Quinn

by D. B. Reynolds

  “My car’s down the block,” she explained.

  “I know. Would you like some breakfast first?”

  Eve’s stomach growled at the mention of food. Come to think of it, she hadn’t eaten dinner last night, because she’d been with Quinn. The downside of dating a vampire? You couldn’t count on regular meals together. “You have breakfast here?” she asked him.

  He nodded. “For the daylight crew. Come on, I’ll show you.” He started walking back the way she’d just come. “My name’s Bell, by the way. Joshua Bell.”

  “I’m Eve, but you probably know that.”

  He nodded and turned up a short walk to a side door on the house. “Lord Quinn put your name on the visitors’ list.”

  Eve eyed him shrewdly. “And I bet you ran me.”

  “Of course, I did,” he said unapologetically. “The safety of everyone on this estate, including Lord Quinn, is my responsibility.”

  “What’d you discover?”

  He led her into a very modern kitchen and yanked open one door of the biggest refrigerator she’d ever seen. “Everything’s fresh. Eggs, fruit, fruit juice. There might be yogurt, though we don’t get much call for that. There’s frozen stuff down below, mostly breakfast and snack types. We have a cook who comes in to prepare fresh lunch and dinner. My guys have big appetites.” He closed the refrigerator and opened a double cupboard next to it. “Baked goods. Pastries, breads, and bagels. There might be some scones left. Coffee machine and electric kettle.” He pointed to those devices on the countertop. “Coffee pods and tea in the cupboard just above it.” He finished with a flourish and a grin. “And that’s it.”

  Eve was a little overwhelmed, so she said the first thing that came to mind. “You didn’t answer my question. What’d you discover when you ran me?”

  He regarded her steadily. “You received better than good grades all through school. You were admitted to Trinity College, graduated with honors, and were accepted into their graduate program, when”—he paused and met her eyes —“your brother’s death ended all that. You dropped out and began doing private research on the side, writing thesis papers and dissertations for other people, instead of finishing your own. All of which produces just enough income to support yourself and your aging mother.”

  Eve looked away, uncomfortable with such a flat distillation of her life, even though it was accurate, as far as it went. She was hardly going to insist he include her nighttime hunting habit. “Anything else?”

  “Nothing of note,” he said, although she had a feeling he wasn’t being completely honest with her. And why would he be? For all his friendliness, his loyalty was to Quinn, not her. “Any questions?” he said, waving a hand to indicate he was talking about breakfast.

  She considered. “I do have a question.”

  He gave her an inquiring look.

  “You know a lot about guns, right?”

  He seemed to relax, as if he’d expected something a lot more difficult from her. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “Good. I have this gun.” She started to pull it from her purse, but thought better of it. “I’m taking it out now, okay?”

  He nodded, but she saw that his eyes followed every move of her hand as she pulled the Sig out of her purse and placed it on the counter.

  He picked it up, popped the mag and set it aside, then racked the slide and removed the chambered round. “Sig P938,” he said, laying it on the counter. “6 round mag, plus one in the chamber if you’re smart, given the small magazine. You have a question?”

  She blinked. He’d handled the gun with the same competence as Quinn. She didn’t want to look like an idiot, not knowing more about her own gun, but on the other hand, she really wanted an answer. “Okay, I bought this for self-defense a while back. I was feeling jumpy after Alan was murdered. I didn’t know why they’d gone after him, and . . .” She saw the sympathy on his face, and looked away, feeling guilty about lying. She cleared her throat nervously. “Anyway, everyone says”—she was careful not to admit she had any personal experience on the subject— “that the ammo I’m using isn’t any good against a vampire. But I’ve heard there’s something else out there—”

  “Wait,” he said, holding a hand up to stop her. “You want my advice on how to kill vampires?”

  She frowned. “Not every vampire, obviously. But I was with Quinn last night when he faced off against some of Sorley’s vamps, and it seems like that’s likely to happen again in the near future. It would nice if I could do more than stand around wringing my hands.”

