Quinn

by D. B. Reynolds

  He ignored the grumbling as the three of them filed into the office. He nodded for Garrick to close the door and kicked one of two chairs against a side wall, giving him a solid surface at his back and a clear view of the warehouse filled with unhappy vampires. Garrick stood across from him, one foot braced on the other wall, while Christie shuffled behind the desk and sat rather delicately, as if unsure he still belonged there.

  Quinn didn’t waste any time. “I’ll want any records you’ve maintained, as well as a list of contacts and deliveries. Can you email it?”

  “I can, but I’ll need to scan some of—”

  “The last six months will be enough. Do it now, so I have time to review it before tomorrow night. Are you the only one supervising this operation?”

  “Jacobs was the one in charge. I handled the books. But now . . .” He gestured in Quinn’s direction. “If you’re telling me the truth . . .”

  Quinn studied the other vampire as he decided whether to take offense at the sly insult. He could kill Christie with a thought, although the vamp didn’t seem to realize it yet. Quinn wasn’t going to reveal his power over a minor insult, but on the other hand. . . .

  Christie never saw him coming. Quinn grabbed him by the throat and threw him across the room, his body shattering the window and knocking over several other vampires before he came to rest on the warehouse floor.

  Brushing bits of glass from his leather jacket, Quinn stepped out of the office and into the warehouse to confront the silent group of vampires. He looked down at Christie. “I’ll expect that email. Don’t disappoint me.” He nodded a farewell at the gathered vampires. “Gentle­men.” Then he and Garrick walked out.

  They continued down the street until they were well away from the warehouse, not far from the café where Quinn had spent his first nights in Howth. It was darker tonight, with no moon to add its light to the dim pole lamps. The café was closed, but down the pier a ways, the pub was still going strong, with young people spilling from its crowded bar to stand around outside, despite the dark night. Or maybe because of it, Quinn thought, seeing the furtive coupling going on in the shadows.

  “That went well,” he commented, pulling his attention back to the night’s business. Garrick gave him a sideways look as if trying to judge whether he meant it or not. Quinn wasn’t sure, either, so he added, “Better than I expected.”

  “Will he send the records, you think?”

  “Absolutely. He’ll want me to think he’s cooperating.”

  “But you don’t think he will.”

  “No, the quiet ones are always violent in the end.”

  “Do we need to worry about the house?”

  “No. An attack in that part of Howth would draw too much attention. The kind that can’t be bought off. They’ll go for someplace familiar. An ambush at the warehouse, most likely. Tomorrow night. This is their turf, and they’ll defend it.”

  “What about Christie?”

  Quinn shrugged. “What about him? He’ll have to go.”

  “Does he have any significant power?”

  “You think he was shielding?”

  “Of course, he was. Enough of the cryptic shit, Q. This is me you’re talking to.”

  “Okay, yeah. He has enough power to control the rest of them, but nothing I can’t handle. You could take him, too. But I can’t afford to look weak, so it has to be me.”

  “Why not get rid of him later tonight? Wait ‘til he leaves his boys, then take him on the street. Sweet and simple. No witnesses to know for sure.”

  “Because vampires don’t respect sweet and simple. It has to be violent and public. Or at least, as public as a gathering of vampire smug­glers can get.”

  “Right. We should top off our energy then. Something fresh this time.” His gaze drifted to the crowded pub.

  Quinn was about to respond when a familiar redhead appeared out of the darkness, her hips swaying in those spike-heeled boots, her gaze a combination of sultry and suspicious as she eyed first him, then Garrick.

  “Small world,” she said, stopping three feet away from them.

  “Howth isn’t exactly Las Vegas,” he said. “And this seems to be the social center. Where else would we be on a Sunday night?”

  “I don’t know. Church maybe? Confessing your sins?”

  “I don’t believe in sins, sweetheart.”

  “Convenient. Good evening, Garrick,” she said, giving his cousin a pleasant smile.

