Quinn

by D. B. Reynolds

  Quinn smiled slightly, liking the title, even though it would never be his. “The plan all along,” he said, “was to start slowly. To show Sorley what I can do, and work my way up from the inside.”

  “A plan you shelved a day after we got here.”

  Quinn sat silently for a moment, then said, “I hate it when you’re right.”

  Garrick barked a laugh. “You always did,” he said, then added slyly, “You could just walk in there tomorrow night and kill Sorley. Get it over with.”

  Quinn snorted. “And spend the next two years putting out fires in the lower ranks. No, thank you. It might come to that eventually, but I’ll need a reason that’s obvious to everyone. Even if I have to create it myself.”

  “Sorley will come after you now,” Garrick said soberly.

  Quinn grinned viciously. “Let him come. Ireland is already mine. Sorley just doesn’t know it yet.”

  IT DIDN’T TAKE long for Quinn and the others to pack up the next night. They’d all traveled lightly, not knowing where they’d find themselves at the end of the journey. The biggest bags were filled with weapons, not personal gear. Some vampire leaders spurned modern wea­pons, claiming vampires didn’t need them to survive and triumph over regular humans. But Quinn believed in using any assets available to him. Besides, in his world, other vampires were the enemy, not humans. An AK15 or MP5 submachine gun wouldn’t kill a vampire most of the time, but it would at least put him down long enough to ensure his death by other means.

  They were in the yard of the Howth house, loading the cars, when Garrick got a call. He switched it to speaker almost immediately, but Quinn didn’t need the speakerphone to tell him who was calling or what he was saying.

  “I’ve got three vamps down,” came Casey’s angry voice. “The shooter’s stopped for now, but my guys are furious. They’re on the hunt, and I didn’t try to stop them.”

  “Any dead?” Quinn asked, stepping to Garrick’s side.

  “My lord,” Casey said quickly. “No dead, though if the shooter had had better aim, or a better weapon—”

  “We’re on our way,” he interrupted, then signaled to Garrick. “You and the others get over to the warehouse, make sure it’s secure. This could have been a ruse to pull most of us away, and I don’t want Casey left there alone.”

  “And you?” Garrick said quietly, for Quinn’s ears only.

  “I know where she lives,” he said, because this had Eve written all over it. And his cousin clearly agreed. “This ends now. Go with the others. I’ll take Adorjan,” he added, before his cousin could object.

  Garrick’s expression said he still wasn’t happy, but he nodded and headed for one of the other cars, leaving the big Range Rover for Quinn. He tossed the keys to Adorjan, who strode over to the vehicle and slid behind the wheel.

  Quinn let him drive, but he refused to sit in the backseat like some sort of pasha who couldn’t drive his own car. Rajmund had always told him it was his American upbringing—everyone equal and all that. Quinn thought it probably had more to do with endless hours spent watching TV shows about American cowboys facing down bad guys. But whatever it was, if there was going to be danger, he wanted to be in the thick of it, not rolled in bubble wrap and hidden in the trunk.

  Adorjan glanced at him with a slight smile, as if following the trend of his thoughts. “Where to, my lord?”

  He wasn’t surprised that the vampire had figured out they weren’t going to the warehouse. Adorjan was smart. Quinn wouldn’t have made him security chief, otherwise.

  “I don’t know the address,” Quinn told him. “But I can direct you there.”

  They rode in silence until they were almost upon Eve’s tiny flat.

  “Is there anything I need to know, my lord? Anything about whoever lives here?”

  “It’s a woman,” Quinn said with no expression at all. “Human. And I suspect she’s our shooter from the warehouse tonight.”

  Adorjan turned his head sharply and studied Quinn. “I can’t let you—”

  “She won’t hurt me,” he interrupted. He wanted to tell the vamp that he didn’t need permission from anyone to do whatever the fuck he wanted. If he wanted to walk into Eve’s flat and confront her with the damn rifle still hot in her hand, then that’s what he’d do. And fuck the consequences. But he didn’t say any of that. Adorjan was doing his job. Probably better than Quinn was doing his right now. “We’ll approach together,” he said as Adorjan parked. “Once you see she’s harmless, you’ll wait in the car until I signal otherwise.”

