by Nicole Snow
“What about you?” I ask, rapid-fire. “You were fighting all four of them! And Pickett, Quinn, you—”
“I’m still breathing, Peach, and so are you. That’s a good outcome.” He gives me a quick kiss. “Hang on. I’d better check on Bat.”
In the past few hours, I’ve gone through a litany of strange, whirlwind emotions I’ve never experienced. From believing I was about to die, to finding the grit to kick a bad guy in the knees, to watching Quinn wrestle a flipping monster of a man so our horned guardian angels could finish what he started.
It’s so unbelievable my nerves are fried for the next fifty years.
“Go get him,” I whisper. “Just don’t put yourself in danger if he’s still conscious. Not again.”
He nods, turns, and does a double take when he sees Hellboy’s silhouette glowing in the moonlight, flashing that devil-may-care grin.
“Get him off the dock! This thing’s like a sponge, lots of rot, it’s gonna collapse any second.” Without waiting, Quinn runs to the end, motioning frantically to the goat.
Finally something else I can help him with.
I find my shoes, stuff my feet into them, and run.
“Hellboy, get your cute butt over here!” I click my tongue at the goat, not wanting the dock to collapse with him on it. The water will give him a heart attack if he doesn’t sink straight to the bottom first.
With a bored look, he finally deigns to turn and meet me.
I grasp his horn as soon as he’s in range and lead him off the dock.
“Okay, tough guy, you’ve won me over,” I tell him. “I’m going to make sure Uncle Dean keeps you rich in bananas for the next year.”
Hellboy bleats in agreement.
Despite it all, I laugh, knowing how much he loves his fruit snacks between the big grazing jobs.
As we step off the dock, I notice the other goats, how they have the few goons who didn’t run at the first chance surrounded.
Even Marvin, who Quinn whipped across the face with the guy’s own gun, is flat on the ground, groaning and holding a hand against his side.
Owl’s there, too, this big growling blur of fur, reminding any man who moves that he won’t hesitate to pick up right where the goats left off. The minute he sees me, though, he breaks into a ground-eating run and nearly bowls me over.
I give him a fierce hug. “My other hero. I knew you wouldn’t leave me hanging. You’re too tough to let these idiots put you down.”
He gives me an excited bark, then returns to the men, keeping tight circles, overseeing his goat brigade.
By the time I return to the edge of the dock, Quinn pulls a miserable, limp Bat Pickett through the water, just in time for the boat arriving next to them.
“Damn. A day late and a dollar short,” Drake says, sounding disappointed. “Sorry we weren’t quicker. It’s harder than you’d think to steer this thing at night without making a sound. At least we can help you load up the trash.”
“The goats beat you sloths,” Quinn says with a grin. “But yeah, I guess you can help me tie them up. Still one more rattlesnake unaccounted for, and I’m thinking we’ll find him at my place.”
What does he mean? I glance around, knowing all the men here took a huge beating. And the couple oddballs who escaped won’t get far.
Not in nowhere cornfields stretching for miles. Plus, every country road is bound to be swarming with police soon.
“No need,” Ridge says, beaming a blue-eyed smile my way. “The sheriff already arrested Goode. Caught him lurking around your house right after you left. Deputies should be here any minute.”
“Shit, you guys are serious?” Quinn rakes a hand through his hair. “I owe you.”
“I called the sheriff as soon as you hung up,” Drake says. “From everything you told me, I figured he’d move swiftly the second you were gone, trying to plant something to implicate you in all this. Our instincts were right.”
Quinn nods. “Thanks, guys. That’s exactly what I thought after talking to James, too. Just wish he was here so I could thank him.”
I’m officially lost in this conversation, so I mostly keep silent and out of the way as the three men ground the canoe and finish hauling Bat onto the shore. He’s still breathing.
Part of me wishes he wasn’t, but then, there’s no telling how many people they could help by capturing a kingpin creep like this alive. This time, there’ll be no easy ticket out of prison.
