by Denise Wells
Dirty Quinn
Dirty Darlings-The Beginning, Book Three
Denise Wells
Copyright © 2020 by Denise Wells
www.DeniseWells.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editing: Missy Borucki
Proofreading: Rachel Melignano
Public Relations: Foreword PR
Cover Design: Rdndhd Designs
Created with Vellum
For Linda Russell - who forever holds my hand and guides me through this crazy fucking writing world.
May we forget it enough to get over it, remember it enough so it doesn’t happen again, and not stop until we’ve made ourselves proud.
The Dirty Darlings
Contents
Prologue
1. Reed
2. Quinn
3. Daria
4. Daria
5. Mack
6. Quinn
7. Quinn
8. Ronan
9. Daria
10. Mack
11. Ronan
12. Reed
13. Daria
14. Mack
15. Quinn
16. Ronan
17. Daria
18. Reed
19. Quinn
20. Daria
21. Mack
22. Reed
23. Daria
24. Mack
25. Daria
26. Mack
27. Reed
28. Daria
29. Quinn
Epilogue
A note and acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Denise Wells
Sneak Peek - LOVE UNDECIDED
Prologue
This is the tale of four friends:
Two ex-FBI partners, Mack and Reed, in the midst of going rogue.
A bar owner by day/vigilante by night, Daria.
And her best friend, Quinn.
Daria Limonov, owner of Dirty Dar’s Bar and Grill, descendant of Lidya Limonov—the original femme fatale and famous Russian military sniper in WWII. And thanks to such lineage, Daria is a secret assassin of bad guys, along with the Dirty Darlings, her small crew of cold-hearted killers moonlighting as bartenders and cocktail waitresses.
Quinn Foster, Daria’s best friend, an under-employed goofball with questionable taste in men except for her incessant crush on Reed Roberts.
Reed Roberts, an FBI agent with a secret crush on Quinn that he won’t do anything about it because she used to date his best friend, David Tremblay.
Mack Murphy, Reed’s FBI partner and Daria’s ex. She broke it off when she found out he was a Fed. Mack, being the kick-ass agent that he is, already knew Daria was an assassin and was trying (unsuccessfully) not to care. But once she found out Mack knew; she became determined to save him from himself—and save his career—by distancing herself. Quinn and Mack both know Daria’s secret, Reed does not.
And now a quick recap . . .
In book one, Dirty Ex-Mas, Mack and Reed stumbled across information that implicated David in a local kidnapping/human trafficking ring. David was about to be married and Reed was his best man, putting Reed in an awkward position personally, professionally, and emotionally. Mack and Daria teamed up and used Quinn as a distraction to crash David’s engagement party.
Reed caught Quinn at the party and the two had a moment while Reed tried to pin Quinn down as to her motives for being there. Meanwhile, Daria and Mack kidnapped David and later forced him to confess his involvement in front of Reed.
Reed and Mack agreed to let David go with the understanding that he will help lead them to the guys David delivers the girls to, the ones involved in the selling of the women.
Which about brings us to book two, Dirty Daria . . .
Reed and Mack argue over Quinn’s role in David’s engagement party. Reed doesn’t agree that Quinn should have been involved while Mack maintains that she was safe the entire time and a necessary piece to isolating David at the party.
Meanwhile, Quinn is convinced that after the moment she and Reed shared, they are destined to be together. As Daria drives her home after the party, Quinn tells her she wants to be involved in all the Dirty Darling’s cases. Daria refuses, claiming the time it would take Quinn to catch up training-wise is far too long to be useful.
Daria gets a message to pick up one of her girls, Roxie, after dropping Quinn off. She and Roxie go take out a bad guy that Roxie has been watching for a while. While Roxie takes care of her mark, Daria is surprised by an unexpected guest at the man’s house; forcing her to kill him, leaving an unaccounted-for dead body to dispose of. She calls in a favor from her father, and he takes care of it. Daria worries about the possible backlash from killing the stranger and what her father will want in return.
One of Daria’s other girls, Alyssa—Al for short—digs up more information on David Tremblay, and they discover he may have been involved in Daria’s sister’s murder. Which only heightens Daria’s interest in Tremblay. It is within this latest information that Daria discovers just how horribly abused Katya was while in captivity. And she avows anew to bring Tremblay down.
Meanwhile, we get a little peek into how Mack and Daria first met and how and why they break up. Gotta love those flashback chapters.
Mack and Reed fit Tremblay with a wire and follow him on a “date” who he drugs and kidnaps, then to a residential brothel where he’s handing off the girl. When they arrive, the house is abandoned, leaving Mack and Reed nothing to go on.