  “Yes, my lord.” He wasn’t happy. Quinn could feel his displeasure radiating in waves from where he sat behind the wheel.

  Quinn opened the door to relieve the pressure. “Let’s go.”

  They approached Eve’s door cautiously, but with no real expec­tation of danger. At least on Quinn’s part. She seemed to have been put on this earth to drive him mad, but he understood her. She’d gotten her shots off, taken down a few vamps, and had everyone running around. And now she’d hurried back to her hole-in-the-wall flat, thinking that made her safe. All these years of hunting vampires, and she still didn’t seem to understand them very well. Vampires were predators, hunters on a scale that made her efforts seem puny in comparison. They’d track her down like dogs on a trail. Her fucking perfume alone would lead them to her front door. If Quinn hadn’t sent in his people to call back the other vampires and secure the warehouse, they’d be here already.

  By the time they reached Eve’s front door, Quinn knew she was home. He could hear her moving around, could hear her heart pounding and the rasp of her breathing . . . as if she’d recently run a distance.

  He’d been half hoping he was wrong about her, that she’d spent the night home alone, working on her computer. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, and raised his hand to knock. But Adorjan got there before him. He’d have heard the evidence of her recent escape just as clearly as Quinn. There was no way in hell he was going to let his new lord take the lead when they confronted the crazy woman who’d been shooting up vampires only minutes earlier.

  “Gently,” Quinn admonished. “And no fangs. We don’t want to wake the entire neighborhood.”

  Adorjan pulled back his fist, replacing it with a two-knuckle tap that was still enough to have Eve stop whatever she’d been doing inside. But she didn’t answer the door.

  Quinn sighed and shook his head. Humans. They paid so little attention to the vampires among them. Eve was a hunter. She, at least, should know better. He jerked his chin toward the door, telling Adorjan to knock again. Which he did, slightly harder, but still muted, compared to what he could have done.

  “Eve,” Quinn said, too impatient to play her game. “I know you’re in there. Open the door.” He heard an audible curse, rapid footsteps, and then metallic sounds as several locks were disengaged.

  Eve pulled open the door. “Come on in. Hurry,” she said, her expression a combination of pleasure and concern that morphed to shock when, instead of Quinn, she found a very pissed off Adorjan glaring down at her.

  She gave a little squeak of surprise and took a step back, her eyes wide with fear until she saw Quinn. Anger replaced the fear. “What the hell, Quinn? Who’s this guy?” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder as she walked away from him and back into the room, leaving the door open.

  Quinn slipped past Adorjan and caught Eve easily, getting an arm around her waist and swinging her around before she could grab the rifle lying on her rumpled bed. She obviously had a poor opinion of his deductive skills. He shifted his hold to trap her arms and stop her flailing fists. For all her struggles, however, she never screamed, confining her protests to hissed, profanity-laced imprecations. He grinned. She didn’t want the neighbors hearing the ruckus any more than he did.

  Adorjan reached past them to grab the rifle. “Remington, my lord.”
He worked the bolt repeatedly, ejecting three unused rounds. “Winchester 270s, maybe 300-yard range if a shooter knows what she’s doing.” He glowered at Eve. “No one else was firing a rifle in Howth tonight.” He sniffed the barrel. “And this one’s been recently fired.”

  “Take the gun and wait for me outside, please,” Quinn said.

  Adorjan met his gaze briefly, full of rebellion. But then his eyes dropped, and he nodded. “As you say, my lord.” Taking the rifle, he strode for the front door.

  “Hey,” Eve protested. “That’s my rifle.”

  “Be quiet, Eve,” Quinn murmured as his new security chief walked outside and closed the door. “Count your blessings.”

  “Fuck my blessings,” she snarled, writhing furiously against his hold. “What gives you the right—”

  “I’m stronger than you are,” he said coolly. “In human history, power has always equaled right.”

  “What? You’re a philosopher now? Let go of me.” She jabbed a sharp elbow into his gut. He barely felt it. Those training sessions with Garrick were really paying off.

  “Not until you calm down.”

