by Monica James
“We good?” I ask, watching him greedily count the cash.
“Si, Senorita. You need anything else, you come see me.” He gives me a greasy wink before he whistles to his guards. They come running like the good dogs they are.
Quinn straps his backpack on his shoulders, and by the way his jaw is clenching tightly, I know he’s attempting to rein in his temper. Reaching for his hand and giving it a light, reassuring squeeze, we cautiously walk backward toward the exit, not stupid enough to turn our backs on these criminals. Only when we walk through the beaded curtain do we turn around.
“Gracias,” I tell the store clerk, who is openly counting her cash.
She barely registers our presence, which suits us just fine.
The moment we exit, Quinn yanks on my hand and spins me around, forcing me up against a wall, his huge body shrouding mine.
Stunned, I gasp, “What the fu—” but before I can finish, his lips smash onto mine, almost suffocating me with his fierce passion.
I’m left breathless with his fury, but I match everything he gives me, fisting his long hair between my fingers, yanking it to match the insane rhythm of our lips.
We’re almost one as we press chest to chest and I have no room to move, but I welcome it and lead one hand down his back, cupping his firm ass cheek, squeezing tight.
He moans in his throat with the forceful contact, and I bite his lip, sucking his piercing into my mouth, pulling with force. He melts underneath me and I feel powerful; I feel alive.
We paw at one another, and if we don’t stop, I may just lose the big V in this gross alley. Quinn senses my apprehension and pulls away, but not before biting my lower lip. It pops as he lets it go.
“What was that for?” I ask once I catch my breath.
Quinn’s eyes are absorbed in black, heated pools of desire, expressing how turned on he is.
He runs a finger down my cheek while toying with his lip ring. “Because I knew you were a bad ass, but seeing you in action—fuck, Red, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I bite my lip, flushed by his comment and the impassioned kiss.
I guess life or death situations prioritize what’s important, and what’s important to me is Quinn.
“Let’s get our small arsenal back to the hotel,” he says, his eyes hypnotized on my mouth.
Shaking my head of wicked, naked Quinn images, I reach for his hand, as that’s a very good idea.
As we walk down the alley, silent and lost in thought, Quinn smirks, “So, you’ve handled bigger, huh?”
I roll my eyes, but can’t help the smile that spreads from cheek to cheek.
See, I told you—putty in my hands.
Chapter 26
You Belong to Me
As we hide our weapons in the closet, the front door closes, announcing Justin’s arrival.
“You still want to find out what his deal is?” Quinn whispers, jutting his chin out toward the living room.
“You bet,” I reply with a firm nod.
Quinn sits on the end of our unmade bed, his legs spread out wide.
“If we get nothing out of him, we call it a day with him, okay? We’ve got enough to deal with, and some old boyfriend sporting serious wood for you is low on our priority list.”
“Okay,” I reply, trying not to cringe at the gross analogy.
“Now, before you start defending him—” Quinn stops, stunned. “What did you say?”
“Okay,” I repeat with a smile.
“What? That’s it? No fighting me on this?” Quinn asks, arching a brow, watching me as I kick off my boots.
“Nope,” I reply, because Quinn is right.
With our plan of attack set in motion, finding out what, or if Justin knows anything does fall low on the priority list, but I’ll give it one last go. If tonight nosedives, then so be it. Justin is the least of our worries.
Lost in thought, Quinn leans forward, catching me off guard and scooping me up into his arms. I yelp in surprise as he settles me onto his lap, turning my face from side to side, his eyebrows furrowing.
“What are you doing?” I ask with a chuckle, convinced he’s gone insane.
“You’re so obedient and it’s freaking me out. I wanted to make sure it was you and not a doppelganger,” he confesses with a heart-stopping smile.
This is the only man who would make light of this fucked up situation.
“Well, I can always argue if that would make you feel more comfortable.” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He runs his fingertips along my cheek, the gentle movement causing goosebumps from head to toe.