  Garrick had been eyeing her warily, like some dangerous beast that could pounce at any moment, but he grinned at her greeting, probably enjoying the fact that she was giving Quinn a hard time. “You’re looking lovely tonight, Eve.” He managed to say it as if he meant it, as if he hadn’t been urging Quinn to get rid of her only a few hours ago. He nodded at Eve, then turned to Quinn and said, “I’m taking off.”

  “Where to?” Quinn asked, lacing the question with just enough caution that Garrick was reminded of their precarious situation in Howth. Neither one of them could afford to get too comfortable.

  Garrick nodded in the direction of the pub. “Over there. I’m going to do what I do best.”

  “What’s that?” Eve asked, before Quinn could say anything.

  Garrick’s jaw tightened slightly, but he played his part. “Pretend to drink hard while I sweet talk the locals into embracing our client’s business. And, of course, find my own sweet lady for the night. Even sinners deserve a break.”

  “Especially sinners,” Quinn commented quietly. “Don’t be late.”

  “Yeah, you either,” he said, with a dismissive laugh. He slapped Quinn’s shoulder and took off.

  Quinn watched until Garrick had disappeared into the pub, slipping his way through the crowd with remarkable ease. When he turned back, he found Eve staring at him.

  “Who says I’m your lady?” she demanded.

  Quinn snorted. “Who says you’re sweet?”

  Eve’s blush was visible on her pale skin, despite the poor lighting. “What were you doing over there in that warehouse?”

  “Spying on me, darling?”

  “No,” she insisted defensively. “I just happened to see you. And I wondered.”

  “Business,” Quinn said simply.

  “Business, my ass,” she snarled. “How come every time I see you, you’re hanging around with vampires?”

  Quinn grinned. The snarl was cute coming from that full, pouty mouth of hers. Without warning, he closed the space between them, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her in for a kiss. She pretended to resist at first, pushing half-heartedly at his chest. But the pushes soon turned to caresses as she gave in, her mouth warm beneath his, her tongue a silken sweep of sensation as the kiss deepened into something more, something hungry.

  When the kiss ended and they both came up for air, she slapped his chest. “Answer my question,” she demanded breathlessly, while doing nothing to move away from his embrace.

  He studied her a moment. “Why?” he asked.

  “Why?” she repeated, her voice growing louder with outrage. “Because they’re . . . vampires,” she finished with a whisper.

  He smiled. “And don’t I know that,” he said, adding a touch of Irish to the words.

  She squinted at him, as if trying to figure out if he was mocking her. Or maybe he was a puzzle to solve. “Fine,” she said finally, shoving away from him. “Fuck you. Do what you want, but don’t get in my way. You do your business deals, but I’m going to hunt them down.” She started to turn, but he stopped her.

  “You’re going to get yourself killed, Eve. Do it my way.”

  She glared at him. “Your way? What the fuck is your way? Who are you?”

  Quinn fought to remain calm. The bagged blood had done no more than taken the edge off earlier. He needed t
o feed, and he could feel his fangs pushing for release as they responded to his hunger for this woman. If he permitted that, if he showed Eve his true face, she’d scream and run away at best, or try to kill at him at worst. Most likely the latter. He’d have to stop her either way, and he didn’t want to hurt her. “Let’s just say that I want Sorley dead just as much as you do,” he said quietly.

  Eve stared. He didn’t need his telepathic gift to read the emotions warring inside her. She knew he wasn’t being completely honest, knew she was somehow being played, but she wanted to trust him. Hell, she just wanted him.

  He yanked her close again. “You never did give me a proper hello,” he murmured.

  “I kissed you,” she insisted, her fingers caressing his jaw almost reluctantly.

  “No, I kissed you.”

  She was Eve, so she resisted for a heartbeat or two, but then she surrendered, going up on tiptoes to meet his mouth, her arms tight around his neck as she held him against her soft breasts. “Let’s go,” she murmured against his mouth, sliding her hand down to take his and pull him away from the crowd and noise of the pub.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Guess.”

