Page 4

Four

Roman

“H ow was Mike’s party ?” Trevor asked as I pressed the phone against my ear.

“Fun, uneventful,” I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me. “I just got to his mom’s house to help take the tables and chairs back that his sister rented.”

“So basically, you ended the night early and were in bed before midnight?” he teased.

“Hey, I’m almost forty. I can’t handle the long nights of drinking and partying anymore. I’m not young like you.”

Trevor laughed, and we both knew that it was a stretch to say he was still young, given that he was usually in bed before me most nights, and he was barely thirty.

“Did you at least meet any nice girls?” he prodded.

“Now you sound like my mother.”

“Well, she has a point. You’re not getting any younger. Soon that mythological super sperm you claim to have will be all dried up, and you won’t be able to give her any grandbabies.”

“You’re just as ridiculous as she is,” I laughed. “Now, is there a reason for your call, or did you just want to ruin my Saturday?”

“I was calling to let you know that I won’t be in on Monday. Max needs to pick up some stuff for the wedding, but the only store that has it is in New Jersey, so I’m going to go with him to help.”

“Not a problem. I’ll get one of the new guys to cover the front desk and have Jackson run the floor while I take care of the admin stuff.”

“Thanks, brother. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, that’s what a partner does,” I laughed, then hung up and tucked my phone into my pocket.

It was barely eleven in the morning, but the day was already scorching hot. Instead of my usual button-down shirt and jeans, I opted for a t-shirt and shorts this morning, knowing that I would just get sweaty with moving stuff.

I hadn’t seen Mike yet, so I headed for the house, assuming he was already there and probably convincing his mom to make biscuits and gravy for him. He was a total mama’s boy, and she was a sucker for her only son—a win/win for them most days.

I knocked on the security door before hearing someone yell to come in. I went inside and wiped my shoes on the welcome mat before heading in the direction of the savory sausage I smelled coming from the kitchen.

“Aren’t you going to lock the door?”

I whipped around to see Quinn standing behind me. Her brows were pulled together, her hair knotted in a messy bun on top of her head. Without makeup, I could see the faint dark circles under her eyes and wondered if she had had a rough night last night.

“Sorry,” I muttered, turning to lock the door. When I looked back at her, her brows were raised while she waited for me to slide the deadbolt in place.

My fingers moved slowly as her eyes followed every movement until the door was securely locked.

“Better?” I asked.

“Thank you.” She nodded and tucked her head.

“No problem.”

I followed her into the kitchen, smiling when I saw that I was right about Mike conning his mom into cooking for him. She was standing at the stove with a pink paisley apron tied around her waist while she turned sausage in the skillet.

“Good morning, Mama Sanchez,” I said as I gave her a quick hug from behind and kissed the top of her head.

“You know you can call me Sandra,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Twenty-some years later, and you’re still so formal. Even my own kids aren’t that formal unless they want—”

She turned around and pointed her spatula at me.

“What do you want?” She narrowed her eyes playfully, trying not to smile as I held an empty plate out to her.

Her resolve finally crumbled when she took the plate and laughed, loading it with a generous serving of scrambled eggs, hash browns, sausage, and gravy from the different pans scattered on the stove.

I thanked her before eagerly taking it and finding a place at the table.

I hadn’t bothered to say hi to anyone before I reached in and grabbed a few biscuits from the pan in the center of the table.

“Good morning to you too,” Mike said around a bite of food.

“It’s a great morning,” I teased, lifting my fork in salute to his mom. “Thank you again, I’m very spoiled this morning.”

“Thank you for coming to help clean up from the party and take all of those tables and chairs back,” Sandra said with a sigh. “Sonia has good intentions but lacks in the follow-up part of most things.”

“Be sure to chew your bites so you don’t choke,” Quinn whispered to Rosie before pulling her hair behind her back so it was out of her precious little face.

“I will, Mom,” Rosie replied before popping a sausage link in her mouth and chewing it.

Quinn sat down next to her and picked up her coffee, bringing the mug to her lips but not bothering to take a drink. I could tell that she was distracted by something, but I didn’t want to ask in front of everyone.

