Page 40 of His Forgotten Colton Fiancee
“We’ll stay here.” Shane sniffed the air. “Maybe you still have those amazing blueberry muffins around someplace, Quinn.”
After West set her on her feet, Quinn looked around the shop, and then shuffled into the kitchen. Nothing triggered any memories. Her head ached slightly, but thanks to the medicine she took, it wasn’t terrible.
The lack of remembering felt worse.
A white envelope sat on the stainless steel counter near the stove. West picked it up, frowned. “What’s this?”
“I don’t know.” Quinn pressed two fingers to her temple. It was important, she knew, but why? Why hadn’t she opened it?
“There’s no return address.” Lines formed in his brow as he studied the envelope. “Brayden, get in here.”
Her brothersrushed into the kitchen. When West pointed to the envelope, Brayden’s genial manner dropped. Her brother looked equally concerned.
“I don’t understand. What threat is an envelope?” she asked.
“No return address is dangerous, honey. Especially after what happened to you, I’m not taking chances,” West told her.
New worries. “Is it dangerous?”
“Could be. Might even be another explosive.”He set down the envelope carefully, dialed a number on his cell phone.
Minutes later, the Red Ridge bomb squad showed up. “Check her apartment, comb through everything in case Rex missed something,” West instructed.
Waiting on a kitchen stool, Quinn felt exhausted. Suddenly her safe apartment did not feel quite so comfortable anymore.
When the bomb squad left with the envelope, shefelt off-kilter. “They really put bombs in envelopes?”
“Anything is possible.” West studied her. “Even a few grams of the right explosive can detonate under the right conditions. And you work in a kitchen with gas burners.”
Upstairs, Brayden opened the door and West carried her inside. He set her down, as if she were made of glass, on a narrow green sofa.
A large black dog came outof the kitchen, tail wagging furiously. He loped toward the sofa.
“Rex, sit,” West ordered.
When he did, she patted Rex’s head. He panted with pleasure, pink tongue lolling out. Tired of being an invalid, Quinn stood and began to explore her home.
There wasn’t much to see. Sizable living room with a sofa and two armchairs, a bookcase and a wide-screen television hanging on one wall.Hallway leading to the one bedroom.
King-size bed, covered with a white comforter embroidered with blue forget-me-nots. A window overlooking the street, with lacy white curtains, and a bureau holding a small wood jewelry box, an alarm clock and some perfume. A desk squeezed into one corner, holding a laptop computer.
Quinn studied the bed, felt West peering over her shoulder. Her nervestingled. If they were lovers, they surely shared that bed.
Not now.
West headed for the desk. He opened a drawer, withdrew a notebook and set it on the desk.
“In case you wish to take more notes to jog your memory,” he explained.
Instead, she hunted through the drawers, found a checkbook, flipped through the register to see the last rent check. Quinn studied the balance. She knewshe must have been an organized businesswoman. There was enough money to cover the rent. Whatever other bills needed to be paid would have to wait.
She wrote another check. She tore it off and handed it to West.
“Can you deliver the rent check to Noel Larson? It’s already late.” Quinn felt her chest tighten. “I don’t want Larson to think I’m not good for it and I’m any more helpless thanhe saw me in the hospital room.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, folding the paper and slipping it into his wallet.
A bathroom held a shower and a mirrored medicine cabinet filled with lotions, creams and ordinary pain reliever. It looked clean, neat and totally impersonal.