  He eyed her carefully. “Can you shoot?”

  She nodded. “I have over 100 hours on the range. I know that’s not much,” she hurried to add. “But I go whenever I can, and . . . and I’m good,” she finished defiantly.

  “It’s enough. I’ll tell you what. I’ve got some work to do first, but if you meet me here in, say, four hours, I’ll take you to the range myself, and check you out. If you’re as good as you say, I’ll get you the ammo you need.”

  She gave him a huge smile. “Thanks! Um. Here? Like, the kitchen, or—?”

  “In the front, near the garage. We’ll go to the range, then grab lunch on the way back, and you can explain some of this Irish food to me.”

  “Great! I need to run home first and change. But I’ll be back in time.” She grabbed a fruit pastie, took a big bite, then wrapped the rest in a napkin, and headed for the door. If she left now, she’d have plenty of time to get to Howth, shower and change, and pack a few things, just in case she spent another night with Quinn. No more short skirts without panties for her.

  “You sure that’s all you want to eat?” Bell asked, following her outside.

  She swallowed and said, “Gotta save room for lunch.”

  “All right, come on, then. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary,” she dismissed. “This is Ballsbridge not Balleyback. Besides, it’s sunrise. All the bad guys are asleep in their beds by now.”

  He smiled. “All the same,” he said calmly. “I’ll see you there safely.”

  Eve rolled her eyes where he couldn’t see it. Quinn had clearly left marching orders where she was concerned. She wasn’t going to waste her breath.

  Bell walked her the short distance. Taking her keys, he unlocked the car and inspected it inside and out, before stepping back, and handing the keys to her. “Drive safely now.”

  “I will. And I’ll see you later.”

  EVE WAS HALFWAY home to Howth when her cell phone rang, startling her. She checked her dashboard clock and saw it read 10:05 am. Hanging around with vampires was screwing with her sense of time, but sunrise was between 8:30 – 9:00 this time of year, so that had to be right. She’d somehow thought it was later. She couldn’t imagine who would be calling her this early. Most of her clients were graduate students and didn’t crawl out of bed before noon.

  Grabbing her phone, she risked life and limb long enough to check the display. She winced. It was her mother. Probably calling to complain about Eve not having come by in days. She’d be full of tales of pre­scriptions gone unfilled—they weren’t—and bare food shelves—they weren’t either. Brigid Connelly walked to the store every damn day, mostly for the gossip, and the pharmacy was right next door. But she wouldn’t stop calling until Eve answered.

  She accepted the call. “Good morning, Mam. You’re up bright and early.”

  “I can barely sleep anymore with these hip pains.”

  Eve knew better than to respond to that.

  “Where are you?” her mother demanded.

  “Dublin,” she lied. “I’ve been doing some research for a client.”

  “Another cheater, you mean.”

  “Yeah, well, those cheaters provide me a nice income. I should get back to it.”

  “W
hen are you returning to Howth?”

  Eve grimaced. “I’m not quite sure. If there’s something you—”

  “There’s something we need to discuss. Tonight will do.”

  “Mam, I’m not sure—”

  “Alan was always so good to me, so attentive. If he were still alive—”

  Eve cut her off. She’d heard it all before, how Alan had been the perfect son—which he had been—and now he was dead, which was somehow all Eve’s fault, and Brigid was left with only her ungrateful daughter to care for her.

  “I’ll be there tonight. I’m not sure what time.”

  “It’s no matter. I’ve nowhere else to be.”

  Christ, she was really laying it on thick this morning. One of the local biddies must have scored points on the gossip scoreboard. A daughter who’d married well, or a son who’d struck it rich, or, the gold medal of gossip, that same son asking his mother to come live with him, so he could take care of her.

  “See you then,” Eve muttered. “I’ve got to go.” She tossed the phone down. For a day that had started in Quinn’s bed, this one was sure going downhill fast.