“I kind of like you submissive,” he confesses softly, playing with his lip ring.
My face heats as my mind conjures up how submissive I could be. This really needs to stop, as surely this can’t be good for my heart.
“Oh, Red,” Quinn whispers, his face inches from mine. “You’re a bad, bad girl.” He claims my mouth as his.
***
Our plan to get Justin drunk still stands, but first of all, I want to pay Lucky a visit. It’s on the way to the bar, and I figure if my dad is watching me, then he’d be watching this vet like a hawk.
The tension can be cut with a knife between us three, and I really can’t wait to get tonight over with and cut ties with Justin asap, who begrudgingly agreed to come out with us.
As we enter the clinic, the smell of antiseptic burns my nostrils and I can’t wait to get Lucky out of this sterile environment. The vet nurse, who is a young student, offers to bring Lucky out because he needs a toilet break. I don’t realize I’m bouncing on the spot until Quinn reaches for my hand, chuckling.
The door swings open and out comes a groggy-looking Lucky with a bandaged paw, which extends all the way up to his armpit. But he’s alive, and that’s all that matters. As he catches sight of me and Quinn, his three good legs skid on the linoleum floor, frantically trying to get to us.
The sight warms my heart and I drop to one knee, opening my arms. “C’mon, boy,” I coo, waving him forward, but he stops midway, his hackles raising as he drops low and snarls, looking over my shoulder.
“Lucky?” I ask, looking up at Quinn.
Quinn shrugs, appearing just as confused as I.
Lucky takes a step back as he raises his lips, showing teeth, and as he commences barking, I notice he’s backing away from… Justin.
Justin shuffles uncomfortably behind me. I don’t understand.
“Is this normal?” I ask the nurse. “I mean, he’s never done this before.”
“I’m not sure, it could be the meds have worn off and he’s a bit grumpy. I’ll take him out back,” she says apologetically, yanking on Lucky’s lead.
“I’ll just wait outside,” Justin says and turns quickly, leaving me and Quinn staring at one another, baffled.
I don’t want to express the thought churning through my brain, because it’s too hard to digest without wanting to be sick.
“Those drinks can’t come fast enough,” Quinn says against my forehead as he wraps me into a tight embrace.
I couldn’t agree more.
***
The random bar we’ve chosen serves cheap beer, which suits us just fine, as I’m planning on getting Justin toasted so he spills the beans.
Quinn is at the bar getting drinks, but he’s done this so I can milk some information out of Justin, who is nursing his sixth beer.
“So, you never told me what you did for work.” I playfully smile, hoping my ruse won’t be detected.
There is definitely something up with Justin. After Lucky’s reaction to him today, I’m starting to think he may have had something to do with Lucky being hurt. If I find out that’s true, then I’ll return the favor and break his leg.
“Oh, it’s boring,” he says, waving me off, taking a long sip of beer.
“C’mon, try me,” I tease, trying my best to appear flirty without gagging.
Justin laughs, totally buying it.
“You could say I’m into repossession,” he replies with a smirk.
“Huh? Like cars?” I question, raising an eyebrow.
Justin smiles at me creepily. “Something like that.”
I have no idea what that means, but I’m not stupid, and I know he’s lying. I can see Quinn over Justin’s shoulder, watching our exchange closely, waiting to attack if I give him a sign that I’m in trouble. I subtly shake my head, as I’m not giving up just yet.
I decide to try another angle and begin fiddling with the coaster underneath my untouched beer. Justin picks up on my fidgeting and asks, “Everything okay?”
Looking up at him and faking the best innocent look I can muster without looking ridiculous, I say, “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Yeah? What’s up?” he asks, giving me his full attention.
Feeling the repulsion slide over my skin as I begin flirting, I purr, “You didn’t look too surprised when I told you… about my dad.”
Watching Justin under hooded lids, I look for any changes in facial expressions, mannerisms—anything. But he has the perfect poker face.
“Yeah, well, nothing you do surprises me, Mia Mouse,” he replies, leaning back into his chair confidently.