Something moves in a tree overhead as soon as the guys are ashore.
I almost scream, wondering if they missed one of Pickett’s men. But I recognize the big, bearded hulk who slides down and turns to me with a smile, a big rifle slung over his back.
“What. The. Hell.” Grady rumbles, swiping a hand over his face. “Lady, I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit in my time, but this takes the cake—hell, the whole bakery. You okay?”
I give him a friendly nod. “Fine now. It makes me feel better knowing you were up there the whole time.”
“Faulk did the hard part, never needed my backup,” he says with a shrug. “I couldn’t get a clear line of sight on Goliath over there without risking hitting you or Faulk. You’re damn lucky those goats came charging in when they did. How’d they get here, anyway?”
“Owl,” Quinn says, walking over and beaming at us. “He wasn’t at the house when I left, so I knew he must’ve tried to help her, somehow. He knew Tory was in danger, and it looks like he did what he does best. Rounded up the tribe and brought us reinforcements.”
“I still can’t believe it,” I say, shaking my head.
I also know if the animals hadn’t shown up, Quinn would’ve saved me without their help.
Bat Pickett never had a chance against the four fiercest men in Dallas.
In no time, Grady, Ridge, and Drake hog-tie Bat and the other men. All they’re missing are bows on their foreheads for the cops.
The deputies show up with a couple dozen other officials in tactical gear and black suits. While Quinn, Grady, Ridge, and Drake are busy talking, I stay busy keeping Owl and the goats away from the commotion.
Incredibly, all eighteen are here and accounted for.
And that’s when I finally let myself smile. I bet I’m the only woman who’s ever been saved by eighteen goats, one bull of a mastiff, and the most amazing, kind, and fearless man on the planet.
The man I owe my heart to.
I also want to apologize, even if our hissy fit before this started was a two-way tango, but first I need to get the goats home. Borrowing Quinn’s phone, I call Uncle Dean and tell him to pick up the truck and trailer, then bring it to the old Maddock farm.
I’m amazed he’s even awake, considering it’s after three in the morning, but the man never misses a monster movie marathon on cable. And I guess if he shows up in time, he’ll get a glimpse of a real monster.
It couldn’t be more fitting.
Dropping down on an old crate, I wait, stroking Owl’s head, watching Quinn’s handsome profile in the shifting cascade of blinking police cars and floodlights.
Fitting might just be the best word for everything tonight.
The sun is up and burning my tired eyes by the time the goats are settled at Uncle Dean’s place and I finally drive the truck home to Quinn’s.
Guilt strikes hard when I’m alone, and able to think. How I hadn’t taken his warnings seriously enough.
I don’t know why. Maybe because no one’s ever had my best interests at heart before, and for some reason, I refused to believe it was possible.
Quinn isn’t home. He’s still at the sheriff’s office, meeting with the FBI people.
From what I’ve gathered, that Goode guy was some sort of high-level police official back in Oklahoma City, but he’d been a double agent of sorts, playing the streets and the law to line his own pockets.
It’s sickening. There’s a lot more to it, I’m sure, like Goode having a hand in Quinn’s partner getting killed...
But my mind is abo
ut as cooked as a scrambled egg.
It might be a year before I pick up a thriller again, books I usually love.
The fact that this is way too real still freaks me out.
Having a taste of the life Quinn lived for years during our little intermission scares the crap out of me.
Seriously.
What if there are other dangerous men out there with axes to grind? I’d like to think this insanity was a one-off, but...the mere idea of more makes me tremble from head to toe.
I take a shower, and though I’m dog-tired after being up all night, I know I won’t be able to sleep until Quinn gets home.
So I get dressed, feed Owl, and then go to the barn to finish what Pickett’s men so rudely interrupted the night before. Honestly, I don’t get very far, hanging off a few silks before I’m out of breath and limping to the blanket in the corner.
Even fear can’t keep a girl up forever when she’s this exhausted.
