The Fixer

by Jessica Gadziala

  My eyes went to his face, finding his deep gaze already on mine, penetrating, seeming to see into all the corners of me.

  On a shaky exhale, my hips shifted down, his hardness pressing forward, sliding inside me. My lips parted on a whimper as I lowered down slowly, feeling each thick inch stretch me, claim me as his in a way that somehow felt new, like something I had never experienced before.

  "Fuck, babe," he growled as I took him fully, stopping to take a breath, let the moment sink in. "Ride me," he demanded, fingers crushing into my ass, his body tense, as in need for release as I was.

  And with that, my body seemed to remember how much it needed this, lifting, moving, riding him slowly at first, then faster, my hands planting on his shoulders to hold on.

  My sighs became whimpers that switched to moans. His breathing went ragged, his body getting tighter. A muscle ticked in his jaw as I felt my walls start to tighten.

  "Come, Aven," he demanded, using my ass to guide me, taking him harder and faster as the orgasm started to crest, just a coiled spring where our bodies met for a long moment before I lifted up, then took him deeply again when the tension burst, sending the waves through my system, almost alarming with their intensity, making me cry out his name, falling forward, burying my face in his neck as he thrust up into me, dragging it out, milking it for all it was worth before feeling my body's complete surrender, and finding his own release. My name was like prayer on his lips, a sound more holy than anything I had ever heard before.

  His arms left my ass, curling around me, holding me to his chest as I struggled to find my breath, to come fully back down into my body.

  The dampness on my skin cooled in the air, making a shiver course through me, and Quin's arms to squeeze me, before releasing, moving me off of him. I felt the loss of his body like a pang as he settled me down on the bed, and pulled the blankets up to cover me.

  "Be right back," he said, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment as I curled up to my side slightly, taking a deep breath, realizing what had just happened.

  I had slept with him.

  And, oddly, in the aftermath, it felt a hell of a lot like goodbye.

  My case was over.

  I was safe to go back to my life.

  And that meant that I had no reason to be staying here anymore, seeing Quin.

  He would go back to work, trotting off all over the globe.

  Me, well, I would be stuck in Navesink Bank, going right back into my old life.

  The only problem was, now I knew there was something missing from it, something I had convinced myself I didn't need anymore.

  And I was pretty sure that that wasn't just companionship, a man in general.

  No.

  I think it was Quinton Baird.

  As if thinking his name called him back, he came in from the bathroom, flicking off both the lights before making his way toward the bed.

  I scooted back, making room, having not realized until that moment that he was actually going to stay. It didn't seem like men such as Quin spent the night after sex.

  But maybe I just didn't know enough about the man to come to such conclusions.

  He moved in under the covers, settling on his back, then throwing an arm out, curling it around my body, and dragging the good side of my face to his chest. His arm settled like an anchor around my hips, preventing retreat even if it was something I wanted. Which I didn't. Because his heartbeat was under my ear, strong, sure, steady, and it was the most soothing sound I had ever heard in my life.

  Beneath me, his body loosened, his breathing went deep and even with sleep, passing out faster than anyone I had known before. But it seemed like he hadn't gotten a good night's rest in days - or weeks - and the sex probably just took what little reserve he had left.

  I stayed awake a little longer, finger gently tracing over the lines of his body, somehow wanting to commit them all to memory, a part of me knowing that this was the first and also the last time we would lay like this.

  Even as I drifted off to sleep, the idea came with a pang, dull and insistent.

  --

  I woke up to a tickling sensation on my nose, making me scrunch it up and exhale sharply, trying to make it stop, my brain not ready to be awake. But when that action was met with a chuckle that rumbled through to my chest, alertness came at me in a blinding flash.

  I was in bed.

  Resting on Quin.

  Because he had spent the night.

  After we had had sex.

  And that tickling feeling was a strand of my hair in his hands, running over the tip of my nose.