“What do you mean?” I ask, mentally crossing my fingers that I got him—hook, line and sinker.
“You were always a rule breaker,” he vaguely responds.
“Shooting my dad is a little more serious than breaking the rules. I mean, it’s breaking the law,” I reply, hoping to keep the bite out of my tone as I meet his challenging stare.
Justin scoots his chair closer to my left and I can clearly see Quinn still watching us from the bar. He looks like he’s seconds away from charging. Again, I subtly shake my head at him, as I’m sick of playing these back and forth games with Justin. I want answers.
“Mia, I’m sure you had a good reason, right? I mean, we do everything for a reason. And at the time, shooting your dad was the right thing to do. I’m not here to judge you… I got my own demons to deal with. I can’t pass judgment on others.”
Jackpot.
“What demons?” I question, reaching forward and lightly resting my clammy palm over his clenched fist.
“Ah, a man’s gotta have some secrets,” Justin says, leaning forward, his lips inches from my ear. “And besides, I don’t think your boy would appreciate me telling you my deepest, darkest secrets.” He nuzzles forward, smelling my hair.
Quinn takes two furious steps forward, but I gesture with my hand for him to stop, beseeching him with my eyes for him to allow me to handle this. He clenches his jaw, and his nostrils flare in pure rage, but he does as I ask.
“He’s just someone to have fun with,” I whisper, the words feeling like venom as they pass through my lips.
Justin’s breathing accelerates, and as his warm, desperate breath heats my exposed neck, I have to stop myself from throwing up.
“He looks as if he wants to have more than ‘just fun’ with you,” he spits, his lips still inches from ear as he burrows into my neck.
“Not my problem,” I whisper, my gaze never leaving Quinn’s.
“Really?” he says, pulling back. I meet his predatory stare.
“Really. He’s just a friend.” I confirm with a nod.
“Prove it.” Justin smirks, running a hand over his lips and resting his fingers on his chin, deep in thought.
“How?” I question, suddenly not liking where this is headed.
“Come to my room tonight when your friend is asleep, and I’ll tell you what I know,” Justin says, his pierced eyebrow cocked, daring me to accept his challenge.
“So you did know? How? And what do you know?” I ask, kicking my ass when the desperation laces my questions.
Justin tsks me, placing his pointer finger under my chin, meeting my eyes. “You come tonight and I’ll tell you everything.”
Trying not to retch, I give him my best seductive smile and nod. “Tonight it is then.”
***
“No. Fucking. Way!” Quinn hisses, his hands threaded through his snarled hair.
“Quinn—” I press, but he cuts me off, storming over to the edge of the bed where I’m tying up my Chucks.
“No fucking way, Red. You hear me? No.”
This conversation has gone on for the past hour, and looking over at the clock, I dare say it’ll continue on through the early hours of the morning.
Once we arrived back at the hotel, Justin drunkenly swayed into his room, tossing me a small wink over his shoulder as he shut his bedroom door behind him. As I filled Quinn in on what Justin proposed, the room got smaller and smaller with his enraged wrath. He dragged me into our bedroom, where we have remained, arguing the pros and cons of Justin’s proposition.
Goes without saying which side Quinn is arguing for.
“I’m not going to do anything with him,” I repeat for the umpteenth time. “I’m just going to talk to him without you loitering and threatening to beat down on him like Rocky Balboa!”
Quinn laughs angrily, pointing toward the door. “You think that asshat has any information? He’s just playing you, Red. He doesn’t know jackshit.”
“You don’t know that!” I retort, standing up.
“Yes, I do. He’s full of shit, and he can smell your desperation. He’ll tell you anything you want to get into your pants!”
I’ve seen Quinn angry before, but this, this is taking it to the next level of angry.
“You really think I would stoop to that? I would NEVER do that!” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down.
