CHAPTER TWO
Harlequin Scott, or Quinn, as she was known, now, settled into the passenger side of Russel’s truck as he moved in beside her, closing out the wind and rain then starting the engine. The truck hummed to life, accompanied by a blast of cold air through the vents, and the hushed sounds of country music playing over the speakers.
Russel muttered something under his breath as he flicked some switches, deflecting the air away from them. He sighed. “Sorry. It’s gonna take a few minutes to warm everything up.”
“That’s okay. Beats the taxi I was going to take.” She arched her brow. “Are you sure you still want to drive me home? It’s across town.”
The look he gave her answered her question. “Having second thoughts about riding with me, sweetheart? Afraid you might have read me wrong?”
She studied him, trying to ignore the way the buzzing in her head made his silhouette occasionally double. Granted, she’d had a lot to drink—an obnoxious amount, actually. But she hadn’t been lying. Growing up amidst dangerous men, she’d learned quickly how to gauge risk factors—the man’s build, his movements, his hands. If his voice rose or lowered. If he made eye contact. True, Russel outweighed her, and she wasn’t naïve enough to think some fancy moves and a can of mace would be enough to fight him off.
But the longer she stared at him, the more at ease she felt. No tingling awareness at the base of her spine. No raised hairs along her nape. And, while her heart raced whenever he smiled, she suspected it had more to do with attraction than worry.
Of course, accepting a lift home was completely out of character—much like going to the bar in the first place. She never took these kinds of risks. She couldn’t. Not when she couldn’t be certain even a nice guy wasn’t connected to her father’s business. But there was something about Russel—something on an atomic level that reassured her.
She smiled, resisting another giggle. “No second thoughts. You’re…safe. And I’m safe with you.”
He gazed at her for what felt like an hour before smiling. “I am, and you are. But you’re taking one hell of a risk. One, I hope you don’t do often.”
The giggle slipped free, earning her a stern shake of his head. “No. Not often. Actually, never. But even…slightly intoxicated, I still trust my spider sense. And it’s not going off, at all.”
“Pretty sure you passed ‘slightly’ three coolers ago. Okay, where to?”
She rattled off her address, watching him pull into the street then maneuver through the light late-night traffic. Staring at how his hands dwarfed the steering wheel, his long, strong fingers barely gripping the leather wrapping. She’d felt those same fingers pressed against her lower back when he’d guided her out of the bar and over to his truck. He’d had to catch her a few times when her balance had shifted, but if it had been at all taxing, he hadn’t shown it.
Another giggle threatened, but she managed to crush it. God, she hadn’t realized how drunk she was until she’d stood. It was as if all the coolers had waited until that moment to enter her bloodstream, warming her from the inside out and making her feel as if she was moving in slow motion. If Russel hadn’t insisted on walking her to his truck, she doubted she would have made it out of the bar without tripping onto her ass.
More likely, the bartender would have called her a cab and had one of her bouncers carry her out. And the last thing Quinn needed was a scene. She’d drawn enough attention to herself by having Russel ride to the rescue like some modern-day knight. She didn’t need someone snapping a photo of her face-first on the old wooden floor that might end up on social media. She needed a place she could go without worrying anyone would recognize her—would know who her father was. Somewhere no one would ever think to search for her. She’d gone to extreme lengths to remake herself. But it wasn’t something she’d bet her life on.
Thoughts swirled around in her head, muddied by the afterglow of alcohol. She pushed them away, content to worry about her problems tomorrow, then focused on Russel.
The man really was massive. Not outrageously tall, probably six-one or two, but… Damn. He was thick. His barrel chest pressed against his shirt, clearly outlining his chiseled pecs and upper abdominal muscles. His arms were larger than most men’s thighs, matching the wide breadth of his shoulders. When he’d leaned forward to open the door for her, the back of his jacket had actually stretched from the strain of his lats, and she hadn’t missed the way his torso tapered into lean hips and one hell of a sexy rear end.