  “Fuck calming down, too. You want history? Here’s some for you. Men have been telling women to calm down for centuries . . . every time we disagree with them. And we hate it.”

  Quinn chuckled. “You and I haven’t disagreed on anything yet. We haven’t even managed to talk.”

  Seeming to relent, Eve relaxed in his hold, letting her head fall back against his shoulder as she caught her breath. Quinn wasn’t fooled. Eyeing the tiny kitchen, with its butcher block full of knives, he positioned himself between it and her and loosened his arms. She glared at him, then made a break for it, taking two steps toward the front door before Quinn said, “Adorjan will be waiting out there. You’re better off talking to me than him.”

  She spun on him, her dark eyes flashing. “Who the fuck is that guy? For that matter, who are you really? And no bullshit this time.”

  “I told you. I’m a businessman, come to find my fortune in the land of my birth. As for Adorjan. . . .” He shrugged. “He’s my bodyguard. Dublin’s a dangerous place.”

  She snorted dismissively, rubbing her arms up and down, as if they hurt. “It’s only dangerous for people who persist in doing business with vampires,” she said sulkily.

  Quinn saw bruises on her pale skin, and his gut roiled at this evidence that he’d hurt her. “Maybe.” He took her arm with care. “Sit down, Eve. We need to talk.”

  “I don’t want to sit,” she snapped, slapping at his hands.

  “Fine, then we’ll stand.” He took a step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at him, and finally let his anger show. The calm, reasonable Quinn was gone. He needed her to understand the consequences of what she’d done. “What the hell, Eve?” he growled. “Do you have a fucking death wish or something? You’re lucky your aim is so lousy. Those are vampires down there. Do you know what they’ll do if they catch you?”

  “They haven’t caught me yet,” she said smugly.

  “I did.”

  “Only because you know where I—”

  Quinn let his fangs glide out, sharp points pressing against his lower lip. He didn’t need to see the shocked look on her face to know what he looked like. He’d stared at himself in front of the mirror for hours when he’d first been turned, and he looked far more threatening now than he had then.

  Eve tried to run again. Of course, she did. But she didn’t manage a single full step this time before he stopped her, his arms wrapping her in a powerful hug, his hand over her mouth in case she tried to yell. He really didn’t want to hurt her, but she fought him. Kicking, nails digging into his arms, her teeth biting his hand . . .

  He pried her mouth away before she could draw blood, cupping her jaw tenderly. If she took his blood, she’d be thrown into orgasm. She’d hate that. She’d hate him. And he didn’t want her to hate him. “You don’t want to do that, sweetheart,” he said quietly.

  She tried to shove his arm away, taking advantage of his careful handling. But he was done pretending to be something he wasn’t. He held her gently, but he didn’t let go.

  “You lied,” she snarled, twisting around to glare at him, her eyes filled with hatred. It was nothing more than he’d expected, but it still hurt, as if she’d stabbed him deep in the chest with one of those kitchen knives.

  “When?” he demanded. “When did I lie? I told you I was working with Sorley—”

  “You said you wanted him dead!”

  “I do. But I want Sorley dead, not every vampire on the fucking island. Look, I’m sorry about your brother, but not every vampire is a killer.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  He laughed in disbelief. “Are you kidding? Look at me! I know a thousand times more about this than you do. Most vampires are ordinary citizens. They’re shopkeepers and accountants. Lawyers, even.”

  “Like you? Or was that a lie, too?”

  “Harvard Law, darling. Class of fifty-six.”

  “Eighteen fifty-six?” she asked with saccharine sweetness.

  He gave her an exaggerated look of offense. “You wound me.”

  She scoffed and abruptly renewed her attempts at escape, with the same result. “Let go of me, you unholy bastard.”

  “Now that’s just offensive. I’m neither a bastard, nor unholy. Stop that, damn it,” he snarled, when she tried to dig her nails into his arm. “I don’t want to put you out, but I will if I have to.”

  She twisted around to stare up at him again, wide-eyed, her chest heaving. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered, terror written on every inch of her face.

  “Jesus Christ, Eve, what do you think I’m going to do? I just want to talk.”