  EVE STRUGGLED TO get the door key out of her small purse, but apparently she wasn’t moving fast enough for Quinn. He was all over her, lifting her off her feet, pressing her against the wall of Mrs. Bradley’s house while his mouth ravaged her, nibbling on her ear lobe, sucking her neck, his hands molding the cheeks of her ass. She wrapped her legs around his narrow hips, her body acting on its own, as if it knew what it wanted and to hell with what her brain was telling her. To hell, indeed. She struggled to think clearly, drowning in need for this man she barely knew. “Wait,” she gasped, feeling the press of his erection and knowing he’d fuck her right there on the street if she didn’t stop him. “Wait,” she said again, tugging on his hair, swallowing a moan as his tongue swept the delicate curve of her ear.

  He followed the warm sweep of his tongue with a gentle bite, but he pulled back, studying her with eyes that gleamed despite the nearly moonless night. “Wait?” he growled.

  “Not here,” she whispered, swallowing hard. “My flat—”

  She didn’t get out any more words as he swung her away from Mrs. Bradley’s wall and carried her the short distance to her front door. She managed to find the right key, to scrape the key into the lock, but it wouldn’t—

  Quinn’s hand covered hers on the door knob. He squeezed and turned the stubborn key, then shoved the door open. Once inside, he slammed her back against the closed door while his mouth devoured her with a hunger that matched her own. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her mouth, her neck. He tugged her sweater down, his fingers coasting over the soft mounds of her breasts above the lacey confines of her bra, pinching her nipples into erectness through the lace until every scrape of the fabric was like a lightning bolt straight between her legs.

  Skin. She wanted skin. Reaching for his shoulders, she shoved his leather jacket back, ignoring his growl when her efforts threatened to trap his arms. With a frustrated curse, he freed first one arm, then the next, letting the jacket fall to the floor as he bent his head and took her nipple in his mouth. Eve threw her head back with a groan of pleasure, feeling the cold wood of the door on her back, and this incredibly hot man all over her front.

  “Quinn,” she said, tugging on his hair again to get his attention. One of his big hands slid up her thigh and under the elastic edge of her panties, and she forgot what she wanted to say. “Oh, God,” she breathed when his fingers found the slick arousal between her thighs.

  He slid two fingers between the swollen lips of her pussy, and she nearly came right then and there. She would have if Quinn hadn’t chosen that moment to swing her around and carry her to the bed. She pounded his shoulder in frustration, and he laughed.

  “Don’t worry, darling Eve,” he murmured against her ear. “There are plenty of climaxes in your future.”

  Eve blushed at the blatant carnality of his words, and then blushed more deeply at her own embarrassment. She was half naked with a gorgeous man between her thighs, his mouth on her tit, and she was worrying about him talking dirty.

  He dropped her on the bed, eyeing her hungrily as he stripped off his shirt and kicked off his shoes. His pants came next, and it was Eve’s turn to eat him up with her eyes, the beautiful definition of muscle beneath his smooth skin, the narrow trail of golden hair that guided her eye to the flat plane of his belly, his groin, and then his cock. Her eyes closed as desire overwhelmed her. This was more need, more straight­forward lust than she’d ever felt for a man. There was so much that it frightened her, making her heart pound, her lungs tighten . . . until Quinn’s hard body covered her own, his strong hands smoothing along her arms and thighs, his mouth murmuring wordless reassurances in between nibbling kisses along her jaw, over her closed eyelids.

  “Eve,” he whispered her name with wonder, as if it held magic.

  Eve speared her fingers through his hair, urging his mouth back to her breasts. She wanted the wet heat of him on her nipples, wanted . . . everything. Every part of him.

  He growled, and she heard the sound of ripping lace as he pulled her bra down to bare one breast. She nearly screamed when his teeth closed over her nipple, the erotic jolt to her pussy doubled as pain fed her desire. She did scream then, biting her hand to muffle the sound, when his fingers found her pussy again and shoved inside her, when his thumb scraped over her clit in a rough caress that threatened to drown her in sensation.

