Quinn

by Lynn Hagen

  He took the bag and opened it, offering his mate a few. Quinn dug in and popped some into his mouth as they looked back at the test. There was a faint pink coloring, but Stevie couldn’t make out what it was.

  The seconds seemed like hours. The tension returned as he chewed so fast his jaw should’ve locked up on him. They stood side by side and held their breaths as the pink became more pronounced.

  “We got this.” Quinn rolled his shoulders like he was getting ready for the biggest game of his life.

  The pink turned even darker.

  Stevie’s heart traveled up to his throat. He gripped the bag tighter in his hand. He chewed faster, breathed harder.

  “I can’t take the goddamn suspense,” Quinn said.

  Neither could Stevie. He felt as though he’d come unglued at any second. With a release of breath, he turned, unable to stand it any longer. He didn’t want to see the results, didn’t want to know.

  Quinn gripped his shoulders and turned him back around. “We find out together.”

  Stevie thought about his mom and wished he could run to her for support, for some kind of comfort. The sad part was that even if he was pregnant, he couldn’t tell her. Not like Layne had told his parents. Stevie couldn’t trust his mom with the news, and knowing her, she would try to figure out a way to profit from it.

  He never despised her more than he did right now.

  But he had Quinn right at his side, ready to accept whatever the stick said. They were in this together, a team, partners, and Stevie would always be grateful for a man like Quinn O’Brien.

  “Is that it?” Quinn looked from the stick, to Stevie, and then back at the test. “Is it done?”

  A dam of emotions broke in Stevie, and he wasn’t sure how he should feel. His chest felt heavy, and tears sprang to his eyes. He set the bag of cheese puffs on the closed toilet lid and curled his arms around his stomach.

  “I-I think it’s done.” Stevie poked the stick as if that would change the results, would shake something loose inside of it and give them a different sign.

  He looked up at Quinn, and for reasons unknown, Stevie burst into tears. Quinn folded him into his arms, shushing him, rocking Stevie as a weight settled in Stevie’s gut.

  The test was negative.

  * * * *

  Quinn held Stevie as his mate cried. He was disappointed, but he didn’t think Stevie would take it this hard. Quinn also didn’t understand what was going on. His mate wasn’t in heat, yet he’d gone through the conversion. Why wasn’t he pregnant?

  But he kept those questions to himself. Stevie already felt bad enough. Quinn didn’t need to throw a bunch of questions out there to make Stevie feel even worse.

  He grabbed the stick off the counter and shoved it into his pocket before leading Stevie from the bathroom. Quinn gnashed his teeth when he saw Lara in the hallway, just outside her bedroom door.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, her eyes glued to her son. “What’s wrong?”

  Quinn ignored her and led Stevie to their room, closing the door behind him. It was a damn shame that he had to shield his mate from his own mother. Maybe he’d been too hasty letting her stay there. He’d seen how against it Stevie had been.

  Quinn had just wanted to keep an eye on her, to stop Bodega from using her as leverage. He hadn’t even met the guy and hated him already.

  There was a little over a week left, and so far, nobody had come up with a plan. Cliff was still breathing, Lara had invaded their home, and Stevie still had a death sentence hanging over his head.

  Quinn would pay the money. He had no other choice, but he would make it very clear to Bodega that Stevie would no longer be held liable for his dad’s debts.

  Stevie broke away from him and crawled into bed. It hurt Quinn’s heart that his mate was taking this so badly. He’d thought Stevie would be happy that he wasn’t pregnant.

  He started to join his mate, but his phone buzzed. It was a text message from Keller asking about the results. Quinn didn’t have it in him right now to text back.

  He was just as upset as Stevie. Quinn had always wanted a family, and to find out his mate wasn’t pregnant felt like a blow to his sternum.

  After setting his phone aside, Quinn crawled into bed with Stevie and curled around him, holding him close.

  “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” Stevie said. “It’s not like I was ready to become a father. My life is a complete wreck. I should be focusing on how to get out of the situation with Bodega instead of bringing a child into this world.”

