Page 25 of Hot Lovin'

Chapter 10

Lottie

I tap my foot, a rhythmic counter to the thrumming in my veins. Restlessness has become my new best friend, second only to the worry gnawing at the edges of my mind like a dog with a bone. I’m sitting at home, surrounded by quiet walls and deafening silence when I should be out there, searching for Aiden before his parents do something unspeakable.

“Lottie,” I whisper to myself, “get it together, girl.”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. Humor is my shield, usually impenetrable, but today, it’s as effective as a paper umbrella in a hurricane. “Useless” is not a word I’m familiar with. Not with my job. I save kids for a living. I step into their nightmares and lead them into the light. But now, with Aiden’s pale, frightened face haunting me, I feel utterly powerless. I stand, pacing the length of my living room.

“Maybe if I go downtown, ask around...” I trail off, knowing deep down that it’s reckless. As Charlotte Granger, social worker, I follow protocols and boundaries. But as Lottie, foster mom of Aiden Walker? That Lottie would don a cape and scale buildings if it meant getting that little boy to safety.

The sky outside mirrors my mood, turning tumultuous shades of gray as evening approaches. My cell phone sits on the table, taunting me with its stillness. Should I call Quinn? No, he’ll only tell me to stay put, that he’s got it under control. Big, brooding, alpha-male sheriff that he is, he’s probably out there right now, all clenched jaw and squinty-eyed determination.

I head out of my house, my bag and keys in hand. Deputy Miller stands in front of me, holding his hands up. We got to know each other quite well during the time he was parked outside my house every day as I took him coffee and a toasted bagel every morning. He’s a good man and loves his job.

But now, I glare at him. “I’m going to the sheriff’s office. I can’t sit here quietly, twiddling my thumbs. Besides, wouldn’t I be safer at the office where there are more deputies to watch over me?”

Miller gives me that stare I’ve come to think of as the “cop glare,” but I raise my chin a little higher, ready to argue.

When he opens his mouth, he surprises me. “You’re right. Come on, you’re riding with me if you insist on going.”

I glance at my car and back at Miller. My lips flatten, and I nod, agreeing to his terms. He gives me a wry smile and shakes his head as he guides me to the passenger seat before he slides into the driver’s side. At least moving makes me feel like I’m doing something to help Aiden.

The sheriff’s office is a fortress of stoic beige walls and the incessant buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. I’ve been here several times since Quinn and I started seeing each other and have gotten to know some of the staff quite well. I sit on one of the hard plastic chairs designed to discourage loitering, my leg bouncing with nervous energy. My fingers tap a staccato rhythm on the cold metal armrests, betraying my anxiety.

I try to pull in humor, to find an iota of levity in this situation, but it’s like trying to light a match in a downpour. Glancing around at the dispatchers and officers moving with purposeful strides, I can’t shake the image of Quinn gearing up with his deputies, the good guys in this real-life drama. He’s out there now, making moves while I’m here, playing the part of the damsel not-so-much-in-distress but definitely in a distressing situation.

“Lottie, you need to stop that,” Deputy Miller says, nodding toward my jittery leg. “You’re going to drill a hole through the floor.”

“Sorry,” I murmur, forcing myself to still. “It’s hard to sit still. I can’t stop imagining…” I trail off, shaking my head.

“It’s scary as hell,” he says, his eyes softening. “We’re all worried about the boy. But if anyone can bring him back safe, it’s Quinn.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Miller’s conviction gives me comfort, yet the gnawing in my stomach won’t subside. Quinn might be tough as nails and as protective as they come, but Aiden’s parents are unpredictable, dangerous even. The thought of anything happening to Aiden or Quinn slices through me sharper than a knife.

“Quinn’s a tank,” I offer feebly, trying to convince myself more than Miller. “He’s probably out there right now, thinking three steps ahead of everyone else.”

“Exactly,” Miller agrees with a nod. “Plus, he’s got that whole grouchy, growly thing going for him. Doesn’t hurt when you’re dealing with the nasties of the world.”

“True.” I chuckle weakly.

It’s absurd to think of Quinn as a grumpy knight storming into battle. But then, nothing about today has been within the realm of the ordinary. I glance at the clock on the wall, each tick loud in my ears. Time is moving too slowly and too fast all at once.

“Hey, Lottie.” It’s Linda, the dispatcher, her headset cocked sideways as she leans over to me. “You want some coffee? You look like you could use it.”

“Thanks, Linda, but I’m already jittery enough to power a small city.” I shouldn’t be cracking jokes, but I can’t help myself; it’s how I cope. “Besides, I think if I had any more caffeine, I’d vibrate into another dimension.”

“Can’t have that.” She laughs, settling back into her chair. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

I give her a grateful smile. “Will do.”

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and try to channel some inner Zen. Quinn knows what he’s doing. He’s the kind of man who walks into a room and commands it without saying a word. The kind who decides to protect something or someone and doesn’t rest until he knows they’re safe.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, nearly sending me into orbit. I snatch it out and see a text from Quinn:

Going in. Stay put.

“Damn it, Quinn,” I mutter under my breath, texting back quickly.

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