CHAPTER ELEVEN
Russel bit back the angry reply directed at Rigs as the man walked across the kitchen then slipped out the door. While Russel realized his buddy was only stating the obvious—Russel wanted some fucking answers, too—Rigs’ tone could have been better. The one that said he clearly didn’t trust Quinn. Though, Rigs didn’t seem to trust anyone, lately.
Quinn stiffened beside him, glancing at the closed door then back to her plate. She hadn’t really eaten anything, just moved the pieces around. Of course, eating when your stomach was tied in knots wasn’t easy. And there was no doubt in Russel’s mind she was scared.
Not about who was after her. That was a tangible fear—one she’d obviously been dealing with for some time. It was talking to them that had her skin blanched white, her breathing shallow—as if she was planning on running at any second. Providing these “answers” Rigs had mentioned had sent her from nervous to freaked out in record time.
Russel eased his arm forward, laying it across her shoulder with his hand resting on her arm. He gave her a squeeze, smiling when she looked at him. Damn, all that beautiful green looked as if it had been swallowed by the enormous whites—the same color as her skin. She looked on the verge of passing out.
The medic in him kicked in. He lifted her coffee and held it out to her. “Drink.”
She blinked a few times, frowning before finally taking the cup and putting it to her lips. He tried to ignore the way her tongue darted forward to test the temperature before she took a small sip. It seemed silly to be jealous of coffee, but damn, he was. Wishing she was putting her lips on him like that. Tasting him.
She’d gone down on him in the shower. Had knelt amidst the spray and worshipped his dick until he’d come across her chest. Long ropy white strands splashed against her skin—some dripping from her mouth. God, it had driven him wild. He’d been pretty unrelenting after that. Taking her against the shower wall once he’d regained enough blood. Then spending the better part of an hour licking her to the brink before easing off. She’d finally come hard—he had tiny scratches at the base of his neck from where she’d dug in her fingers as she’d unraveled around his tongue—and he’d taken her one last time.
She’d passed out on her next orgasm, lying limp beneath him as he’d emptied inside her one more time. They’d forgone condoms. He’d only had the one, and when he’d offered to ransack Rigs’ place to find more, she’d calmly stated she was on birth control and was clean—got tested at her yearly physical. That she’d never gone without and hadn’t had a lover in over a year.
She’d said more, but Russel hadn’t heard anything after it had clicked in that he could go bareback. Bare-fucking-back. His skin against hers, her juice hot and slick against his dick. God, he almost hadn’t waited until she’d stopped talking before driving into her. He’d never gone without and just imagining how it would feel…
It had been even better, but now wasn’t the time to be reliving their night. Now, was the time for action. The kind that had been beaten into him. There was a threat—a nasty one aimed at the woman sitting next to him. The one he was pretty damn sure he wanted to spend the next fifty years getting to know. The one looking at him as if talking about the men who were after her was scarier than facing them alone.
But she was going to have to talk because Russel wasn’t letting them get to her. It didn’t matter why they were after her, how many were coming. He just needed enough intel to know what steps to take. How to keep her alive. She could be a criminal mastermind on the run, and he’d still feel the same. Still itch to touch her. To have her lean on him. He was strong. He could shoulder her weight. Be her foundation. He knew she wasn’t helpless, but this was his area of expertise. He’d trained for it. Lived it. She was going to have to trust him.
And his team. No way he was facing this alone. He could. Over half of his missions had been solo. One guy sent in to retrieve a downed soldier. But Russel wasn’t stupid, and taking on unknown forces, alone, to prove his manhood was beyond stupid. He didn’t go into battle without his team, and this was war. He wasn’t sure what kind, yet, but he’d use every resource he had. And that meant having the guys from Brotherhood Protectors at his side.
He picked up a piece of bagel and held it out to her. “You need to eat something before you pass out on me. And not the good kind of passing out, like last night.”