  Quinn knew what Stevie was doing. Making reasons for this to be okay, a bright spot instead of rain clouds.

  “It’s not like we can’t keep trying,” Quinn said.

  “Just not right now.” Stevie scooted impossibly closer. “I just want to be held.” Stevie wiggled until Quinn lifted his arm. His mate turned over and looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I know how badly you wanted this.”

  Quinn placed a soft kiss on Stevie’s lips. “Not as badly as I want you in my life. We’ll deal with this and move on. Just as long as I have you, I’m happy.”

  Kids or no kids, Quinn would never regret a single moment with his mate. In such a short period of time, Stevie had come to mean the world to him.

  But Quinn would be lying to himself if he didn’t say that he was disappointed that he wouldn’t hear the sounds of small feet running through the house, of having a boy or girl with Stevie’s gorgeous looks.

  He held Stevie tighter, the room silent as Quinn comforted his mate.

  Chapter Eight

  It must have been the stress of his mother showing up that made Stevie sick. There was no other explanation. He was also shocked at how hard he had taken it when the negative sign had shown up.

  But Quinn was right. If Stevie lived past his birthday, they could keep trying.

  Stevie jerked up in bed when he heard low, murmured voices. Quinn was fast asleep next to him. Curious, Stevie got up and padded to the bedroom door, shoving his ear against the wood.

  The sounds were muffled, but he’d recognize his mother’s voice anywhere. Stevie opened the door and poked his head out. Lara and Nomad were in the hallway arguing.

  “I was not drinking,” she insisted. “How could I have been when there isn’t a drop of alcohol in this house?”

  “I smell it all over your breath,” Nomad said in a calm, deadly voice. “You weren’t patted down when you got here, which means you brought it with you.”

  Stevie closed his eyes, groaning as he exited his room. He knew she wouldn’t last long. Even if Stevie couldn’t smell the booze, Nomad was a panther shifter and would be able to detect a single drop.

  “Mom.”

  She turned, and her eyes lit up. “Steven. Tell this rude gentleman that I keep my word. Your boyfriend said no alcohol, and I haven’t touched any.”

  Nomad looked at Stevie. What was Stevie supposed to say? In his own way he loved her, but he wasn’t going to lie. “Have you been drinking?”

  She looked crushed as she stiffened her spine, but Stevie knew how good of an actress she was. Even so, and after the years of manipulation, he still felt like a horrible son.

  “I caught her trying to sneak into Keller’s bedroom.” Nomad looked at Lara as if he dared her to lie.

  Keller was the brother who currently lived in California, the doctor. Still, he kept a room at their family home for his visits.

  Quinn had told him that. It was Keller’s childhood bedroom.

  “I was confused,” his mother argued. “I thought it was my guest room. At my age I sometimes get turned around.”

  “Is that why you were trying to pick the lock?” Nomad asked, “Because you were confused and trying to get back into your room?”

  “I thought I’d locked myself out.”

  “The guest room doesn’t have a lock,” Nomad said in a calm, deadly tone. “So why were you really trying to get in there?”

  “I’m…I’m…” Tears sprang to
her eyes. Stevie wasn’t so sure anymore if she was acting or really turned around. Lara seemed so distraught, and if she was acting, she needed an Academy Award.

  “It was a misunderstanding,” Stevie said. “She’s getting up there in age. I’ll take her back to her room.”

  She was only forty-five, but Stevie had said the first thing to pop into his head. He didn’t want Nomad hiding her body for snooping around. And that was exactly what she had been doing.

  Nomad arched a brow and cocked his head to the side, as if he wasn’t sure she was telling the truth or not as Stevie put an arm around her shoulders and led her back to the guest bedroom.

  “You have to stay in your room.” He coaxed her through her bedroom door.

  “Why, am I a prisoner here?” She turned, making Stevie’s arm slip off her. “I swear I haven’t been drinking. You have to believe me, Steven. You were generous enough to allow me to stay here. I wouldn’t mess that up.”