  QUINN LEANED AGAINST the open doorway, watching as Eve walked back and forth in the back garden, sometimes talking to herself in a way that sounded like an argument. The garden was lit, courtesy of the small pathway which led along the side of the house and then meandered over a manicured lawn, before ending in a rose garden. The lawn was where Eve paced, debating with herself. According to Joshua Bell, she’d been gone for a few hours this morning, but had returned in time for Bell to take her to the range and make sure she knew how to shoot that gun she was carrying around. Bell had also confided that Eve was after some ammo with enough punch to kill a vampire and had asked if Quinn wanted her to have it. The thought of Eve in possession of vampire-killer rounds was rather terrifying. On the other hand, if she was going to follow him into fights among vampires, as she had last night, it would be better if she could at least defend herself. So he’d told Bell to go ahead.

  Since she’d gotten what she wanted from Bell, Quinn was trying to puzzle out what might have brought on the pacing and arguing. His security people told him she’d spent much of the hour before sunset, sitting quietly, seeming to enjoy what was forecast to be only a brief break in the wet weather. The pacing and arguing had only commenced once the sun had set, which was a giant hint that it had something to do with him.

  “You could have waited in here,” he said, the words a low murmur that his power sent whispering directly in Eve’s ear.

  She spun, expecting him to be right behind her, then spun again when she didn’t find him there. Her gaze lifted to search the yard, eventually seeing him where he stood backlit in the doorway to the residential wing where he, Garrick, and Adorjan had their personal quarters. He smiled at the irritated look on her face, a look she’d smoothed over by the time she’d marched across the lawn and stood looking up at him. He reached down, wrapped an arm around her waist, and drew her up the three steps to the house entrance, pulling her flush against his chest.

  “Good evening, Eve,” he crooned and gave her an intentionally seductive kiss. He wanted her to remember what they’d had the night before, when she’d been trembling in his arms after multiple orgasms, and still pleading for more.

  He was satisfied to see that she was flushed and breathless when he finally released her, her heart racing and her arousal scenting the air. She licked her lips. He followed the movement, struck by the sudden desire to suck her plump lower lip between his teeth and bite down. Hard.

  “Stop doing that,” she gasped, sounding utterly flustered.

  “Doing what?” he whispered against her ear.

  “Looking at me like—”

  He straightened so he could see her face. “Like what, sweetheart?” He gave her an innocent smile.

  “Pfft. Never mind. Can we talk?”

  “Aren’t we talking already?”

  “Not like this,” she insisted. “Not . . . out here where anyone can listen. And not like”—she waved a hand between them—“this, with you being all sexy and trying to seduce me.”

  He grinned. “I’m not trying, Eve.”

  “Like that,” she snapped.

  His grin became a laugh, but he slid one hand down her arm to clasp her hand and tug her inside and down the hall to his suite.

  Once there, he closed the door, then crossed to the sidebar and poured himself two fingers of Irish whiskey, which was beginning to grow on him. He raised the crystal decanter in Eve’s direction, asking if she wanted some. She shook her head. He’d noticed she didn’t drink much. Probably a matter of control, which he could understand well enough. He’d have done the same if he wasn’t a vampire who could drink the whole fucking bottle with no effect.

  “Water, if you have it,” she said.

  Quinn opened the small refrigerator and withdrew a chilled bottle of water. “Glass?” he asked.

  She shook her head again. “The bottle is fine. That way I know what’s in it,” she added defiantly.

  He chuckled. “Eve, darling, I don’t need drugs to seduce you.”

  She blushed hotly. “It’s not nice to gloat.”

  He walked over and handed her the bottle, making a show of twisting the cap so she could hear the plastic tabs breaking. As she took the bottle, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said, but layered it with so much seductive power, she shivered.

  “No, you’re not,” she muttered and took a long drink of water, as if trying to douse the heat of his presence.

  He took a sip of whiskey and sat on the short sofa near the windows. “So, what are we talking about, then?”

