by Elle Kennedy
Before they left the Simmses’ house, they ducked into the kitchen to thank Wendy for letting them poke around, but neither of them said a word about the box they found, which Quinn had slipped into the pocket of his jacket. There was no point in upsetting Wendy or raising her suspicions, when they didn’t have proof that the senator killed her daughter. The necklace hinted at his possible guilt, but until they knew for sure, they would keep it to themselves.
In the car, Morgan’s hands shook wildly as she buckled her seat belt. Quinn reversed out of the driveway and peeled away from the house. It wasn’t until they were halfway back to the Kerr estate that he spoke again.
“It might not be him,” he said, attempting to inject some reassurance to his voice.
Morgan did not look reassured. “Nobody knows the combination of my father’s safe except him. He gave her that pendant.” Her voice wavered. “Do you think he was seeing her?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
Revulsion lined her face. “She was seventeen years old when she died. He was forty-three. Oh, God, if he was sleeping with her…” She trailed off, the disgust in her tone revealing precisely how she felt about that idea.
Quinn took one hand off the wheel and placed it over Morgan’s. “We don’t know if he was involved,” he reiterated. “Layla could’ve gotten her hands on the necklace a hundred different ways.”
Morgan’s icy fingers gripped his palm. “What do you think?” she asked.
He kept his gaze on the road.
“Quinn,” she persisted.
Drawing in his breath, he shot her a sideways look. “I think someone gave her the necklace.”
“My father?”
He released the breath. “Probably.”
“Oh, God.”
They reached the front gates and Quinn rolled down the window so he could punch the code into the keypad. The gates parted to let the car drive through. He parked by a stone statue of a naked cherub holding a lute, and killed the engine. When he reached for the door handle, Morgan murmured, “No, let’s stay out here for a while. I can’t go in there right now.”
Her gaze drifted over to the mansion, fixing on the impressive second-floor veranda supported by the marble pillars below. She frowned as she looked at the house she’d grown up in, as if suddenly questioning whether the man who owned it deserved such splendor. Quinn noticed her face was still very pale, her hand still a block of ice beneath his. He rubbed his palm over her knuckles, trying to warm her up.
“It makes so much sense,” she finally said, turning to meet his eyes. “Every time I’ve come back here over the past ten years, my father has balked. He would tell me what a waste of time it was, that there was nothing to investigate.” She shivered. “But that wasn’t true, was it? He just didn’t want me to figure out the truth.”
“What do you think happened?” Quinn asked, gently stroking her hand.
“He must have been sleeping with her,” Morgan choked out. “Or trying to.” She tilted her head, anger filing her eyes. “Maybe that’s what happened, he tried to seduce her and she told him she wasn’t interested. You know my dad, he’s livid when he doesn’t get his way.”
Quinn experienced a niggling sense of doubt. “She rejected him so he got pissed and killed her? I don’t know, sweetheart, that doesn’t sound like your father. He defines the phrase ‘cool as a cucumber.’”
Morgan made a discouraged sound in the back of her throat. “I know. But what other explanation is there?”
Something dawned on him, and Quinn suddenly clenched his fists. “You realize if your father is guilty of killing Lay la, then he’s the one who arranged your accident on the bridge.”
She gasped, then gave a tiny groan of distress. “How is that possible? I honestly can’t see him trying to kill his own daughter.”
“Me neither,” Quinn confessed.
“But last night’s intruder,” she reminded him. “I still think my dad had something to do with that.”
A frustrated silence descended. Quinn still couldn’t wrap his brain around any of this. Senator Kerr had killed Layla? Tried to kill his daughter? Covered up a murder for ten years? On one hand, it explained a lot—Kerr’s determination to keep his daughter from solving the case, his insistence that she not visit Autumn too frequently, his often irrational desire to keep Morgan securely under his thumb.
On the other hand, Quinn couldn’t imagine a man as controlled and ice-cold as Edward Kerr picking up a rock and bashing in a seventeen-year-old girl’s head, no matter how angry he may have been.
Morgan’s soft sniffle caused Quinn to glance over at the passenger seat. When he noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks, he didn’t hesitate in unbuckling her seat belt and lifting her onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, he ran his hand through her soft blond hair as she pressed her face to his chest and cried softly.
“What if he actually killed her?” she said between sobs. “What do I do? Call the police? Turn my own father in?” She buried her face in his neck, her tears soaking his skin. “God, as much as I might hate him sometimes, I don’t know if I could send him to jail.”
“Before you do anything drastic, I think we should go back to the city and talk to him,” Quinn suggested.
She lifted her head and swiped at the moisture on her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. “He’ll deny it,” she said cynically.
“Or he might tell the truth.”
Morgan rubbed her eyes, then slid her fingers higher and rubbed her temples as if she had a monstrous migraine. “I can’t,” she burst out. “I can’t talk to him, I can’t look at him. Not right now. Not tonight.”
“The sooner we speak to him, the sooner we’ll know if—”
“If my father is a murderer?” she interrupted angrily. “If my father hired someone to push my car over a bridge?” Her entire face abruptly collapsed. “God, Quinn, I don’t think I even want to know the answers.”
