by RJ Blain
“Yeah.”
“Haven’t looked at it yet, have you?”
Shaking my head, I regarded the payment for a long moment before flicking it with a finger and sending it fluttering across Quinn’s counter. “I assumed it was the standard fee for two incidents.” I’d be grateful for the extra two thousand dollars when I hunted for an apartment.
“Not quite. Go ahead and take a look. I can’t wait to see your face.”
I frowned, snatched up the paper, and unfolded the check. After the fifth zero, I forgot how numbers worked. My legs trembled, and I leaned on the counter so I wouldn’t melt into a puddle and ruin his nice clean tiles. “What the hell?”
“Yale thought you wouldn’t remember the provision in your contract with the CDC allowing the local and federal governments to augment the payment of any certified contractor. The mayor decided to ask the CDC how many lives were likely saved by your actions.”
I gasped and dropped my check. “Pen! Pen, pen, pen.” Snapping my fingers together, I dredged through my hazy memory for the names of the people I had condemned to death.
Quinn stared at me for a long moment before fetching a pad of paper and a pen from a nearby drawer. Snatching them out of his hand, I scribbled down their names. How could I have forgotten them? Tears stung my eyes over how many had died.
I had helped kill them, and I had forgotten all about them.
Leaning across the counter, Quinn peered at my work. “Ah. It’s all right, Bailey. We got the stills of their cards from the footage you recorded. Their families have already been notified. They were celebrated as heroes on the morning news today.”
“I killed them, Quinn.” I hadn’t just killed them. I had rejoiced in my flames, encouraging them to burn brighter and hotter, for Perky—and for Quinn.
Especially for Quinn.
Quinn picked up my check, folded it, and set it in front of me. “When the mayor called the CDC, I was with him. That happened about ten minutes after you lit the place up. We thought you’d gone and kicked the bucket on us.” Leaning forward, Quinn stared me in the eyes, close enough I could feel him breathe. “Yale was with us, too. Guess what the mayor asked.”
“I have no idea.”
“He asked if sixty-three lives compared to the lives and well-being of everyone else in New York City. There were over a thousand people in 120 Wall Street when it was evacuated. If even one percent of those people were infected and became carriers, it would have triggered an epidemic. One newly whelped gorgon can petrify dozens before being isolated, contained, and taught how to control their powers. Someone attacked our city, and you stopped them. Not me, not anyone else on the force. You.”
There was no way I could tell Quinn why I’d gone on a fiery rampage. If he found out I’d done it because I was scared for him and for Perky, they’d never let me live it down. “I got drunk on napalm and burned down a building. That’s hardly commendable.”
“You sent my cops out to protect them long before you went on your little bender.”
“Little?”
“Okay, intense and rather insane napalm bender. Maybe you got a little carried away, but it worked out.”
I blushed and stared down at the check so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes. “Why?”
Why would anyone attack New York with gorgon dust, something so dangerous it was illegal on a global level and could petrify an entire city in minutes? With the volume I had destroyed, it was entirely possible Lower Manhattan, at the very minimum, would have been turned to stone.
Quinn sighed. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” With a finger, he pinned my check to his counter. “This represents every life you saved yesterday.” His expression changed, and fury darkened his eyes and twisted his mouth. “You were willing to kill yourself to make sure that dust stayed contained. You didn’t even hesitate. You knew what you faced. You had no way of knowing you’d survive, and you did it anyway.”
“Yes.” How could one word hurt so much? I’d kept the same dead-end job most of my adult life, breaking the monotony with jobs for the CDC to boost my income enough to barely make a living. I could’ve done better for myself if I’d just taken my certifications and worked directly for the CDC, but I hadn’t wanted to travel the world.
I had wanted to make friends and find someone to love, someone who’d love me back. That hadn’t worked out so well for me, but I’d kept trying and failing anyway. I couldn’t fool anyone.