  Eve walked over and sat on the opposite end. She seemed nervous, avoiding his eyes, which made him intensely curious. He’d never given her any reason to fear him.

  “Okay, first . . .” She paused, and gave him a narrow-eyed look, as if expecting him to say something sarcastic. When he didn’t, she grimaced and said, “You were right.”

  She made it sound like an accusation. If this was supposed to be an apology, she sucked at it.

  “About the vampires, I mean,” she explained. “How most of them are just ordinary people going about their lives, and if my brother had been killed by a man—a human, that is—I wouldn’t have gone out and started shooting random humans.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn’t finished.

  “But I didn’t actually kill random vampires, either. I may have . . . overstated the scope of my hunts when we first met. For all I knew, you were just one more Sorley thug, and I needed to make you believe that I was no easy prey. But I was never out to kill every vampire, Quinn. Only the ones who worked closely with Sorley, the ones bollocks deep in his personal crime syndicate. Those are the ones I went after because I thought they’d lead me to the two I was really after. The ones who mur­dered Alan.”

  Quinn tilted his head, studying her, waiting to see if she was finished. When it seemed she was, he said, “What about McKeever?”

  She scowled. “Who?”

  “Numbers. The accountant you were about to kill before I stopped you outside Sorley’s that night.”

  “Oh, come on,” she said in disbelief. “I was never going to kill him. I just wanted information. He does all of Sorley’s books, you know. He knows everything.”

  “Yes, I know. As for the others . . . Eve, just because a vampire, or a man, works for an asshole, that doesn’t mean he’s an asshole, too.”

  “Well, I know that. But I told you, I was careful.”

  Quinn sighed. They were never going to agree on this. “All right, then, tell me. What does this epiphany of yours mean for the future of my vampires?”

  “Your vampires?” she repeated, confused. “I’ve never attacked any of—”
>
  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, I told you, the rifle was a test. If I’d been trying to kill someone, they’d be dead.”

  “A test where you used my people for target practice. What if your aim had been off?”

  “It wasn’t. Don’t be such a baby.”

  The look he gave her was definitely not amused.

  “Fine. I won’t do it again.”

  “Because I have your rifle,” he said dryly. “But let me get this straight. I’m right about your vengeance hunt against vampires, but it doesn’t matter, because you’ve only ever killed bad guys, and, besides, sometimes you weren’t really trying to kill anyone, anyway. Is that about it? Oh, and I think somewhere in there is an apology. It’s hard to tell.”

  She gave him the bored look of a teenager, but then sighed deeply and admitted, “There is one other thing.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  “You know that vampire I shot last night? The one with the cross­bow?”

  Quinn scowled. “Ah, yes, Barrie. The one you shot without my go-ahead and nearly—”

  “He’s one of the vampires who killed my brother. I had to kill him. There was no choice.”

  “Look, Eve, I get it. But you very nearly fucked up that whole situation. My people could have been hurt, because you couldn’t follow the one, simple order I gave you.”

  “You think he was following orders when he kicked my brother’s head in?”

  “Yes, actually, I do. Barrie was one of Sorley’s enforcers. You can bet he was doing exactly what Sorley told him to.”

  She drank a sullen swig of water, then took her time replacing the plastic cap. “I’m not sorry I killed him.”

  Quinn snorted a laugh. “You didn’t kill him. I did. Barrie was far too powerful to be killed by a single bolt to the chest like that. It’s too clean. A strong vampire can recover, especially if that’s his only damage. You’ve killed vampires, I’ll give you that. But you’ve never come up against one with real power. If you’d used that crossbow on someone like Sorley? Like me?” He leaned toward her. “I’d make you eat that bolt for dinner, sweetheart. And then I’d drain you dry and make you love it.” He straightened and said soberly, “And so would Sorley. Don’t doubt that for one minute. He’s the fucking Lord of Ireland, Eve. You don’t get that far by playing nice.”