evidence. And the marks hadn’t all been from last night. Several of the bruises were days and weeks old. All purposely positioned so they could be well covered.
And then Quinn had hidden Caroline in a safe house on a small farm on the outskirts of town.
Somehow, despite Warren’s false concern, Quinn managed to bite her tongue, keeping the snide comments to herself. Misunderstanding, her ass. She hated men who felt putting a ring on a woman’s finger equaled the right to dictate, intimidate and hit.
What made Warren worse than most was the smooth exterior he presented to the world. Most of the abusers she’d met over the years didn’t bother pretending they were anything else. They didn’t care enough to hide the truth.
Warren did. In fact, he worked hard at the perfect facade. He was a major donor to several high-profile charities in town. He’d won service awards and been hailed as a town hero for years. Hell, even she’d been sucked in by the pretense. How could she not be? He’d funded several of the programs for the people she assisted on a daily basis.
Although, according to Caroline, the money he’d been liberally spreading around town for years wasn’t exactly clean. Certainly, he had legitimate business interests. But also ties with “families” that were well known for their ruthless behavior.
To put it bluntly, he laundered money.
The minute Caroline had told her that, Quinn had tried to call in the cops. But Caroline had flipped at the idea of talking to them. She was scared—not just of Warren, but also the men he worked for. Considering the evidence Quinn had seen, Caroline had good reason for that fear.
So Quinn had planned on giving Caroline a few days to settle in and begin to feel safe before pressing the issue again.
They had to proceed with caution, anyway.
Warren had money, a sense of entitlement and played poker at least once a month with a judge, several lawyers, two city councilmen and most of the financial heavy hitters in Barnhart, their small town just outside Fort Benning, Georgia. He’d built a network of friends and associates who’d back him first and ask questions later.
And Quinn didn’t want Caroline to be their target.
She’d known Warren would be pissed. What she hadn’t expected was a personal visit from the man.
“At least let me speak to her. I need to know she’s okay.”
His words held so much sincerity and concern Quinn almost wanted to believe him. And maybe she would have, if she hadn’t seen the truth lurking deep beneath the surface.
He’d smiled at her pleasantly, even as his eyes had glinted hard and promised retribution. A silent shiver of apprehension shot down Quinn’s spine.
Working as a counselor for a nonprofit assistance center that handled everything from court ordered drug programs and referrals from local shelters, to those who came in off the street looking for help, she’d seen some pretty shitty stuff. It shouldn’t amaze her just how unfeeling the human race could be. Unfortunately, the moment she thought she’d seen the worst, someone like Warren came along and proved her wrong.
The problem was that Warren was too damn smart. He knew just what he could and couldn’t say.
He hadn’t actually threatened her or Caroline. He’d intimated that he was willing to pull all his financial support from their programs. When that hadn’t gotten him anywhere, he’d started playing hardball, smoothly suggesting he not only knew exactly where Quinn lived, but could, with little effort, discover things like the name of her third-grade teacher, her credit score and where she liked to buy her gourmet coffee.
Not enough to qualify as an actual threat, but more than enough to give her the heebie-jeebies. And make Daniel, her boss, worry.
Which only pissed her off more. And may have driven her to throw a coffee mug in the break room after Warren left. Something she wasn’t particularly proud of but...the coward couldn’t even threaten her properly. He hadn’t given her enough to file an incident report with the police.
But Quinn refused to let the prick intimidate her.
Unlike his wife, Quinn wasn’t afraid of Warren. His words couldn’t hurt her. It was one thing to beat a woman he had easy access to and thought he could control. Quinn was another matter. It would take effort to get to her and she seriously didn’t think he’d bother. By not giving in to his intimidation she’d proven threatening her wouldn’t work. So now he’d most likely try to find another—easier—way to get what he wanted.
Bullies were usually lazy.
Daniel, however, wasn’t so quick to dismiss him. “I want you to head home. You had a long night and deserve some downtime.”
Quinn saw right through the ruse. But even as it irked her, she couldn’t stop herself from appreciating the sentiment behind the gesture.
“Not necessary,” she’d protested.
Daniel frowned, a tight line pulling between his bushy black eyebrows. “I insist, Quinn. Will you just, for once, not argue?”
She scoffed, a harsh sound scraping through her throat. “We both know how likely that is.”
“Don’t make me revoke your access to the server.”
She sucked in a hard breath. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Don’t bet on it.” Walking around her desk, he planted his wide hips on the edge and leaned down toward her. The skin at the edges of his eyes pulled tight, doubling the wrinkles that already radiated out into his receding hairline. “Quinn, you need a break. We all need a break. Last night was intense. Warren’s visit only made it worse.”
“But I have a ton of cases that need my attention.” Both of their gazes scraped across the top of Quinn’s desk. It was messy, littered with files piled haphazardly on top of one another. Papers stuck out of several of them. Post-it Notes in all the shades of the rainbow clung to every available surface.
It was ordered chaos, just the way she liked it.
But she didn’t miss Daniel’s wince when he took it all in.
She’d lost the argument.
Unfortunately, not only would her cases still be there waiting in the morning, no doubt more would have been piled on. There were days she wondered why she put herself through the wringer. Kids being beaten and starved. Addicts spiraling out of control, unwilling to accept help. Runaways. Veterans feeling lost and broken. Women being treated like property. Hungry, desperate and emotionally devastated people—that’s what she dealt with all day.
The ones who fell through the cracks or didn’t think they deserved better broke her heart the most. Some days she left the office with a seemingly permanent ache in the center of her chest.
It was hard, seeing that kind of devastation and desperation. It wore on a person. But just when she’d get to the point where she thought she couldn’t take one more, something would always happen to remind her why she could. A runaway was reunited with a parent. A drug addict went into treatment. Or a battered woman discovered the strength to leave.
Those were the days she felt she was making a difference in people’s lives. Just as others had made a difference in her life when she’d needed it most.
So Warren could try his best, but there was no way in hell Quinn was giving him a damn thing. It had taken courage for Caroline to leave, and Quinn wasn’t repaying that by abandoning her.
Pulling up to the house she’d purchased over two years ago, Quinn sat in her car and stared at the sunny yellow siding.
A memory, one she hadn’t thought about in a very long time, swelled up to overwhelm her. The moment Michael had seen the place he’d known it was home. She hadn’t been as convinced.
Pulling her out of the car, he’d coaxed her down the cracked walk. “Come on, baby, you’re