What They Never Said

by Avery, Quinn

  “Who’s this client?” Agron demanded with a growl.

  “Like my partner here said, our client is someone who has an investment in Luxco,” Rogers cut in. “I’m afraid we can’t divulge any further information. Here’s a number where you can reach us. Why don’t you go ahead and give us your cell phone number in case anything were to change?”

  Lincoln inwardly cringed. Why didn’t he just come out and tell him it was a setup?

  “I’m interested in what Mr. Farrington has to say,” Agron told them. “I think I will be there.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Agron,” Rogers said with the same bogus air of authority he used when trying to impress women. “We appreciate your full cooperation.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  After several antagonizing minutes of Duke’s whistling, the two jokers appeared beside Lincoln, grinning with pride. They looked ridiculous in a suit and tie— especially Duke. It was like someone had tried to stuff a mattress inside a pillowcase.

  “The Russian fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” Duke bragged, slipping into the passenger’s seat.

  Lincoln met Rogers’s gaze in the rear view mirror. “You've watched one spy movie too many. Half the shit you said back there sounded like it was straight from a script.”

  “What can I say…I have a photographic memory. I remembered everything you wrote on the flight back, word for word.” Rogers set his arm over the back of the driver’s seat and leaned in between them. “What now?”

  “We grab burgers in San Jose and chill,” Lincoln answered, starting the Jeep. “Then we sit outside Luxco, and wait for all hell to break loose.”

  If luck was on their side, the nightmare would be over before the day was done, and Cameron would grasp just how deep his devotion ran.

  * * *

  Lincoln half expected Agron would’ve taken care of Kellen and his father before the scheduled meeting was to take place, but he was glad he hadn’t missed the show when his brother’s sedan pulled into the belly of the Luxco parking lot. Ten minutes later, at exactly 9:30 p.m., the lights on the seventeenth floor flickered to life, cutting through the dark sky like a beacon. Inside the earpiece, Duke and Rogers acknowledged the movement from their locations as Lincoln checked his pistol. Based on the info Rogers uncovered on Agron, the man's method of resolving issues had been inconsistent, and could vary from car bombs to execution style. Whatever came next, Lincoln was ready.

  From his position across the street, he shifted his weight, anxious to roll. The mission didn’t feel any less dangerous than the usual involving terrorists, yet his heart had taken on a calm, steady beat, knowing karma was about to pay his family a well-deserved visit.

  The next twenty minutes rolled by painfully slow. Right when he was convinced Agron wasn’t going to show, a black SUV pulled into the garage, and an identical one parked one klick north along the curb. Even though he was damn near invisible dressed head-to-toe in black, Lincoln retreated into the shadows.

  “Looks like our Soviet friends have arrived,” he said into his mic.

  “What does a Russian bride get from her husband on her wedding day that is long and hard?” Duke whispered. He broke out chuckling as he answered himself. “A new last name!”

  Grumbling, “idiot,” Lincoln didn’t take his eyes off the SUV parked nearby. The driver killed the engine, and the doors to the vehicle stayed closed. It seemed Agron had a lookout in place.

  Through the binoculars, Lincoln watched for movement on the lit floor of the skyscraper. From his position, his father’s office was partially obscured. He had a clear visual of the elevator, however, and was able to watch Agron emerge with a handful of “associates.”

  Lincoln flinched when his father materialized to greet them. What was Kellen planning that involved all three of the Farrington men? Although their old man’s expression remained stoic, his skin was slick with perspiration. A sadistic laugh rumbled in Lincoln’s chest. If his father knew what Lincoln’s buddies told Agron, he’d be pissing himself instead of sweating.

  “We have company,” Rogers reported.

  Lincoln tore his eyes away from the seventeenth floor, surprised he’d missed the bright blue compact car that pulled up in front of the building across the street. A petite figure in a hoodie emerged from the passenger’s side, and headed for the building. Then they stopped to glance over their shoulder. Air deflated Lincoln’s lungs with the sight of sparkling blue eyes.

