Free Her Christmas Hero by Linda Warren Page A

spend the weekend on her dad’s houseboat on Lake Austin. He wanted to make sure Sunday went smoothly for Britt, so he refused to join Deidre, using work as an excuse, even though it ticked her off. But it wasn’t really an excuse. He had to get all his ducks in a row for his meeting with the D.A. in the Bailey case. For every argument he wanted to have a counterargument.
    A shuffling sound interrupted his thoughts. All his employees had gone for the day and it was too early for the cleaning crew. He heard muffled voices. Clearly, someone was in the outer office. Getting up, he walked around his desk to the door. He paused as he saw two elderly people, a man and a woman. Evidently they were lost.
    â€œAre you sure this is it, Ona?” the man asked. He was tall, thin, stooped over and was completely bald. The woman was just the opposite, short and round with gray permed hair, support hose and a large purse on one arm. Their backs were to him.
    Quinn stepped forward. “May I help you?”
    The woman swung around, the man more slowly. Quinn froze. In the man’s hand was a gun. And it was pointed at Quinn.
    â€œWhat the…”
    â€œAre you Quentin Ross?” the woman asked in a direct, no-nonsense voice.
    Quinn stared at the gun. It looked big, old and heavy, and he could swear it had rust on it.
    â€œWhat are you doing in here and what are you doing with that gun?”
    â€œNow listen here, mister.” The woman moved closer, her brown eyes narrowed on him. “I’ll ask the questions, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll answer them.”
    Had they escaped from a home or something? An asylum maybe? This was bizarre.
    â€œAre you Quentin Ross?” the woman asked again, her voice angry now.
    Despite the gun, the two looked fairly harmless. Maybe they just needed a lawyer. “Yes. I’m Quentin Ross.”
    â€œFigured you’d be some slick sonobitch.” She flicked a glance over his suit, white shirt and tie as if she was looking at dog poop.
    â€œWhat?” He was taken aback by the vicious words.
    â€œListen up. You’re gonna do exactly what we tell you or Enzo’s gonna shoot you.”
    Quinn’s body tightened. He wasn’t afraid, just getting more annoyed by the minute. “What would that be?”
    â€œGive Britt back her baby—tonight.”
    Britt.
    Then it dawned on him. The infamous grandmother.
    â€œI don’t have Britt’s baby. He’s with his father.”
    â€œBut you made it happen. Now make it unhappen.”
    â€œMa’am…” He took a step toward her, hoping to make her understand.
    She moved back. “Don’t come a step closer or Enzo will shoot.”
    At that precise moment they heard a snore, and both of them glanced at Enzo. Standing there, he’d fallen asleep, his chin on his chest, the gun still in his hand.
    â€œEnzo!” the woman shouted.
    He blinked and looked around. “Did we find him?”
    â€œYou idiot.” She jerked the ancient gun from his hand. “I thought I could depend on you.”
    â€œYou can, Ona, but I’m tired after walking up all those stairs.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you take the elevator?” Quinn asked.
    â€œBecause we didn’t want anyone to see us, that’s why, hotshot.” The woman waved the gun at him. “Now are you going to do what we want?”
    Enzo appeared shaky, and Quinn grabbed his arm before he collapsed. “Here.” He pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”
    â€œBless you, son. That’s mighty nice.”
    â€œHe’s not nice, Enzo,” Ona yelled. “He’s the lawyer who took Britt’s baby.”
    â€œYou sonobitch. You shouldn’t have done that. Now we’re gonna have to hurt you,” her companion stated.
    The man couldn’t hurt a cockroach. But Quinn wasn’t so sure about Ona.
    â€œEnzo, you’re looking a little