He touched her cheek and brushed away the new batch of tears. “You do want to know,” he corrected. “You need to know.”
“Not yet,” she repeated. “I can’t do this now.”
“Morgan—”
“Please, I don’t want to think about this anymore. I don’t want to think about anything.” Her anguished voice brought an ache to his chest. “Please make me forget.”
There was no way he could ever deny her, not now, not after the shocking discovery they’d made. He lifted her chin with his thumb and brought her mouth to his, kissing her long and deep. He swallowed her anxiety and grief, wishing he could take it all into himself and spare her the turmoil he tasted on her lips. The air in the car grew thick, sizzling with urgency and desperation. It wasn’t long before they’d removed their coats, before his hands were sliding underneath her sweater so he could squeeze her breasts over her bra.
Whimpering, Morgan fumbled with the button of her slacks and tugged the material down her legs.
The heat of her sex pressing against his thigh made his pulse race and his groin harden. He unzipped his jeans and released his throbbing erection. Groaning, he cupped her, rubbed her femininity for a moment, before pushing aside the crotch of her skimpy pes and teasing her opening with his tip. Morgan moaned, then put an end to any possibility of foreplay by impaling herself on his thick length.
Quinn groaned again. His fingers trembled as he held on to her slender hips and guided her along his shaft. Their hurried breathing steamed up the SUV’s windows. An inferno of need heated the small space, spiking the temperature inside the car and inside Quinn’s aching body.
Morgan rode him furiously, her eyelids closing as she squeezed herself over his hard member and took all the pleasure she could get. He wasn’t complaining. Her wild movements drove him wild. Her sweet feminine scent flooded his senses, and the tight sheath of her body teased him, welcomed him. Pleasure began gathering in his groin, growing, building, threatening to consume him.
“Morgan,” he said between gritted teeth, �
��you’ve got to come. Now.”
He didn’t know if she’d been close, or if his rough desperate plea pushed her over the edge, but she suddenly let out a wild cry and shuddered over him. Her release spurred his, a mind-blowing climax that seared every nerve ending and sent his mind spinning into oblivion.
It took a moment for him to crash back down to earth, and when he did, he almost laughed at what just happened. They’d had sex in the front seat of his car in the middle of the afternoon like a couple of horny teenagers. His pulse continued to race, his erection still rock-hard and buried inside of Morgan. The sight of her took his breath away. With her face flushed and her eyes heavy-lidded with passion, she was heartbreakingly beautiful.
She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, looking at him with uncertainty. And then she spoke, and her words officially drained his lungs of any remaining oxygen.
“I love you.”
Quinn swallowed. “Morgan—”
“No, I need to say this. I love you, Quinn. I never stopped loving you.”
The fact that their bodies were still intimately joined made it very difficult to concentrate. After a moment of reluctance, he withdrew from her warmth and zipped up his pants. Morgan pulled up her slacks and buttoned them, but her expression said “just because we’re dressed doesn’t mean I’m done talking.”
“Say something,” she said, her firm tone matching the look in her eyes.
He shifted awkwardly. “What do you want me to say?”
Instantly he regretted the question. Hell, he knew exactly what she wanted him to say. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to say those same three words back to her, no matter how loudly his heart yelled for him to do it. He couldn’t go down that path again. Last time he’d done it, he wound up burned and broken. This time, he planned on walking away unscathed.
“I know you still love me,” she whispered, holding his gaze hostage by placing both hands on his jaw and forcing him to look at her. “And you already admitted you’ve forgiven me.” Her voice trembled. “All you have to do now is agree to give us another chance.”
“I…I can’t.”
He could see her biting the inside of her cheek, tryin not to cry. “I’m sorry I chose him over you,” she finally blurted out. Her hands dropped from his face. “I was wrong. I was wrong to let him interfere in our life, and I was wrong to let him talk me into postponing the wedding. I’ve always known I made the wrong choice, but I convinced myself I needed to keep the promise I made to my mom. Now I know better. I loved my mother, but my father is not the man she thought he was.”
“Morgan—”
She went on, oblivious to his interjection. “It’s very likely he killed my best friend, and I refuse to protect or support him any longer. I’m through with him, Quinn. I promise you, I will never put you second again.”
A vise of pain circled his heart and squeezed it so tightly he feared it would splinter. Lord, how he’d longed to hear those words…two years ago.
“I know you mean that,” he said gruffly. “I even believe you. But—”
“No buts.” Her big blue eyes pleaded with him, ripping another hole in his heart. “Please, just give us another chance.”
Very gently, he lifted her off his lap and settled her on the passenger seat. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” she whispered.
“Our breakup made me see I’m not cut out for relationships. I’ll always demand too much of you. I’ll always want my own way.” He gave a wry smile. “And I don’t think I could settle down in one place. I tried so freaking hard to stay put when we were together, but I realized these past two years that I like the traveling.”
“Then I’ll travel with you,” she said softly. “I’m sick to death of D.C., Quinn. I already told you I’d like to take on more exciting assignments.”
