The Target. Kay DavidЧитать онлайн книгу.
as the smell of food wafted into the room.
Quinn stared and waited for her to say something.
“I can’t do this any more,” she said abruptly, rising and stepping away from him.
“That’s fine,” he said. “We can talk later if you like—”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.” She waved her hands between them. “I’m talking about this. I’m talking about you and me. I can’t do it any longer.”
A stunned expression came over his face. “What are you saying?”
“It’s over between us, Quinn. I want out.”
He tried to reach for her, but she dodged his touch. He blinked, then spoke. “I understand you’re upset. We’ve been through hell, but Hannah… C’mon. You’re not thinking this through. We love each other. I need you and you need—”
She interrupted him, her voice like broken glass. “I know what I need, Quinn. And it’s not the same thing you do. The real issue isn’t about what we do or where we work, it’s about who we are. And we’re two very different people who want very different things. I knew that a long time ago, but I loved you so much I thought I could change you.” She took a deep breath. “I was wrong.”
“This isn’t about our differences. This is about life and the realities that are out there. I’m not talking about having a family or children—”
“It’s all connected, Quinn.” She looked at him, pain filling her entire body. “I can’t believe you don’t understand that, as smart as you are about people.”
“Hannah, you don’t understand—”
“You’re right,” she agreed calmly. “I don’t understand. And I probably never will. But I can’t let that stop me from doing what I want to do. This life is the only one I’ve got. I want to live it.” She swept her hand down his cheek, as her eyes filled with tears. A moment later, she was gone.
STUNNED BY HANNAH’S WORDS, Quinn felt the strength drain from his legs.
This was crazy.
Quinn loved Hannah. She loved him. How could she do this to them? How could she just walk away?
Even as he asked himself those questions, Quinn acknowledged he’d known all along this possibility existed. They’d argued too much for him to think otherwise. But dammit it to hell, children weren’t a possibility for them. He’d lost too many comrades to think it couldn’t happen to him, too. He wouldn’t bring a child into the world just to abandon it. That kind of irresponsibility went against everything he believed in.
The door swung open again, and for one heart-stopping moment, Quinn looked up, thinking she might have returned. But it wasn’t Hannah. One of the aides stood in the doorway, a dinner tray in her hand. She started to argue as he waved her off, then she looked at his face. Without saying a word, she backed quickly out of the room.
His heart felt as if it’d been winched from his chest and hoisted high. He’d never loved another woman as he loved Hannah. And with absolute certainty, he knew he’d never love anyone that way again.
But what choice did he have?
A clean break could set her free. Hannah didn’t deal with shades of gray, so a black-and-white resolution—right or wrong—would give her the ability to move on. She could find a nice accountant, keep her career, have her children and never worry. She’d write Quinn off and everything would fall into place for her. She’d forget all about him.
He lied to himself and said it was for the best.
Her happiness was what mattered most. She could have her career and her family, too. Quinn closed his eyes, more pain—despite his resolution—flooding his heart. She’d share her life with someone who saw things as she did. Someone who could be there for her and her children. Forever.
Someone who wasn’t Quinn.
CHAPTER THREE
Nine months later—October
“I DON’T HAVE TIME TO talk about this.” Hannah stared across her bed at her mother. “I have to pack. I have to catch a plane to Florida, and once I’m there I have a bomb to examine. I don’t have time for this.”
Barbara Crosby’s expression immediately closed, but not before a hint of hurt passed over it. “I’m only thinking of you, Hannah. And I’m only doing that because you never do. Ever since Quinn went back to St. Martin—”
“That’s enough.” Hannah threw a pair of black pants into her suitcase and slammed it shut. “Stop right there.”
If Barbara had snapped off an equally angry reply, Hannah would have been pleased. Instead, her mother’s eyes filled with something Hannah didn’t want to see and she left the room. Hannah loved her mother deeply, but she had the feeling their experimental living arrangement might be more temporary than either of them had planned. It’d seemed like a good idea for Barbara to move in after Quinn had left town, but it also seemed as if they stepped on each other’s toes a lot.
A strong urge to stick her head out the bedroom window and scream came over Hannah. Nothing in her life was going right. She let the reaction roll over her and then she pulled herself together, shutting out the self-pity. With Quinn gone, she’d come to the conclusion that emotions didn’t pay. She had more important things to do with her time.
Like getting to Florida. Bobby had come into her office that afternoon and told her she was booked on a late flight to Destin. The name had barely registered in the aftermath of his explanation of why she was leaving.
Another day-care center had been bombed.
Hannah had kept her face a mask at Bobby’s news. When Quinn had left her life, Mr. Rogers had moved in. And unlike Quinn, he was here to stay. Hannah had become obsessed with the serial bomber. She could put him out of her mind when she was working on other cases, but he was always waiting for her when she finished, teasing her, taunting her, just outside her reach. When the lights were out and she should have been sleeping, she dreamed of finding the sick bastard and dragging his ass to jail. Arresting the killer of those two children had become her goal in life. In a strange way, those babies had become her own. She suffered for them and she wanted revenge.
She’d find him or die trying.
Grabbing her suitcase, Hannah banged her way into the kitchen, the bag hitting every corner possible. At Hannah’s noisy entrance, Barbara looked up from the stove where she was stirring a pot of bean soup that would have fed fifty. “Do you want something to eat before you go?”
“I don’t have time.”
Without comment, Barbara nodded and turned back to the range. Hannah waited awkwardly, unable to apologize but unable to leave. After a second, she sighed heavily, abandoned her suitcase and walked to where her mother stood. She put her arm around Barbara’s shoulders, then spoke with contrition, some genuine, some forced. “Look, Ma…I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to jump on you back there and I know you have my interests at heart, really I do. It’s just that…”
Barbara stared at Hannah with eyes as blue as her own. She didn’t remember her Norwegian grandmother, but Hannah was pretty sure the same bright gaze had come out of that face as well.
“That what?” Barbara asked. “That you want to never go out again? That you can’t get over Quinn? That you still love him and always will?”
Hannah dropped her arm and stepped back, her voice as blunt as her words. “Quinn is out of the picture, Ma. I would have thought you’d be happy about that. Don’t you want grandchildren?”
“Your disagreement about children isn’t the issue and it never has been. It’s just an excuse.”
“I happen to disagree, but if you insist on believing that, then how about this?