Never Surrender Read online

  “But my mum gave it to me.” Angel curled her fists.

  “I just need to look at it for a minute,” Maggie cajoled.

  “Okay.” Angel slipped the ring off and dropped it into Maggie’s hand.

  Maggie walked to the streetlight and examined it. “Was this claw always bent?”

  “No, it’s only been like that since I got it back at the club.”

  Maggie looked directly into Angel’s eyes. “I might need to pull it to bits. But I promise you, if I break it, I’ll buy you a new one.”

  “But…”

  Maggie ignored her, undid her belt, and used the metal prong to pry back more of the claws. Maggie shook the ring, and the sapphire and a sliver of metal fell into her hand. “I think it’s some sort of transmitter.” Maggie picked up a stone and walked to the road. “Here’s hoping James knows someone who can fix one.” She placed the tiny piece of technology on the ground and bashed it with the stone.

  “You believe me, don’t you, Maggie? You don’t think I’d help those pigs do you?” Angel sounded like a small child desperately needing reassurance.

  “I know you wouldn’t.”

  “Thank you.” Angel hurled herself into Maggie’s arms.

  Maggie patted her shoulder, and at that small affectionate gesture, Angel beamed. Maggie was glad to see the anger and hurt of earlier had eased from Angel’s expression.

  Maggie had had the way to control the outcome of this nightmare in her palm. She scrunched her eyes tight and shook her head. But, she had to keep Angel safe. Maggie scooped up the now-scratched transmitter and slipped it with the ring into her pocket. “Let’s go find Quinn.”

  Angel pushed her fingers into Maggie’s hand, and they hurried along the street.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Quinn slammed the car door, ran up the steps to James’s home, and unlocked the front door. Inside he disabled the security system, strode down the hallway, and threw the car keys onto the kitchen counter. ”Where in hell are you, Maggie?” he said aloud, hoping his voice would conjure her before him.

  The ringing phone echoed through the room. He snatched it up. “Keller.”

  “It’s Lydia. Have you heard from her?”

  “Not a word. How’s James?”

  “It’ll take more than a concussion to keep him down. I can’t believe he blew up that shed. He could have been killed.”

  Quinn could hear Lydia smile through the annoyance in her voice.

  “Thanks for arranging for Cooper to help out,” Quinn said. “We drove around for hours looking for them. Why in hell didn’t she wait? I told her I’d be back.”

  “You’ll have to ask her that.”

  Quinn huffed out a breath. “I feel frigg’n useless just waiting.”

  “Quinn. Do you trust her to do her job?”

  “Of course,” he snapped.

  A moment’s silence, then Lydia spoke. “Then believe she’ll be fine.”

  “Lydia, are you doing okay?” He kept his voice soft.

  “Just tired. But don’t worry, I’m okay. Thanks for organizing the security. My mind’s at rest knowing those guys are outside James’s door.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Bye.” She hung up.

  Quinn resisted the urge to rip the phone from the wall and throw it out the window. Instead, he turned to the kitchen and went to make coffee. Extra strong, extra sugar. Night-duty brew. Even if it was morning.

  He grimaced as the first mouthful went down. It would keep him going. Sipping the hot brew, he stared into the back garden. Except for the swing set, he could have been looking out his own kitchen window.

  Where had time gone? Was it really only yesterday they had formulated a plan to find Roberts—a plan that bolted out the window and disappeared into the ether?

  Why didn’t I give her the mobile? She’s out there with no way to contact anyone. No money. Damn it. She’d just come back into his life. What if the creep in the Armani suit and his thugs caught her? Or if the cops had her? What if she’d been in an accident?

  He had to find her. Standing around waiting was driving him nuts. He stalked to the counter and pocketed his keys. Before he left, he went from room to room ensuring widows were locked and everything was secure. Back in the kitchen, he threw the coffee dregs down the sink, rinsed the mug, and placed it in the dish rack.

