The Target

They sat in silence for a moment, then Quinn spoke, his emotions in a tangle. “This isn’t good.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not good at all.”

Hobbling slowly, Quinn crossed the room to stare out the window at the parking lot. He was on the fourth floor, but the fog was so thick he couldn’t see the cars.

“This isn’t the first time she’s screwed up, Quinn.”

Something tightened inside Quinn’s chest. He spoke without moving. “What do you mean?”

“She missed a detail last week in a report for Washington on one of those church bombings last summer. I caught it, but that’s just not like Hannah. When I mentioned it to her, she got real defensive.” He hesitated, then added, “She lost some evidence the other day, too.”

Quinn turned around.

“It was just some minor stuff, but next time, who knows?” Bobby’s dark eyes were filled with concern. “The truth is, I’m worried about her, Quinn…. I’m worried for her, too. Her mind’s not on her job.”

“It’s on me.”

“That’s right.” The other man came to Quinn’s side. The light from the window glistened off his dark features. They stood together in silence and stared out at the fog.

After a while, Bobby spoke. “I was real upset when you got that promotion instead of me. I thought I was the better tech and I deserved it more. I even told myself there was some kind of racist crap going on.” He shook his head. “But right now I’d dump the damn promotion any way I could. To the first man who’d take it.”

Quinn spoke calmly, but he didn’t feel it. “Why is that?”

“Because I gotta do something I don’t want to do.”

“And that is?”

“I’m thinking of firing her, Quinn. At the very least, suspending her.”

Quinn tried to hide his shock, then gave up. He stared at Bobby in amazement. “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme? She made a mistake—we’ve all made them at some time or another. That doesn’t mean she’s not a good tech.”

Bobby ignored his comments completely. “Are you going to quit or are you coming back?”

The question was abrupt and put Quinn on guard. He’d told no one, not even Hannah, that Barroso had warned him he might not be able to return. To tell someone, to voice the words, gave credence to the option and Quinn couldn’t do that. “I plan on coming back,” he said carefully. “Absolutely.”

“Then both of you will be on the team again.”

Quinn had no idea where Bobby was going with his questions. His uneasiness grew. “Yes, but—”

“There are no buts about it. Lives are on the line, here, Quinn, and Hannah’s put them there.”

“She made a mistake, for God’s sake. A big one, yes, but she’s only human. It’s not like she dropped a pound of RDX in the middle of the bullpen—”

“And that damn well might be what happens next!” Taking a deep breath, Bobby started over, his voice softer. “Look, Quinn, the truth is she’s never going to watch you go into another building without expecting it to blow.” He held out his hands. “Put yourself in her place. Would you be able to let her go out again and not worry? Could you focus on your business and not hers?” His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “It’s only a matter of time, Quinn, before disaster strikes again.”

Bobby didn’t know it, of course, but Quinn had already put himself there. Hannah could have ended up in the hospital instead of him and that frightened Quinn terribly. The realization had made him even more determined not to leave orphans should that happen.

But he hid all that. She needed defending. “She’s a professional,” he said. “Once I get out of here, she’ll be fine. Things will be just like they were before. We managed okay then.”

Bobby kept his expression under control, but his fingers gripped the windowsill so tightly his knuckles paled. “It’s never going to be the same, Quinn. You’ve been injured severely and that changes things. As long as she loves you, she’s going to worry, and as long as she’s doing that, her life—and everyone else’s—is in danger. If you don’t care about that—”

“You’re out of line,” Quinn warned quietly. “You know I care—”

“Maybe, but I also know how these things work….” Bobby’s eyes locked on Quinn’s, regret filling their depths. “I value both of you, Quinn. You and Hannah are the backbone of this team, but I’ve got to take some action.”

“Then suspend her if you have to, but don’t fire her.” Quinn clenched his jaw. “She worked hard to earn her position and she’s damn good at it. The team needs her.”