  She looked so sincere that Stevie wasn’t sure what to think. “For now, stay in your room. It’s late. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

  “Tell me you don’t believe that stranger over your own mother,” she demanded. “It was bad enough I had to live with Cliff. He always called me a liar and never trusted me. Now I’m getting that same kind of treatment from my very own son?”

  Stevie curled his fists in, refusing to argue with her. After everything—the way she’d never defended him when Cliff was beating on him, or losing herself in the bottle so she didn’t have to deal with reality, or how she’d conned so many people that he was surprised the residents of Kendall hadn’t run the Tuckers out of town—she had the nerve to say that to him?

  “I’ll see you in the morning.” He walked out of her bedroom and closed the door behind him. Stevie leaned against the hallway wall and closed his eyes, counting to ten to stop the tears from falling.

  Half of him hated the fact that he’d been born to that woman. The other half wanted a real relationship with her so badly that he wanted to cry.

  But Stevie had given up that dream a long time ago. Lara Tucker would never be the woman he wanted her to be, the mother he’d always craved.

  This moment, coming on the heels of finding out he wasn’t pregnant, was almost too much for him. Stevie headed downstairs and curled up on the couch, pulling the afghan from the back and covering himself with it.

  Not five minutes later Quinn found him. He sat on the couch and rested Stevie’s feet on his thighs. Quinn grabbed the remote and turned the television on, not saying a word.

  That was what Stevie needed. Some kind of normalcy. To forget his problems and lose himself in the mindless drone of voices.

  Quinn got up and returned with two bottled waters and a huge bag of pretzels. He opened the bag and poured some into a bowl, setting the bowl in front of Stevie’s face.

  When the cooking episode ended, Quinn said, “I’m gonna pay the debt.”

  Stevie closed his eyes, wishing he could talk Quinn out of it. But if he did, how would he pay the debt on his own? It was a catch twenty-two that he despised his father for.

  That he detested his mother for.

  That he hated Bodega for.

  And Neal.

  But most of all, himself. If he’d been more adamant about keeping Quinn out of this, the guy wouldn’t be forking over fifty grand. He couldn’t even wrap his head around that much money.

  Quinn got up and left the room, making Stevie feel more alone than ever. He’d involved good, decent men, and for that, Stevie would never forgive himself.

  * * * *

  “I’m not gonna let you throw away fifty grand,” Nash argued. “There has to be another way.”

  “What other way?” Quinn slammed the side of his fist against the kitchen counter. “Nobody has come up with a plan, and the days are ticking by. I won’t have my mate’s life in danger because of his rotten-ass father.”

  “We still don’t know who shot at you,” Hayward said in his usual calm, quiet voice. “Or why they shot at you and Stevie. None of that makes any sense.”

  Quinn already had a friend of his in Nevada looking into Mason. If his ex had anything to do with this, Quinn would rip the bastard’s throat out. But other than the day they’d been shot at, no one else had tried anything.

  Hayward was right. That didn’t make any sense. If it had been Mason, he would’ve done something else by now. Even though Mason had acted really weird after the breakup, he wasn’t the violent type.

  “What about Mrs. Tucker?” Hayward asked. “I don’t care what anyone says, she was sneaking around. If she’d been confused about the rooms, she wouldn’t have been looking around while she picked that lock.”

  Quinn knew now that he’d made a mistake letting her stay there, but as the saying went, he wanted to keep his enemies close. Even if close meant under the same roof.

  “Can you keep eyes on her?” he asked Hayward. “Try and find out what she’s really up to?”

  “I’m already on it,” he said. “I’ve been watching her since she walked through the door.”

  “I don’t like this,” Nash said. “I’ve got my mate and son here. If she does anything to threaten their safety, I’ll gut her.”

  “I’ll help keep an eye on them,” Quinn said. He knew Nash wanted to get to the pub he owned and check on things. The place hadn’t been open that long, and Nash was proud of his new business. Hell, Quinn was proud of Nash, too.

