Quinn II (Undaunted Men #2) (24 page)

He looked at me with pity and a sadness that was fake. “Seems all of those emotions got the best of you. You wanted revenge on Myles, and you were jealous of his new girlfriend. If you couldn’t have him, neither could she.”

I blinked several times as I tried to comprehend…

He paused, gently cupping my face in his hands as he whispered, “I saw it all, Lexi.” His eyes flicked over mine with certain compassion, as if he felt sorry for me. “I saw what you did.”

“Saw what, Vince?” I whispered back, breathlessly disoriented, knowing something detrimental was about to unfold.
 

“I saw her get in the car with you,” he whispered conspiratorially, as if he was telling me a dirty secret. “You hadn’t been acting right lately, and you had distanced yourself from your friends and family. Naturally, I was worried about what you might’ve been up to, so I followed you that day.”

“Who, Vince? You’re speaking in code.” I was growing frustrated. His brows came together, mirroring my facial expressions of bewilderment, but I knew Vince was far from confused. He had a method to his twisted madness, and he enjoyed peeling back the layers slowly…painfully…loving the process before exposing his grand design.

“Myles’s new girlfriend,” he stated, as if I truly knew who this person was. “You don’t have to deny what you did anymore. I’ve got your back. We’re a team, Baby. I don’t know what you said to persuade her into your car, but the second you did, I knew you were going to need help.”

Help? Help with what?
He closed his eyes tightly as if the memory pained him. “A part of me didn’t think you’d do it, didn’t think you had it in you, but I stayed out of sight and watched.” He took a deep breath and steeled his eyes on mine. “I saw you shoot her…killed her in cold blood.” My heart stopped beating as he looked upon me accusingly.
I killed her? What the fuck?
But in the back of my mind I knew, I just didn’t want to believe it.

“What the hell are you talking about!?” I yelled in anger, hoping to mask my panic. “What did you do, Vince?”
 

“I didn’t do anything,” he cheekily replied. His hands tightened on my cheeks, driving his message home. “I watched you shoot that innocent woman in the head, and I saw where you hid your pistol. I know exactly where you buried her body.” I was stunned, immobilized, my entire body going numb, realizing the bastard had framed me.

“Remember when Connor took you target shooting last weekend?” Surprised I can even think at this point, my mind raced through the memories of last week. Connor did take me target shooting. In fact, I only got a few rounds off before he suddenly decided the particular area we were shooting in wasn’t conducive for target practice.
 

I closed my eyes and felt the sting of betrayal from head to toe. I was being framed for a murder I didn’t commit. Vince didn’t need to say anything more. He had me right where he wanted me, which was at his mercy and under his thumb. I knew my own fingerprints were all over the murder weapon.
 

“Looks like you have a murder scene on your hands, Sweetheart.”
 

I lean forward and grab a handful of tissues from the coffee table, the leather sofa creaking underneath my shifting weight. I dab the corners of my tear stricken eyes, trying to contain my emotions. “Seems like no matter how much time passes, I will never forget the things Vince put me through. Even what he did to me in the barn, so many months ago, it stays fresh in my mind, and it still rips my heart out every single time.”
 

“What you went through was traumatic,” Dr. Lanyard reassures me, “What you’re feeling is very normal. This is the most you've told me about what happened in the barn, the day before you ran away. The most important thing to remember is that you're talking to me about it. You're getting it off your chest.”

“God, I prayed so hard that none of what Vince had said that day was true.” I sniffle and wipe my nose. I ball up the wad of tissues, clenching them tightly in my hand. “Dealing with all these deaths has been the hardest part of having to move forward.” I can only surmise what had happened to Vince, and despite everything he had put me through, I still can't bear the thought of someone so callously putting him in the ground. Of course that's what he did to Myles' girlfriend. I suppose justice was served, but knowing it doesn't make it any easier to swallow. I loved him once.

“I know,” she says in a comforting voice as she gives me a reassuring touch on my knee, “and believe it or not, you are making progress. You are growing stronger, I can see this each time we meet.”

I let out a huff of air and derisively remark, “I'm glad somebody can see it. I feel like I'm spinning my wheels.” My mother, knowing the amount of stress I’d been under had promptly made me an appointment with a psychologist. Especially when I had no interest in riding Griffen or going to work. At first, I dug in my heels, refusing. I didn’t need or want to talk to anyone. She begged me to give it a shot for at least one month, and if I felt therapy wasn’t helping, then I could quit. It sounded reasonable enough, so I agreed.

“Stop being so hard on yourself, and from what you’ve told me, Connor has been a large part in helping you heal. You and Connor have made amends to the point you fully trust him again, right?”

“I do.” I nod my head. “He’s really been there for me. My entire family has been more than supportive. I don’t know where I’d be without any of them, actually.”
 

Our conversation grows quiet as we both reflect on our own thoughts. These therapy visits have been so helpful, and Dr. Lanyard has taken a genuine interest in helping me get my mental status back on track.
 

 
“Have you thought anymore about what you’re going to do about Quinn?” Just hearing his name makes my heart twist in pain. The grief in my face must show, because Dr. Lanyard adds, “Alexis, you can’t move forward until you confront him head on.”