The four make it through Tremblay’s wedding, which Quinn is somehow able to crash, and Reed heavily drinks his way through. After which, they use Daria’s family jet to follow Tremblay to Maldives for his honeymoon.
The two-week trip in paradise has Daria recommitting herself to try to make things work with Mack. And Reed turning into an even bigger drunken asshole than at the wedding.
Reed continues his downward spiral upon their return. Soon after, they learn of Tremblay’s murder. Reed, despondent at the news, pays Quinn a late-night visit to make himself feel better, and the two finally consummate their “relationship.”
Daria spies on Andrei, trying to find more information on Katya’s death, only to discover her father at an auction for abducted sex-slaves.
The bureau assigns Mack a new partner after he finds out from the chief that Reed has gone rogue.
Quinn, to lure Reed back from wherever he’s gone, decides to get herself kidnapped by the human traffickers so he can rescue her.
And, here we are . . .
1
Reed
What kind of an asshole do you have to be to sneak out of a woman’s house once she falls asleep after sex?
Me.
I’m that kind of asshole. I don’t even bother to stop and put my shoes on before I slither from Quinn’s apartment.
Something I regret as I gingerly make my way up the darkened street to my car. I’m not sure where I plan to go, I just know I can’t stay here.
With Quinn.
She’ll romanticize the hell out of last night in her dreams and wake up ready to plan the wedding. That’s not the headspace I’m in.
I should never have gone to see her tonight. But I’m also the kind of asshole who blames alcohol for poor decision making. I was drunk when I showed up at her d
oor a few hours ago, and I’m pretty sure I still am now.
Like all alcohol-fueled decisions, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Especially knowing it would lead to sex. But I’ve managed to get myself into an impossible situation. And I’m not even sure I’ll make it out alive. Fucking Quinn before I die seemed like a smart thing to do.
Of course, if I live, once will not be enough.
Even if it makes her start to plan a wedding.
I pull my car keys from my pocket, only to drop them on the street. When I don’t see them right away, I realize I parked in the only area of this fucking street not lit by a streetlight.
For fuck’s sake, Reed. What kind of amateur rookie are you?
My head spins as I lean over, and I must brace myself on the side of my car as I blindly reach around for them.
Fuck me, I drove here in this condition.
The asshole tally just keeps adding up. Drinking. Driving. Unprotected sex. Bailing afterward without a word. Undoubtedly hurting a woman I care about.
“You’re disgusting,” I mumble to myself. “Worthless and disgusting.”
My fingertips scrape the edge of the keys and I pull them toward me with what feels like painstaking delay. I click the remote to unlock the SUV before I have the keys all the way in my hand and manage to stand and get the door open without further incident.
The hood drops over my head before I even realize someone is behind me. My base instinct is to fight back, but my alcohol befuddled brain can’t control my limbs fast enough to cooperate before the barrel of a gun is pushed at the back of my skull. I freeze at the sound of a cocking gun echoing around us.
I’m not even armed. I left my piece in my car when I went to see Quinn. Because I’m a fucking idiot.
“You should know, I’m a federal agent.” I try to sound as authoritative as I can but doubt I’m successful. The bureau trains us to get out of perilous situations that might trip up everyday people. Like evading a blind attack or resisting abduction. Much like my authoritative tone, my training seems to have escaped me. They cuff my hands behind me before I’m even able to fully wrap my head around what’s happening. I stumble blindly as the person behind me pushes me forward. A car door opens in front of me, and I clip my forehead on the doorframe as I’m shoved into what I’m assuming is the backseat.
“Ow. Goddamn it.”
The car rocks as my abductor gets in after me and slams the door. I’m shoved further along the bench seat, but it isn’t until the car is moving that I realize I’m facing backward to the direction of travel. My mind sobers quickly as I begin mentally clocking the turns from Quinn’s house and the direction we seem to be going. My concentration is interrupted by the hood being slowly pulled from around my head. I open my eyes to find a man sitting across from me; his face illuminated by passing lights in the street shining dimly through the windows.
“Do you know who I am, Agent Roberts?” He has a heavy Russian accent, similar to Daria’s.
“Should I?” I look him up and down. He’s trim and clean cut, his suit tailored and expensive, his shoes shined and without a speck of mud or dirt. Broad face, clean shaven, and thick silver hair slicked back.
Despite his piercing blue eyes, there is nothing more about him that is extraordinary outside of his persona and the way he carries himself. He reminds me of Mack in that way. Your eyes would be drawn to him in a room or photograph regardless of how many others were alongside him. His entire being screams confidence and power. Even the way he sits, taking up almost the entire bench seat at the rear of the car gives the impression of a man in total control of himself and his environment.