Her eyes widened as a pretty pink blush rose along her cheeks then down her neck to settle on the upper swell of her breasts. He remembered tasting those breasts. Tugging on the tight, hard nipples. Licking the soft underside around to where it disappeared under her arm. The woman was pure desire.
Quinn recovered then leaned forward enough to take a small bite. Not as much as he would have liked but at least it was something. He nodded, waited until she’d swallowed then offered it, again. She gave him a raise of one eyebrow but took another bite, this one a bit larger than the last.
He grunted, put down the bagel then picked up the coffee, again. Quinn shook her head but accepted it, relaxing a bit as she drank. A bit of color returned to her face as the blush faded.
Good. She didn’t look about to fall out of the chair, which meant it was time to talk. He knew she’d fight him. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to get anyone else involved. Didn’t want to endanger others. But, he wasn’t easily to kill, and danger was his territory.
He also suspected that the fact it involved her family complicated things. He knew all about dysfunctional families. Had been raised in one then escaped because his mother had mustered the courage to leave. To give him a life beyond violence. But he also knew that, despite how terrible families could be, they were still blood. And turning your back on that wasn’t always easy. There was an invisible bond that made it hard to break free.
He waited until she’d downed half the coffee before reaching for her hand. It was so damn small compared to his. Pale and soft and delicate. He could break it simply by squeezing his fingers around hers. He wouldn’t, but it made him realize how vulnerable she was. She was a fighter, no question, but she wasn’t equipped to face armed men. That had been obvious in the alleyway. The stunned look on her face, the enormously wide eyes. She’d been in a state of shock, which meant she hadn’t faced that form of violence before.
But he had. For fifteen years, and he’d face it, again. For her. He’d do just about anything for her.
Russel smiled. “Better?”
She sighed, her breath fluttering some stray wisps of hair around her face. They settled next to her chin—a glint of red in the morning light. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think your buddy, Rigs, likes me.”
“Actually, it’s quite the opposite. He wouldn’t be this…intense if he didn’t already feel a pull towards you. He’s just a bit lacking in social graces, right now. It’s been hard for him. It’s much easier for him to deal with the physical side of a situation. You’re in danger. He can deal with that. It’s tangible. Emotions…” Russel shook his head. “I get the feeling Rigs is avoiding those at all cost.”
Quinn glanced at the door, again. “If that’s him caring, I’m not sure I want to see what he does if he’s passionate about a person.”
“He’d probably start blowing shit up. But he’s right. We do need answers, and you’re the only one who can provide them.”
The color faded, again. Shit. She wet her lips then pulled free of his hold, standing and walking over to the counter. She put her back to it, allowing the edge to brace some of her weight.
She looked over at him, and his damn chest did that hard thump. The kind that left an ache right in the center. “It’s not that simple. Not to mention the fact that you might not like what you hear.”
He stood and made his way over to her. He wanted to touch her. Hold her close and reassure her that it didn’t matter. That he wasn’t a quitter, and nothing she said was going to sway him. Because he was a damn good judge of character, and he knew she wasn’t evil. That whatever trouble she was in was the by-product of loyalties to her family.
Instead, he fisted his hands to keep them glued to his side. “It doesn’t matter if I’ll like it or not. I can’t keep you safe if I don’t know what I’m up against. You knew those men last night. Now, I need to know why they’re after you. Why they were there to kill you, because if you think for one second that wasn’t their objective…”
She groaned, spearing her fingers through her hair. “I know why they were there. It’s just… How can I tell you everything and not betray him? Despite everything, he was always there for me. Protected me. I can’t just turn my back on that. I know I should. That it’s morally right. That I’m basically as guilty as he is simply by remaining quiet. But…”
Tears welled in her eyes, and he ignored the voice in his head. The one that told him he was in PJ mode. That this was a mission, and missions didn’t have time for feelings. For comfort. They were all about getting the job done. He needed answers, and she had them. Simple. So, holding her, stroking her hair, whispering it was going to be okay, wasn’t part of his line of thinking.
