Her Christmas Hero by Linda Warren

convinced.
    Enzo leaned forward. “Do you know if a bus runs by here at this hour? I’m ready for bed.”
    Quinn sighed. “I’ll see if I can get you a ride home.”
    â€œWe don’t need your help,” Ona retorted.
    â€œYes, we do.” Enzo overruled her. “It’s past my bedtime.”
    â€œYou sleep all the damn time.”
    â€œI’m ninety-two and I can damn well sleep anytime I want to, missy.”
    â€œMob connection, ha!” Quinn heard Ona say as he walked into his office, letting them argue.
    He sat at his desk and opened the Rutherford file. Britt’s number was in there, and he had to call her. If she didn’t answer, or hung up on him, he’d have to take Bonnie and Clyde home. Leaving them to their own devices at this time of night would be dangerous.
    Punching in Britt’s number, he waited. And waited. Evidently she had caller ID and wasn’t taking his calls. Damn it! She was one stubborn woman, and he knew exactly where she got if from—the fireball in his reception area.
    â€œIf you’d have bought me beer like I asked, this would have gone better.” The argument was still going on.
    â€œYou’d have been drunk on your ass,” Ona retorted.
    â€œYou’re becoming one bitchy old woman, Ona.”
    â€œOld? I’m nine years younger than you!”
    â€œThat ain’t saying much.”
    Quinn slipped into his black coat and noticed that neither Bonnie nor Clyde had a jacket. It had been fifty degrees earlier, and the temperature was dropping.
    â€œWhere are your coats?”
    â€œDon’t need one,” Ona replied.
    â€œForgot them at my place,” Enzo replied. “Ona has a head like a rock.”
    â€œShut up, Enzo.”
    Slowly, they made their way to the elevator. Quinn decided that Enzo really needed a cane, and he wondered if they’d forgotten that, too. He made them wait in front of the building while he went to the parking area to get his car. Enzo couldn’t walk any farther, and Quinn wanted to get them out of the weather as soon as possible.
    When he pulled up to the curb, both of them were shivering. He just shook his head and helped them into hisMercedes, which was nice and warm. Before he drove two blocks, Enzo was asleep, snoring.
    Quinn had to wake him at his assisted living facility. With his and Ona’s help, Enzo made it to his room. The place had a distinct smell and it wasn’t pleasant. A sad fact of life. At least Enzo was able to get around and go on crazy missions with Ona. Dim lights lit the hallway and the sound of coughing could be heard, but otherwise everything was quiet.
    Inside, Enzo said, “I missed my supper.”
    â€œI’ll fix you something,” Ona offered, and hurried to the com pact refrigerator in a corner. Enzo sank onto the twin bed and was instantly asleep again.
    â€œHe’s out,” Quinn said to Ona.
    She closed the refrigerator and came over to Enzo. Lifting his feet onto the bed, she removed his worn tennis shoes, jerked a quilt from a recliner and covered him. She kissed his forehead. “’Night, Enzo. I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t worry, we’ll think of something else.”
    Back in the car, Quinn asked Ona, “You didn’t mean that, did you?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œAbout somethin’ else.”
    She pulled the wool coat she’d retrieved from Enzo’s room tighter around her. “I’m not going to rest until Dillon is with his mother again.”
    â€œGive the court some time to work.”
    â€œHarrumph.”
    â€œI’m not trying to hurt your granddaughter.”
    â€œCoulda fooled me.”
    â€œTry having a little faith and trust.”
    She turned slightly in the darkness of the car and he felt those razor sharp eyes slicing into him. “I stopped believing and trusting the day my son was killed in Vietnam.”
    â€œI’m