  She went soft in his arms. He wasn’t fooled this time either, but he welcomed the reprieve. “Think,” he said, patiently. “If a human had murdered your brother, you wouldn’t be wandering around killing random humans, would you?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “It’s exactly the same. The truth is that your brother was into something dangerous enough that it got him killed. Something illegal.”

  “Alan was a good man.”

  “And good men do bad things all the time. For money, for love, for all sorts of things. I didn’t know your brother, but I’m sure he had his reasons.”

  “I hate you,” she snarled with such vehemence that Quinn suspected he’d hit a nerve. Had the brother needed money to support their family? Was that why Eve was so driven to track down his killers? Was it guilt?

  “Hate me if you want, sweetheart,” he murmured. “But if you come after my people, I’ll have to stop you.”

  “You’d kill me?” The look she turned on him this time was devastated, as if he’d wounded her deeply. It infuriated him. She was the one killing vampires, calling him a monster and fighting him tooth and nail. What right did she have to be wounded?

  “Right back at you, Eve. Could you kill me?”

  EVE STARED. SHE’D had sex with this man, had felt herself sliding into something more than just liking him. She’d even missed him when they’d been apart, wondering where he was and what he was doing. Worrying that he’d done something stupid and gotten in too deeply with his vampire business partners. Or that he’d been killed, just like her brother.

  And now? She felt betrayed. Humiliated. But despite her angry words, she wasn’t feeling hatred. The hell of it was, he was right. She couldn’t kill him, despite what he was. Because she didn’t want him dead. She was even still worried about him. How fucked up was that? But he just didn’t seem to understand how dangerous Sorley was, or how easily he could end up dead at the Irish vampire’s hands.

  Tears filled her eyes. “Let me go.”

  His arms fell away, but he rem
ained close to her, his size and strength reminding her of what it had felt like to make love to him, to have that beautifully male body of his between her thighs, hot and heavy, his arms bracketing her shoulders, his hips driving . . .

  She closed her eyes before he could see what she was thinking. And then she remembered what he was. Vampire. He’d probably read every thought as it occurred to her, every filthy memory . . .

  “No,” he said. “I’m not reading your thoughts. I wouldn’t. But you have a very expressive face.”

  “So, what now?” she asked sullenly.

  “That depends on you. Can I trust you?”

  “That’s rich, coming from a vampire.”

  He sighed. “I don’t have time to try and convince you of the truth. I have things to do and people who depend on me, whether you believe it or not.” He ran a hand back through his hair, as if she’d worn him out. “Stop this, Eve,” he said finally. “Or I’ll stop it for you.”

  He left then. Without trying to touch her, without kissing her good-bye. And she felt stupid for the disappointment that tightened her throat.

  She followed him outside, hurrying behind him as he strode for his car. “What about my gun?” she demanded.

  He shot her a look over his shoulder, his handsome face creased with a half-smile. “We’ll be keeping that for now.”

  The bodyguard stepped up onto the curb and lifted his dark gaze to her, as if he’d heard every word she’d said to Quinn inside her flat. And maybe he had. Vampires had incredible hearing, everyone knew that. He opened the Range Rover’s door and positioned himself between her and Quinn, as his head dipped in a respectful nod. “My lord,” he said, waiting until Quinn was out of her line of sight before turning to shoot her a deadly glare. Quinn might not be ready to kill her, but that one would do it with a smile on his face and never think twice.

  Eve jammed her hands into her pockets, furious and frustrated in equal measure. The damn vampire had shoved his way into her house uninvited, stolen her rifle, threatened her, and then waltzed out like he was the fucking king of Ireland. Her hands fisted, the fingers of one closing around something hard and small. She fidgeted with it idly, staring daggers at Quinn while he gazed serenely back at her. The smug bastard. And with good reason. There was nothing she could do about . . . Wait. Her finger traced the outlines of the object in her pocket. Not nothing, after all. Storming up to the closed door, she smacked Quinn’s window with her right hand to cover the sound of her left slapping something else entirely on the roof of the SUV. Behind the glass, Quinn smiled and winked, while Eve mouthed, “Fuck you,” and shot him a one-fingered salute as they pulled away.