  Cameron.

  What the hell was she doing here? Ice filled his veins when she continued toward the building. If she joined them, they’d kill her.

  “Uh…Twitch?” Rogers asked, his voice tight with panic. “Isn’t that your girl?”

  Fingers twitching uncontrollably at his sides, Lincoln started for the curb. “I’m on it.”

  “Like hell you are!” Duke snapped. “Agron’s thugs in that SUV will recognize you! I’m heading in after her.”

  Before Lincoln could interject, he spotted Duke slipping from the darkness to enter through the building’s side door.

  Rogers let out a forced breath. “Dude. This isn’t good. Did you know she was coming?”

  “Hell no!” Lincoln barked in response. Had Kellen somehow blackmailed her into joining them?

  Duke’s mic remained quiet for several minutes. Lincoln began pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. Duke must not’ve gotten to her before she made it onto the elevator. Temples throbbing and icy fear spreading through his chest, Lincoln couldn’t heave out a breath. What if she made it up to the seventeenth floor before Duke could stop her?

  “Talk to me, Heavy D,” Lincoln demanded with a low growl. When Duke didn’t respond, he sprinted for the street. “Screw this, I’m going in.”

  Despite Rogers’s protests, he stormed the building, silently praying he wasn’t too late to save Cameron.

  20

  From the second Cameron entered the Luxco building and followed the blue glow of the emergency lights through the lobby, she sensed something was off. Although she entered the elevator alone, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched by something other than the security cameras. She kept glancing over her shoulder, hoping to find Lincoln, but the building remained eerily dark and quiet.

  Pamela wasn’t too happy with the idea of Cameron meeting with the brothers alone, but she seemed a little less worried after Cameron reminded her Lincoln fought terrorists for a living. Besides, Cameron wasn’t going in unprepared.

  The doors opened to the brightly lit floor where she’d only dared to visit Kellen one other time. She turned in the direction of Kellen’s office, freezing with the sound of several raised voices, one thick with a Russian accent. A chill trickled down her spine and warning alarms rang through her head. Whatever was going on back there extended far beyond her complex relationship with the Farrington brothers. She should’ve listened to Pamela. Maybe she should’ve called the police with what she knew about her dad’s murder.

  Either way, coming alone had been a mistake. If Lincoln was there, she had to trust that his training as a SEAL would be enough.

  Clutching her purse, she spun around and headed back for the elevators.

  “Quinn!”

  The voice stopped her dead in her tracks. Before she turned around, she realized she’d been duped. It wasn’t Lincoln.

  Kellen’s twisted grin, along with a fresh gash in his forehead and other facial cuts, made her stomach churn. Had Lincoln done that to him?

  Half a dozen men trickled out from the conference room behind him, one being Howard. Satisfaction lit his dark expression a moment before his lips twisted with a disgusting grin too similar to his sadistic son’s.

  Blood pumped through Cameron's ears with a loud whoosh. What was happening?

  “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show,” Kellen told her.

  She met the cold stare of a balding man with a thick neck. Her eyes flickered down to his hands folded at his waistline. His knuckles were c
overed in blood.

  “Who is this?” he asked, gesturing to Cameron. “What is she doing here?”

  With the sound of his accent, Cameron stood tall and held his beady gaze. Could it be Agron? Vito? Whether he was the hit man who pulled the trigger, or the higher-up who called the shots, she wasn’t going to let the murderous asshole intimidate her. “I’m Scott Quinn’s daughter.”

  The Russian’s eyebrows rose in appreciation. “It’s a shame he’s not here to see what a beautiful woman you’ve become.”

  “Fuck you,” she sneered.

  She reached into her purse to retrieve the handgun she swiped from Pamela’s handbag, and aimed it at the Russian. The man didn’t even flinch, but Howard shuffled back. The two nameless men both reached inside their suit coats.

