If they split the cab it wouldn’t bust her budget for the week, and she really couldn’t deal with the subway right now.
Sliding into the backseat, she gave the cabbie her address...well, the house a few doors down from her address. Aiden might not be like her ex, but that didn’t mean she could trust him.
* * *
AIDEN WALKED THROUGH his front door and let out a long breath. His clothes had dried out on the ride to Quinn’s place—or at least the address she’d given the cabbie. He’d asked the driver to wait so he could make sure she got inside her house okay, but she’d stood in the rain, arms folded over her chest, until he’d given up. For all he knew that wasn’t even her street.
But she wasn’t the kind of girl who could be pushed. Someone had hurt her really bad, and now she wore her scars like armor against the world. The girl had baggage with a capital B and that was so not his thing. He hated drama.
Then why was he inconceivably drawn to her? Maybe it was that whole moth to a flame thing? He wanted the bright, shiny light even though he knew he’d get burned.
Stupid. He should never have kissed her, never mind that he couldn’t think about anything except how amazing she’d felt in his arms that first night.
“You’re not the brightest crayon in the box, are you?” he muttered as he walked into the living room and slung his satchel onto the couch.
“It’s all right, A. Not everyone can be the brightest crayon.” His brother’s voice made him jump. “But you’re still my favorite.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” He really didn’t have time for Marcus’s problems tonight. Not when he needed at least eighteen cold showers to calm his libido down.
“Can’t a guy stop by to check in on his little brother?” Marcus grinned and tugged on the end of his sleeve, a gold cuff link winking in the light.
Dress sense aside, Aiden and Marcus looked so similar, many people thought they were twins despite the three-year age gap between them.
“You only stop by when you want something.”
“I got what I wanted.” He held up a glass with at least three fingers of Scotch in it. Neat.
Not a good sign.
“What’s going on?” He sagged into the couch, and Marcus poured him a drink.
“Tess had to come by the house to collect a few things,” he said stoically, as though he wasn’t talking about the wife, who was currently in the process of leaving him...and breaking his heart. “I needed to make myself scarce.”
Marcus might not have had Aiden’s FBI training, but they’d both learned a lot from their father about keeping their feelings hidden from the world. If emotional suppression was a sport, Graham Odell would take gold, silver and bronze.
“And you came all the way here? I thought you didn’t leave the island unless it was in a first-class seat.”
Marcus handed the glass over, a crack finally appearing in his perfect facade. “I couldn’t deal with Dad and his lectures about ‘moving on’ tonight. I want to drown my sorrows in peace, if that’s okay with you.”
“My Glenfiddich is at your service.” Aiden tipped the glass up to his lips and relished the soothing taste as the amber liquid slid down his throat.
After the night he’d had, a drink was definitely in order.
“Distract me,” Marcus said, taking the single seat on the other side of the coffee table. He crossed one ankle over his knee, his black woolen suit pants extending up his leg to reveal a pair of patterned socks. “How’s the new job going?”
Well, I slept with my colleague the night before I started and then tonight I got her off in our client’s office. Then she had a panic attack. It’s great, just great.
“So far, so good,” he replied.
“That bad, huh?” His brother smiled and crossed his arms. “What did you do?”
“I’m reserving the right to pass judgment until I’ve been through a whole assignment. It’s only been a week and a bit.” He shrugged and went for the Scotch again. “Time will tell.”
“What’s telling is the fact that you’re guzzling that drink like it’s your last.”
“And how many have you had so far? Two? Three?”
“The woman I devoted my entire adult life to is leaving me. I’m entitled to get drunk.” Marcus pressed his lips into a flat line. “Is it Dad who’s put you in a shitty mood?”
“Nope, because to do that I would have needed to speak to him.”
“Ahh, still avoiding him, I see.” Marcus shook his head. “But you’re the Last Hope.”
Their father liked to command and control everything in his life. Aiden, Marcus and their sister, Candace, had been expected to fall in line with his plans over the years. But the ultimate pressure always landed on Aiden when his older siblings disobeyed.
Hence the nickname, Last Hope.
“What’s the point of talking to him? He’s still pissed I decided to move on after he got me that gig in the Cyber Security team.” He snorted. “Apparently, by taking charge of my own career I’m throwing it back in his face.”
“God forbid you don’t bow down at his feet for the privilege of following his life plan.” Marcus shook his head and loosened his tie. “At least you won’t have him breathing down your neck at the new office.”
“It’ll be nice to do good work and not have people assume I’m getting ahead because of my name.” At least, he hoped so. He traced the rim of the glass and thought back to Rhys’s comments about Logan having big plans for him. He hadn’t seemed disingenuous when he’d said it.
But it was early days yet, and he wasn’t going to reveal his relationship with Logan if he could help it.
“Now you should get yourself a personal life.”
“Says you.”
Marcus laughed. “Seems the workaholic gene is strong in our family. I called Candi on my way over and she was still in the office. I told her not to stay too long or she might come home to find her husband packing his bags and crying neglect.”