  The swing set grabbed his attention. An image of a toddler, a little girl with the same golden hair as her mother, filled his sight. He saw himself pushing her, heard her squeal with delight, felt the softness of her little, chubby fingers on each side of his face as she pressed a wet smooch on him. God, Keller, you’ve got it bad.

  He would have laughed at the fantasy, except from the moment he’d met Maggie, it was what he’d always wanted. But it wasn’t what Maggie had wanted.

  She’d been so determined to advance her career, so dedicated to her job. He remembered the first night he met her and smiled. He couldn’t help it. She’d been scarcely clad in red leather hipster pants, a stretchy top that clung to her, and heels on her shoes that took her to six feet tall. Her hair was long then, all thick and glossy. But her wide and contagious smile had truly grabbed his attention, and the sparkle in her eyes had touched him. Maggie showed her feelings. When she laughed, he laughed, and when she cried, it was like his heart had been crushed in a vise.

  Her rough, husky voice had made him want to hear her whisper his name as she wrapped herself around him.

  Physically, she was everything he’d ever wanted. Then he got to know her. And she was everything he’d ever wanted.

  He didn’t tell her, because he saw she was skittish. From that first night they met, they’d spent every spare minute together. Whether it was a trip to the beach, or scrounging through trash markets, they didn’t care. As long as they were together, they were happy.

  Her ambition to work undercover had driven a wedge between them before that last explosive argument. He’d tried telling her it sucked being an undercover operative. He’d worked for years deep undercover. The rewards didn’t atone for the hours, the lies, and the deceit. Crooks still got off; their expensive lawyers saw to that. It wasn’t romantic or heroic. She could accomplish so much with her career if she stayed working with juveniles. She had such a presence, even the toughest kid softened a fraction in her sphere. He’d recognized it from the first. She was his soul mate. He should have told her that instead of yelling at her that the job was too damned dangerous. He didn’t have to like her career choice, but he should have supported her. Maggie was her own woman, with her own mind, and he’d loved that about her. When she shows up I’ll tell her. But what if she isn’t interested?

  What if she chose to go back under? What if she became involved with another slime? He screwed his eyes shut and shoved the image away. It’s in the past. Let it go.

  A knock at the door dragged him back to reality. Maybe it was Maggie. He crossed to the front door and checked the monitor. “What the hell?” He opened the door.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “No.” He settled his shoulder against the front doorjamb. Quinn despised everything about this woman, especially that girlie voice. He looked at the driveway toward the unmarked police car. Seeing two men he recognized sitting in the front seat, he asked, “Don’t you know it’s illegal to leave animals in a closed vehicle? Why are you here, Felice?”

  She gave a laugh so light and sweet, his teeth clenched in disgust.

  “Invite me in, and I’ll tell you.” The expression in her large, brown eyes—cow eyes were how Maggie had described them—didn’t match the voice or the sweet demeanor she tried to project.

  Quinn never thought of cows’ eyes as cold and calculating, but hers were. Snake eyes. That was better. “Are you here on official business?”

  Another false laugh. “Of course not, darling.” She laid her hand on his forearm. “Just for a chat with a friend.”

  Quinn ignored the caress an
d stepped back. “Come through.” He walked down the hallway back to the family area, where he leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his legs at the ankles and his arms across the bulk of his chest.

  The way her eyes followed his every move unsettled him. From the night he’d met Maggie, Felice had been her shadow. She was supposedly Maggie’s best friend, but best friends didn’t hit on their girlfriend’s lovers, especially when they’d been warned off. But Felice’s hide was so thick, she really didn’t believe Quinn wasn’t interested.

  “Well?”

  While he was wool gathering Felice had obviously been talking.

  “Sorry, wasn’t listening.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I was just asking how Ferguson’s doing.”

  “How did you know about James?”

  “You can’t keep something like that hush-hush.” Felice wandered around the room, stopping before different artworks Lydia had created, as well as photos of the family. She lifted a framed photo off the redwood bookcase and traced the outline of James’s family. “They look really sweet in an average sort of way, don’t you think?”