  I pressed up, looking down at him, a little annoyed at how sexy he could look first thing in the morning when I probably looked like a troll, my hair all over, my face likely creased with little lines from the chest hair I had fallen asleep on.

  "You sounded like an angry little bull," he informed me, smile warm, more open than I had ever seen him before.

  "You know, you could have just called my name."

  "Where would the fun be in that?" he asked, shrugging, running his finger down my nose.

  He looked rested. He was as unshaven as ever, but the circles under his eyes were gone, and there was an ease in his features that hadn't been there since I met him.

  "What time is it?" I asked, the only window in this room being in the bathroom.

  "Six."

  "AM?" I balked, dropping my forehead back down on his chest. "Why are you awake? Why are you making me wake up? Six AM is sleeping time still."

  Another of those rolling chuckles reverberated out of him and moved deliciously through my insides.

  "Six AM is sleeping in," he corrected, folding up slightly, rolling me onto the side. "We're burning daylight."

  "Oh, hang the daylight," I grumbled as the bed shifted, then bounced as he got up.

  "Want to share a shower? Be green and shit?" he asked, standing in the doorway to the bathroom, still gloriously naked, without a drop of self-consciousness, a sexy smirk pulling at his lips. "I'll wash your back. And your front."

  "Ugh, you're evil," I said, stretching, then moving to stand. "Bribing me to get me up at this ungodly hour."

  But I followed him in, letting him pull me into the shower, pressing a soft close-mouthed kiss to my lips since neither of us had brushed yet.

  His hands had just slid down to my ass when there was a pounding on the door to the hall, followed by Gunner's clear voice across the space, loud as could be. The people on the street could probably hear him.

  "Yo, Quin. Get your ass out here. No time for a morning fuck. Someone just pipe-bombed Fenway's Porsche."

  I shocked back at those words, at what seemed to be the truth of them, the reality that this was the kind of thing he dealt with daily in his life.

  "Fuck," he growled, reaching for the soap, scrubbing bubbles over every inch of skin and hair somehow in less than a minute, then turning under the water to wash it off. "Sorry, babe. Got to get to a meeting," he said, touching my hip on the way out, wrapping a towel around his waist, then disappearing out into the bedroom.

  There was a small duffle bag on the top shelf of the closet. Fenway told me when I had asked that they were in all the rooms, just a simple change of clothes to throw on if they should ever need them, generic tees and slacks.

  Quin probably had a full suit downstairs, tie and all.

  I took a deep breath, fighting off the disappointment, then taking my time scrubbing my body, brushing my teeth and hair, then finally getting dressed, and making my way out to the common room.

  Fenway was gone, likely having to be part of the meeting regarding his car that probably literally cost more than my house.

  I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing with myself. My case was over. I didn't need the safe house anymore. I could go back to my life. But I had a tracker on my ankle. And I couldn't get out of the room without someone punching in a code.

  Figuring it was an eventuality that would come far too soon, I w
ent back to my room, carefully folding all my clean clothes into a reusable shopping bag Jules had supplied, and the wash in a plastic bag I found in the kitchen.

  Then I made a cup of coffee, and sat down in the living room, pretending to be watching TV, but just rolling over the events of the past few days instead.

  Your life could change in an instant.

  I guess I had never realized that before, having always done everything according to a plan, never taking risks, never stepping outside the line. Nothing ever really happened, so my life had been the same for many long years.

  Then it changed all at once.

  It was scary, foreign, uncomfortable.

  But also oddly exhilarating, revealing.

  And now they were going to tell me that I had to go back to my old life, keep my old status quo.

  The only thing sadder than that was realizing that Quin wouldn't be around anymore either.

  Sure, it was new. He was new to me, but that didn't change the fact that I felt connected, maybe even a bit attached.

  "Ugh," I growled, jumping up, moving to look out the front windows, the glass a bit thicker than normal, so I figured it was bullet resistant.