Until I figured out how to have friends, I had no hope of finding someone just for me—if that someone existed. The man I wanted stood right in front of me, and all I had ever done was hurt him.
“Why?”
It was so easy to explain, yet the words stuck in my throat. Quinn waited, all his attention focused on me.
“Perky was right outside.” I stared at the check, wondering how that much money would change things for me. It had more than five zeros, well over the amount I made in a single year—more than I had made in my entire life. “I knew you’d come. I knew if you came—when you came—the dust might reach you. They’d put you in a glass coffin, and they’d never let you out. I couldn’t let that happen.”
I’d already ruined his life enough. Maybe it’d set things straight between us, making up for the things I’d done and the hateful words I’d said to him.
“So you would have thrown your life away.”
I closed my eyes. “I’m not like you, Quinn. I’m not respected. I’m not liked. I have no one. For someone like me, when I die, that’s it. Everyone else moves on. Someone might wonder what happened to the only human stupid enough to work at a faery-run coffee shop. Some might even remember my name was Bailey because they thought it was funny I had the same name as an alcohol often served in coffee. You help people. Me? I mess things up.”
“When Yale warned me you had enough self-esteem issues to keep an entire mental hospital busy, I’d really thought he was exaggerating.”
Professor Yale had said what? One day, I really would kill that old man, and I’d enjoy every moment of it. “He said what?”
“I’m going to have to apologize to him later for doubting him. I see where I’ve been going wrong. I’m obviously going to have to explain this in a way your pea-sized brain can understand.”
I stiffened at his insult, opened my eyes, and glared at him. “Hey!”
He closed the distance between us, and I tried to decide whether a handprint would look better on his right cheek or his left one.
His smug smile warned me of trouble, and I backed up until I bumped into the wall. With a gentle but firm touch, he took hold of my chin, lifted my head, and kissed me.
Kissing Samuel Quinn was a little like playing with fire, getting burned, and enjoying it despite the pain—or maybe because of it. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything except I never wanted him to stop.
I was in so much trouble.
When he pulled away, my heart pounded while I struggled to catch my breath. He stared into my eyes and whispered, “Do you understand now?”
A half-naked Quinn had kissed me in his kitchen, and all I could think about was how I wanted him to do it again. Not only did I want him to do it again, if he didn’t, I was seriously considering rubbing up against him until he cooperated in some fashion or another.
Then I remembered he hated me. He hated me so much he had trapped me against his kitchen wall and kissed me. What was wrong with him? Or me. Or both of us, together. There was definitely something wrong with us.
There was definitely something wrong about how much I liked his mouth on mine.
“But you hate me.” There. I managed to get the right words out instead of blabbering about how I’d really like him to keep me trapped against the wall so he could do whatever he wanted. I really wouldn’t mind a single bit. “Those pictures I took!”
Why was I stupid enough to mention the man’s ex-wife when I might be able to get him to kiss me again?
Stupid, stupid me.
>
“Yes, I hate you so much I want to strip you out of that little dress and make you like it.” He growled, and I longed for him to make the sound again. “That dress on you should be classified as criminal. There’s a crime being committed in my kitchen, and I’m pretty sure it’s my job as a law enforcement officer to uphold the law and stop crime.”
A hundred and one thoughts crashed through my head, and three in particular stood out to me: yes, please, and I was a virgin.
“I’m a virgin,” I blurted.
Crap.
It turned out it wasn’t actually possible to die from embarrassment, although I was sure I came close. Why couldn’t I have said “Yes, please!” instead? Then I’d have a decent chance of taking my virginity out back, clubbing it in the head, and leaving it to die in a ditch while I did things with New York’s prime stud, single-because-of-me Chief Quinn, who I had dreamed about far too often. Instead, I guaranteed myself a lifetime of mockery the instant anyone found out.
“It seems I was right. There are definitely multiple crimes being committed in my kitchen. That also explains your offer to introduce me to some of your questionable friends.”
