away to the west. “Quinn?” Nate asked. “Still there?” “I’ll... call you back.” Quinn disconnected the call. For the next ten minutes, he didn’t move.
CHAPTER
SAN FRANCISCO BAY ROSE ON BOTH SIDES OF THE
plane. For a moment, it seemed as if they were going to land on the water. Then all at once there was runway beneath them.
After the phone call with Nate, Quinn forgot about his planned return to Los Angeles. Orlando had lost her aunt. With the exception of her son Garrett, her aunt had been the only close member of her family left. Quinn needed to be there for her.
It wasn’t until he and Tasha were in the air heading west that he remembered there was someone else he could pay a visit to while he was in town. Jorge Albina, the son of a bitch who hired him to get rid of Markoff ’s body, was based out of San Francisco.
At the airport, Quinn rented a sedan, and soon he and Tasha were driving north into the city.
“After we check into the hotel, maybe you can get a little rest,” he said.
“Sure,” she replied, sounding like she needed it.
Using one of his aliases, Quinn had reserved two adjoining rooms at the Marriott on Fourth Street before they left D.C. Quinn had stayed there before, and knew the hotel was always packed with guests attending conferences and conventions at the nearby Moscone Center.
It was the perfect blend of comfort and size, providing them whatever they might need, including anonymity.
When they pulled up out front, he told the valet to keep the car close as he would be leaving soon.
Tasha shot him a questioning look.
“I have something to do,” he told her. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes. He smiled and put a reassuring hand on her arm. “You’ll be fine. No one knows you’re here.”
“I don’t want to be alone. Maybe I should go with you.”
“You won’t be alone. Someone will be in my room next door.”
She pulled away. “Who?”
“A friend.”
She looked at him, obviously not pleased. But she said, “Okay. I trust you.”
Once inside, they bypassed the reception desk and made their way directly to the elevators. There were two choices: High Rise or Mid Rise.
Quinn pulled out his phone and punched in a speed-dial number.
“We’re here,” he said.
“Rooms twenty-seven-forty-six and -forty-seven,” Nate said.
It didn’t take Tasha long to fall asleep. Quinn had introduced her to Nate, then showed her that their rooms were connected on the inside. He could tell she still wasn’t happy with the situation, but she didn’t say anything more.
Once Quinn was sure she was out, he closed the door between the rooms so she’d have some privacy.
“Suit?” he asked Nate.
“In the closet.”
Quinn found a garment bag hanging inside. He removed a black suit and started to change.
“Protection?” Quinn asked.
“One for each of us. In there,” Nate said, nodding toward the suitcase at the end of one of the beds.
Inside would be a replacement for the SIG Quinn had had to leave in D.C. and a Glock for his apprentice.
“Do you want it?” Nate asked.
Quinn thought for a second, then shook his head. Though Orlando probably wouldn’t be upset if he was armed, it seemed wrong to go to her aunt’s funeral with a gun. “When I get back. I should be all right for now.”
“I feel bad that I can’t go,” Nate said.
Quinn gave him a half smile. “She’ll understand.”
“You’ll tell her I’m sorry, right?”
“I’ll tell her.”
They fell into silence as Quinn continued dressing.
As he was tying his tie, Nate looked toward the adjacent room. “What if your friend wakes up?”
“Get her something to eat. Let her watch TV. But don’t let her leave.”
