Page 73 of Dust to Dust

Although he’d prescribed sleeping pills, I hadn’t taken any last night. I didn’t want to be woozy in front of Brooke. After donning a turtleneck from the back of my closet and claiming my hoarse voice was from coming down with a cold, she hadn’t suspected a thing. I’d even offered to keep Henry for her to go to the gym and do our weekly grocery run.

Wincing, I wondered how I was going to explain the new security system to her. More than that, I wondered how I would explain Quinn’s presence if he was still here when she got back

After throwing a glance over my shoulder, I watched as he bounced Henry in his arms. The corners of my lips curved at the sight of the scarred, towering man and my tiny nephew.

He looked good with a baby.

“Ma’am?”

I whirled around to face the security man. “I’m so sorry. My head just isn't right today.”

He gave me a reassuring smile. “It’s okay.”

I turned my out-of-control thoughts from Quinn back to the task at hand, which was cleaning off the entrance hall table. I started snatching and grabbing picture frames, loading them into my arms. When I grabbed the last one, I finally allowed myself to focus on the smiling faces staring out at me.

It was Brooke’s baptism photo. Her frilly white dress overflowed my mother’s arms. The tiny face was so much like Henry’s. Next to them, my father, outfitted in his robes, held me. He’d baptized both me and Brooke, but he wouldn’t be here to baptize Henry.

The ache in my chest continued to spread as I backed away from the table. When I glanced at the security man, I nodded. “You can take it now.”

Before he could respond, Brooke’s shout jerked my attention to the kitchen. I didn’t bother putting the armload of picture frames down. Instead, I sprinted to the kitchen. To my horror, Brooke and Quinn were pointing guns at each other.

“Brooke!” I shrieked

“Isla, stay back.”

“No, no, that’s my boss. Quinn.”

Brooke didn’t take her eyes off Quinn, nor did she lower her gun. “You swear?”

“Yes! Don’t you remember him from the club?”

“I don’t have my contacts in, and my glasses are in the car.”

“Well, it’s definitely him, so please put the gun down.”

Although she didn’t look happy about it, Brooke slid the safety on before lowering her gun. As she put it in her bag, Quinn put his back in his holster.

“How did you plan on shooting me if you couldn’t see me?” Quinn smirked.

“I can see enough of your crotch to maim you,” Brooke shot back to which Quinn chuckled.

“Since when do you carry a gun?” I demanded.

“Since I had Henry.”

“Good point.” As I eyed her purse with the gun inside, I said, “Is that one of dad’s?”

She snorted. “Yes, it’s his–the packing priest.”

I laughed at the memory of what my father had jokingly called himself. One might not normally imagine an Episcopal priest carrying a gun, but his work took him into some of the tougher parts of the city where his safety was at risk.

Quinn took a step forward. “Isla asked me to hold him. You can have him back.”

Brooke held up a hand. “I’m shaking too hard right now to do that.”

I stepped over to the kitchen table and unloaded the picture frames. I pulled out a chair for her. After patting the seat, I said, “Sit.”

Brooke was obviously unnerved because she didn’t argue with me about bossing her around. Surprisingly, Henry didn’t cry or hold his hands out for his mother like he usually did. He seemed completely enraptured with the intricate tattoos on Quinn’s neck.

---