  I didn't want to be that girl, the one who saw rings and heard wedding bells just because she slept with someone.

  I simply couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that - more than the sex. It was a tugging sensation in my gut, something akin to how it felt that morning when I woke up and knew my stalker was going to become more than that.

  A gut feeling.

  Some phenomenon that had never existed in my life until recently.

  Before I could consider that too much, there were footsteps on the stairwell, then the beep of the keypad as someone pressed in the digits.

  I turned, belly fluttering slightly, expecting Quin.

  But Fenway and Gunner moved in instead.

  "Heya sweetheart," Fenway greeted, his voice and face missing some of its cheer and charm, the meeting clearly taking something out of him. "Sorry about all this," he said, moving down the hall, uncharacteristically surly, going into his room.

  Leaving me with Gunner.

  "Everyone but me is wheels up in an hour," he told me, ripping the band-aid right off. "I get the pleasure of staying behind to babysit Fenway and Jules. You got your stuff? I got your mutt waiting downstairs. Oh, and by the way," he said as I walked away because there was an uncharacteristic stinging in my eyes, and Gunner was possibly the last person I wanted to see that, "I changed your oil. You know that light doesn't come on for shits and giggles."

  "Thank you," I grumbled, going into my room, making my way to the pile of belongings on the bed.

  A vision of the night before flashed before my eyes, making me need to take a deep breath and try to tamp the accompanying feelings down.

  It wasn't until I heard him speak that I realized Gunner had followed me. "He shouldn't have gone there," he said, making me jump and turn half-guiltily. "Not with you."

  "Gee, thanks," I said, not bothering to make my tone friendly. "Also, it's none of your goddamn business."

  "Nope, it's not," he agreed. "But here you are after he crossed a line, and you're upset about it. I wish I could tell you that you are going to get hearts and flowers, Aven. But you're not. That's harsh, and you can think I'm a motherfucker all you want; I am. But I won't lie to you. Your best bet is to get your shit and your mutt, get in your car, and forget you ever needed fixing, forget your life ever veered off the straight and narrow even for a minute."

  He wasn't wrong.

  That was maybe the worst part.

  I needed to be a realist.

  I needed, above all, to keep my shit together.

  I had managed this far; I wasn't going to lose it now.

  "Right," I agreed, taking a deep breath. "I needed that," I admitted, looking over at him, giving him a nod, the closest thing I could get to a thanks.

  "Figured. Come on. I'll walk you out."

  And then he did.

  I drove away from the building with Mackey scratching at my backseat, and a pit nestled in my stomach, something poisonous and seeping, making my whole stomach and abdomen feel acidic and sour.

  But, I reminded myself, this was simply how it had to be.

  He had his life.

  I had mine.

  That was just the cold, ugly truth.

  I would learn to live with it.

  Along with everything else.

  TWELVE

  Quin

  I would die a happy man if I never had to step foot in Russia again.

  Forget the careful power dynamic between the law and the criminals. Forget the fact that my Russian was shoddy at best. Forget, even, that when you dealt with these kind of men from this country, you were dealing with the most cold-blooded, ruthless human beings on the planet.

  I just never wanted to know this kind of fucking cold again. It seeped into your bones. It made you think you would never be able to get warm again.

  Wheels had been down for just under eight hours. It felt longer. It felt like a lifetime that I had been sitting in this goddamn hotel room, waiting for Miller and Kai to get back, waiting for word from Smith that everything was okay. Something. Anything.

  The plane ride itself had been torture. Nine hours with nothing to do but think. My team wasn't a chatty bunch when they were about to head into a job. They needed to get their minds right, going over shit. Especially Miller and Kai who would be on the frontline with wildly dangerous men.

  We all were stuck with our thoughts.

  And mine, well, they were focused on a gorgeous face with some scrapes and bruises, big, deep blue eyes that went heavy when I was inside her. Even just that thought made my cock try to stir to life right there on the plane.

