Free Breath of Dawn, The by Kristen Heitzmann Page A

second-string players, giving cyber support as needed.
    Nothing international or encompassing enough that he’d have to leave Livie. In addition he’d written the books. Turning in the last one had felt like an abdication, a transfer of power. Or was it simply a cop-out? How many would take what was on the pages and actualize it?
    His team called the books advertising. Even an instruction manual like the newest couldn’t infuse that something God had wired into him. He was no Steve Jobs, but in his little piece of the universe he seemed to be unique.
    And Denise had a point. It was what he did—in the life when any of that mattered. Still, her insistence grated. That on top of Consuela’s threatened defection suggested wholesale mutiny. And he hadn’t seen it coming. As he hadn’t anticipated Quinn’s impact. With creeping incrementalism, she’d invaded not only his thoughts and feelings, but now his environment.
    “Daddy. Eat a fishy.” Livie climbed onto the couch with him.
    He accepted the goldfish cracker Livie raised to his lips and thanked her. Lowering her sippy cup, she gave him a milky kiss. He pulled her in for a hug, certain she could sense his unease. Would it kill him to accept one request, make one physical foray into the field?
    He looked at the locket lying on the table, recalled the fun of finding it. What Quinn researched was public domain. She’d done nothing anyone else couldn’t. So why did it feel personal, as if she’d made an assault and occupied him? Heat rushed through his skin as nerves or blood vessels pulsed.
    “Daddy.” Livie gripped his chin and turned his face.
    “What, honey?”
    “That a mad face, Daddy.”
    “Is it? What should we do about that?”
    “Make it happy.” She pressed her finger into the side of his mouth, stretching his lips.
    He held the smile in place. “Is that better?”
    She flashed her chipmunk smile.
    He kissed her soft dark hair, a downy cloud of curls around her head, not unlike Quinn’s in toddler form. “Eat your blueberries.”
    Instead she plucked one cracker-dusted berry through the spill-proof lid of the snack dish and fed it to him.
    “Mmm. Yummy.”
    Livie popped one into her mouth and chewed vigorously. He couldn’t bear to think of leaving her for any amount of time, but maybe he owed her just that. He reached for the laptop andresponded to Denise. You’re not going anywhere. Choose ONE project and set it up.
    He didn’t imagine her doing a Snoopy dance. More like rolling her eyes and thinking, About time, loser. He shut down the laptop and snuggled his little girl, hoping he’d taken one healthy step in the right direction.

    Quinn left Morgan’s, feeling chastised by the high-powered professional. Good intentions she had, but good judgment? Not lately—as Hannah’s phone call reminded her. “He’s getting out and you’ll pay.”
    She had pushed that call out of her mind, but this scuffle with Morgan brought home how things could turn on a dime. She thought she’d found a good place to be, an innocuous occupation, some potential friends. A man . . .
    She sighed. Not even dreams put her and Morgan in any real-life involvement, but having no illusions didn’t mean he hadn’t impacted her. He and his precious child. Why couldn’t she get them out of her head?
    After pulling up the garage door in the steel barn, she parked inside, got out, and looked around, disheartened at the thought of losing her merchandise. She couldn’t take much if she had to leave, nothing if she had to run. She didn’t think Markham could find her. She used a store name for her business, so even if someone told him what she did, he wouldn’t recognize it as hers. Her mother knew she’d bought a house, but Quinn hadn’t told her where. She had sent no cards or letters, had no landline phone with a number in any directory. It should be okay.
    She chose a DVD that had no chance of having a romantic thread and stepped outside. Her breath made a