Except, the side of him she’d awakened. The man he wanted to be for her—had seeped through. And that guy couldn’t stand there, watching her tears slowly fall to the floor. That man needed to take away her pain. Even if it was only temporary.
Quinn rested her head against his chest, drawing in a series of choppy breaths. “This isn’t like me. I never break down.”
He chuckled. “Then, that makes two of us. I usually don’t cave when I want answers.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s—”
“Complicated.”
She smiled against his shirt, a watery laugh breaking free. “Yeah.”
“Then, we’ll take our time. Work through it. You’re not on trial, here, Quinn. I’m not going to crucify you because you’re having a hard time betraying your family. We can start off with the easy stuff.” He pulled back, staring down at her. “Okay?”
Her chin quivered, and a few more tears leaked out, but she nodded, wrapping her arms around her when he stepped back. Released her.
He motioned to the table, and she walked back over, pretty much falling into the seat. She looked tired. Beaten. And he had to fight the urge to pick her up and take her to bed. Love the sadness out of her eyes.
The door opened, and Rigs shuffled in, eyes wary, mouth pinched tight. Russel noticed the man didn’t shield his scars from her, facing them both straight on. Russel made a mental note to ask Quinn about it, later, then took a step forward.
He looked pointedly at Quinn. “You ready?”
A shiver shook through her, but she nodded, again. He gave her a reassuring smile then removed the burner cell he’d picked up in town, punching in Hank’s number. The guy answered on the first ring.
“Ice. Update. And why the fuck didn’t you call me last night?”
“Hey, Montana. We’re fine. Thanks. And I didn’t call because it was late, and you have a family. Besides, I had it all under control.”
“You get jumped outside a bar by armed men—men you sent to hospital—but it’s nothing I should be concerned about? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“You know, Midnight needs to keep his damn mouth shut.”
“Midnight didn’t tell me shit. I heard it come over the scanner. I’ve been…keeping tabs since you’ve been there. And, when I heard three men were found, unconscious with knife wounds behind that bar you’d been staking out, it wasn’t hard to put it all together. I know how good you are with a knife.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice. They started firing, and—”
“I’m just glad you and your friend are okay. Though, I hope this means we’re about to get some concrete answers, because I hate going into an op blind. And, right now, I can’t see a damn thing.”
“That’s why I’m calling. Hey, can you get Midnight in on this? And Bridgette? We could definitely use her expertise in this.”
“Give me a second.”
The line clicked, was silent for a few minutes, before a small burst of static crackled through, followed by a few voices. Russel moved back to the table, placing the phone in the middle. He put it on speaker.
Hank breathed over the line. “Okay, you’re on speaker. First, some introductions. Quinn, I’m Hank Patterson, also known as Montana. I’m not sure if Ice mentioned anything, but I head up Brotherhood Protectors. It’s a security company made up of ex-veterans. Ice had just joined up, but it seems he got one hell of a first assignment all by himself. I’ve got Axel Swenson or Swede here with me, and I’ve patched in Sam Montgomery, aka Midnight, and his fiancé Bridgette Hayward. She’s a lawyer. They’re at her clinic, but they’re alone. Ice is using a burner cell, and I routed this through a few VPN servers, so… We should be secure.”
Russel nodded at her then addressed the crowd. “Great. Sam, Bridg? Can you hear me okay?”
“Loud and clear, buddy.”
Russel glanced at Quinn, ignoring the sheer panic on her face. This was obviously far more than she’d bargained for. He nodded. “Okay, I’ve got you on speaker, too. Rigs is here with Quinn and me. This is all a bit overwhelming for her, so I thought we’d start off simple. Get some basic intel and go from there.”
A series of “yeahs” sounded over the cell, then silence. They were waiting for him to take lead. Rigs didn’t sit, electing to stay over by the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his face somewhere between a scowl and a grimace.
