Mountain Rescue

“Well, somebody ordered it,” the blonde said.

“Probably for tomorrow.” The older nurse typed something into the computer and frowned. “Huh.”

“What?” Quinn asked.

“I see the scan request for tonight, but I have no idea who ordered it. I’ve never seen this doctor’s name before.”

“Where’s imaging?” Quinn said.

“Basement.”

Quinn took off.

“Down the elevator to the left,” the blonde called after him.

He didn’t have the patience for the elevator. He took the stairs two at a time and swung open the door to the basement level.

Pitch blackness greeted him. Instincts on full alert, he pulled out his smartphone and clicked on its flashlight application. Fighting to calm the adrenaline pouring through his body, he aimed the light down the hallway, slowly making his way to imaging.

The deafening silence spiked panic in his chest as he took slow, determined steps. Then he had a thought: if someone was down here planning to harm Billie, Quinn’s very presence could scare him off. “Billie?” he called out.

Silence. A pit grew in his stomach. Had the attacker already found her? Hurt her?

“Billie, answer me!” he demanded.

“Quinn?” her soft voice drifted down the hall.

“I’m here.” He headed in the direction of her voice and turned the corner. He spotted a man dart out of a room and race down the hall.

Quinn wanted to go after him, but needed to get to Billie. As he approached the doorway he spotted something on the floor: a body. He kneeled beside an unconscious young man in scrubs and placed two fingers to his neck. Luckily his pulse was strong and steady.

The slam of a door echoed down the hall.

“Quinn? Are you there?” Billie’s shaky voice called from inside the room.

“Right outside the door,” he said.

“What happened?”

“You’ll be okay, buddy,” he whispered to the orderly. He stood and aimed the beam of his phone into the room, but couldn’t see Billie. “Where are you?”

She peeked her head around the CT machine. He’d never seen her eyes so big and round before, not even the day they’d rescued Billie and her husband from the mountain.

No, tonight her expression read utter fear.

He crossed the room, kneeled beside her and pulled her against his chest. She let out a gasp, like she’d been holding her breath.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” He stroked her hair, holding her close. Relief finally uncoiled the knot in his chest.

She placed her hand against his chest and leaned back to look into his eyes. “Dylan went to find the tech but didn’t return.”

“Twentyish kid with short black hair?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s okay, but unconscious. Is there a phone in here?”

“On the wall.” She pointed.

He handed her his smartphone. “Aim the light toward the phone and I’ll call security.”

She pointed the beam of light and Quinn found the phone hanging off the cradle. He grabbed it, pressed zero and waited.

Billie was okay. Everything was going to be fine. The knot in his chest might have uncoiled, but tension still hummed through his body.

Billie had been threatened, in danger, and where was Quinn? Absent. He’d abandoned her. More proof of his deep-seated failure.

“Operator,” a woman answered.

“My name is Quinn Donovan. The lights in the basement are out and someone was attacked. Notify security and turn on the emergency lights, please.”

“Who is this?”

“Quinn Donovan. My friend is a patient here, Billie Bronson. Send someone with a stretcher to the basement. One of your orderlies was knocked unconscious.” Quinn hung up and turned to Billie. “We’re going to be fine.”

As Billie nodded with relief, a tear trickled down her cheek. His chest ached at the thought of her being terrorized.

“Come on, let’s get you in the wheelchair.” He helped her stand. She wavered and he automatically picked her up.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“I don’t want you to fall down and hit your head again.”

She pointed the smartphone to illuminate his way and he carried her across the room to the wheelchair. The emergency lights popped on with a click.

Which only made matters worse since now he could really see how terrified she was. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes continually scanned her surroundings. Then her gaze landed on the doorway where the orderly lay unconscious.

“Dylan,” she whispered.

“He’s okay,” Quinn assured.

“But—”

“Billie, look at me.” With his thumb and forefinger he tipped her chin so she’d look into his eyes. “Dylan’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

* * *

Quinn had meant it when he told Billie everything was going to be fine. Unfortunately the hospital security guard was on a power trip and Quinn was the victim of the guy’s overblown ego.

“So you mysteriously happened to know your girlfriend was in trouble?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. I guessed she was in trouble when I heard the nurses talking about the mysterious doctor who’d ordered the CT scan.”

“Is she a former girlfriend?” the security guard pushed. His nametag read Steven and he looked to be in his forties.

