"Gonna kill him. Swear I'm gonna fucking kill him." He swung toward me. "Stay here."
"What's -?"
He was already out the door, slamming it so hard the truck rattled. I wasn't letting him confront anyone without backup. I waited until he'd stumped off without his crutch. Then I got out.
The other man was getting out of his car. His head was down as he unfolded himself from the too-small vehicle, and I saw only the top of his head, dark blond hair cut military-short. He wore
slacks and a sports coat, nothing fancy, but a cut above the department store wear my dad and his colleagues bought. His white dress shirt was open at the collar, tie probably stuffed in a pocket.
Leaves dancing in the wind overhead cast moving shadows over the man's face, leaving me with only fleeting glimpses. But it was enough to recognize him.
"Quinn," I whispered.
I broke into a grin and started forward. Then I stopped, hand going to the truck bed, gripping it, the chill of the metal creeping up my arm.
Quinn. At my lodge. Looking at my picture.
Is this Nadia Stafford? The owner?
Seemed like he already knew the answer, Emma had said.
Quinn. Who'd seen my police college nightshirt. Who'd caught a glimpse of me out of disguise. Who'd sworn he'd never use that information, never try to find out anything about me.
My heart thudded so loud I could barely hear Jack, his voice so harsh he sounded like a stranger, words coming as fast and hard as blows. He stood a few inches from Quinn, who'd backed up against the car. Quinn, who never backed down from Jack, who always pulled himself up to his full height, making use of those extra inches in every confrontation.
I took another step.
Seeing me, Jack wheeled. "I've got it. Get back in."
Quinn turned. "Nadia..."
He barely breathed my name, but it floated over as clear as Jack's sharp words.
I turned back to the truck.
"I can explain."
Jack snorted. "Or sure as hell gonna try."
I glanced over as Quinn straightened, jaw tensing with a flare of that old antagonism as he pulled himself straight.
"I screwed up, okay? I admit - "
"You do? Fucking wonderful. You admit it. Apologize. Everything'll be fine."
"You condescending - " Quinn bit the sentence short and turned to me. "I - "
" - fucked up," Jack said. "Yeah. You did. I warned you. Use what you saw? Deal with me."
"I didn't use anything. I meant I screwed up by coming here. Look, can I just talk to Nadia - Dee -?"
"Here it's Nadia," I said. "This is my home."
His chin dipped. "I know, and I'm sorry. I thought - well, I guess I wasn't thinking - " He looked at Jack. "Can you give us a minute -?"
"No."
Quinn paused, as if struggling not to be drawn into a fight. He sidestepped toward the front of the car, closer to me. I stayed where I was, tucked in the open doorway of the truck.