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When Quinn’s breathing evened out, he gently stroked down her side and over her hip.
“You’re so strong, doll. We’ll get through this. I promise.”
For once, Rick allowed exhaustion to overtake him, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep— no Travis, no worries, no fear of losing Quinn— tomorrow, reality would rear it’s ugly head, but it could wait. Nothing would ruin this quiet, comforting time spent wrapped around the woman he loved.
“I don’t fucking know what to do, Dane!”
Rick punched at the heavy bag, fresh off a training session with a fighter who needed some help with his striking.
“Jesus, Rick. That asshole could be anywhere. He could fucking be right next door and we wouldn’t know it.” Dane stood behind the bag as Rick pounded on it, holding it in place for him.
Spurred on by Dane’s words, Rick hit the bag harder and faster until exhaustion took over. Sweat dripped into his eyes, down his chest, making a mess on the floor. Rick snatched up his towel to clean everything off.
“Let me shower and I’ll meet you in Mission Control.”
Even with the stress of the situation, Dane grinned. “Quinn really loves hanging out in there with Tucker. Just the two of them. Alone.” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly.
Rick shot a glare his way, his water bottle hovering an inch from his mouth. “Please, are you suggesting Quinn is interested in the big guy?” He scoffed at the thought.
“Why not?” Dane shrugged. “He’s a nerd, she’s a closet nerd… they can make little nerdy babies and live happily ever after.”
Halfway through taking a long drink, Rick sputtered and coughed, choking on his water. Dane threw his head back and laughed as his friend struggled to breathe.
“You fucking dick!” Rick punched Dane in the arm, knocking the large man sideways.
“Go shower, Ricochet. You stink.” Dane headed for the hallway. “I’ll be working with Tucker and your girl.”
Rick hurried through his shower, more determined than ever to find Quinn’s ex-husband and get him out of her life for good. He frowned, remembering that he promised Quinn he wouldn’t kill the asshat. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t permanently maim him, right? Smiling at his clever way to get around his promise, Rick threw on his clothes and left the locker room.
When Rick entered Mission Control, all hell was breaking loose. Dane was yelling into his cellphone, barking out orders to whoever was on the other end of the line. Tucker had his Bluetooth on, his hands flying over the keypad while he spoke to someone and monitored four different screens, all at the same time.
“What the—”
Rick froze when he found Quinn, standing in the back corner, her face pale and drawn. This woman, who in such a short time had somehow become the most important thing in Rick’s world, was finally falling to pieces. He quickly closed the small gap between them, pulling Quinn into the safety of his arms.
“What’s happening?” When she didn’t answer, he crouched down so he was level with her pale face. “Quinn?”
Wide, glistening eyes met Rick’s. “They found him.”
Rick immediately ushered a stunned Quinn out of the room, gently lowering her into a chair in the break room. “Wait here. I’ll find out more and be right back.”
Fucking son of a bitch!
Pure hatred flowed through his veins, the violent man in him bursting to be set free. Rick had to concentrate to keep his face neutral in Quinn’s presence, but as soon as he left the break room… well, it was game-fucking-on.
As he turned to leave, Quinn’s small hand shot out, curling around his wrist. “Remember, you promised.” Her voice was soft, but firm.
His mouth pressed into a tight line, his muscles already tense and ready for action. “I remember.” Rick waited for Quinn to let go before hurrying back to Mission Control.
“Where is that fucker?” He demanded the second he stalked through the door. Rick dropped into the seat next to Tucker and hooked a Bluetooth over his ear.
“He finally caved and used an ATM just outside of Atlanta,” Tucker replied, never breaking his concentration as he continued scanning through images on the bank of screens spread out in front of them. “Then I got a hit with the facial recognition software. I had to alter the algorithm to find him. For some reason it couldn’t pick him out using his DMV photo.”
Dane hung up on whomever he was speaking to and acknowledged Rick. “Seems like the asshole is still local.” He gestured towards the screens Tucker had up with Travis’ grainy image frozen on them— one from an ATM camera and one from some sort of security camera. Dane pointed at the security camera photo. “That’s from outside a parking garage off Peachtree and 16th street.”
“That’s right near here! No way. He can’t be that stupid. He must know that Quinn filed a police report for kidnapping and assaulting her. Stupid motherfucker.” Rick shook his head, pissed off that Quinn tied his hands. This guy was damned determined to get to her, regardless of what it would cost him personally. Wanting a better look at the images, Rick moved closer. “Something’s not right with his face. I noticed it when he tried to snatch her from the parking lot. A big ass scar from here to here.” He made a slashing motion from his eye to his chin.
With a shrug, Dane swiveled his chair back and forth like a big kid. “Something’s not right with him, period. Mack and the others are on their way in to decide on a course of action.”
