Never Surrender Read online

  “Simon doesn’t know?” Quinn pulled out a chair and straddled it.

  Roberts shook his head. “I don’t want him involved. No one knows my whereabouts, and that’s the way it has to be. For now.”

  “Why? You come forward, we can wrap this up.”

  Roberts crossed to the cooler, opened the lid, and grabbed a cola. “Easier said than done. You want one?”

  Quinn nodded. “So fill me in. What’s going on?”

  Roberts pitched Quinn a cola then pulled his own tab and swallowed a long drink.

  “Start any time,” Quinn said.

  “I wasn’t surprised when Maggie contacted you. She must have thought I’d let her down.”

  “You did.”

  “No. I was looking out for her.”

  “Yeah. Right.” Quinn’s insides churned. “You expect me to believe that crap? You left her out in the cold with no backup, no support.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. He had to clear his head. Being emotionally involved in a case was lethal. If it wasn’t Maggie he was talking about, would you listen to him? “Keep going.”

  Roberts sat opposite him.

  Even in the dim light, Quinn noticed the bags under Roberts’s eyes and the grayish tinge to his skin. “You look like shit.”

  Roberts stared at him.

  Quinn continued his voice soft. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

  Roberts drummed his fingers against the table. “How’s Maggie?” A grimace of pain flitted across his face.

  Quinn narrowed his eyes. “She’s under suspicion for your disappearance. How do you think she is?”

  “Under suspicion means nothing.”

  “She’s also wanted for questioning over the murder of the old watchman from the De’lisle. Do you know anything about that?”

  “I’ve been watching.”

  “So why are you missing?” Quinn took a drink from the can, enjoying the coolness on his parched throat.

  “All I can do is ask you to trust me.”

  “Are you shitting me? Trust you? Give me one damned good reason.”

  Roberts stared at him across the table. “Have I ever given you a reason not to? Have I not always had your back?”

  Quinn blew out his breath and shook his head.

  “I have to ask you some questions. You’re not going to like it.”

  Quinn’s stomach clenched, he had a bad feeling about this, but he nodded his agreement.

  “Does Maggie seem different?”

  “Twelve months living with slime is bound to affect you.”

  “I take it that’s a yes?”

  Quinn nodded again.

  Roberts’s shoulders sagged. “I’m worried about her, Quinn.” He exhaled and sipped another mouthful of drink. “I received a damming photo of her with the boss of the De’lisle. It was…” He shook his head.

  Quinn lowered his eyes and pushed the vision of Maggie wrapped around that creep out of his head. He had to keep his emotions under control. Focus. “She was involved with him. She told me that straight up.”

  Roberts’s mouth gaped, but nothing came out. “That photo, I’m trying to trace the source. Word is Maggie doesn’t see herself as a cop anymore.” Roberts tugged at his collar, meeting Quinn’s gaze. “That’s the information that came to my phone. I’m doing what I can to refute it. I’m doing what I can to clear her name.”

  “Maggie said all her intelligence was acted on, and the Melbourne club was raided. She said since she was asked to accompany the club employee’s to Brisbane, things changed.”

  “I ordered her to stay put.” Roberts slammed the table.

  “She never said that. Just that you looked shocked when you met.”

  “There’s something missing here. We raided those clubs, as Maggie said, at the start, hassle-free. The last raid before she moved back, the underage girls were missing.”

  “Maggie believes there’s someone working against her.”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out.” Roberts hung his head.

  “You really don’t look good.

  “Quinn, I’ve got six months left to retirement. I don’t need all this damned stress.” Roberts leaned over and rested his hands against the table. “I’m over it.”

  Quinn stood and walked around the table, paused beside the older man, and helped him to his feet. “Look, come up to the house, we’ll talk to Maggie, work something out.

  Roberts nodded, turned toward the door, then crumpled in a heap at Quinn’s feet.

