Quentin: Stone Security Volume Two, #4

By Glenna Sinclair

This is the fourth book of Stone Security Volume Two and contains over 50,000 words of romantic suspense.

They foreclosed on his family's ranch while he was away fighting a war on terror. He brought the fight home with him, turning the life of the man who served the papers, the man who broke promises and stole from his family, upside down. He promised he'd take everything away from this bank manager, and he was very close to fulfilling that promise. But then she walked into his life and turned it upside down. Can Quentin Forrester save his family from the shame and poverty that losing their livelihood dropped on them with a distraction as complete as Malaika Gray? Can he be cynical and still feel hope? Can he save them both from a shared enemy?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glenna Sinclair
• Release date: Nov 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9798224770984

Glenna Sinclair

Experience the heart-racing novels of Glenna Sinclair, the master of romantic suspense. Sinclair's books feature strong male protagonists, many with a military background, who face real-world challenges that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Books2read.com/GlennaSinclair Facebook.com/AuthorGlennaSinclair GlennaSinclairAuthor at Gmail dot com

Book preview

Prologue

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A Year Ago...

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I stepped off the plane, anticipation burning in my chest. It’d been nine months since I’d been home, nine months of living in the dust and the dirt of the desert with my unit. I was looking forward to taking a proper shower, sleeping in my own bed, and eating my mother’s amazing potato salad with my father’s grilled steaks, steaks butchered from cows he raised himself.

Home. There was nothing like it.

I should have known something was wrong the moment I saw my father’s long, haggard face. But all I saw was familiarity. Love. Home.

I was home.

Son, my father sighed as he drew me into his arms. He held me tight, a thing that would have been embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that it’d been so long since he’d held me this way that I was okay with it. More than okay. I was ecstatic.

People around us were staring, some applauding, some muttering dark words under their breath just loud enough for me to hear. In a world where respect for the military had become the exception rather than the rule, it was nothing new. But it all bounced off my shoulders. I was a proud Marine just like my father and my grandfather before me. I’d served my country to the best of my ability, and now I was home to help my father run the family ranch.

It was all I’d ever wanted to do.

How’s Mom? I asked when we were finally able to drag ourselves away from that intense hug.

Good, my father said, his eyes moving over my face, my uniform. There was pride in his eyes. You did well, boy. He slapped my arm. And now you have the whole future ahead of you.

I shrugged. Just looking forward to going home.

His eyes dropped, the haggardness about his face becoming more pronounced. We should get your gear and get out of here.

That’s what we did, waiting by the luggage carousel like everyone else. Then out to the truck, that old familiar truck with rust forming around the scratches that hard work had put in the paint, and around the dents that my brother and I had managed to put into it on wild nights mudding on the ranch. I patted the frame, smiling as I climbed into the passenger seat over the familiar layers of duct tape that hid rips in the upholstery.

Home.

My father climbed behind the wheel and started her up, the engine purring like it probably had the day it came off the assembly line. We took off, navigating the busy highway in Tucson before getting out onto the open road that would take us to Ellaville and the Q Ball Ranch.

Transmission seems to be working well.

I overhauled it this past spring.

Yeah? What’s that? The third time?

No point replacing the old girl until we can’t fix her at all.

True.

That was my father’s opinion on everything: work it until you can’t work it anymore. Then fix it, and keep working it. I couldn’t remember a time when we ever had a new vehicle, a new appliance, or a new piece of ranch equipment. It was a source of great frustration to my mother, who’d had to wash the clothes by hand more than a few times when her old washing machine broke down and father didn’t have time to work on it. But, I supposed, it was a good policy as far as finances went.

I sat up a little straighter when, a little over an hour later, the front gate of the ranch came into view. Father slowed down, the truck moving into a perfect stop on the asphalt under her relatively new tires. I hopped out to open the gate, my eyes caught by a bright yellow sign that was new and unfamiliar.

Foreclosure, it read. Property to be auctioned off April 22.

What this? I demanded of my father, waving my hand at the sign. This is some sort of mistake, right?

