. I may not be close to my father, but I will always love him. Please don’t

make this bad news.

“Hello, is everything alright with my father?”

“Mr. Greyson, this is the site manager, Ava Pike. I am calling to inform you that your father passed. away in his sleep last night.”

Numb.

That is the only way to describe how I feel right now.

During the rest of the conversation, I was unable to remember anything, but I am sure I need to sign some paperwork. I told her I would call her back and ended the call. My ** hits the lounge chair a second later.

My father is dead.

Memories flash through my head like slides on a projector. One after another, slowly. Some of them are happy memories while others are not. I want to hold on to the happy ones with everything I have.

My father is dead.

With my choice of career, I always thought I would die before him. I survived gunfire, bombings, and landmines. All things that were likely to put me into an early grave. Yet here I am and now he

is dead.

My mother is gone.

My father is gone.

I am alone.

The sound of the sliding glass door opening makes me look over my shoulder. Annie steps outside then closes the door behind her. I feel like I should tell her about my father but given the events of last night I decide to keep it to myself for now.

“Did you sleep here all night?”

I nod my head then look down at the phone still in my hand. There are things I need to do. Phone calls to make. A funeral to plan. How do I plan a funeral for a man that spent most of my life drowning his pain in a bottle of booze?

“Why did you stay out here all night?”

Unable to think of an answer I just kept quiet. I could tell immediately that this was the wrong thing to do. She rushes up to me and rips my phone out of my hand. I look up at her as she slams

it down on the end table.

“Is your phone more important than talking to me? Your daughter was kidnapped, and she needed you. Instead, you sleep outside away from her.”

I watch as the balls her hands into fists then take a deep breath.

“Instead of comforting her, you withdrew. You become some sort of emotionless shadow when we

needed you the most.”

Standing up from the lounger 1 reach over to grab my phone and slip it into my pocket. After giving her a look that even I am not sure of, I slide past her and then walk to the door. This is a conversation that I am not in the correct frame of mind to have right now.

“So, instead of talking to me, you run away?”

I

“No. I am going to go check on our daughter to see if she is still asleep. Then I’m heading to my office to make a few phone calls.”

“Phone calls? Your business can wait for a few days. Is that all you can think of? Work?”

I spin around to look at her with a stunned look on my face. Does she really think I would put my work before my family in a crisis? Maybe I was wrong when I told Dionne that Annora knew me

better than she ever could.

“If you think that of me, you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

“Oh, so you are capable of speech. For a minute there I thought you had lost the ability to talk

overnight.”

“I get that you are angry about what happened. We both needed time to process it all. What made me sleep outside was the unwelcoming vibe you were exuding towards me from the moment we brought her home.”

I watch Annie’s face as I speak in a deceptively calm voice. There are many emotions I am feeling right now but none of them are calm in the slightest. Her face pales as she looks away from me.

“It has been her and me for so long, Quinn. I didn’t mean to shut you out. All I had energy to

focus on was Grace. She needed her mother after what had happened.”

‘She needed us both.”

Annie looks at me. Her eyes look tired like she barely slept last night. If her nightmares were anything like mine, I understand.

“I know that for most of her life she only had one real parent. No, I don’t blame you for those years I missed. Now she has both of us so it would be nice if you didn’t shut me out when horrible s**it happens.

“Oh, Quinn. I was barely holding it together enough for Grace. I didn’t have enough energy to spare to deal with my feelings let alone yours.”

“Did I look like I needed coddling? Did I look like I needed you to hold me up or I would break?”

“No, but I could tell that you were not doing well.”

I sigh and shake my head. “I wasn’t but I have other things to worry about today than my feelings about what happened last night.”

Anger flashes across her face after I say that. I know she will ask what is more important than our family. Now I have to tell her.

“What can possibly be more important than helping Grace through this?”

“My father died.”