I whimpered at the reminder of what I’d said to him. “I never should have said that.”
Something about the way Quinn smiled warned me he had the upper hand and knew it. “I have you figured out, Bailey Gardener. You have no idea how to tell me how badly you want me, so you say the first stupid thing to pop into your head, hoping I won’t guess the truth.”
Oh my God. I had to be dreaming, hallucinating, or dead. Maybe I had died and gone to heaven, a heaven where Chief Samuel Quinn wanted to kiss me and fully intended to end my days of being a virgin, ripping my dress off in the process. There had to be a rational explanation for the situation.
“Am I dead, drugged, or dreaming?”
Quinn sighed, leaned forward, and banged his head into the wall before sighing again. “Obviously, this is going to be even more difficult than I thought. This explains so much. How can one woman be so incredibly dense?”
“Now you’re just being mean.”
“I’m going to put this as simply as possible so there are absolutely no misunderstandings. I am absolutely furious you tried to get yourself killed. I want to bend you over my knee and spank you until you swear never to do that again.”
“Yes, please.”
Crap. Why couldn’t my mouth stop blurting whatever the hell first came to mind?
He straightened, stared down at me, and blinked several times. The realization I’d just asked him to spank me sank in, and we stared at each other for a long time in utter silence.
I wanted him. I wanted him so much my entire body ached.
A slow, wicked smile spread across his lips. “Well, then. Since you asked so nicely, how could I possibly refuse?”
Chapter Eleven
I didn’t lose my virginity. ‘Lose’ implied I wanted it back, cared it was gone, or would otherwise miss it. I liked to think we took it out back, clubbed it to death, lit it on fire so it’d never bother me again, and gave it a nice funeral. But now I had a new problem, a very big one: Quinn.
With one taste of him, I never wanted to let him go—or let him let me go, as the case currently was. He trapped me against him, cuddled close, and kept nibbling on the back of my neck. He had exhausted me, made me feel way too much, and somehow left me wanting more.
Unfortunately, I had a second problem: I needed to pee.
Where was the bathroom, and how was I supposed to reach it when every muscle in my body protested even the thought of moving? I ached in places I hadn’t known I could. Worse, I wanted more. I wanted Quinn over and over again.
But first, I really needed to pee. “Quinn?”
“Mmmm?” He really needed to stop nibbling on me. If he didn’t, I’d never want to leave his bed. “How haven’t I tired you out yet?”
Determined to say something other than ‘let me up or I’ll pee on you,’ I replied, “Where’s your bathroom?”
“But I like it when you’re dirty.”
Nice. I liked it when he was dirty, too, and he liked showing me just how wonderfully sinful he could be.
Screw it. “Let me up or I’ll pee on you.”
Quinn laughed and pointed at a closed door. “Through there.”
It would be a lot easier to escape his warm bed if he let me go. I wiggled free, shivering at the way his hand skimmed over my skin, and made a strategic retreat to the bathroom. Marble floors, a huge tub with jets, and a separate shower promised I’d spend some of the best moments of my life in Quinn’s home.
That was it. If he wanted me to leave, he’d have to kick me out, and I’d fight tooth, claw, hoof, and horn to stay. “I’m never leaving,” I declared before closing the door.
Point to me. I didn’t slam it like I often did when overly excited or pissed.
He chuckled, a sensual, rumbling sound.
Police Chief Samuel Quinn wouldn’t be laughing when I made myself at home in his tub and made good on my promise never to leave. I took the quickest shower possible before preparing for the nicest soak of my life. In one of the three big cabinets, I found a bottle of sea-scented bubbles and a staggering number of body washes.
Later, when I finally drifted down from the heavens and crash landed back on Earth, everything would go wrong. I’d find out I was in a hospital again or dead, the usual result of doing the right thing at great risk, having helped a lot of people—and Quinn—because I could rather than for a paycheck.