  “What do you think you’re going to do with that?” Kellen asked with a disappointed shake of his head. “Put it down, Cam. You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

  For the first time since Pamela had forced her to take gun safety classes the previous fall, she was relieved she’d gone along. She released the safety and firmly gripped the gun in both hands, aiming it directly at the Russian’s skull. “Is this the asshole that had my dad killed?”

  “So Lincoln finally told you,” Howard said, letting out an unamused grunt. “I always knew it was a matter of time.”

  “Look at me, Cam.” Kellen stepped between her and the Russian, hands raised, eyes wide, and face paled. It was an emotion she didn’t know he was capable of showing—panic. “You can’t shoot just him and walk away. His men will kill you before you have a chance to pull the trigger.”

  Cameron glanced over his shoulder, stomach dropping to her feet. The two men had guns aimed in her direction. Pamela’s gun vibrated in her trembling hands, but she didn’t lower it. She should’ve expected someone affiliated with the mafia to have bodyguards.

  “Put the gun away,” Kellen pleaded, voice suddenly soft. “Please. Put it down and I’ll walk you out of here—just you and me.”

  She glowered back at him. “Why do you care what happens to me? You tricked me into coming here. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

  “I didn’t know Agron and my father would be here. It was supposed to be just you and me telling Lincoln the truth about us.”

  She pressed her free hand to her temple, shaking her head. “What? Are you completely insane? What truth? There is no us, Kellen! This whole arrangement was about blackmailing your father into giving you a promotion!”

  “You were mine first!” he shouted, gripping her arm. “You gave me your virginity, Cam! I’m not letting you walk away with that son-of-a-bitch!”

  A sudden surge of repulsion almost knocked her off her feet.

  After the big Homecoming game their freshman year, Cameron agreed to go to a party with Ellee at Alan Dixon’s house, hopeful Lincoln would be there too. They were still at the getting-to-know-each-other stage, but a lot of what he said felt a lot like flirting. She couldn’t wait to hang with him for the first time outside of school when they’d be wearing something other than their uniforms. She wore a pretty blue sundress that she’d found on a clearance rack, and Ellee had curled her hair.

  They weren’t there long before she realized the juice Alan handed them was loaded with vodka. Although Cameron took little sips, she hardly weighed anything in those days, and hadn’t eaten since lunch. All too soon, Ellee was nowhere in sight, and Cameron was drunk.

  “Enjoying the party?” a deep voice asked.

  From where she sat on Alan’s living room floor, Cameron’s heart sank when her eyes refused to focus on the handsome boy standing over her. But that voice…

  “Lincoln?” she asked, hope blooming through her chest.

  He sank down on the floor beside her, touching her bent knees. “You don’t look so good.”

  There were far too many blackout moments from that night that would forever be lost, probably most of them better off that way.

  “Here,” he said, holding out the plastic cup in his hand. “This will make you feel better.”

  She pushed the cup away. “I wanna go home.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” he said. It sounded like Lincoln, but she sensed it wasn’t him.

  The events that followed sometimes came back to her in little flashes. She would remember a soothing word, the deep roll of a voice, or movement. Aside from a tongueless kiss with a classmate in 8th grade gym class, she hadn’t been intimate with a boy. In the next clear memory to follow of that night, that was no longer true.

  The glow of a yard light outside a large window illuminated her surroundings enough to piece everything together.

  She was in a guy’s bedroom.

  It was quiet except for the muffled sound of music.

  The air was thick with a sour smell.

  Her shirt was pulled up to her neck.

  Her jeans and underwear were missing.

  A red blotch soiled the light colored sheets.

  Panic slammed into her like a brick wall. Suddenly, she was dead sober. What had she done?

  She ripped the bed apart, desperate to find her clothes. Tears burned her eyes as she frantically dressed. When she ascended down Alan’s stairway, shame weighed heavily on her shoulders. She quietly rejoined the party, hoping no one noticed she’d been missing.