  Quinn ignored the comment and insisted, “Again, why are you here?” He scrutinized her face, trying to gauge what lurked beneath the bimbo facade.

  He couldn’t understand the power this simpering woman had over men. And it was power. She just had to twitch a finger or bat an eye, and men fell over themselves to do her bidding. She exulted in it, considered it her due. Maggie had explained how after Felice’s sister had died of a drug overdose, after running away from home, her parents and everyone else in her life compensated for the loss by spoiling Felice.

  Quinn wondered if they regretted it, seeing what a selfish, woman she’d become. “Felice, don’t waste my time.”

  Her painted pout tightened as she replaced the photo. She walked toward him and again placed her hand on his arm.

  Does she not have a brain? He slapped the scarlet tipped talons away.

  “Don’t be like that, lover.”

  He laughed out loud. It was a ludicrous thought. “You? My lover? I’d rather be castrated.”

  She whirled and strode away, the heels of her shoes tapping sharply on the tiled floor. He could see her shoulders shaking beneath the tailored jacket. Her back was straight and stiff. When she turned, there was no semblance of friendliness, no hint of the flirt, just a cold, hard face colored with what? Quinn struggled to name the emotion. Hatred? By the time he put a tag to it, it was gone, masked behind her social persona.

  Enough was enough. “Get out.”

  “When I’m ready,” she snapped. “I thought I’d call in to see how James was doing and offer any assistance necessary.” She stalked toward him. “But it’s obvious from your attitude my help isn’t welcome.”

  Quinn peeled himself away from the counter and moved toward her. “Why are you really here? I know you aren’t friends with James or his wife. I know you don’t live around here, so you wouldn’t be calling in on your way home. So tell me, Felice.” Quinn stood, legs apart, his arms hanging loosely by his side, his fists clenched. He knew the only emotion evident on his face was anger. He never used his size to intimidate—despised men who did—but he’d make the exception in this case. “Why in hell are you here?”

  He noticed how she drew away from his threatening stance, as though she couldn’t tolerate his nearness. A big change from her earlier attitude.

  “I wanted to know if you’d heard from Maggie.” She crossed her arms under her breasts.

  “I can honestly tell you I have no idea where she is.” Quinn straightened to his full height and stared down at her.

  She held his gaze. “I’m surprised. I was sure you would be one of the first people she’d contact.”

  He shrugged. “What about you? You’re supposed to be her best friend.”

  “That all finished when she took up with you. She didn’t have time for me.”

  “I don’t remember it like that.”

  “You wouldn’t.” She almost spat the words. “You were so obsessed with her she could have done anything to you. You were totally blinded by her.” The venom in her voice chilled him to the core. “You couldn’t see the real Maggie. She played you for the fool you are, and you didn’t see it coming.”

  “That’s crap.”

  She gripped his arm, like an eagle using its talons to capture its prey. “You’ve no idea what she’s really like. Or what’s she capable of.” She released his arm and stalked away.

  “I know her very well.”

  “Do you? You know how they found an old guy’s body in the remains of the fire at that club?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “Well what you don’t know is the bullets match Maggie’s weapon.” She paused for effect. “So, how well do you think you know your lover now?”

  Quinn didn’t bother correcting her. Instead, he closed his eyes, breathing in and releasing it slowly. He had to control this anger threatening to consume him, or he’d grab the lying bitch in front of him by the throat and choke the life from her. He visualized her dangling like a rag doll from his hands, her eyes bulging with fear, then emptiness as the life drained out of her. The image was impressive. By the time he opened his eyes, his anger had dissipated somewhat.

  He smiled. “You’re not worth it, Felice,” he said as moved toward her. If it weren’t so abhorrent to him, he would have laughed at the way she backed away. “You claim to be Maggie’s friend, and here you are practically frothing at the mouth, gloating that you think she killed someone. Maggie couldn’t kill anyone.”