Suddenly her eyes lifted to mine, and she slightly flinched when she found me studying her. She took a drink of coffee and then pulled her phone out of her pocket. With her head down, I couldn’t see her face anymore, so I went back to eating my breakfast.

Once we were done, we helped clean up while Sandra sat down with Rosie and ate her breakfast. I washed the dishes while Quinn dried them, not bothering to look at me. Everything about her felt oddly robotic this morning, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“What do you have going on today?” Mike asked as he put the leftovers in the fridge.

I looked over my shoulder and found him watching Quinn. Her shoulders stiffened before she turned slightly to answer him.

“I have a couple of errands that I need to run.”

“Like what?” he pressed.

“Personal stuff.”

“Momma is going shopping for new clothes for me,” Rosie volunteered, smiling as she took a bite and chewed.

“New clothes? For what?” Sandra asked, joining the conversation.

“School,” Quinn said sharply, gripping the plate in her hand so tightly that I worried she might break it.

“I thought she had enough school clothes? Besides, school will be out in a few weeks.”

“She just needs new clothes, that’s all.”

“Did they implement a new dress code?” Sandra wondered aloud.

“You would think that they would wait until the new school year starts before they do that. I mean, you can’t be expected to buy a new wardrobe for her when she’ll be out on summer break soon anyway.

Who knows if she’ll even fit in the same clothes when she goes back. ”

I could feel the tension radiating off of Quinn as she dropped the plate and didn’t bother to try to catch it.

“Enough!” she yelled, her fists clenched by her side. “ I’m buying her new clothes because I don’t want her wearing skirts and dresses to school anymore. It’s my choice. My decision. I’m 38 years old; I don’t need anyone bossing me around or trying to tell me what to do.”

She turned around and met Rosie’s eyes that were welling up with tears.

“I can’t wear my pretty dresses anymore?” Rosie cried. “Do I have to dress like a boy now?”

“No, sweetie,” Sandra said, pulling her against her chest. “We all just need to calm down for a moment and figure things out. Why don’t you go clean up and get that syrup off of your face before Charity gets here?”

“Okay, Grandma.”

Rosie padded down the hall to the bathroom while the kitchen filled with silence.

“What in the world is going on, Quinn Marie?” Sandra asked, standing up with her hands on her hips.

“It’s nothing, Mama,” Quinn sighed, leaning against the sink.

“Then why are you not letting her wear dresses and skirts anymore?”

She took a deep breath and ran her hands down her face before answering.

“Her teacher showed me a video yesterday when I went to pick her up. It was of the kids playing during recess, but when she zoomed in, there was a man across the street watching them. He was leaning against a black van with dark windows.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Sandra whispered and covered her mouth.

“That’s not the worst part,” Quinn said quietly, looking down the hall to see if Rosie was heading back. “The teacher said that the only kid he was watching was Rosie.”

I felt the air rush out of me. Mike was sitting at the table with his jaw clenched and fists tight. I knew the feeling—I wanted to find whoever this bastard was and smash his face as bad as he did.

“I know that this is your job, honey,” Sandra said softly, “but making her wear pants isn’t going to stop whoever this is from looking at her.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I feel helpless right now. I don’t know what to do or how to protect her, which is really fucking frustrating given that I do this for a fucking living.

I work for the FBI in the child exploitation task force—I literally see this stuff every day, yet I don’t know what to do. ”

“It’s always different once it hits close to home,” I assured her, though I had no idea. I had been a sniper in the Marines, so nothing ever hit too close to home for me.

“We’ll figure this out and find a way to protect her,” Mike said, pushing away from the table and standing up. “For now, I’m going to go outside and pack up the tables and chairs while I work off some of this newly found anger.”

I gave Quinn one last look before going outside to help Mike.

Even though Quinn wasn’t a child anymore, that didn’t stop me from wanting to protect her the same way I had growing up.

She was only a few years younger than me, and I knew she could handle herself.

She had been proving that ever since her husband died four years ago.

So why did I suddenly have such strong feelings to help her with this?