Although the idea of traveling with Morgan was appealing, he forced himself to push it aside. “I can’t be with you, Morgan.” It took all of his willpower to say the words. “I can’t offer you the kind of relationship you deserve.”
Disappointment flashed in her eyes. “You’ve always given me everything I’ve ever needed,” she insisted.
He let out a sigh. “I can’t argue about this anymore. When you came to my room that night, you promised you wouldn’t ask for anything more.” He met her eyes. “I need you to keep that promise.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. Then her eyes flashed again, this time with resentment. “Fine. If you’re determined to be a coward, then I won’t stop you.” She yanked on the door handle and swung her legs over the seat. “I’m going inside to get my purse and lock up the house.”
“Morgan—”
She hopped onto the pavement. Stood in front of the passenger door, her face grim. “And I changed my mind. I want to go back to the city as soon as possible. I’ll call my father from inside and tell him we’re on our way. Oh, and once we’ve talked to my father, we’ll both go our separate ways.” Bitterness dripped from her voice. “So you don’t have to worry. This time I’ll stay out of your life for good
Without another word, she slammed the door and walked away.
Chapter 16
The drive back to the city was somber. And silent. Deathly silent. Morgan kept her gaze glued to the window for most of the time, unable to look at Quinn for fear she’d burst into tears.
He’d rejected her.
She’d handed him her heart, and he’d handed it right back.
And the screwed-up part was that she didn’t even blame him. He was right. She’d put him second so many times during their relationship. She’d let her father dictate certain aspects of their life. She’d postponed their wedding. What else could she expect from him now? Quinn had been burned and betrayed so many times during his childhood, he shouldn’t have had to deal with that from his own fiancée.
God, she was a fool. She’d allowed a misguided sense of loyalty to steer her in the wrong direction. She’d lost Quinn.
And she had nobody to blame but herself.
They slowed on Constitution Avenue, just north of the Capitol, and her chest tightened when the senate office building came into view. Made of limestone and gray granite, with elegant columns lining the entrance, the building was old and beautiful, an architectural triumph that spoke of history, wealth and justice.
Justice. The word stayed suspended in her mind, the irony of it making her want to laugh. What did the man who kept an office in this building know about justice?
Quinn parked the car, and a few minutes later they were in the building and on their way to her father’s office. The door stood open, and the senator was behind his desk when she and Quinn walked into the room without an invitation. Her dad had obviously been waiting for them. The wrinkles around his mouth were creased with impatience and his blue eyes held a hint of unease.
“Hi, Dad,” she said in a frosty tone.
“Morgan,” he returned, equally chilly. He glowered at Quinn. “Adam.”
Neither she nor Quinn sat down. She simply stood in front of her father’s enormous desk, while Quinn drifted toward one of the tall bookcases and leaned against it.
“What is all this about?” Edward finally demanded, losing some of his cool.
He leaned back in his chair, attempting to look unperturbed, but she saw through the act. She knew her father well, and right now, he was worried. He knew this was an ambush and she could practically see his brain kicking into overdrive, formulating a defense to anything she might pitch at it.
“Quinn and I had a visitor last night,” she began.
“If you’re referring to your brother, yes, I know. I sent him,” her father replied pleasantly.
“Actually, I’m referring to the masked intruder who dragged me out of bed.” She glowered at him. “Who was he, Dad? A random stranger yid off the street, or was it a professional?”
Her father’s face remained blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, really?” S
he shook her head. “You told Tony you’d use extreme methods to bring me home. I assume trying to scare the hell out of me was part of the plan.”
“There is no plan.” The senator frowned. “Your paranoia is acting up, Morgan. I merely wanted you home because I believe you’re a danger to yourself.”
She snorted. “Save the suicide story for the press. I didn’t try to kill myself.”
Edward sighed. “Why are you here, Morgan? You call me, order me not to leave this office until you get here because you have something important to discuss, and so far, all I’m hearing is the same old paranoid denials.”
“You want something new? Fine. Quinn and I found something in Autumn.”
She waited for his reaction, but her father’s eyes became shuttered. “Oh?” was all he said.
Slowly, she reached into the pocket of her coat and extracted the silver pendant. She held it up.
This time he let a brief reaction slip. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the sparking gems, but he recovered quickly, pasting on a suspicious look instead.
“That belonged to your mother. Where did you get it?”
“I found it in Layla’s room. Hidden in a box under the floorboards.”
“That’s impossible. All of your mother’s jewelry has been locked up in the safe since she died.”
“Obviously not.” Morgan scowled at him. “Now why would my best friend have my mother’s necklace, Dad?”
“She must have stolen it,” her father replied stiffly.
“Or you gave it to her,” Quinn interjected, his voice utterly calm.
Morgan was having a tougher time controlling her anger. Her father looked so smug and indignant sitting there behind his fancy desk, feigning innocence about how the necklace ended up in Layla’s possession.
The senator turned his attention to Quinn. “Precisely what are you implying?” he asked in a voice that could freeze the Pacific Ocean. “That I gave an underage girl an expensive piece of jewelry that belonged to my late wife? That I was involved in her death?”