“I know…I know.” Anxiety creeps in and swallows me whole. Just the mere thought of hearing Quinn’s deep voice after all this time makes my stomach flip and I want to vomit. Too many months have gone by in silence to simply call him up and give a cordial hello. I wouldn’t even know where to begin or what to say in order to obtain closure. “I need a little more time to think about it.”
 

Dr. Lanyard gives me a knowing look and frowns. “You’re procrastinating, and you know it. It’s not going to get any easier the longer you wait.” When I don't say anything, she adds, “This isn't just about you anymore.” I know she’s right about that too. Sometimes, I think it’s easier to live in denial, because if he wants nothing to do with me, I don’t think I could bear the rejection and finality. But she has a valid point, this isn't about me anymore. I resolve myself in that moment to make contact with Quinn no matter the cost, my heart be damned.

I was able to keep my secret until my fourth month. My mother was the one who discovered I was concealing my growing stomach when she walked in on me one day in the bathroom. I was getting out of the shower, and there she was. To say she was shocked would have been an understatement, but she took me in her arms, and I broke down and cried.
 

I told her everything. I told her what happened during our time in the mountains and the events that took place when Vince intercepted us. She asked me if I still loved Quinn, and I didn’t hesitate to tell her yes.
 

By the second month of seeing my therapist, Dr. Lanyard, she finally convinced me I should tell Quinn he’s the father of my baby. Honestly, when I first found out I was pregnant, I searched for him on the internet, but the man doesn’t exist. It’s like he was never born. As the time stretched between us, however, I knew in the back of my mind, he didn't want to be found. The message was loud and clear, he didn't want me.

When my dad found out my news, he went nuts.
He wanted to do what all dads would do for their daughters; he wanted to fix the problem. I had been able to persuade him that this was my battle and not his, and to let me handle things my way. He wound up giving me Quinn’s phone number, but I didn’t have the nerve to call him. It took me almost a month to get up the courage to call his number, and when I did, it would always go straight to voicemail.
 

Preston knew I couldn't get in touch with Quinn, and it wasn't until after the fact did I know Preston had covertly sent one of his men down to North Carolina to check up on him. There was no way for him to break the bad news to me. Bad news, is bad news, no matter how you slice it. He had pictures as proof that Quinn had moved on, but I couldn't bring myself to look at the evidence. I remember throwing up a lot that day. I guess he was caught on camera kissing some gorgeous woman on his front porch early in the morning, and the same woman would show back up at his house at the end of the day. Apparently, he had moved on.
 

After the holidays, I had found myself at a breaking point, because unlike Quinn, I had not moved on. I was stuck in this crazy cycle where I couldn't get him out of my mind. Hell, just carrying his child around twenty-four-seven, how could I not think of him daily? The winter months were bleak and gloomy, and I couldn't take it anymore. I had to have final closure for myself. I had to do something, even if it was wrong, because I can’t keep living this way, I'm going nuts.

Don’t ask me why I chose this point in time in my pregnancy to go see him. I blame the hormones. I know this decision has not been one of my brighter moments. I’m one month away from my due date, and there is snow on the roads. Believe me, I'm questioning my own sanity. Even crazier, nobody knows I’m coming here. I’ve kept my entire plan a secret, because I just didn’t want to answer people’s questions if things didn’t go my way.

My lips form into a smile, thinking of my dad and brother and their over-protectiveness of me. I
t's been kind of funny watching two burly men dote over me. If my dad or brother
would’ve known what I was up to, they would’ve stopped me from coming here for obvious reasons, but I had suddenly found some last-minute courage and wanted to take advantage of it.
 

Is there really ever a good time to show up on someone’s doorstep and tell them you’re pregnant with their child? I figured not, so here I am,
driving to North Carolina, and planning to knock on Quinn's door unannounced in the middle of winter.

I’m scared witless of what his reaction will be. Will he believe me, or push me away? Either way, I have to give myself and his child one last try, despite the fact he’s moved on with his life. If he has truly moved on, maybe at minimum, he would want to be part of the baby’s life. I don’t even know if he’ll be home.
 

When I pull up in his driveway, reality sinks in, and I become a
nervous wreck
. His house is beautiful. It’s an older style, two-story house with green siding and white shutters. The front porch runs the length of the front of the house, and is held up by colonial style columns. Despite all the snow on the ground, I can tell he has it landscaped nicely.

I look at it, thinking it could make for a great family home, perhaps for our little family. “Ugh, Lexi,” I scold myself.
There’s a green pickup truck and a red Corvette parked out in front of his garage so I assume he’s home. I pull off to the side of his driveway, and when I put my car in park, I consider putting it in reverse and turning around. I glance at the clock on my dash, seeing it’s a little after two in the afternoon.
 

The second I turn the engine off,
my heart starts beating wildly, and a
mass of butterflies swirl around in the deepest part of my stomach. The anxiety is so acute I have to cradle my belly.
 

“You can do this, Lexi,” I say out loud. I take several deep breaths, but it doesn't do a damn thing for my nerves, so I go ahead and get out of car. The bitter cold of the January air assaults me, stinging the tips of my ears and nose. I squint my eyes, looking up into the dismal, bleak sky. It looks like more snow might be on its way.