  “What makes you so damned sure?” She stood her ground and glared at him. “She’s been under for a year. It could have changed her. It’s happened before. Cops get caught up in their cover. Maybe the high life, the glitz, and the glamour seduced her. Maybe her boss did.” It was almost a tease.

  He refused to bite. “Would you be seduced, Felice? Is that why you’re here? Trying to find information for some sleaze bucket you’ve taken up with?”

  The sting of her palm on his cheek brought the conversation to a dead stop for a second. Quinn continued in a level voice. “Let me tell you how I see it. Maggie is a damned good cop. Always has been, always will be. Someone, for whatever reason, has set her up. She’ll fight to clear her name. Good cops do that. But you wouldn’t know what being good means, would you, Felice?”

  There was a shadow of pure evil in her eyes when she answered. “Whatever. You’ll realize soon enough that Maggie has no deep feelings for anyone. One day you’ll need her, and she’ll walk away, let you lie on the cold hard ground, let your life seep out of you, and not offer a hand.”

  “We’re talking about two different people,” Quinn insisted.

  “No. We. Are. Not,” Felice screeched. “Next time you see her, ask her about her best friend who died from an overdose at fifteen and how your wonderful Maggie just walked away. Ask her, I dare you.”

  Maggie had touched on this early in their relationship and had told him it was the driving force in her wanting to be a police officer. She’d also reminded him about it in the car earlier as they drove to Roberts’s place. Maggie obviously still carried the scars of being unable to help those who couldn’t help themselves.

  “Time to leave.” He grabbed Felice’s arm and half walked, half dragged her out the front door to the veranda. At the front stairs she turned and flung herself into his arms and kissed him hard on the mouth. He pushed her away, and she laughed aloud as he wiped her touch from his lips.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She reached up and stroked the red mark on his cheek. “I just wanted to give you a friendly warning. Bye-bye, lover.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Tell Maggie to give me a call. Ciao.” As she sashayed toward the waiting vehicle, the phone rang inside the house.

  Bitch. Quinn rushed inside to answer the call.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The morning sun patterned the sky with patches of brilliant gold. Maggie a
nd Angel could have arrived much earlier, except they hid every time they heard a car. They walked the remaining few hundred yards toward James’s house in the silence that had held them hostage for the past few hours.

  Her talk with Angel and the detour they’d taken had left Maggie exhausted. At the bottom of the driveway, Maggie, ever cautious, peered toward the house. When she saw an unmarked police car in the driveway, she pushed Angel toward the safety of a neighboring fence and a clump of azalea bushes.

  Maggie checked out the area again and exclaimed, “It’s Felice.” Maggie almost danced on the spot, she was so excited to see her. Maggie hadn’t seen her for ages, and she missed her, but Felice didn’t like Quinn. She’d made it abundantly clear she didn’t believe he was good enough for Maggie. Still, all those painful times were in the past. Maggie couldn’t wait to talk to her.

  When Maggie made to move away, Angel grabbed her wrist. “Don’t go out there,” she hissed.

  “Why not?”

  The girl stared at Maggie, horror and disgust filling her eyes. “You know her?”

  “She’s a friend.”

  Angel’s eyes widened, her mouth gaped. “I thought you were good. I thought you were going to look after me. Did you go through this whole charade just to bring me here for her?”

  Maggie’s gaze darted toward the car in the driveway and saw the silhouettes in the front seats. Then she watched Felice launch herself into Quinn’s arms and press a kiss on his mouth. Cold fury threatened to erupt from deep within her. Why was Felice hitting on him? She’d always insisted she had no interest in Quinn. Watching her, Maggie knew she had lied.

  Had Felice come looking for Maggie? Did Felice have more information for Quinn? Maggie shuddered. She was tired and cold. All she wanted was a hot bath and her hot man, not necessarily in that order. But the seed was sown. She had to tend to it. Was Felice at James’s home, with Quinn, discussing her? Was she invited? Did Quinn contact her? Has he turned me in? The thought tasted bitter. “No,” she said out loud to dispel it, to chase it away.