He laughs in response to my question, but it sounds disingenuous. “No. In fact, I would be surprised if you did. Please pardon the question. I mean no disrespect by asking something you can’t possibly know the answer to.”
Which suddenly makes me feel like that’s exactly what he’s done. Immediately set me off-guard and in the weaker position by not knowing something seemingly obvious, yet impossible in reality.
What a dick.
“My name is Viktor Limonov. I believe you know my daughter, Daria.”
Oh.
Shit.
“Not well.” I flick my hand in the air as a show of indifference. “I know of her.” I don’t want to admit to knowing Daria well, especially when I don’t know what he’s doing here or what he wants with me.
“Did you not just spend two weeks in Maldives with her? Courtesy of my personal plane?”
Well, shit.
“How do you know that?”
“I think you’ll find that I know everything, Agent Roberts. Very little is kept from me.”
“Did Daria tell you I was in Maldives courtesy of your plane?”
“No.”
I watch him as he watches me. Neither of us wanting to give too much. Or maybe that’s just me since he seems to know everything already and has no problem sharing it with me.
“What difference does it make if I was?” I ask just to see if he’ll share anything with me.
“Your friend David was killed earlier tonight, was he not?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I believe I’ve already explained myself where my knowledge is concerned.”
I nod in response. He’s right, he did. “He was, yes.”
“And that was Quinn Foster’s house you just snuck out of after giving her four orgasms. Your sexual prowess while intoxicated is quite impressive, Agent.”
Asshole.
“Leave Quinn out of this, she has nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, on the contrary, I think she has everything to do with it. But for now, I’ll do as you wish and leave her be. My only point in bringing her up is to make you aware of how much I know and how quickly I know it.”
I pick up on a hidden warning in his words. Like I now need to watch what I do, because he will know the minute I do it.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“What do you want with me?” I ask.
“I will make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
“I doubt that.”
“Let me rephrase. I will make you an offer you will not refuse.”
The car picks up speed, so I’m guessing we are on the freeway now. The only windows are those in the doors, and I’m not next to one. I wait for him to continue.
“Effective”—he glances at his watch—“less than an hour ago, they have transferred you out of the criminal investigative sector of the FBI and you are now working undercover.”
“Excuse me?” I have to forcibly refrain from jumping across the space between us and pulling him up by the necktie, demanding to know what gives him the right to make changes regarding my life.
“Yes,” he continues as though I’ve said nothing. “Your new assignment is with me and my organization.”
“I can’t do that. It won’t work,” I interject.
“You can. And it will.”
“I—”
“Please don’t interrupt me again, Agent Roberts.”
Who the fuck does he think he is?
How the fuck does he think this will work?
I nod. “Are you through?”
“No. But I can see you have the patience of a child, so proceed with your question.” He sighs.
“It’s not so much a question as it is an objection. This is my job. My career. How I make money and pay rent. I can’t just stop all that to work for you.”
“Your salary and benefits will continue uninterrupted.”
“How the fuck do you—”
“Leave that to me. You just worry about what you need to get done.”
“And what is it I need to get done?” I ask.
“You will spy for me.”
“Spy on who?”
“Whoever I wish.” He steeples his fingers in front of his face and regards me.
I keep waiting to either wake up from this dream or have whatever is happening start to make sense. So fa
r, neither is happening.
“First, let me tell you a story. About a young girl named Daria . . .”
I can’t wrap my head around what Viktor told me before dropping me back at my car. Daria is a killer. Sometimes for money, others for vengeance. Trained from childhood to take down guys in any number of situations. She’s lethal. Like a weapon.
Does this mean Mack knows? Viktor seems to be certain he does. And if Mack knows, how could he keep this from me? What kind of partners does that make us? I guess as of tonight we aren’t any kind of partners since apparently I’ve left the FBI.
And what the hell does Ronan Sinclair have to do with anything?
Daria uses the bar as a cover for herself and her girls. Anytime they need an alibi, it’s built right in. Daria has a girl who can falsify security footage at the drop of a hat, and all the girls start the night at the bar, so customers see them. It’s perfect, really. What I don’t understand yet is how long this has been going on.
Quinn must know.
Which means two important people in my life have been keeping the largest secret from me. One that endangers all our lives. How dare they keep it from me? They have no right to do so. Mack especially. We have each other’s back, that’s the whole point of a partnership. Does that mean Daria is more important than I am?
Probably. But I don’t want to dwell too much on that thought.
How is it that Viktor Limonov can control the FBI like this? Who does he have influence over? Is it my boss? My boss’s boss? The director?