Alternatively, maybe the universe was rewarding me for a job well done and sent payment in the form of Quinn. Was he the naked model? Maybe he was a gift from Santa, because I sure as hell couldn’t figure out why the man would want me of all people.
And holy shit, had he wanted me.
I could die happy, and I eased my way into the warm water with an ecstatic sigh. Life, for the moment, was absolutely perfect. I wanted to kiss whomever had invented bathtubs with jets in them, as the rush of water not only made the bubbles better but also worked the stiffness out of my muscles.
A phone rang, evidence I was somehow in a very real world. Quinn cursed in the bedroom and answered, “It better be an emergency, otherwise, the answer is no. Gardener’s taking a bath, and there’s no way in hell I’m bothering her unless it’s really important. What is it?”
Quinn had just sealed his fate, which he would learn soon enough. By defending my bubble bath, he signaled the end of his reign as a free man.
Damn it, that had to be the predatory unicorn in me still talking.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t. Could anyone blame me for wanting to stay in heaven after having found it? Maybe I’d, in some horrible fashion, done Quinn a favor by taking those photos of his ex-wife. Maybe if I pitched the argument in the right way, I’d believe it for a little while.
I submerged to my chin and snorted so the bubbles wouldn’t go up my nose.
Quinn made a frustrated noise in the other room. “I may require a manual. How long should I leave Gardener in the tub before it’s safe? What? What the hell do you mean there’s no manual? You’re the one who wants me to come into work tonight. That’s not at all reasonable. Under the assumption I can coax her out of her hard-earned bath, we’ll come to the station. Probably around ten, since we’ll need dinner first.”
There was a long moment of silence, and Quinn gave one of those little growls that made me hold my breath so I could better listen while my toes curled. “No, I’m not leaving her home alone. She can sleep on my couch at the station, supervised. Those are doctor’s orders—she’s to be supervised in case exposure to so much neutralizer compromised her immune system again. She’s coming in with me, and that’s final.”
Quinn hung up, and at the rate he was grumbling and growling, he’d lose his voice in short order.
I thought long and hard about what I’d overheard. Obviously, I’d need to address the whole leaving the house at all issue. Wait. He pla
nned to be at the station by ten? After dinner? What time was it?
The last time I had checked a clock, it had been eight in the morning. How long had we been occupied in his bed?
And elsewhere in his home. Everywhere in his home. I thought about that long and hard.
No wonder I was sore.
Quinn knocked on the door. “Bailey? We need to go to the station in a few hours.”
“What time is it?”
“Just before seven.”
“At night?” Somehow, I avoided squealing the word.
“Unfortunately.” Quinn opened the door and peeked inside. “Please tell me you’re not a vegetarian. For some odd reason, my fridge is loaded with meat.”
“Cook it up, bring it in, and serve me while at least half-naked. I seem to recall winning a certain bet. And don’t you forget my grapes, Mr. Samuel Quinn.”
I really liked his wicked smile, which made him look like he would pounce and have his way with me given half a chance. “Your wish is my command.”
It no longer mattered if I was suffering from drug-induced hallucinations, had discovered heaven in the afterlife, or even if reality had turned in my favor for a change. For the moment, everything was perfect, and that was good enough for me.
I went from better than fine to sniffling and sneezing before we left for the station. After a short but fierce argument, which ended with me against the wall, trapped by Quinn’s warm body, he won the battle by shutting me up with his mouth on mine, but I won the war. Convincing him I’d die of shame if I went back to the hospital again classified as underhanded, but so was him using his weapon-grade lips against me.
“I really should be taking you to the doctor,” he murmured in my ear.
“I should be taking you back to bed, but no, I have to go to work with you. When I’m so sick I can’t fight with you over it, then you can take me to the hospital. Until then, I’m fine.” While I thought I’d be better than fine curled up on his bed, wrapped up in his blanket, using his pillow, he refused to leave me in his home unattended.