Quinn drew her gaze up to his face. His square jaw was covered in a thick shadow of stubble—more than just a day or two’s worth of grow. Not quite a beard, but definitely on the way. The dark color matched the chocolate brown hue of his hair, even if it was fairly short. But it was his eyes that she’d noticed, first. Green with flecks of copper around the iris, it had been like looking at spring amidst a brilliant sunrise. And she knew she could gaze at them for hours and still find them mesmerizing.
Russel must have felt her staring and glanced over at her as he changed lanes to take the next exit. “You okay? Do you feel sick?”
“I’m fine. Why? Do I look sick?”
“Your face is flushed, and you were staring at me with this odd expression. Thought it was worth asking. In case you needed me to pull over.”
She laughed, the sound morphing into a snort. God, she really shouldn’t drink. It went straight to her head, every time. “My face is flushed from the coolers, and I was staring at you because I was trying to figure you out.”
No sense telling him she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him, or that her face was flushed because she’d just started to imagine what it would be like to kiss him. To slide her mouth over his full lips—feel his tongue caress hers. She’d never had a lover who was so innately male, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to trace her fingers across his shoulders. Test the strength hidden beneath bronzed flesh. He’d obviously been somewhere warm recently, every inch of visible skin tanned from hours spent in the sun.
For a moment, she thought about asking him what he did for a living—mercenary immediately sprang to mind with his attractive, yet thug-like, appearance and over-abundance of muscles, despite the trustworthy vibes he gave off. Though, she supposed a guy could be both—a mixture of violence and honor. It’s how she’d always rationalized her feelings for her father. He’d never been anything but gentle and loving toward her. The kind of man who had always kept his word.
But she’d discovered there was a darker side to him—one he’d done his best to keep hidden. One she wasn’t sure how to resolve. It was why she’d gone drinking to begin with. Hard problems were rarely solved by easy answers, and she’d needed the liquid courage to contemplate options that not only scared her, but had her questioning her own moral compass. After all, who betrayed their own flesh and blood?
She groaned inwardly, quickly dismissing any line of conversation that might give her more insight into her unlikely savior. The last thing she needed was to get to know Russel better.
This wasn’t the beginning of a relationship. He was driving her home. Sure, she was seriously considering asking him to stay the night—give herself a few hours of sexual bliss. Make some lasting memories she could carry with her, especially with her future so uncertain. She hadn’t been looking for a lover, but she recognized an act of providence when it slapped her in the face. And she’d bet her ass the man was good in bed. If nothing else, she could really get off simply touching every inch of him. Tracing his bulging muscles. Feeling him pressed against her.
But even if he was interested—if she was able to lure him into her bed—it was only for a night.
One-offs were her specialty. No commitments. No strings. Nothing meaningful. If she cared about someone, that person became a weakness others could use against her. A means to get her to comply. And she’d been excruciatingly careful about avoiding anything and anyone her father’s colleagues could ever use to their advantage. Not when she suspected their business was far more gruesome than she’d ever imagined.
Russel turned onto her street, still glancing over at her. “Figure me out?”
She smiled at him. “You know, whether this is the norm for you—driving drunk girls home. Why you chose to step in, to begin with.”
He shrugged, frowning as he stopped in front of what was obviously a warehouse. “I’ve taken a few ladies home when they’ve gotten themselves into dangerous situations. Made sure they got safely inside before seeing myself out. Not that I’d say it’s a norm for me. And I stepped in because guys like those men in the bar are the reason women can’t enjoy a simple night alone, like you wanted. They’re the worst kind of predator.”
He shook his head. “Did you give me the wrong address?”
She looked out at the old brick building, the red tones hidden by the foggy rain. “Nope. This is right. I live in the loft apartment. A friend of mine is a mechanic. He uses the rest of the space to store parts and old vehicles he’s fixing up. It’s actually a great setup. Quiet. Out of the way—”
“Creepy. Not to mention the perfect place for someone to get assaulted. Christ, do the cops even do drive-bys out here?”
“Do you view everything in terms of how dangerous it is?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
Where her family was concerned? Definitely. But she’d never questioned her decision to live here.
