LITMIR.BIZ

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take long for her to realize there was more than one person in there, and they seemed to be having a good time, which was weird. She could hear laughing and talking, and an occasional thud, like one of them had bumped against a wall. She’d had fun in a lot of places, but a Quick Mart bathroom wasn’t one of them.

      A couple of minutes later Quinn came out, and when he saw that she was still leaning against the wall, he frowned.

      “Are you still waiting?” he asked.

      She nodded and rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a party going on in there.”

      He moved toward the door, then stopped as if he’d just been punched.

      “I smell smoke,” he muttered.

      She nodded.

      He leaned closer. “No. I smell pot.”

      Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”

      Suddenly he doubled up his fist and began pounding on the door.

      “Police! Open up!”

      The clerk up at the front jumped off his stool and ran to the end of the counter to see what was going on, while inside the bathroom the sounds of squeals and shrieks grew louder, followed by a sudden flushing and a lot of running water.

      “Open up!” Quinn yelled again, pounding harder.

      The door swung inward. Two teenage girls came stumbling out of the bathroom. They took one look at Quinn and then stopped.

      “Hey. You don’t look like the police.”

      “I lied, and smoking weed will rot your brains,” he muttered, and pulled them out of the doorway so Mariah could go inside.

      She was struggling not to laugh as she shut and locked the door. The bathroom smelled like the back room of a bar she knew down in Lexington, but at least it was finally vacant. By the time she came out, the girls were long gone and Quinn was leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

      She grinned.

      Quinn looked her up and down, then slowly smiled, like he was trying her on for size and had decided she was a fit.

      “Corn dogs, burritos or overdone chicken strips are in the deli case,” he said.

      She wrinkled her nose. “Do they have any cans of Vienna sausages in the grocery section?”

      His smile widened. “Why yes, I believe they do. What would you like to go with them?”

      “A dill pickle, crackers and a Pepsi.”

      “I am so remembering why we clicked,” Quinn drawled.

      Mariah rolled her eyes. “And all this time I thought it was about my boobs.”

      He laughed out loud. “For that, you also get dessert.”

      “A Butterfinger? I haven’t eaten a Butterfinger candy bar in forever.”

      “You can have anything you want. Do you want to go back to the car to wait, or are you still okay?”

      “I’m okay, but I’ll wait up at the counter and let you do the shopping.”

      Quinn hesitated, then touched her cheek. “I am so sorry this has happened to you, but I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you again.”

      Mariah shrugged. “Just wait until I come unglued on you, then see if you still feel the same.”

      He frowned. “We’re all fucked, woman. It’s how we came back. Doesn’t mean I’m ready to quit living.”

      Her eyes widened. “You mean you still have—”

      He interrupted. “Let’s get our stuff and get back on the road. We can talk later.”

      It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about himself any more than she wanted to admit what was going on inside her head.

      Instead of making her worry, it was oddly reassuring.

      “Don’t forget my pickle,” she said.

      “I won’t,” he said, and then held out his hand. “I didn’t forget anything about you.”

      Mariah took it gratefully to steady herself. “Everything I remember is in a jumble in my head.”

      “It will get better,” Quinn said. “I promise. However, all you have to remember today is who you’re going home with, and that’s me. Let’s go get the grub so we can get back on the road.”

      * * *

      The remnants of their meal were in a sack between Mariah’s feet. She’d fallen asleep in the front seat with a half-eaten Butterfinger in her hand, pickle juice on the front of her shirt and tears on her face. A muscle jerked in his jaw as he shifted his gaze back to the road. He could imagine what was going through her head, but he couldn’t fix it. At this point all he could do was keep driving, because he wasn’t going to wake her.

      The next time she woke up, Quinn was slowing down again. When he took a turn off the highway onto a two-lane blacktop road, she sat up, wincing as stiff muscles complained.

      “Where are we?” she asked.

      “Pretty close to home. Welcome to Rebel Ridge,” he said.

      Her eyes widened. “This is where you grew up?”

      “Yeah. Are you okay? Do you want to lie down in the back again? This has been a hell of a ride for you today.”

      “I’m okay.”

      “We’ll be at my brother’s house in about fifteen minutes. You can stretch your legs and go to the bathroom there before we head up to my place.”

      “How far is it to your place from there?”

      “About an hour.”

      Mariah looked up through the windshield, but all she could see was a winding road disappearing into the thickly growing trees. She was used to cities and people. Even when she’d been deployed, there were always lots of people around. This was definitely out of her comfort zone.

      “This is a really big mountain, isn’t it?”

      Quinn nodded. “It’s very quiet where I live. No sirens. No neighbors to hear me freak out in my sleep…just the critters and me.”

      “Critters?”

      “Raccoon, owls, deer and the occasional coyote, but nothing scary, honey.”

      “I’m not afraid of anything on four legs,” she muttered, then sat for a moment, absorbing the concept of that much peace and quiet. The longer she thought about it, the calmer she became. Then she looked up at Quinn.

      “It sounds like heaven.”

      “We’re high enough up that I’d say we’re pretty darn close.”

      Three

      Ryal was in his woodworking shop staining a special order dining table when he heard Beth calling his name. He dropped the brush into a container of paint thinner and stepped outside. She was standing on the porch with their puppy, Rufus, at her side and Sarah on her hip, pointing toward their driveway.

      He saw Beth’s SUV coming up the road and waved to let her know that he’d seen it, then headed toward the house at a jog. They would finally get to meet the guy who’d saved Quinn’s life.

      When he reached the porch, Beth was grinning.

      “What?” he asked.

      “Look in the front seat,” she said. “And whatever you do, don’t make a fuss.”

      Ryal turned. “Why would I…? I’ll be damned! He’s a she!”

      Well aware of how the Walker brothers teased each other, Beth felt obligated to repeat

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