  Quinn dropped beside him and placed his ear to the inspector’s chest. “Don’t you dare die, you bastard,” he hissed as he listened for a heartbeat.

  It was there, racing. Quinn rolled him into recovery position and reached for his mobile. “Damn. It must be in the car.” He checked Roberts’s pockets for his, but he didn’t have one. Quinn checked Roberts’s pulse again before getting to his feet and running flat strap back to the house to call for an ambulance.

  Half an hour later, Quinn saluted the ambulance driver as he maneuvered his vehicle down the driveway with lights flashing. Maggie stood by Quinn’s side, arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

  “I should have gone with him.” Her voice wobbled.

  “Maggie, he has Simon.”

  “I still should have gone. How could I put my case before his needs?

  “Because, that’s what he wanted. You heard him. Find your witness.”

  Maggie nodded. “I know. I know you’re right, but I still feel disloyal by not being there.”

  “Look, let’s go back inside. When you finish getting the files off the computer, we’ll call Simon. If there are any problems, we’ll drive straight to the hospital. Okay?”

  Maggie nodded. Quinn dropped his arm across her shaking shoulders and led her along the pathway. They just made it inside before the rain started to pour.

  Quinn did a quick check of the house before going back upstairs. “How much longer?”

  “Only a couple more files.”

  “We could just take his computer,” Quinn said.

  “Not necessary.” She looked up, her brow furrowed, her eyes shadowed.

  “Roberts will be okay. You heard Simon talking with the paramedic. His dad has been having angina attacks on and off for a while. Roberts told me himself he needed to get away from the stress of the job.”

  Tears shone in her eyes.

  Quinn could have kicked himself for being so insensitive. “Maggie, it’s not your fault.”

  She went back to clicking keys on the keyboard. “Telling me that doesn’t change how I feel.”

  “No.” Quinn crossed the room and stood by her side. “Maybe not, but feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to clear your name or find your witness.

  She shook her head. “I know. You’re right.”

  “You need to get those files copied, and we need to get out of here.”

  He paced to the window and stared out into the pouring rain. Quinn couldn’t shake the feeling that Maggie was in danger. He wanted to lock her away until this was finished but knew she wouldn’t allow it. She controlled her own life and made her own decisions. Somehow he had to keep her safe. He had to.

  “Finished yet?” Quinn asked.

  No reply.

  “Maggie, we need to get out of here.”

  “Done.” She clicked a few more buttons, pulled out the USB, and shoved it into her pocket.

  “Okay. Let’s get moving,” Quinn insisted.

  Maggie picked up the computer, and as she shoved it back into the drawer, she paused and picked something up. “Quinn, come look at this.” Her voice was urgent.

  He crossed to her and looked at the photo she held. “They look very cozy.”

  “Roberts and Felice? Do you think there’s something between them?”

  He shook his head. “I doubt it. He’s old enough to be her father.”

  “Wonder if Simon knows?”

  “I’ll ask him.” Quinn grabbed his
phone and the paper from the table where he’d scribbled Simon’s number, punched in the digits, and walked away.

  A few minutes later, he came back into the room.

  “What’s the latest on the inspector? Did you ask Simon about the photo? What did he say?”

  “It was an angina attack. He’s been treated and is resting comfortably. They’ll do more tests tomorrow, but according to Simon, the doctors are optimistic.”

  “Thank heavens,” Maggie said. “What about the photo?”

  “Again, according to Simon, his Dad’s never been serious enough about anyone since he started dating again to pose for pictures. He detested having his photo taken.”

  They walked downstairs, and Quinn locked the door behind him as they left the house. He placed the key in the potted plant as instructed.

  “Maggie, wait here. No point both of us getting soaked.” With that he ran to the Cruiser, jumped into the driver’s seat, and drove the short distance back to Maggie.

  After she leapt in, Quinn shoved the car into gear, checked the rearview mirror, and drove slowly down the driveway. The rain fell in sheets by the time they reached the gate. Quinn switched the wipers on fast, and the steady swishing sound was the only noise in the car. “This stinking weather is going to make for a slow trip back to Brisbane.”