“Not everything. Besides, I see this place as safe. No nosy neighbors. No bars or clubs nearby to attract unwanted strangers. The only people who come around here either work here or are—”
“Serial killers?” He scoffed at her huff. “Come on, sweetheart, there are a million ways someone could stalk you here, and you’d be an insanely easy target.” He gave her another stern look. “At least tell me you generally park inside.”
“Of course. And it’s key-coded. As is the old elevator. And my apartment has a security system wired to a monitoring company. Despite how tonight played out, I don’t go looking for trouble, and I know how to protect myself.”
Russel’s frowned intensified, and he scanned the area, again.
She released her seatbelt then shuffled closer, placing her hand on his forearm. Strong muscles bunched beneath her fingers, and she couldn’t stop from wetting her lips as her throat grew suddenly dry. Christ, not an inch of the guy was soft.
Russel glanced at where she touched him then slowly drew his gaze up to meet hers. The green in his eyes had darkened, and she didn’t miss the way his breathing kicked up a notch.
She stayed close as she pointed toward a garage door off to their left. “That’s my spot. There’s a keypad on the post. If you drive up, I can input the code and you can park your truck inside.” She inched closer, pressing her chest against his arm. “Unless you’d like me to get out, here?”
He clenched his jaw, flaring his nostrils before exhaling. “And chance you won’t make it all the way to your door? I don’t do anything half-assed. I said I’d see you safely home. That means locked inside.”
With that, he inched his truck forward, inhaling sharply when she leaned over him to open his window and reach the keypad. He grabbed her around the waist when she lost her balance, one arm grazing her breast as he attempted to steady her. He mumbled an apology, parking his truck beside her motorcycle.
He frowned, again, as he stared down at her, helping her back to her side. “A bike? That’s all you use year ‘round?”
“I have a convertible, but the muffler went on it. My friend’s fixing it for me next week. And, for the record, with the proper attire, you can ride a good ten months of the year out here.”
“Yeah, if you have a death wish.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you worry a lot?”
“Part of the job description, sweetheart. I can’t help others if I get hurt because I didn’t consider every angle. Every possible outcome.” He sighed. “At least, it was.”
She stiffened. There was a wounded edge to him she hadn’t noticed before—one that made her chest tighten. Made it hard to breathe as the interior of the vehicle warmed to the point she felt light-headed. Who was this guy, and why the hell did the thought of him hurting tear at her? Make her want to slide back over and take him in her arms. Smooth out the furrow in his brow. Kiss away the pout curving his lips.
She steeled herself against the punch of emotion that welled in her chest. She didn’t want to know any more. Didn’t need to develop stronger feelings for him. Not when every moment spent in his presence felt this…right. As if he was some missing piece of a puzzle that finally completed the image.
She cleared her throat, grabbed the handle, then made a hasty exit. It would have been perfect if she hadn’t tripped getting out. Caught her damn boot on the small step and tumbled onto the floor. Pain blossomed through her head and across her shoulder as the garage did a full three-sixty in her vision before steadying.
“Shit!” Russel was at her side, keeping her from sitting up as he did a visual sweep of her body. “Christ, you’ve got a fucking lump forming above your right eye.”
He placed his hands on her face, pushing and rotating her head as he stared at her. Then, he opened her eyes wider, looking inside. “Are you dizzy? Feeling nauseous? Any double vision?”
She laughed then groaned. “Laughing hurts.”
“Then, I suggest you don’t. Especially, since this isn’t funny.”
“What’s funny is you asking me all those questions. I was dizzy, nauseous, and seeing double before I got in your truck.”
“Which further complicates this.” He leaned forward. “Wrap your arms around my neck.”
“Okay, but… Whoa!”
She gasped as he levered her against his chest then stood, looking as if it was normal to have someone cradled in his arms. He grabbed her purse off the seat then headed for the elevator doors on the far left.
Quinn tightened her hold, wondering how he was going to manage with her arms all the way to her apartment. “You don’t have to carry me. I was just clumsy. I can walk.”
“And have you upgrade your concussion when you fall, again?” The look he gave her clearly indicated that he firmly believed she would fall, again. “Not likely.”
“I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache, but that’s probably from the coolers, too.”
