by Sam Burns
“I didn’t either,” Jon agreed. He decided to cover for her, since she’d let him through. “She got called away for a problem of some kind.”
Keegan gave him an ironic half-smile that said he didn’t believe it. “What’d you say to her?”
“Nothing but the truth,” Jon said, slipping through the door and closing it behind him. He started toward one of the cushioned chairs across from the desk, but thought better of it. He walked all the way around the desk, right into Keegan’s personal bubble, and leaned against the edge. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Jon took a leap of faith. “I told her I was here to ask you out.”
There was a long silence, and eventually, Jon had to open his eyes to see what Keegan was doing. Which was, well, staring back at him, astonishment in his expression. Jon looking at him seemed to snap him out of it, though. He blinked and shook his head. “Sorry, I thought you said you were here to ask me out—the guy who ran off when I suggested the same thing.”
Jon blushed at that, squirming against the desk slightly. “Not exactly my proudest moment,” he admitted, sighing. “But to be fair, I was a little worried about the enormous conflict of interests.”
Keegan seemed to regain some of his composure from the previous meeting, sitting back in his chair and smiling at Jon. “And what, you stopped worrying? That doesn’t sound like a good little FBI agent.”
Jon smirked right back at him. “You’re not even going to call me a feeb? I’m disappointed.” He let the smile drop. “Yeah, I stopped worrying. I took myself off the case.”
Keegan looked stunned. “You—what?”
“I know,” Jon laughed. “It’s ridiculous, right? You flirt with me for ten seconds, and I go get myself removed from an important case so I can ask you out. Pretty stupid, huh?” Laying it out like that made him feel like an idiot. It practically reeked of desperation.
Keegan sat there blinking at him. “You’re not kidding,” he said after an extended silence. “You’re not here to ask more questions about Dad?”
Jon threw his hands up. “Not even one. If I ask you questions about your dad, feel free to remind me that I don’t want the answers. I’m not here for that. And I’m not undercover!” He wasn’t sure insisting the last bit so vehemently helped his case. It seemed like a guilty thing to say, but Jones had planted it in his head. If he got turned down, he was going to blame her.
Instead of turning him down, Keegan burst into laughter. It wasn’t the most flattering response he’d ever gotten to a request for a date, but he’d never failed quite so spectacularly at asking someone out before, either. It was also tinged with some mixture of emotions Jon couldn’t quite put his finger on. Exhaustion, definitely. Fear, maybe? When the laughter trailed off, Keegan took a few deep breaths but didn’t look up, his eyes partially concealed by the tips of his dark curls that had fallen toward his face.
Jon slid down into a crouch next to Keegan’s chair and looked up into the other man’s eyes. “Keegan?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
Keegan’s voice wavered the tiniest bit when he spoke. “You don’t want the answers,” he said quietly, giving Jon a small smile.
“Okay, I lied. Just this once, I want the answers.” Jon desperately hoped that it was the right thing to say.
It seemed that he’d finally gotten something right, because Keegan’s tiny smile turned into something more genuine. It faded again before he spoke, replaced by an expression of worry. “Dad’s in the hospital. Pneumonia.”
“That’s awful, Keegan,” he said, focusing on Keegan’s reaction to the situation rather than any feelings he had toward the man in the hospital. “Do you need to be there instead of here?”
Keegan shook his head. “He’s out of the ICU. Doc says he should be okay, but it’s been a shitty week.”
Jon took Keegan’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s the worst, having a loved one in the hospital and not being able to do anything about it.” Keegan was at work because he needed to be around people. It seemed that Keegan might not realize it, though, since he’d hidden away in his office. “Why don’t we go have lunch? Or would your employees turn us away?”
Keegan gave a small chuckle at that. “You, maybe. You want to be called a feeb, I’m sure they’ll oblige.”
Jon’s lips twisted into a smile without his permission. “It’s a damn pain, you know that? Stupid Quinns and their ridiculously loyal employees.”
Standing and drawing Jon up with him, Keegan nodded agreement. “I bet it’s the worst part about investigating us. Cousin Jimmy give you guys his ‘I only met Brendan once at a family reunion’ speech?”
Jon’s mouth fell open.
Keegan chuckled knowingly as he started to lead him out of the room. “He gets everybody. He’s never worked for Dad, but he loves messing with the feebs. You wanna know the secret?”
“No,” Jon answered without even thinking about it. He didn’t want to know any Quinn family secrets. “Not unless it’s a recipe for chicken.”
“It’s family,” Keegan told him. “Like all those silly clichés in mob movies. Back in the day, an Irishman couldn’t get work taking out the trash in this town. So, blood or not, they became family. That’s what Dad always says. Family comes first, always.”
Jon sighed. He hated it when bad guys did bad things for good reasons. It made them harder to catch, and more importantly, harder to hate. He wasn’t going to stop wanting Brendan Quinn behind bars, but it was getting harder to worry about it. And after all, it wasn’t his case anymore, was it?
“That was not a recipe for chicken,” Jon told him.
Keegan smiled and shook his head. “That’s Chef Drew’s thing, not mine. He just put a new chicken thing on the menu, though. Mexican spring rolls.”