  I didn't mean for it to go there.

  I told myself after the kiss that I had to keep it together, keep it professional. Not because I didn't want it, but because it was wrong. Her life was upside down and turned around. I was the compass pointing due north. That was it. A woman like her in her right mind would never have chosen to sleep with me.

  But it happened.

  And I wouldn't lie.

  It was the best I'd ever had.

  Her whimpers and moans, her sweet taste, the way she rode me like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, the way she cuddled into me and fell asleep.

  It was good.

  Every last second of it.

  I wanted a repeat.

  I wanted several repeats.

  That being said, that was all I was good for. Repeats. Not commitment. Not settling down. My life had no roots. Women like Aven needed them to grow and thrive.

  I hadn't been thinking.

  I had been living in the fantasy.

  And then my real life came banging on the door.

  I planned to go back up, to find some words to say, no matter how bad I was at such things, to explain, to, I don't know... just not fly off to Russia with no explanation.

  But when I went upstairs to see her, I found Gunner in her room, stripping the bed.

  "Where is she?" I asked, voice a little accusing.

  "I advised her to pack up and move on with her life."

  "You said what?" I growled, sure I misheard him. Gunner was an ass at times, but he wasn't usually intentionally hurtful. And that, well, yeah, that would have hurt Aven.

  "Are you in love with her? Is she the game-changer?" he asked, lifting his chin a little. I hesitated, thrown off. These were not the type of words you expected to come from Gunner. "Exactly. So if you don't love her, and she is not the game-changer, then you need to leave her the fuck alone. She's been through enough." With that, he grabbed the linens and moved past me. "Don't worry; I'll keep an eye on her."

  He's lucky he was gone when I turned, or I might have said fuck it to professionalism, hauled off, and hit him.

  "He'll keep an eye on her," I grumbled under my breath, making Lincoln look over from the do
cument he was studying.

  "What was that?"

  "Nothing," I lied, turning away, watching the fur-covered heads move around on the street below me, a fresh coating of snow having fallen right before we arrived. As if the foot or so on the ground already wasn't enough.

  I was hoping this meeting would go well.

  I didn't want to be here any longer than necessary.

  It was maybe another two hours later when the door beeped and pressed open, bringing in Kai who looked tired, something you didn't see often. The man was a machine, truly part cyborg. He never even needed the pick-me-up from coffee. So him looking beat, yeah, it said a lot.

  "How'd it go?" I asked anyway, needing the details. And maybe the distraction.

  "That bastard grabbed my fucking ass," Miller declared, throwing her bag down on the desk just inside the door, every inch of her humming with agitation.

  The lone girl in a boys club most of the time since she spent almost no time in the office with Jules, Miller was a force to be reckoned with.

  It was easy to underestimate her at barely five-foot-five and a slight figure, with long, glossy black hair, and big brown eyes, she seemed more suited to spending her days at a beauty salon than negotiating deals between scumbags.

  But in Miller's case, looks definitely could be deceiving.

  When it came to balls, she had us all beat. Even Kai.

  "So I take it things didn't go anywhere?" I asked, watching as Kai kicked out of his shoes, then dropped down into my bed, closing his eyes, putting the crook of his arm over his face, and shutting the world out.

  Not good.

  That was really not good.

  I had only seen Kai shut down maybe three times in his time with me. Once, when he was delivering a message about a hostage switch - a big-time drug dealer being held by our client, for our client's sixteen-year-old daughter. Part of Kai's job was to suss shit out since he was our first line of defense. And what he found was that the girl had been gang-raped by the entire organization. We took her back within the hour, one of those times when we had bodies lying around, this time a lot of them. Finn got a lot of money that week. And Kai couldn't function for almost a month after. Another time, when he lost a client right before his eyes, gunshot to the third eye. And, finally, when he suddenly lost both his parents and his little sister in a car accident a year and a half before.