Russel scoffed at her. “You just fell head first onto concrete. I’m going to err on the safe side until I can do a more thorough exam.”
She opened her mouth to ask what qualified him to do any kind of exam then snapped it shut. This was exactly the kind of personal information she didn’t need. If she found out he was a doctor or nurse or maybe a fireman, it would give her a means to track him down, later. To break all the rules that had kept her safely in the shadows. It would mean she cared, even if just peripherally.
Instead, she clung to him, secretly waiting for him to put her down when she got too heavy. But Russel simply moved along as if he were carrying some groceries. Or maybe he was accustomed to carrying bodies. Maybe he was an assassin instead of a mercenary. Or some kind of forensics guy who dealt with dead people all the time.
She nearly giggled at the thought. Chances were, it was just endless hours in the gym. But she couldn’t deny the appeal of being with a man who knew how to handle himself. A guy who might actually be untouchable where her family was concerned. Someone not intimidated by the dark stain smeared across her DNA. Someone she could have more than just a fleeting moment with.
God, she must have hit her head harder than she’d thought if she was seriously romanticizing about being with a guy she’d just met. One who she was secretly hoping was an assassin, just to have more than a one-night stand with him. That’s if he was even interested. Judging on how clinically he was holding her, he really had only planned on driving her home and dropping her off.
Great, now she’d become some kind of charity case. A drunk one with a concussion. Nothing screamed sexy like a bruised lump on her head. And, if she’d thought her hair was a mess before, it was wild, now. Anything left of the bun she’d made had let loose with the fall, the tangled curls bouncing around her shoulders with every step.
Russel stopped at the elevator, glancing at the keypad. “Do you feel well enough to put in the code?” He eyed her. “Can you even see the keypad?”
She scowled. “I told you. I’m fine. You’re the one who’s blowing this out of proportion. I just fell. Trust me, I’ve had worse lumps than this.”
Not that she’d tell him any of the details. Learning how to read people hadn’t been easy, and she’d encountered a few “failures” along the way. Gotten too close to a few of her father’s colleagues who hadn’t thought twice about knocking her around when she’d accidentally walked in on a meeting. Until her father had found out, and the men had vanished.
Russel made eye contact. “Why does that singular thought make my skin crawl?”
Quinn ignored the remark, reaching for the keypad. It took a couple of tries with her hand shaking and missing the odd number, but she managed to disengage the lock. Russel stepped inside, still holding her against his chest. No heavy breathing. No outward signs that he found it at all stressful to hold her this long.
She tilted her head to the side, squinting when the scenery blurred. “I must be getting heavy. I swear, I can walk.”
He rolled his eyes. Actually, rolled his eyes at her. “Please. I’ve carried guys my size for miles on end. Your weight barely registers.”
She knew her mouth had gaped open before she’d managed to shut it. He’d carried guys his size for miles? Seriously? Who the hell was he? Who carried men anywhere?
Pain throbbed through her head, pushing away the thoughts. It didn’t matter who he was. Where he’d come from or where he was heading. All that mattered was now. This moment, even if she’d managed to screw it up more. The chances of talking him into anything, now, seemed remote at best.
Russel stopped next at her alarm system, allowing her to push her thumb on the print reader before taking her inside her apartment. He headed immediately for the kitchen off to the right, sliding her onto the counter. Before she’d blinked twice, he had a cold compress on her head and was testing her eyes, again.
She grunted. “I’m fine.”
He probed the lump, mumbling an apology when she winced. “So far, so good. But…I’m concerned. Between the amount of alcohol you consumed, and now this… I’m not sure it’s safe to leave you alone.”
Her heart fluttered at his words, the sensation moving lower to settle in her gut. Had he really just implied he wanted to spend the night?
She leaned against him, tracing the line of his jaw. “Sounds like you might need to stay. For safety, of course.”
His jaw flexed, jumping the muscle in his temple as he took a deep breath, lips pulling tight at whatever it was he’d scented in the room. “Quinn.”
“I wasn’t lying, before. I never bring guys home. Not home. And never from a bar. But you…” She inched forward until she could kiss the spot just below his left ear. “You’re worth breaking a few rules.”
