“Maybe I wanted to spend a little quality time with you, since you obviously went to so much work to find me and all,” Quinn said. “That’s why you were at that warehouse, right? Because you figured out I was involved in your father’s murder?”
At the mention of her father, Triana was nearly overwhelmed with a wild urge to charge out of the chair and attack the monster in front of her. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she was currently tied down to the aforementioned chair. Well, that and the knowledge Quinn could swat her down like a fly anytime he wanted. So she swallowed her anger and fear, and realized that while he hadn’t actually answered her question about why he’d brought her there, he had let one thing slip.
He said that he’d been involved in her father’s murder, not that he’d killed him. If he was as much of a braggart as Dominic had said, wouldn’t he take credit for it, especially since he had her right in front of him?
“How’d you find me?” Quinn prompted when she didn’t say anything. “Did someone help you?”
Triana knew he was fishing to see if there was anyone who might know she’d been kidnapped, and for a moment she didn’t know how to answer. If she admitted there was a private investigator involved, would he kill her now and get rid of her body quickly? Or would he hesitate, afraid her disappearance would be traced back to him?
She had to say something though, or he’d simply kill her to be on the safe side. So she went with what she hoped was the least threatening answer and prayed Dominic had stayed around the warehouse long enough to see Quinn grab her, then called the cops. Part of her even hoped Remy and his SWAT teammates might be on the way to her at that moment. It was an insane thought, but she was scared and needed to grab hold of something to give her hope.
“I found you on my own,” Triana said. “I spent months looking and finally talked to someone in a bar who said they remembered hearing a man brag about killing my father. They described you, so you were easy to find after that.”
Quinn laughed, and she thought she saw relief on his face. “Yeah, I guess I am kind of easy to spot. Still, it’s impressive you tracked me down. You really are like your father. He was too damn stubborn for his own good too.”
The way Quinn looked at her as he spoke made her insides turn to mush.
“Are you going to kill me?” she asked, steeling herself for the answer.
He shrugged. “Probably at some point, but Mr. Lee has something he needs out of you first, so it’s really up to him.”
It was hard to sit there and not flinch at the casual way Quinn dismissed her death as a foregone conclusion. But she forced herself to focus on something else, anything other than what this man was planning to do to her.
“Who is this Mr. Lee and what does he want from me?”
“My boss wants that damn wolf necklace your father used to wear,” Quinn said. “He tried to use a middle man to buy it from your mother, some stupid-ass lawyer named Murphy, but she wouldn’t sell it.”
Triana blinked. Quinn’s boss was the rich client who’d hired that lawyer to harass her mother? All because of some necklace? That didn’t make any sense.
“Murphy must have thought there was going to be some big payout if he got Mr. Lee the necklace because he sent some local muscle to your mother’s shop to steal it last night. That didn’t work either, so I picked the guy up at his house and drove him out to the river, where I put a bullet in his head.” Quinn’s lips curled. “As they say in baseball, three strikes and you’re out.”
Triana gasped. This psycho had killed Kenneth Murphy because he’d failed to get a necklace? He really was insane.
“Mr. Lee decided he was done playing around and told me to go pick you up,” Quinn continued. “He figures your mother will trade the necklace for you. Between you and me though, after she shows up with it, I doubt either one of you will be leaving.”
Triana refused to think about this man hurting her mom, knowing it would just make her fall apart. Instead she scoured her memories, trying to figure out if she’d ever heard of Lee before, but the name wasn’t familiar.
“Why would Mr. Lee want my father’s necklace?” she asked.
Quinn gave her a funny look, then shook his head. “Shit, you don’t even know, do you? You have no idea what your dad really was?” When Triana regarded him in confusion, he continued. “Mr. Lee is a powerful man who’s getting a little long in the tooth. People are starting to nip at the edges of his empire because they don’t believe he’s strong enough to defend it himself anymore, and that pisses him off. He wants the necklace so he can turn into a werewolf.”
Triana stared, not sure she’d heard right, but then she saw the serious look on his face and realized he actually believed what he was saying.
“You’re insane, you know that, right?” she said. “There’s no such thing as werewolves.”
Quinn shrugged. “I used to think that too, until I saw your dad in action.” He stood and paced in front of her. “I got so damn tired of hearing all those old stories about your father and what a badass he was, about him being strong and fearless. I knew most of the stories were bullshit. Like the one about him getting stabbed and yanking the knife out of his own stomach, or the one Mr. Lee used to tell about your father taking a bullet right in the chest for him, then chasing after the shooter for a mile until he caught him.” Quinn stopped to look at her. “To me he was just another old man who ran a jazz club.”
None of the stuff Quinn was saying made any sense. It sounded like the babbling of a crazy person. But one thing was obvious.
“You knew my father before you helped kill him?”
“Mostly by reputation,” Quinn admitted. “He used to work for Mr. Lee too, before he decided to get married and start a family. I have to admit, he must have been one tough son of a bitch back in the day because he helped Mr. Lee build his criminal empire.” He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Mr. Lee let him be for a long time—some kind of respect shit, I guess. Then the boss decided he wanted to sell drugs out of your father’s club. But old Rufus said no, which put Mr. Lee in a difficult situation. He couldn’t have people thinking he was losing control or getting too weak to deal with some club owner. So, my crew and I went down to your father’s place late one night, planning to break some bones and teach him a lesson.”
Quinn began pacing again, leaving Triana to track his movements.
“It didn’t quite work out the way we expected,” he said quietly, as if remembering that night. “Your father frigging changed in front of us. I’m not shitting you. I’m talking fangs, claws, glowing eyes, the whole nine yards. He turned into a fucking monster. I’ve never seen anything so impossible in my life.” Quinn shrugged. “I was one of the lucky ones. I got tossed through a window and halfway across the street outside. I only cracked a few bones and sliced up some skin. My boys didn’t manage so well. Your father tore them apart—literally. And Mr. Lee had a front row seat to the whole thing. Hell, he should probably be dead right now, but your father must have had a soft spot for him. Told him to drag his ass out of there and never come back.”
Triana had already assumed Quinn was insane. But now, she didn’t even have a word to describe how incredibly bonkers he truly was.