Russel took a deep breath. This was it. Go time. Only, it didn’t feel like it usually did. His stomach was in knots, and a cold sweat had broken across his skin. Whether it was Quinn’s fear transferring over to him, or just his own—that she’d refuse to talk to them. Find a way to run—he wasn’t sure. But he didn’t like it. Hated it, in fact. Nothing got to him. Nothing. Except her.
“Like I said. We’ll start off easy. You told me earlier that your family is dangerous, and the word criminal has come up a few times, though I don’t know what you mean by that. Then, last night, those men showed up—men you knew—armed and out for blood. We need to know why they were after you.”
She swallowed. Hard. As if it was the most difficult thing she’d ever done. Her hands twisted on top of the table, and her feet scuffed at the floor beneath the seat.
He put his large hand over hers. “I know this isn’t easy. That you don’t want to betray your family, but we can’t help you, sweetheart, if we don’t know what we’re fighting. I can dodge attempts on your life until we’re old and gray, but that won’t eliminate the threat. And that’s what I do. What we all do. We eliminate threats. So, take a deep breath, and start wherever you think is best.”
Quinn stared at him, all pouty pink lips and big green eyes. She didn’t speak for the longest time, just keep looking at him as if she was searching for something. She must have found it because she finally released a weary breath and broke eye contact, staring at his hand covering hers. “My family is…different.”
“How so?” Hank’s voice echoed through the room.
She glanced at the phone. “I’m not sure I even know how to answer that. It’s so far from the norm, it’s absurd. To put it bluntly, they’re criminals. My father is head of a multimillion dollar company. He’s respected. Envied. Revered, even. But it’s all a lie. A front for one of the largest criminal organizations on the west coast.”
“What kind of activities?” It was Bridgette. Always thinking about the lawyer side of things.
Quinn closed in on herself. Right there, just hunched her shoulders as if trying to shield herself from the fallout she obviously thought was coming her way. “You name it, they do it. Everything from drugs to weapons to simple stolen goods. Except human trafficking. I wasn’t able to find any evidence of that. A small mercy, I guess, in a shitload of horrible things. But it’s also a front for money laundering. From an even bigger syndicate operating out of LA. They run millions of dollars through the company every week—make it impossible for the government to track. I think that’s become the bulk of the business. It’s the part my father’s in charge of. He doesn’t let anyone else touch the laundering aspects. But the other stuff. The drugs and weapons. That’s controlled by his associate.”
“You mean Thomas.” Russel hedged his bet. “That was the guy’s name you said last night. The one you were afraid of.”
“Yeah. Thomas Carlson. He’s…evil. As in Satan, himself.” She stood and paced away from the table. “This is crazy. Once I tell you this, you’ll all be at risk. You can’t even begin to imagine the resources Thomas has at his disposal. The money. The men. It’s virtually endless. The best course of action is for me to just disappear. Alone. They won’t know you’re involved. Well, maybe you, Russel, but they might not know your name, yet. Please, I’ll just leave. I know how to disappear. I won’t be the reason you all get killed.”
A chorus of sighs.
“Ice, man, please explain to the lady how we operate.” It was Midnight.
Russel walked over to her, taking her hands in his. “What the rest of the team is trying to say is… We’re already involved. And we’re not backing down. We don’t care about the odds. About his endless resources, and his petty gang thugs. This is about more than just your safety. If the guy’s hurting people, we want his ass in jail. So, no, Quinn. You’re not running off, alone, and you’re not putting us at risk. We’re choosing to fight.”
He raised one hand to tuck some unruly strands of hair behind her ear, smiling at her slightly opened mouth and wide eyes. “Take your time. Get it all straight, then tell us what this bastard is guilty of, and how we can help you. Which means, you need to come clean.”
He took a deep breath, held it, then slowly let it go. “And that starts by you telling us your real name. Because Quinn Scott didn’t exist prior to ten years ago. And I’ll bet my ass, that’s where this story really begins.”