The lines around his brother’s eyes deepened and his jaw clenched, and for a moment Aiden thought Marcus might actually crack. But a second later the creases smoothed out and he sipped his drink as if nothing was wrong.
“It’s not your fault, Marcus. She never seemed to mind that you worked crazy hours when you were taking her to Tiffany’s.”
“Too right.” His brother sighed and raked a hand through his dark hair. “All I can say is, find yourself a nice simple girl who won’t give you any trouble. The complicated ones can’t be fixed, and they take up too much head space.”
Marcus was only talking out his current pain; Aiden knew Marcus would do anything to have his wife back. But Aiden couldn’t help but think of Quinn with her trust issues and closely held secrets. His brother had a point; Aiden didn’t have time for anything serious with her. If he had any hope of proving to his father why he’d gone out on his own, work had to come first.
“They say they love you,” his brother continued, waving his Scotch glass around so that the liquid sloshed against the edges. “But you have to remember that what they say is one thing and what they mean is something else. They don’t even know they’re lying.”
Aiden turned the words over in his head. As much as he wanted to focus on his brother, the case tugged at the edges of his mind and he thought of Alana Peterson. Quinn had seemed certain, that night at the party, that her friend was only going after Third Planet for their lack of female representation. But what if that was a cover? What if Quinn was perpetuating a lie and she didn’t even realize it?
“You can’t listen to them, man.” Marcus downed the rest of his Scotch and set the glass down, motioning for him to top up their drinks. “They’ll lead you down the path to disaster.”
8
THE THIRD PLANET STUDIOS off
ice looked totally different in the middle of the day. The place had a buzzing energy that bordered on contagious. Aiden found himself smiling as he watched two people argue passionately while sketching on a whiteboard. Zombie game design was a serious topic.
He’d been interviewing people for the past four days, dutifully working through the employees of interest. But so far, no one had anything interesting to say. And Quinn had done her best to avoid him, which wasn’t surprising. But he wasn’t about to let that continue. They needed to talk about what had happened the other night.
Having finished up his meeting with the Human Resources manager—a cheerful woman named Joan Hoxton—he was due to start interviewing the last group of employees. But he wanted to clear the air with Quinn first.
“You were in early this morning,” Joan commented. “Normally, I’m the first to arrive.”
“We’re committed to getting a good outcome on this assignment, Ms. Hoxton.”
“Please, Joan is fine.” She smiled. “I’ve scheduled meetings with the remaining employees from your list. Walt had to make a statement to the employees about the leak and why you’re here, but he’s calling it a minor security breach at this stage. We haven’t been specific about what information has been leaked, so if you could refrain from sharing that, we’d appreciate it.”
“Not surprising,” Aiden said as they walked from her office out to the meeting rooms. “We suspected my presence would spark questions.” That meant it was time to start shaking the tree with a little more vigor.
“You don’t need to interview me, do you?” Joan asked with a teasing tone.
“Have you stolen any information from the company?” He raised a brow.
“No, sir. I’m afraid video games aren’t really my forte.”
“Well, then, we should be fine.”
As he walked with Joan, he spied Quinn sitting at her desk. With pink earbuds plugging her ears, she bobbed her head to the beat.
He wondered what kind of music she listened to. Pop? Rock? Obscure German death metal?
She looked up and caught his eye, her deer-in-headlights expression socking him in the chest. Why was she so fearful of him? Who had hurt her so badly to make her act that way?
Before he could think how to react, her eyes were back down on her computer screen. But the bobbing had stopped, and she sat as still as a picture apart from her fingers flying across her keyboard. She had a wall around her stronger than steel, and stupidly he wanted to break it down with his bare hands.
“How long have I got before the first meeting?” he asked.
“About forty minutes.”
“I’m going to get a coffee from the Starbucks around the corner. Would you please ask Quinn to meet me there in a few minutes so I can talk with her?”
“Of course.” Joan gave him a conspiratorial wink before bustling off like a woman on a mission.
He would have preferred not to have anyone in the know other than Walt and Quinn, but the Third Planet Studios owner was determined to keep his HR manager in the loop. From what Aiden could tell, Joan seemed the least likely person to leak information on a game design engine. Still, his experience had taught him that criminals didn’t have a type; they came in different shapes, sizes and colors, and the less he assumed, the better off he would be.
By the time he’d made it to Starbucks, lined up, bought two coffees—one real, one cupcake drink—and found a spot in the back of the store, Quinn walked in.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked, her eyes darting around the café to make sure none of her “colleagues” were there.
“Make yourself comfy.” He gestured for her to sit and he handed her drink over. “Disgustingly sweet, just the way you like it.”
Her eyes darted up to the ceiling, checking each corner methodically as if she’d done it a thousand times before.
“Are you scared of cameras?” he asked, a theory developing in his head. One he hoped to hell wasn’t true.