  She didn’t remember losing them, but her panties were gone, her sex completely bare as he reached down and wrapped his fingers around her calf, bending her knee and spreading her wide for the cock she could feel lying heavy and hot against her thigh. Quinn lifted slightly, just enough to transfer his hand from her leg to his cock, then gripping his hard length, he guided the tip into her pussy. He held himself still for a moment, teasing her, meeting her eyes, watching her as he dipped the first inch or two of his penis into her body, moving slightly in and out.

  Eve’s eyes narrowed. “Do it,” she ordered.

  He smiled slowly. “Ask nicely.”

  “I don’t have to—” She gasped as he slid in another two inches, then pulled out, holding himself tantalizingly close, the head of his cock dipping in and out, tormenting her. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh. “Quinn,” she cried softly.

  “What do you need?” he whispered, his mouth covering hers in a hungry kiss before she could answer.

  “Come on,” she said, hating the pleading note in her voice.

  “What do you say, darling Eve?”

  “Please.”

  He slammed into her before the word even left her mouth, his cock filling her so completely that she could feel her inner muscles stretching around him, those delicate tissues aching with strain. He began to move, fucking her, shoving in and pulling out so fast that her pussy grew hot with the friction of his movement. Her legs crossed over his hips, and she held on, her arms around his neck, her mouth crushed against his, teeth and lips smashed together until she could taste blood on her tongue and didn’t know whose it was.

  She closed her teeth over his shoulder, felt his skin give and the warm flow of his blood. She moaned as a fresh bout of desire hit her like a blow to the head, slamming into her from nowhere, sending shivers of sensual need skimming along her nerves, tightening her nipples until every scrape of his chest was like a caress over her clit, teasing the sensitive nub until it pulsed along with her heart. Quinn grunted as her pussy clamped down on his cock, and her womb contracted. Eve’s body was out of her control, muscles flexing, spine bowed. She swallowed a scream as Quinn cursed, his body going tight as she felt the heat of his release flooding her sex, his arms holding her tightly as they rode the wave of
climax together.

  “Fuck,” Eve swore, when she gained enough breath to speak. “What was that?”

  Quinn laughed softly. “A climax, darling. I’m sure we’ve done this before.”

  “Not like that. That was . . .” She didn’t have words for it.

  He kissed her—soft, sweet, and lingering. She could feel his cock, impossibly still hard inside her.

  “Quinn,” she breathed, not sure she could take any more pleasure. Was there a limit to the amount of sensation a woman’s nerves could handle before they simply fizzled out and died? Or at least slept for a while. He started to move.

  QUINN BIT BACK a groan of hunger. Eve’s pussy was drenched with arousal, trembling in the aftermath of her climax, hot and slick around his cock. But as good as that felt, and God knew it felt terrific, it wasn’t her wet pussy that was driving him, making his cock hard, and his body ache with need. He wanted her blood. The delicious scent of it, the warm rush in her veins, the hard pulse of it against the delicate skin of her neck. His fangs pushed against his gums in relentless demand. When she’d bit him, when his blood had zinged through her system rocketing her into orgasm, he’d nearly surrendered and given his body what it needed. What it demanded. But he’d managed to hold back, to channel that desire into an almost painful orgasm of his own. He hadn’t come that hard since before he’d become a vampire. Hell, he hadn’t come that hard since he’d been a raw teenager, jerking off to the slightest provo­cation.

  But, for all that, his body wasn’t satisfied. It wanted blood. If he wasn’t going to feed from Eve, then he’d need to feed from someone else before the night was over. It felt like a betrayal, but that was foolish. He and Eve weren’t a couple. They couldn’t be, as long as her hatred forced him to conceal what he was.

  He pumped slowly in and out of her sweet body, feeling her arousal grow again, her nipples hard pebbles against his chest, her pussy shivering around him.