I’m still there napping, dreaming of how my entire life has changed since summer, when I hear footsteps.
In my groggy state, it scares me.
I jerk up so hard I almost crash right into him.
“Whoa. Easy. Didn’t think I’d find you here. Haven’t you had enough exercise for one day?” he asks, crouching, laying those big calloused hands on my shoulders.
His grin lassos my heart. I flash him a shy smile.
“Sure, but I didn’t want to fall asleep until you were home. I tried to stay awake, but...”
“Never any shame in a power nap, darlin’.” He cups my face with both hands, melting me alive with the hottest emerald-green eyes in existence. I think I’m a puddle by the time his lips mold to mine and he kisses me fully awake. “Have you eaten yet?”
“I’m not hungry. Did you get everything sorted out?”
His eyes darken and he shrugs.
“Eh, it’ll be a while. Weeks, maybe months, before everything gets fully sorted and cases closed. I’m finished with the after-action stuff for now, though.” Taking my hand, he leads us to the door. “I brought home some Chinese takeout. You up for a bite?”
My stomach growls as soon as he says it.
His growlypants chuckle curls my toes. “I’m thinkin’ that’s a yes?”
“God, yeah. I haven’t had good Chinese in ages.”
“Me either. It’s a new place next to the sheriff’s office and smelled awful good when I walked out.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
“Crap, okay, let’s eat!”
He stops and tugs me closer, though, leveling another heavy look on me.
“How’re you really doing, Peach? You promise me you’re okay?” he asks.
“Yes. It’s just, well, kind of crazy. I know you get it.”
Kissing the top of my head as we resume walking, he says, “I’m sorry about all that shit. I put you in that position. If I hadn’t opened my big mouth and chewed you out before they showed up—”
I freeze, turning toward him, folding my hands in front of me.
“Quinn, no. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have gone to the barn last night. I wasn’t thinking. And I shouldn’t have put up such a big fight about leaving town.” Huffing out a breath, I continue. “I just...I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d work out until I was tired. I’m truly sorry. I should’ve listened and taken your warnings more seriously. I know you didn’t want to send me home to hurt me. You tried to save me.”
He looks down for a moment, then his eyes snap up again, full of warmth like a sunlit forest.
“It’s over now. You’re fine, I’m fine, and so’s everybody else, critters included.” He opens the back door and holds it for me. “Ladies first. Go on in before our lunch gets cold. I wasn’t sure what you like, and I was hungry as hell, so I bought a lot of everything.”
No kidding.
Five huge white bags stuffed to the brim with little boxes and plastic containers are sitting on the center island. It’s like he cleaned out a whole round of a Chinese buffet.
“It looks like you bought one of everything,” I say with a giggle.
“Nothing like leftovers for supper, right?”
“If you mean breakfast, lunch, and dinner tomorrow, sure,” I say, tearing open the first bag. My stomach growls again at the amazing smell of the food. “Ohhh, egg rolls! Pork?”
“At least one kind with every meat known to man.” He smiles and hands me a plate.
The food tastes as good as it smells as we tear into it, sharing each other’s company just like old times when we used to order way too much ice cream. Except back then, I didn’t have Quinn’s bed to look forward to when I’m too full to move.
I’m not only as stuffed as a Thanksgiving turkey by the time we put the leftovers in the fridge, I’m yawning my jaw off.
“Time to crash,” Quinn says.
Too tired to even agree, I lean against him as we walk up the stairs. At the top of the steps, he pauses.
My room is one way, his is the other.
It’s not even a question.
I know where I’m going, but I love the sexy look of frustration he gives me.
His arm around me tightens, leading me to his room, as if to say only one place you belong, woman. Now and forever.
I pull off my clothes and dive into bed, wearing just my panties and bra.
Quinn kisses my forehead. “Be right back. Gonna take a shower and clean up.”
Nodding, I snuggle my head into his pillow, inhaling his intoxicating scent.
It’s comforting, intense, real.
