Read Online Dead But Not Forgotten by Charlaine Harris - Free Book Online Page B

out inside at the sight of his mother tormented . . . again. Images cascaded through his mind of the night years ago when she had been beaten and raped . . . the night he’d killed the men who had done that to her. He had vowed then never to allow her to come to harm again.
    â€œMom,” he said.
    Perhaps she heard a hint of surrender in his voice. Quinn didn’t know where his girlfriend and their baby were living, but he had his suspicions. He could tell Teague what he knew just to stop his mother’s anguish and then wait for an opportunity. Figuring out where Tij was and actually finding her were two different things. Speaking now would spare his mother and buy him time. He could escape somehow, kill Teague . . .
    â€œStop!” he shouted.
    His mother whipped her head up and met his gaze. Despite whatever sedatives they had given her, the fog of madness and growing dementia had cleared. Her eyes were vivid purple, almost like his own, and brightly alert. Perhaps pain had given her clarity.
    â€œNot a word, boy,” she told him. “I’ll suffer any pain to keep that baby safe. Death for me now would be victory. Don’t take that from me.”
    Quinn’s blood ran cold and he felt his heart go still. He exhaled and eased back down onto the bed, giving his chains a rest as warm blood ran from his wrists and ankles where he had strained against the metal.
    Teague saw the moment pass between them. As mother and son made peace with whatever came next, the man screamed out his own rage, so much more savage than Quinn had ever been. He knew now that he would never get what he wanted from them.
    â€œEnough!” Teague snapped. He turned on his men. “Take the bitch out of here.”
    Quinn watched him in silence. No taunts. No threats. No pleas.
    â€œYou
will
give me what I want,” Teague told him before he followed the torturers out, not waiting for a reply.
    When he was alone again, Quinn kept working at his bonds. The blood from his wounds lubricated the shackles, and he thought that might be enough to help him slip free. But then an orderly came in and turned up the flow of drugs into his IV. He thrashed, attempting to tear the needle loose, but in seconds he had drifted into darkness again.

    When he was allowed to emerge from the narcotic fog, the torturers had returned. There were no control poles this time. No nooses. Such measures were not necessary for an ordinary human, a defenseless woman.
    Like his sister, Frannie.
    Wide-eyed with terror, Frannie had fresh bruises on her face and neck. The left side of her mouth was swollen and her lip had been split. Blood trickled from a cut just above her eyebrow on the same side. They had her on her knees, these men, one with a shotgun aimed at her head and the others only waiting.
    â€œJohn?” she whispered.
    His little sister, now a grown woman, happily married and living her peaceful human life. Until now.
    Hatred seethed in Quinn’s heart. The tiger awoke.
    Teague waited nearly ten minutes before entering the room, perhaps purposely giving him that time to contemplate what came next.
    â€œYou don’t need to say a word,” Quinn told him. “Just listen. I have an idea.”

    â€œI’m sorry I got you into this,” Frannie said unhappily, staring at him with the sad eyes that had always been able to change his mind and heart.
    The thrum of the airplane’s engines created a constant white noise around them, and the pressurized air in the cabin made his ears feel as if they were about to pop. Quinn sat in his seat, shackles on his wrists. They were overkill—the men with the guns knew he wouldn’t try anything as long as his sister’s life was in peril. That was why they had brought Frannie with them in the first place.
    The private jet had eight rows with a single seat on either side of the central aisle. Quinn sat about halfway down the left side of the