“She’s a friend,” Quinn clarified.

Steven walked to the corner of the small office and crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you know each other?”

“Do you have someone watching her room?” Quinn asked. “Because she might still be in danger.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I was on the rescue team that recovered Billie and her husband a year ago.”

“And you kept in touch? Isn’t there a name for that? Some kind of syndrome or something?”

“She fell on tough times and I gave her a job and a place to live after the accident.”

“With you?”

“What’s with all the questions?”

“Why are you afraid to answer?” Steven pushed.

“I’d rather be watching over my friend.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

Quinn leaned back in his chair. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Pretending to be a real cop.”

Steven took a step forward and gripped the metal flashlight on his belt. Quinn’s older brother always said Quinn should learn to control his smart mouth. But right now Quinn couldn’t control it because he was worried about Billie. Well, he wasn’t going to get back to her if he kept antagonizing this guy.

“That was outta line,” Quinn apologized.

The door swung open and a rugged-looking, middle-age man in a crisp navy suit joined them. He glanced at Quinn, then at the security guard.

“Hey, Steve.” The men shook hands. “Could you go relieve Officer Trent outside Mrs. Bronson’s room?”

“Sure.” Without looking at Quinn, Steve left and shut the door behind him.

“So you’re the infamous Quinn Donovan?” The guy slapped a folder onto the table.

“I don’t know about infamous, but yeah, I’m Quinn Donovan.”

“Detective Issacs, Echo Mountain P.D. Good to meet you.” The guy extended his hand.

Quinn must have look skeptical.

“Relax, I know your brother, Alex.” They shook hands. “We worked on a task force together a few years ago. When Steve gave me your name I made the connection and gave your brother a call to confirm.” Detective Issacs sat across the table from Quinn. “So, give me your take on what happened to Mrs. Bronson.”

“I think someone’s after her. You know about the assault on the trail, right?”

Issacs nodded. “Officer Vanguard filled me in. Mrs. Bronson thinks it has something to do with her husband’s criminal activity?”

“She does.”

“What was he into?”

“We’re not sure.”

Detective Issacs opened a folder and glanced at its contents. “I did a background check on Rick Bronson. He moved from Idaho to Echo Mountain five years ago for a job at—”

“Evergreen Lumber, I know.”

“So you knew the Bronsons back then?”

“Actually, no.” After the accident Quinn had discovered that Billie’s husband had worked for a company Quinn and his partners shut down due to mismanagement and lack of productivity.

Another reason Quinn felt responsible for Billie’s situation after her husband had died. It was becoming obvious to Quinn that being unemployed and broke had motivated Rick Bronson to pursue questionable sources of income, which meant Quinn was responsible for Rick Bronson’s desperation, Billie’s failed marriage and, yes, even her current predicament.

“Maybe Mrs. Bronson should get out of town, stay with relatives,” Detective Issacs suggested.

“She doesn’t have any.”

“No parents or siblings?”

“No, sir. She’s alone.”

“Well, she’s got you. That’s a plus. Your brother told me about your military background. You’ll make the perfect bodyguard.”

“She doesn’t want me around, requested I stay out of her room. Didn’t Steve tell you? That’s why he was giving me a hard time and considered me a suspect.”

“Well, maybe she’s had a change of heart since the attack in the imaging department. Your timing couldn’t have been better.”

“Tell me about it.” Quinn fisted his hand. If he’d shown up a few seconds later...

“I don’t think it’s wise for her to go to her place when she’s released,” the detective said.

“I agree. I have some ideas on that.”

“I’ll dig into Rick Bronson’s background and you take care of his wife.”

There’s nothing Quinn would like better than to take care of Billie...if she’d let him.

“I’d like to hire a P.I. friend of mine to look into things, if you’re okay with that,” Quinn said.

“Sure, as long as you share your information.”

“Will do.”

* * *

When Billie was admitted to the hospital after yesterday’s fall, she was determined to distance herself from Quinn, yet she’d actually slept a few hours last night thanks to Quinn staying in her room. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Every time she’d wake up, she’d catch a glimpse of him sitting in the corner working on his laptop, and the clicking sound soothed her to sleep.

Well, that and his masculine presence, strong and determined, acting as her protector. She had to admit she liked having someone looking out for her, although she knew better than to get used to it.