A deep rumble vibrated through his chest as she nipped at his earlobe then licked the slight hurt. His fingers dug into her waist, his breath hot and heavy against her neck.
She pulled back, staring up at his closed eyes before he blinked them open. “Unless, you’re not interested.”
That muscle in his temple jumped, again, a moment before he snaked his arms around her, dragging her against him. Her groin collided with his crotch, the hard, thick evidence of his arousal jabbing the soft vee of her mound.
Another deep rumble—somewhere between a growl and a purr—as he hovered a breath away. “Does it feel like I’m not interested? But—”
“No buts. You’re hard, and I obviously want you to fuck me, so…”
“Christ.” He closed the distance, claiming her mouth in a brutal kiss. It was all lips and teeth and tongues, mashing together. His erection swelled, increasing the pressure against her sex, and she ground herself against him, sure she wouldn’t need more than a minute or two to get herself off.
Russel hissed out a breath once he’d eased back, his chest heaving, his dark gaze riveted on her. He didn’t move, seemingly frozen to the spot as he stared down at her. “This is a bad idea.”
She chuckled, kissing her way along his jaw then down his neck, nipping at his muscles through his shirt. “Actually, it’s a fantastic idea. You. Me. Naked. I bet you can go all night long and not get tired.”
He moaned as she arched against him, rubbing her groin up and down his dick. “Hell yeah. All night and all tomorrow. But…”
“Again, with the but?” She eased back enough to meet his gaze. “This is pretty brainless.”
“It’s not like I don’t want to. And the but is because not only did you just whack your head, you’re drunk.”
“Not that drunk.”
He continued as if he hadn’t even heard her. “And I make it a policy not to sleep with women when they aren’t in their right frame of mind. That would make me no better than those assholes at the bar.”
“I didn’t want any of those assholes at the bar to touch me. But you… I want you to touch every inch of me with your hands, your mouth.” She pressed against him. “Your cock.”
“Quinn.” He moved his head when she tried to kiss him. “How about we make a deal?”
She shuffled back, blinking against the sudden shift of the scenery. “I’m offering you a night of hot sex, no strings attached, and you want to make me a deal? I thought that was the deal?”
His smile made the room spin faster, and she had to hold his shoulders to stop from falling off the counter. He shook his head then sighed. “The deal is… You show me you can walk from here into your bedroom without falling down or puking, and I’ll pound you into that bed for as long as you’d like.”
Quinn smiled. “Seriously? All I have to do is walk into my bedroom, and you’ll make me scream?”
“Scream. Beg. Come. Over and over, sweetheart. You have my word.”
“Fine. Then, I suggest you take a deep breath because I plan on grinding myself on your face for the foreseeable future.”
Russel’s breath hitched, but he didn’t move, waving in the direction of the hallway. Quinn allowed him to help her off of the counter, then steadied herself. Walk to the bedroom—piece of cake.
She set off, getting a few steps away before her head seemed to catch up with her. The floor tipped, and she had to palm the back of a chair to stop from crashing into the table. Russel tsked behind her but didn’t stop her, staying in her peripheral vision as she made her way to the hall—using more pieces of furniture than she would have admitted to. But now… Now, it was clear sailing. Nothing in her way and a wall to brace against. She had this.
Until more than the floor tilted, and she had the distinct sensation of falling. Only, she didn’t. Russel was there, catching her against him—taking her up in his arms, again. He said something, but it got lost in the hazy darkness slowly drawing her under. Images danced around inside her head, too fleeting to make sense of, when everything settled. She blinked, wondering what the ringing in her head was before she rolled over, staring at the alarm buzzing on the small side table. She reached for it, groaning at the pulse of pain through her temples. Light streamed in through the windows on the opposite side of the room, the brightness suggesting she’d slept later than usual.
A throat cleared close by, and she shifted her gaze, locking it with a pair of stunning green eyes. The guy smiled as he leaned forward in the chair, his muscled forearms braced on thick jean-clad thighs. Heavy stubble covered his jaw, the shadowed skin adding to his rugged good looks.
He smiled, and her damn stomach dropped. “Morning, Quinn.”