  “I’m gonna take Layne and Connor to the pub with me,” Nash said, as if reading Quinn’s mind. “I’m having the office expanded, making more room for a nursery area. A pub might not be the right place for a baby, but I feel better knowing they’re close by.”

  Quinn didn’t blame his brother one bit.

  “You need to get rid of her,” Nash said. “My gut tells me something isn’t right.”

  “I’ll find out who this Bodega guy is and set up a meeting,” Quinn said.

  “Goddamn it.” Nash clenched his jaw. “You don’t make a fucking move without one of us with you. You got that?”

  “And I’ve been taking care of myself for a decade without any help,” Quinn reminded him. “I know how to watch my back. I’m not a juvenile who needs his brothers to save him.”

  Nash narrowed his eyes.

  Quinn regretted his words. Not too long ago Nash had needed them when a psycho was after him. An old army buddy who blamed Nash for the deaths of some men in their unit.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Save it.” Nash walked out.

  “Smooth.” Hayward studied Quinn.

  “Fuck you.” Quinn stormed from the room. He needed to find out about Mr. Bodega so he could end this, kick Lara out, and hopefully get his life in order.

  Because if shit got any more tense, Quinn just might shoot someone.

  * * * *

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Stevie jumped at the sound of Quinn’s booming voice. He spun, trying to use his body to hide the suitcase on the bed.

  Quinn walked into the room and closed the door. “Is that what you’re good at?”

  The question confused Stevie. “What’re you talking about?”

  “Running.” Quinn waved a hand at the bed. “Every time things get too tough, you seem to pack your bags. You did that when I came to your house, and now you’re packing again.”

  “It’s better than being a drain on you!” Stevie spun and slapped his suitcase closed and then zipped it. “I’ve caused enough problems around here. And now my mom shows up, and I don’t doubt she has some kind of ulterior motive. My family has done enough, and I don’t want to see you used.”

  “I’m not being used,” Quinn argued. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do, you got that?”

  Stevie twisted back around. “Really? Is that why you’re forking over that kind of money? I’ve been nothing but trouble since that night on the street. There go the Tuckers again, dragging someone else into their p
roblems. You think I don’t know how everyone in town thinks of my family? I’m not an idiot, even though I try hard to hide the fact that I have the worst parents alive.”

  Stevie looked down at the carpet and said in a lower voice, “You deserve better.”

  Quinn crossed the room and grabbed Stevie’s upper arms. “Look at me.”

  Stevie forced himself to raise his head. “What?”

  “You’re not defined by your parents.”

  “The hell I’m not!” He tried to pull away, but Quinn wouldn’t let him go.

  “Not in my eyes, Stevie. You’re on the opposite end of the spectrum when it comes to your folks. You’re sweet, thoughtful, giving, and I couldn’t be prouder of having you as a mate.”

  “You really are naïve,” Stevie said. “This will never end with my parents. You pay off Cliff’s debt now, and they’ll be another and another. It’s a never-ending cycle with him. Why do you think I moved out when I was sixteen? If it hadn’t been for Layne’s parents, I would’ve lived on the streets. I would’ve preferred that to living another second in Cliff and Lara’s house. They’re poison, Quinn. They know you have money, and they won’t stop draining you. Can’t you see? I need to get as far away from you as possible.”

  A hard, burning lump formed in Stevie’s throat. He didn’t want to leave Quinn. Stevie had fallen in love with the big lug-head. Who couldn’t love someone that was the complete package?

  But if he stuck around, Cliff would eventually destroy Quinn and make him hate Stevie. He would be devastated if Quinn despised him.

  “This ends,” Quinn said, “once Mr. Bodega is paid off. Then—”

  “You’re kidding yourself,” Stevie argued. “It’ll never end. Why can’t you see that?”

  Quinn scowled. “I’m not letting you walk out on me.”

  “You’ll end up hating me.” Damn it. Stevie wasn’t a crier, yet he’d shed more tears around Quinn than he could count. Stevie was normally good at hiding his feelings, slapping on a smile, and making the world think his life was peachy.