A nurse came in to take her vitals at 6:00 a.m.

“Good morning, I’m Nurse Rose,” she said, then noticed Quinn in the corner. “Oops.”

Quinn’s eyes were actually closed, and his head tipped back as he dozed.

“Sorry,” Nurse Rose whispered.

“I’m awake.” Quinn shifted in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

It amazed Billie how he could look like a strong and powerful man one minute and a little boy the next. Billie always suspected a wounded little boy lived inside Quinn’s grown-up body.

Dr. Green came into the room and stopped at the foot of Billie’s bed, analyzing a chart. “Heard there was a little excitement last night.”

“And here I thought hospitals were supposed to be quiet. I want my money back,” Billie teased.

Quinn cracked a slight smile.

“I don’t blame you,” Dr. Green said. He directed his attention to the nurse. “Vitals are...?”

“Good.”

Dr. Green glanced at Billie. “Your pain level, on a scale of one to ten?”

“Two.”

“Billie, it’s the day after a fall,” Quinn challenged. “You’ve got to be hurting more than a two.”

“Fine, it’s more like four. But I really want to go home.”

“There’s nothing to indicate anything more serious than the slight concussion and bruised ribs. No broken bones or internal damage.” The doctor glanced at her over his reading glasses. “It’s quite remarkable considering what you’ve been through.”

“So, I can go?”

“I’ll sign the release papers and your husband can take you home.” He nodded at Quinn, who went completely white.

“No, he’s just a friend,” Billie corrected.

“Well, friend—” the doctor turned to Quinn “—Billie should be ready to go in about an hour.”

“Thanks.” Quinn closed his laptop and gathered miscellaneous papers.

He seemed nervous at the mere mention of being Billie’s husband. Well, he didn’t have to worry. She’d tell him so the minute they left the hospital. And take her where? It probably wasn’t safe to go to her apartment.

The doctor gave the nurse instructions and smiled at Billie. “Limit your activity for the next three to five weeks. Lie around, watch TV, read a book.”

“What about work?”

“Aiden can find someone to cover for you,” Quinn said.

“I’d hate to leave him shorthanded,” she countered.

“What is your line of work?” the doctor asked.

“I’m a hostess at the Echo Mountain Resort restaurant.”

“Is there a lot of bending and lifting involved?” the doctor asked.

“Not really. I mostly seat guests and sometimes bus tables.”

“I’d rather you not lift anything,” the doctor said. “The nurse will give you the rest of my instructions.”

“Thanks.”

With a nod, the doctor left the room.

Billie eyed Nurse Rose. “How’s Dylan, the orderly who took me downstairs last night?”

“A nasty bump on the head, but he’s fine. These kids are tough.” She smiled.

Billie felt guilty that she’d indirectly been responsible for his injury.

“Let’s go over a few things for your recovery,” the nurse said. “Keep the wrist wrapped tight for a week to ten days. Then you can take off the wrap and see how it feels.”

“What about the ribs?” Billie shifted and winced against the pinch in her chest.

“Ice the area for twenty minutes, four times a day to help them heal. You can wrap them if it feels better, but not too tight. The tendency is to take shallow breaths but you want to try to avoid that.”

“Okay, sure. How do I wrap my ribs?”

Nurse Rose pulled a compression bandage off a nearby cart and glanced at Quinn. “I need to show her how to wrap her ribs.”

“Okay.” Quinn didn’t move.

The nurse glanced at Billie in question.

“I should watch so I can help her,” Quinn said.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Billie said.

“But—”

“No,” Billie said. The thought of him touching her with gentle, nurturing hands made her crazy. “Please give us some privacy, Quinn.”

Without another word of protest, Quinn left the room. Billie must have seemed unusually tense because the nurse studied her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

At least she would be as soon as she got to work on a plan to protect herself, not only from Rick’s shady business associates but also from relying too much on Quinn Donovan. In her wounded state it wouldn’t take much to surrender and let him take the lead, especially after he’d saved her last night.

That’s what the old Billie would have done. Handing her life over to a man is what she’d done with Rick. She’d trusted him to support her and take care of her and look how that turned out.

Never again. She’d learned that painful lesson and didn’t plan on repeating it.

* * *

It was midafternoon before Billie was officially discharged. As Quinn steered his SUV to the hospital entrance, he spotted her being wheeled out by a volunteer. Quinn could tell she shivered against the cool, misty rain. He wished he could hold her and warm the chill from her body.