Almost as reckless and utterly endearing as our love.
I’m not sure what wakes me, at first—then I know it’s the hand on my boob.
Same for the exciting nip of teeth and hot breath on the back of my neck.
The rush begins as I roll over, almost too sore to move, but not sore enough to ignore makeup sex with Quinn Faulkner.
“Still tired?” he whispers softly, the tip of his tongue flicking against my skin.
“Not too tired for...you know,” I answer.
Ha. If I’m ever too tired for him, please check my pulse.
I roll over, catching an eyeful of lust on his face.
“What about you?” I whisper.
Quinn doesn’t answer. Not with words.
He reaches behind my head, weaving his fingers through my hair, kissing the side of my face while his other hand dips beneath my bra.
When his lips finally find mine, I’m freaking dying to kiss him.
Completely. Madly. Deeply.
A hot moan rumbles in my throat the second I feel the stubble on his face grazing my silky skin.
“I can’t stop touching you,” he breathes against my mouth, his eyes brighter than I’ve ever seen. “Can’t stop thinking about you, Tory. I almost lost you. That fuck, I thought he’d—”
“Hey. Hey. I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m here and I’m yours.” I dig my fingers deep in his thick hair to keep his face next to mine. “I know the feeling. They could’ve taken everything away.”
If it’s true, then it seems to make him hell-bent on giving everything back.
We kiss again, our mouths hot and wet, tongues at war.
I twist to my side, wind my legs around his and arch against his hips, wanting more of that hungry bulge I can already feel every time I grind against him. Wanting him inside me.
He breaks the kiss with a hitched groan, rolling me on my back, shadowing my body with corded muscle and wild ink I want to lick right off his skin.
My turn to moan.
And this time in disappointment because I can’t feel his erection pressing into me, not with his hips pulled back and that hot glint in his eye, ordering me to be patient.
God.
I want to devour him just slightly less than I want him to consume me.
Thankfully, he isn’t opposed to the thought, trailing sticky kisses over my cheeks, my chin, my neck, before
he snaps my sports bra up with a fevered groan.
“Shit, shit. Tory,” he rasps. “You still don’t have a clue.”
“Hmm?” I whisper, my legs stroking his.
“What you fuckin’ do to me. Don’t you get how bad I need you, need this?”
Drawing a feral breath, he shoves his hand in my panties, reaches down, and fills me with two thieving fingers.
Holy hell.
I’m drenched, bucking against him, finding his knuckle and working my clit good and hard against it. Somehow, I’m still able to grasp the thick elastic of my bra.
I pull it over my head, hoping beyond all hope that’s where his mouth is bound.
His head dips low at the sight of my nipples.
I arch my back, pushing against his mouth, loving how easily he finds the wickedly delicious line between punishment and pleasure with his teeth, his tongue, his everything.
I never knew how much that turns me on.
No man has ever kissed me before like he does.
No one has ever loved every inch of me like Quinn.
No man ever will again.
By the time he pulls my other nipple into his mouth and his tongue puts stars in my eyes, I’m burning with need. He’s naked, and I reach down, grasping his hard-on.
“Yeah, fuck!” He sucks a harsh breath as I start pumping him with my hand, marveling at how big, how hard, how much he throbs for me.
When he’s leaking pre-come all over my hand, he reaches down, fists my panties, and rips them clean off in one swift movement.
For a second, we lock eyes, and he grins. “I’ll buy you new ones, whatever the hell you want, just open those legs for me. Right the fuck now.”
I don’t even care.
I’m too delirious, riding his hand, so close to coming I think I’ll lose it the first minute he’s inside me.
“Quinn, please.” Groaning, I arch into his palm. “I can’t take much more.”
He stiffens, pulling his hand away. “Same.”
“Then what the hell are we waiting for?” I ask.
A second later, he mounts me, feeding his entire full, rough length into my body in one deep thrust.
I’ll never know how I don’t hit my O right then, but I’m glad I last a few more minutes.