  “So we don’t go back.”

  “Go on.” He sensed her hesitation. “Spit it out.”

  “Remember Lydia gave me the key to her cabin. It must be close by. We could go there to wait until the storm passes.”

  Quinn stared out the rain-splattered window and weighed the options. One, drive back to Brisbane on high alert, battling the elements, watching for flood waters, or two, spend a few hours, or the night, alone with Maggie, testing his resolution to keep his distance from her.

  Quinn shoved the car into gear and pulled onto the road.

  Chapter Twelve

  So much information swamped Maggie’s brain she didn’t know which question to ask first. From when she’d arrived back in Brisbane, and the raids didn’t go down as planned, she believed cops were involved. How else could those filthy clubs keep operating?

  Why had Inspector Roberts requested she continue when it had been made abundantly clear from the beginning the assignment was nine months maximum?

  When Roberts requested Maggie stay on, she’d been hesitant until he told her he would act on the sex slavery racket she had uncovered while investigating her original assignment of identifying exclusive clubs dealing in underage prostitution. Maggie decided then she’d do whatever needed to be done to free the young girls and get them home to their families.

  “Do you know where Lydia’s retreat is?” Quinn interrupted her musings.

  Maggie enjoyed hearing the deep rumble of his voice. “I’ll check.” She scrounged around the glove box, found the envelope, and switched on the overhead light. “Coppapenny Lane, about twenty kilometers north of Montville.” She turned off the light. In the illumination from the dashboard, she saw him smile.

  “She’s a good person.”

  Maggie nodded. “I liked her straight off.” Then she chuckled. “She has James wrapped around her finger.”

  “You can’t be talking about The Mighty James.”

  “James and I didn’t hit it off at first. Lydia made us coffee and suggested we get over ourselves and get on with the job we had to do. So we did. He’s one of life’s good guys.”

  “High praise from you.”

  “I’m not that bad, am I?”

  Quinn laughed. “Depends on who you’re talking to.”

  Their old, familiar banter returned, and the distance between them disappeared in the swish of windscreen wipers and easy conversation. She relaxed for the first time in forever.

  “Must be almost there. Grab the map,” Quinn said.

  “Should have brought a GPS. Would have been easier.” Maggie hit the light switch again.

  Between them, they followed the crude map Lydia had drawn until they found the “rusty gate with the faded sign.” Quinn pulled up in front of it.

  Maggie jumped out of the car to open the gate and close it after he’d driven through. “Look.” She pointed toward the heavens as she climbed back in. “Rain’s stopped. You can see a few stars.” She bit her tongue to stop babbling to cover her sudden nervousness. What she wouldn’t admit to was why. Not even to herself.

  He pulled up in front of the only building they could see and parked the car. For a long time they sat and peered out into the darkness toward the cabin.

  “Looks small.” Maggie reached over the seat, grabbed Lydia’s carryall and the laptop James gave her, and got out of the car.

  Quinn, silent again, snatched the house key from the center console and locked the car behind him.

  They walked along a pathway of small stones, bark from the numerous trees surrounding the cabin, and soggy patches of grass. Quinn unlocked the door, stepped forward, and felt along the wall for the light switch.

  “Holy hell!” he said as light flooded the room. “Not quite what I expected when you said ‘cabin.’”

  Maggie wasn’t really listening to him. Her focus was on the width of his back. She was so close but careful not to touch. Just the same, his heat stoked her senses, resurrecting memories of them together she’d purposely buried to ensure her survival.

  She stepped around him and echoed his exclamation.

  “I had no idea,” Quinn said. “Lydia told me ages ago I should get up here. Good for relaxation, she reckons.”

  “Or intimacy,” slipped out before Maggie could stop herself. She glanced at Quinn, but he merely smiled as he looked around.