A dangerous thought, Donovan.

He got out of the car and came around to help her but she waved him off. “I’m good.”

Once she was safely buckled, he got behind the wheel and prepared for battle. She wasn’t going to like his plan, but somehow he had to convince her it was the best way to keep her safe. He pulled out of the hospital lot and headed east.

“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” Billie said, glancing out the window.

“We’re not going to your apartment. I’ve made other arrangements.”

“No, I can’t go to the lake house,” she said in a panicked voice.

“No worries,” Quinn said. “I’m not taking you home with me.”

Quinn’s chest ached. She seemed horrified by the thought of going to Waverly Harbor and staying in the coach house on his property. Had it been such a bad five months? It hadn’t been for Quinn. Seeing her at least once a day had always brightened his mood.

That was then. Today he had to respect her need for distance. He knew she was wise to feel this way.

“I think it’s best if I move away,” she said.

He clenched the steering wheel. He suspected she wouldn’t share the forwarding address with Quinn.

“To where?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She glanced out the window. “Someplace safe where I can hide out and investigate this mess.”

“Moving is exhausting. You need to rest and take care of yourself.”

She scoffed.

“What?” he said.

“That sounds weird coming out of a guy’s mouth.”

“I’m sure it’s not the first weird thing I’ve said.”

“True.” She smirked.

At least it wasn’t a scowl.

“Billie, you need time to recuperate from your fall. I’m going to make sure you do just that.”

“I’ll rest better in my own bed.”

“That may be true, but your apartment is the first place someone will look for you.”

“‘Someone,’” she sighed. “I wish I knew who ‘someone’ was.”

“I’m working on it.”

She glanced at him in question.

“I’ve hired a private investigator to look into things,” he explained.

“I asked you not to do that. I can’t afford—”

“He’s a friend and he owes me a favor, okay?”

“Okay.” She shifted slightly, wincing against the pain of bruised ribs.

His gut twisted when she did that. He wanted to ease her pain somehow, yet knew there wasn’t a lot you could do about bruised ribs but let them heal on their own.

“We’ll ice the ribs as soon as we get there,” he said.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ve got a suite at Echo Mountain Resort.”

“I can’t afford those rooms.”

“I own the place, remember?” He winked.

“But Aiden needs the rooms for real guests.”

“They’re not even at half capacity, plus they’ve got a solid security system and plenty of activity. Even if the guy finds out where you are, he wouldn’t risk making a move on you in a busy setting like that.”

She sighed. “I guess, if that’s my best option.”

“It is, in my opinion.”

“You’ll drop me off and head back to Waverly Harbor?”

He hesitated before answering. “I know you want me to say yes, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Talk about a loaded question.

“I need to make sure you’re okay,” he said.

“Because I’m still your wounded-bird project?”

“Don’t say that.”

“Or is it because you feel guilty?”

He clenched the steering wheel, but didn’t answer. He had plenty to feel guilty about, from taking away her husband’s income by closing the plant to letting her develop an attachment to Quinn when he knew it wasn’t real.

“You don’t have to feel guilty about anything, Quinn. I was fragile when I first went to work for you, but I’m different now and I can stand on my own two—”

A bump from behind made Billie yelp.

He’d been distracted by their conversation and hadn’t noticed a car following way too close. Eyeing the rearview mirror, he considered speeding up but didn’t want to put them both at risk by going too fast for conditions and spinning off the road.

The car retreated and flashed its lights.

“Does he want us to stop?” she said, eyeing the side mirror.

“That’s not happening.”

The car smacked into them again. Billie lurched forward and groaned against the pain in her ribs.

Quinn handed her his phone. “Call 9-1-1.”

She focused intently on the phone and made the call. “My name is Billie Bronson,” she said. “We’re on Route 2 and someone is trying to run us off the road.”

Quinn again glanced at the car in his rearview mirror. It dropped back even farther. Not good.

“Tell them we’ve been working with Detective Issacs,” Quinn said.

He glanced into the rearview and noticed the car speed up.

“Billie!” He instinctively threw his arm across her body to brace her.

The other car clipped Quinn’s bumper.

Quinn spun the wheel to avoid careening into a ditch. He tapped the brake but lost control as they skidded into a full spin.

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