“They need the Hannah they had before you were injured. Not the one they have now. I was hoping you could help me fix this, but I see now that’s not going to happen.”

Bobby’s attempt at manipulation ignited Quinn’s anger. “If you expect me to do your dirty work, you can forget about it,” Quinn said. “I’m not asking her to leave. She’d hate me forever. Besides that, she doesn’t deserve to be fired. She’s an excellent analyst and you know it. You’d never be able to replace her.”

“That may be true. But I’m in charge of the team now—the whole team—and I have to make decisions that are the best for everyone. C’mon, Quinn, can’t you at least say something to her?”

Quinn shook his head. “No way. It’s not a good decision.”

Bobby started to speak again, then he broke off, clearly seeing the uselessness of his words. Quinn said nothing at all. Bobby stared a little bit longer, then left.

Quinn stood by the window, frozen with anger and confusion. A few minutes later, he watched Bobby exit the hospital downstairs and cross the parking lot to climb into his SUV.

Quinn’s muttered curse filled the hospital room as he swung away from the window. Late that night, when everything was quiet again, another emotion replaced the defensive anger he’d felt for Hannah. Quinn lay in bed and felt fearful.

What if he was wrong?

What if Bobby was telling the truth? What if Hannah continued to work and someone got hurt or even killed?

The same guilt Quinn felt now—for failure, right or wrong—would then be hers, as well.

THE NEXT MORNING, QUINN made his way down the hall for his physical therapy, his mind on what had happened the night before. He’d still heard nothing from Hannah and that worried him as much as anything. An hour into the session, he was almost finished on the treadmill when suddenly his leg went out from beneath him. He was suspended for two seconds, then he crashed down—hard. The moving belt grabbed him and tossed him onto the floor. He gasped and swore as pain flooded his body. The last thought he had before fainting was that he’d dislodged the pin in his thigh.

Thirty minutes later, back in his bed, bruised and sore, he tried to rationalize the accident. He’d lost concentration and fallen down. Big deal. It didn’t mean anything.

Did it?

Hannah arrived late that afternoon. He waited for her to say something about the call-out that had gone so wrong, but she kept her silence, her demeanor more subdued than ever. By the end of the evening, when she’d still said nothing, Quinn knew that could only mean one thing: she didn’t want him to know what had happened. He couldn’t press her and embarrass her more. When he urged her to go home and rest, she kissed him and left without argument.

Quinn watched the door swing shut behind her, one question filling his head—what in the bloody hell was he supposed to do?

If he asked her to quit the team and she did, she’d resent him the rest of her life. If he’d ever had any doubts about that, they were gone. Seeing the guys and hearing about their call-outs over the past few weeks had taught Quinn that lesson. Hannah wouldn’t be able to send him off to work every day and not go herself. She’d end up hating him.

He could say nothing and let Bobby fire her, but what kind of man would do that? Hannah had worked as hard as Quinn had to get where she was. If she ever learned he’d known about this and didn’t warn her, she’d leave him.

Of course, if Quinn couldn’t go back, none of this mattered one way or the other. He’d be forced to stay at home and watch her go to work every day. His only contribution would be his disability checks. Would they even be enough to support her and the children she wanted so badly? How would Hannah feel being tied to a man who couldn’t do his job? Would her love turn to pity? He had no intention of seeing that happen, but what if…

It was a lose-lose situation. An answer didn’t exist that wouldn’t hurt one of them.

An ache went through Quinn’s heart that made his physical pains feel like mere twinges. One of them had to give up the job.

The weekend came, and he still hadn’t told Hannah he was scheduled to be released. As she prepared to leave Sunday, he pulled her to him and held her close. The smell of her skin was as heady as always. For a moment, all he could think about was how to prolong the inevitable. Then he accepted the fact that he had no choice, he had to say something. He looked down at her and tried to etch the moment into his mind, telling himself the words to convince her would come to him. He’d been able to find them a thousand times in the past—why wouldn’t he find them now?