If a man’s face could fall, my father’s did in that moment. It crumpled like the side of a mountain just before an avalanche.

It’s no mistake, boy. We’ve lost the ranch.

Shock was like an electrical pulse rushing through me, over and over again. Almost painful. Numbing.

We sat around the kitchen table an hour later, everyone staring morosely into cups of hot coffee.

I don’t understand, I finally said, the story my father had just told me swirling around in my head. I looked first at my father, then my mother, her blue eyes rimmed in red. You’ve always done this. You’ve always had a deal with Mr. Truesdale that you’d make up the late payments after the cows went to market in the spring. We’re just...what? Three weeks from market?

He doesn’t care, Mother declared. Those Guardians—

Lesley!

My father’s warning only made me more curious. What Guardians?

My father shook his head. It’s nothing. The church has raised this little militant group to rid the town of a certain criminal element.

Criminal element?

You know that gang that was causing so much trouble in the southern part of town? he asked. They ran them out, forced them out of town. Things have been much nicer over there since.

That’s good.

Mother shook her head. But they didn’t stop there. They’re coming after good people now, people like us who have trouble paying their bills. Some think they’re collecting property, planning to use it to build some sort of religious paradise...

That’s a bunch of nonsense, Father said. They’re just trying to make things better for the town. Safer. He sighed, his hands sliding over the edges of his coffee mug. Things were getting bad there for a while. That gang...it was almost impossible to drive through the south side of town at night there for a while. They’d harass passing cars, throw bottles at them. And sell drugs. The Johnson boy? He overdosed over Christmas break. It’s a miracle they found him in time.

But...what does that have to do with you? With the deal you had with Truesdale?

He’s a member of the church, Mother said, bitterness dripping like rain from her words.

That doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with it.

I sat back, studying the two of them. Can he do that? Just foreclose like that?

The contract we signed when we took out the mortgage says that he can.

But you’ve always caught up after the cows went to market. He knows that! He knows you!

Father shook his head, such a look of defeat on his face that it broke my heart. Literally.

I couldn’t wrap my head around this.

I stood up, buried my hands in the front pockets of my fatigues. I could feel Mother’s eyes on me, but Father just continued to stare into his coffee mug.

Have you talked to him? Explained things?

Of course.

I have some money put away. What if I paid the missing payments? Would that make things better?

It’s too late, Quentin. What’s done is done.

But what are you going to do?

They were quiet for a long moment. Then Father sighed.

We’ve put a deposit on an apartment in Yuma. I figure...that’s probably the best place for us to go right now as far as finding jobs.

What about Quaid?

He’ll finish high school there. After that, it’s up to him.

It wasn’t right. This fire was burning in my stomach, fueled by the unfairness of the entire situation.

For thirty years, my father had run this ranch. Before that, his father had run it. It was supposed to be mine one day, my future, my children’s legacy. It was supposed to be one of those things that was handed down through the generations until the end of time. At least, that’s how I saw it. For this to happen...

My father had taken out a mortgage on the place fifteen years ago, when my mother had complications while pregnant with my little brother. They didn’t plan to have more kids after me because my mother struggled with me, too, but accidents happen. And her diabetes caused her kidneys to shut down halfway through the pregnancy. She and Quaid both nearly died. The hospital bills were overwhelming, and he had no choice. But he always made the payments on time with the exception of the late winter months when things grew tight, what with the cost of supplemental feedings for the animals and the toll of cold-related illnesses that often hit the herd. It wasn’t unusual. Most ranchers struggled in the winter. But he always made it up in the summer after the cows went to market. And Truesdale had always been understanding.

I didn’t understand what had changed. It didn’t seem right.

I took a horse out later that evening, needing the space to work it all out in my head. No matter how fast I rode, no matter how hard I pushed that horse, however, I couldn’t reconcile all this in my head. The land I had once walked for hours, filled with pride that this was mine, that one day I would take this place and turn it into something even greater than it was, was no longer mine. I’d made all these plans—that was what had gotten me through the darker days of my service! Most guys had girls waiting for them at home. I had the ranch.