  “This place is fantastic.” Maggie took in the vibrant red room. A fireplace painted a dull gold sat between two French windows. In front of the fireplace stood a cream leather divan. Maggie dropped the bags and picked up one of the huge, blue-and-gold-patterned cushions and hugged it against her chest. “What do you think?”

  Quinn cleared his throat. “Not exactly my style.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me.” Maggie laughed as she reached over to turn on a huge lamp painted the same color as the fireplace.

  Although not a large cabin by any means, it was definitely outrageous. Lattice boards, each painted a different shade of red, cordoned off the main living area from the efficient and compact kitchen, and the dining alcove contained a circular, polished-wood table and matching chairs.

  “Do you want coffee?” Quinn checked out the cupboard. “Or are you hungry?”

  “Both. I think we’re going to need the caffeine to get us through the night.” Realizing how that sounded, she added, “Going through the files.”

  “I’ll make toasted sandwiches if you want to use the shower first.”

  “Great.” She turned to walk away.

  “Maggie.” His deep voice rumbled over her. “We have to talk.”

  “We will,” she said, afraid to look at him. “First shower, then food, then talk. Okay?” She finally looked back at him over her shoulder and let herself be drawn by the sheer intensity of his eyes. At his nod she walked through the archway that led to the hall.

  And one bedroom.

  With one huge bed.

  Maggie stared at it. She could imagine bodies on that bed. Hers and Quinn’s. Images of them tangled in the gold sheets teased her. She could feel the heat of his strong hands on her hips before he trailed his fingers down her legs and back up to the apex of her thighs… Stop. Don’t go there. It’s too dangerous. It could lead to all sorts of other scenarios, and they weren’t here for that.

  At the bathroom door, she paused and stared in amazement at the huge sunken spa. This wasn’t a retreat. It was a passion palace. She wouldn’t want to be here by herself.

  “Hey, Quinn.” Maggie stepped back into the doorway.

  He looked up from the counter where he was chopping.

  “You gotta see this.”

  He put down the knife and walked to her.

>   Motioning toward the spa, she asked, “How many do you think it would hold? Six, eight maybe?”

  “Or one guy well over six feet and his wife who is nearly as tall very comfortably.”

  “Do you think they’d mind if their friends used their spa?”

  “I’m sure they wouldn’t.”

  “Good.” Maggie licked suddenly dry lips. The thought of Quinn in nothing but bubbles was almost too much.

  His lazy stare fixed her to the spot. Could he read her mind? What would his reaction be if she acted on the sensual images saturating her senses? Would he indulge her? Would he play along with her fantasies? Would he hate her in the morning?

  “You still hungry?”

  “Famished, actually.” Her voice sounded husky even to her own ears.

  “Well, I’ll go and finish.”

  And she let him go. They had a case to close. The timing wasn’t right. Plus she was scared witless if she came on to him, he’d reject her because of her indiscretion with Conrad. She hated herself for that episode of weakness. Forget it, Maggie. It’s finished. The shower was forgotten as she trailed him back into the kitchen.

  They had finished eating and were on their third cup of percolated black when Maggie grabbed James’s laptop, placed it on the table, then inserted the USB containing the files from Roberts’s computer. “I thought his password would have been more original than Operation Shut Down. But obviously he didn’t think it warranted a more confidential code.”

  The files loaded, and Maggie pulled her chair closer to the computer and started to read.

  “See this?” She pointed toward the screen and indicated a column of text. “I sent these when I got back to Brisbane.” Her fingers ran over the screen as she read the relevant information. “This is what’s being used to set me up.” Her finger almost jabbed through the screen.

  Quinn walked over to stand behind her. The huff of his breath whispered down her neck as he peered over her shoulder. She kept her breathing calm and focused her attention on the computer screen.

  “I don’t see the connection.” He leaned in closer.

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “Look at the date.”

  “Sixteenth.”

  “And the time?”

  “Ten p.m.” He drummed his fingers on the table.