  From across the living room, Kellen caught her gaze. He threw her a slow, suggestive wink, then dropped his head back and laughed. Alan and Cal stood beside him, laughing along.

  Her stomach violently surged. The same way she sensed it wasn’t Lincoln who sat on the floor with her earlier, she sensed she’d had sex with Kellen.

  She clamped her hand over her mouth, and sprinted for the front door. She made it out to the curb before spewing the contents of her stomach into a bush. She didn’t stop when tears and snot streamed down her face. She purged until she prayed she’d pass out, and discover it had only been a nightmare.

  Fingers brushed over her back. “Quinn?”

  She was sure it was Lincoln, but still didn’t trust her intoxicated mind.

  She sprang away from him. “Leave me alone!”

  She’d never forget the way he glowered in the darkness, hands twitching at his sides. “Did those assholes slip something into your drink?”

  When her brain caught up to the fact he was wearing something different from what Kellen had on just minutes earlier, confirming it was Lincoln, she fell into his embrace. “Get me out of here!” she cried. “Please, Linc!”

  There were more holes in the memories that followed, but she remembered sitting beside Lincoln in a taxi. They never spoke of that night again.

  She jerked back from Kellen’s touch, ready to blast him full of holes. “I only slept with you freshman year because I was black-out drunk! The second time you raped me! I was never yours! How can you be that delusional to think we actually had something?”

  “Enough!” the Russian snapped. Lips curled, he clamped a meaty hand down on Kellen’s shoulder. “I’m not here to listen to your miserable love story. I cannot afford to have any loose ends. This is not how I do business! I have all the proof I need that you’re stealing my money!”

  Kellen turned, squaring up to the larger man. “Like I said, Agron, I didn’t take your damn money. But I’ll pay you whatever you want if you let her walk out of here unharmed. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

  “That is where you are wrong! She knows too much!”

  Agron lifted his hand in a movement so subtle that she almost missed it. Kellen shoved her as multiple loud cracks ripped through the air.

  Something white-hot singed against her shoulder, sending Pamela’s gun clattering to the floor.

  Someone yelled.

  She was knocked down to the floor by a heavy body.

  Within an arm’s reach, one of the bodyguards lay still with a bullet wound between his eyes.

  Dead.

  She tried to turn around to see who shot him whe
n she saw Howard Farrington’s body jerk several times. Then he fell, landing in a lifeless heap beside the bodyguard.

  Cameron choked on a gasp. She’d never seen anyone die before. But unlike Lincoln’s reaction after witnessing her dad’s murder, she was overwhelmed with relief. If karma had anything to do with it, the evil man was dead.

  While attempting to scramble out from the body pinning her down, she frantically searched for both the gun and the Russian.

  The edges of her vision darkened.

  The last thing she saw was a set of thick legs in black jeans.

  Her last thought was reserved for Lincoln.

  21

  Everything happened in a flash. The rush from watching the Russian bodyguard’s bullets rip Lincoln’s father apart before one pierced his brother through his black heart fizzled with the sight of Cameron falling to the ground beneath Kellen.

  His heart roared. She was bleeding. Excessively. When he started in her direction, her eyes fluttered closed.

  He took the remaining bodyguard out before he realized Agron was the last man standing. Pudgy face darkened with anger, white shirt streaked with blood from the shot Lincoln delivered to his stomach, the man’s eyes took on the wild look of someone desperate to survive. Lincoln had seen it a hundred times. There wasn’t anything the Russian wouldn’t do to make it out alive.

  Agron squared his stance and aimed his pistol at Cameron’s head, bloodshot gaze passing between Lincoln and Duke as they closed in. “I’d advise you to think very carefully. I’m an important man—not someone you want to murder in cold blood.”

  Duke cocked the barrel on his Colt. “You sound like one of those little Russian dolls…so full of yourself.”

  Agron’s lips coiled. Holding Lincoln’s hard stare, he squatted at Cameron’s side. “This girl, does she mean something to you?”