And now it was gone.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I drove into town early the next morning and withdrew ten thousand dollars from the account at the local bank where the Marines had deposited most of my checks. Then I marched across the lobby to Truesdale’s office.

He was a tall man, dressed in a moderately-priced suit that fit his narrow shoulders and waist a little awkwardly. But for a small town, he was the height of sophistication. That, combined with the dark hair with white shooting through it at his temples, gave him a distinguished look that intimidated some of his clients here, I was sure. But it didn’t intimidate me. I’d bested enlisted men who were bigger and stronger than he’d ever be.

Quentin, he said politely, getting up from behind his desk to shake my hand. I heard you were back. Thank you for your service, son.

I inclined my head to acknowledge his words.

I think I know why you’re here, son, Truesdale continued. You want to discuss the mortgage on the Q Ball Ranch.

I do.

I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.

I narrowed my eyes as I studied him. We can’t discuss it?

There’s no point. The paperwork has been processed.

What if I paid the past due amounts?

That option became null and void over a month ago, son.

But I was overseas. My parents didn’t tell me what was happening until yesterday.

Truesdale shrugged those thin shoulders. Sorry, son.

Anger burned deep in my stomach, turning my vision red. For a brief moment, I forgot where I was.

I grabbed him by the throat and shoved him backward, slamming him up against the wall. His office was in the back, hidden by a short hallway. No one could see us. If I broke his neck, no one would know until they came walking back here.

I was tempted.

You made the same deal with my father every spring for fifteen years! What’s different about this year?

Truesdale’s face was turning red. You can’t do this, he mumbled.

I can do this, and I will do this. What the fuck changed?

Truesdale shook his head, his hand tearing and tugging at my hand. I slid it down just slightly, still holding him pinned, but giving him his air again so that he could answer my questions.

Why did you go back on your word?

My face was barely an inch from his, my eyes boring into his. He kept looking around me, hoping for someone to come save him, but no one was coming. I jerked my hand, shoving him hard against the wall again.

Answer me!

The Guardians, he cried. They want the property!

Why?

I don’t know! I swear!

My father was your friend. My hand slipped back up to his throat. You had drinks with him at the local bar! We invited you to our home, fed you at our table! How could you do this to him?

He shook his head, his face turning red again, his lips puckering as he fought to get air.

I could have killed him. I wanted to kill him. For a long moment, I stared into his eyes, all the anger, the frustration, and the disappointment rushing through me like a dam giving way after a storm. I actually tightened my hold on his throat, watched the panic build in his eyes.

And then I imagined the look on my mother’s face when the police came to arrest me for murder.

I couldn’t make things worse for my parents.

I let go of his throat and slammed my fist into his stomach.

One day you’ll lose everything that ever mattered to you, I hissed near his ear, and then you might have just the slightest idea, the smallest inkling, of the pain you’ve visited on my family. One day you’ll wake up and find everything gone: your wife, your daughter, your fancy house out there on Post Road...all gone. And you’ll know it was because of me.

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I stood in the middle of the back pasture, a handful of dirt in my hand. My father came up beside me, dressed in the same worn jeans and heavy work boots that he’d always worn, but that somehow looked odd on him on this day.

Everything’s loaded in the truck.

I watched the dirt slowly filter through my fingers.

Are you sure you won’t come with us, Quentin?

I nodded. I have business to settle here.

He laid his hand heavily on my shoulder. Don’t do anything you can’t take back, son.

I glanced at him. I’m going to make this right. I promise.

Father shook his head. There is no making this right. What’s done is done. We have to accept that and get on with our lives.

But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t just sit back and watch it all disappear and not do something.

I love you, son, Father said, slapping my shoulder before turning away. We’re still a family, still together, still all relatively healthy. That’s a win in my book.

He walked away, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders.

I couldn’t imagine how he could be so okay with this. The more time passed, the more accepting he seemed to be. The more time passed, the angrier I was.

I was going to make this right no matter what that required.

This was war.

Chapter 1

She moved her hips hard up against mine, moans slipping from