She squirmed, sipping her coffee as she fingered the lengths of her brown-and-pink hair. Today she’d worn it down except for a little section pinned by her ear with a tiny pink skull and crossbones. For the first time since they’d met, she had makeup on, a thick smudge of black under her eyes that almost concealed the puffiness there. But he didn’t miss that tiny detail.
“What do you want?” she asked, ignoring his question.
“First, I wanted to see if you were okay after...the other night. You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry if I pushed you. I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t.”
“What?”
“Push me.”
God help him, it was like pulling teeth. “I don’t think I’ve ever said this to a woman before, but can we talk about it?”
“No need to talk. I’m fine. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
Everything was so not fine, but Aiden had learned long ago that sometimes you had to know when to let go of a line of questioning. He sighed. “How is everything with the other employees? Have you heard anyone talking about the leaks or the engine?”
She shook her head. “No, they’ve been talking about you, though.”
“Tell me.”
“The other girl who works on game design thinks you’re hot.” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “She said she’d be your Princess Peach any day of the week.”
“Jealous?” he teased.
“Yeah, right. Only in your wildest dreams, Mr. FBI.” She swigged her coffee.
“What about the other staff?”
“Not sure you’re their type. Don’t take it personally.”
They didn’t really have time for banter but he’d take Quinn teasing him over the look she’d given him earlier. “Any comments on Walt’s announcement?”
“Minh said he thinks the breach is a cover for something else, and Zach...” Her cheek hollowed as she chewed on it.
“What about Zach?”
“He said we should all refuse to speak to you. Zach is scaring people into thinking they’re going to get fired.” Her fingers skated around the edge of her T-shirt, rubbing back and forth against the ribbed neckline. “I’d be careful with him.”
“Zach,” he muttered as he checked the list of meetings he had scheduled for the day.
Sure enough he was on it. Zachary J. Levitt. Game designer and user-experience champion...whatever the hell that meant. Two disciplinary actions: one for use of abusive language online when identified as a company representative, and an incident with a design intern. Complaint withdrawn.
Interesting. “What do you know about this guy?”
“Not much.” She shrugged, her nose wrinkling. “Uhh...”
Damn, she was cute when she did that. Eye on the prize, Odell. You’re here to do a job, remember?
“Where does he sit in the office?” He started with a benign question, a tactic he often used with skittish interviewees.
“Next to me.”
“Okay, so you must be able to give me some details about him. What have you two talked about?”
“Other than video games?” Her tongue darted out to catch a stray droplet of coffee off the rim of her cup, and his body hummed. That mouth had been on his mind all damn week.
Snap. Out. Of. It.
“Not a lot. He keeps asking these fishy questions, trying to find out where I live.” Her dark brows crinkled. “He told me I was the first woman they’d hired in a while. Apparently, some intern who used to work here had a meltdown and mysteriously they haven’t had many female employees since.”
Some intern? Perhaps the same woman who’d made a complaint against him.
“Name?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t say.”
Aiden braced his palms against his thighs. “Anything else?”
Quinn opened her mouth but then she snapped it shut. Too bad he didn’t miss a thing.
“Out with it,” he said.
“You remember my friend Alana from the party?”
“How could I forget?”
A soft noise came from the back of her throat. “Well, you know I mentioned she’s been chasing Third Planet for a while because they never have any strong female characters in their games? Wouldn’t surprise me if Walt was a not-so-closet sexist.”
“I’m more interested in why Zach felt the need to bring up the intern with you.” He hadn’t even met the guy and already he had a bad feeling about him.
He was familiar with the guy’s type. Flaunted his privilege over others, self-incriminating but too damn cocky to worry about it. Grade-A jerk.
“He said that I should stick with him because he’s a good guy and that he could help me get ahead at Third Planet.” From the look on Quinn’s face, she was as disgusted by it as he was. “He said the intern didn’t last because she didn’t understand how things worked around there.”
“Which is how?” His nails dug into the thick denim of his jeans, about ready to tear holes in the fabric if he wasn’t careful.
“Apparently, I have to understand that it’s about ‘give-and-take,’” she said, making quotation marks with her fingers. “And he’s earned the right to take.”
“He’s not taking a damn thing from you.” He ground the words out through gritted teeth, fighting to quiet the seething roar inside his head. “Make your way back to the office and I’ll follow in a few minutes. I’ll be speaking to him today.”
“Aiden.” Quinn held up her hands, her cheeks pale and her eyes glittery and wide. “You can’t repeat what I said. I still have to work here until we figure this out. I don’t want to reveal us or antagonize him.”
“I’ll do more than fucking antagonize him.” He balled his hand up into a fist so tight the joints of his knuckles protested. “If he so much as lays a hand on you, I swear to God I’ll tear him apart.”
Whoa. Since when did Aiden go from zero to caveman in under a minute? He sucked in a breath and held it until his lungs felt as if they might burst; then it came out in a satisfying whoosh.
A Dangerously Sexy Affair Page 8