Quinn’s eyes soften as he takes a step forward. “I know you wouldn’t, but he—he would. He’s a guy, Red, and he’s a guy who has a raging hard on for you. And that makes him a dangerous guy who would do anything—anything, to get what he wants.”
“Oh please, you think I’m stupid? I can take care of myself!”
I’m livid, but I know what Quinn is saying makes sense. It’s just if Justin knows anything that might help us out in regards to my father, then I’m willing to make a sacrifice. Quinn will be in the next room, and I know he’ll have my back if anything goes wrong.
“Oh, really?” Quinn asks, and suddenly, the room heats up with the look of wild possession in his emerald eyes.
“So what happens if he asks you to kiss him?”
“What?” I gasp, taking a retreating step away from the slowly moving predator that is Quinn.
“You heard me. What if the terms of him divulging this alleged information is on the proviso of him kissing you.”
Gulping, I shakily reply, “I would tell him to go to hell.”
Quinn licks his bottom lip, snickering. “Would you?”
“Of course,” I affirm, still walking backward because suddenly, I feel like prey.
Quinn shakes his head, his tousled locks veiling his eyes. “You see, Red, I think your intentions are innocent, but if he gives you an inch, that won’t be enough, and I think you would do almost anything to get him to talk.”
What is Quinn implying? Whatever it is, I don’t like it.
“I would never,” I say, insulted he would insinuate something so vulgar.
“Wouldn’t you?” he questions, and as the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed, I fall, losing my balance.
Attempting to scramble up the bed proves futile as Quinn crawls down on top of me, trapping my body under his massive frame.
“Get off,” I snarl, thumping my fists onto his chest, which is laughable, as they probably feel like tickles rasping against his muscular frame.
“I plan to,” Quinn smirks hungrily, his gaze dropping to my chest as my black camisole has shifted, exposing the top of my breasts.
“Quinn, I’m serious!” I huff, but that huff transforms into a gasp when he bites me on the chin—hard.
“Stop,” I pathetically plead, because my disloyal body, which is writhing underneath Quinn, is demonstrating otherwise.
“You don’t mean that,” Qu
inn mutters as he sucks and licks and nibbles my neck.
“Yes, I… do,” I bite back breathlessly as his hands begin a slow, torturous journey of my body. All the while, his lips never leave my skin, making contact with any part of exposed, heated flesh he can find.
Closing my eyes, I tell myself five more minutes, and then I’ll fight him off and go see Justin, but as he circles my ripe nipple through the soft cotton on my top, I know five minutes isn’t going to be long enough.
That familiar heat builds in my center, and my traitorous body has ruled over my mind, because I know Quinn is doing this as a distraction. Quite frankly, I couldn’t care less.
“Beautiful,” Quinn whispers against my arched throat, licking down my neck and lazily tonguing the dip between my collarbones.
My legs scissor impatiently, and Quinn removes his hand from my peaked nipple, gliding his fingers to the waistband of my jeans. My camisole has ridden up, exposing my tummy, and Quinn circles his finger around my bellybutton.
I’m panting, trying to remain quiet, but as Quinn flicks open the button on my jeans, I whimper loudly, knowing what’s about to come.
I hear the bedside table drawer open, and my eyes pop open, wondering what he’s searching for inside.
“Sshh, I’ll take care of you. Close your eyes,” Quinn whispers, kissing my temple.
Nodding, my eyes drift shut, and Quinn’s fingers begin sliding down my zipper, stopping about three-quarters of the way.
I want him inside my pants, and I arch my hips up, urging him to oblige.
“So impatient.” He chuckles, and his warm breath tickles my heated chest.
Quinn softly places my arms above my head, and before I can question what he’s doing, I feel the cold bite of steel snagging my wrists, and hear the unmistakable click of handcuffs being snapped into place.
My eyes pop open, and I arch my neck backward to see that my wrists are tightly bound to the golden framed bedhead.
“What the?” I gasp, pulling on my wrists, which don’t budge an inch. “Quinn, let me go,” I say, pulling harder on the cuffs, which just rattle under the force.