“Mexi— You’re serious right now,” Jon said, trying to imagine how such a thing worked. “Then I guess we have a lunch date. Um, I mean—”
“A lunch date,” Keegan echoed, cutting off Jon’s backtracking. “Sounds good. As long as you don’t ask any questions.”
“It’s gonna be harder to get to know you if I can’t ask questions,” Jon pointed out.
Keegan considered that for a moment, then nodded. “It is.”
#
Brigit’s smile when Jon returned to the dining room with Keegan in tow was nearly blinding. In fact, all of the staff seemed pleased.
There was something about Quinns that inspired loyalty. Keegan could say it was family all he wanted, but Jon had seen enough criminal organizations to know that fear was a much more common way to control employees. Family wasn’t unheard of, but it was unusual.
Making her way over to them, Brigit looked at Keegan, her eyes filled with hope. “So?”
“Emergency my ass,” Keegan muttered, giving Jon a questioning look, and all Jon could do was shrug.
Brigit looked at Jon like she was considering pinching his cheek. Cheek-pinching was one of the reasons he wished he was the intimidating guy instead of the charming one. “You actually told him I had an emergency, and wasn’t just trying to get him laid? That’s so sweet!” She turned back to Keegan. “I say we keep him.”
“You wanted me to date Mickey,” he pointed out.
She drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t unimpressive, and looked down her nose at him. “I still say it could have worked.”
Jon looked between the two of them for a moment before understanding dawned. He looked at Keegan. “Straight friend?”
Keegan rolled his eyes and nodded. “Naturally. Gay men can’t have male friends.”
“You can be friends with Alex,” she said dismissively. “He’s got a boyfriend, so you can’t date him. Unless—”
“Hey now,” Jon interrupted. “He can’t date Alex, period. Whoever Alex is. He’s going with me.” Looking around, he realized that a few other employees were looking their way, curiosity piqued. “And we’re going out.”
Keegan looked surprised, but he didn’t contradict Jon, just moved
to follow.
Brigit seemed mildly disappointed, but didn’t question it. “If you must. You should eat here sometime, though. Chef Drew is the best. Not to mention the fact that everyone will want to get to know the guy who’s trying to court Key.”
Jon’s mouth fell open at the word “court,” but Keegan grabbed his arm and led him out of the restaurant before he had a chance to say anything.
“Court?” he asked when they got outside. “Um, and sorry for being a controlling jerk, it just seemed like we weren’t going to get a second alone if we stuck around.”
“I think Brigit reads too many romance novels,” Keegan answered with an eye roll. “Thinks you’re Mr. Darcy, come to rescue me from myself or something.”
“I think that would make me Colonel Brandon,” Jon answered without thinking. “Not that I read a lot of that stuff. Anymore. Often.”
Keegan raised an eyebrow.
“Oh come on, who didn’t want a Jane Austen hero to sweep him off his feet?” Jon mock-scowled at him.
“I dunno,” Keegan answered with a shrug. “I barely finished high school. Not a big reader. Just short stuff.”
Jon wasn’t sure why, but that surprised him. He wasn’t sure what to say.
“And I didn’t mind,” Keegan went on. “You saying we were leaving, you know? You’re right, we wouldn’t have had a minute without an employee trying to get us something, or check on me, or . . . I love them. They’re the best. But I think it’s a lot to deal with on a first date. Don’t you think?”
Jon nodded. “That’s why I said we were leaving. That, and Brigit is a little scary.”
Throwing his head back, Keegan truly laughed. It warmed Jon’s heart, knowing that he could do something to make the man’s day better.
“Shall we take my car?” he asked. “I’m not even sure where we’re going. We could go to Navy Pier and do the generic-date thing. Or there’s a great restaurant a few blocks down, if you don’t mind Italian.”
“I freaking love Italian,” Keegan answered. “Let’s do it.”
Jon ducked his head to hide the flush the words brought on. He felt like a teenager on his first date. It had been way too long since he’d been on a serious date that might end in anything more than an awkward “don’t call me, I’ll call you” on both sides.
The double entendre and the curl of amusement on Keegan’s perfect lips make Jon very much want the date to end in something other than awkward pleasantries.
He had a general rule against sex on a first date, since he wasn’t interested in people who only wanted to hook up. It wasn’t often that he considered breaking his own rules in order to make a date better, but everything about Keegan Quinn was already against Jon’s rules. He thought he might do whatever it took to get a date two.
Since the lunch hour had come and gone already, the restaurant was quiet, and they got seated as soon as they arrived. The menu was good, and well within Jon’s price range—something that wasn’t always the case in Old Town. He didn’t want to take Keegan to a dive, but he was not a four-hundred-dollar-lunch kind of guy.
“So,” he said, looking at the drink menu, “I want to ask how we’re going to do this if I can’t ask questions, but that’s a question. This is hard.”
Keegan chuckled at that, setting his own menu aside after only a short glance. “Yeah it is. But I didn’t promise not to ask anything, so it’s gonna be fun for me. Where are you from, Agent Brookfield?”
“Oh my god, if we’re on a date you have to call me Jon,” he said, scrunching up his nose at the idea of being called “Agent” all day. “And I grew up here in Chicago. My parents still live in Hyde Park.”
“Nice neighborhood,” Keegan nodded, then he gave Jon a sly grin. “Not into being called ‘Agent’ in bed, are you?”
“Ew, no. I went on a date with a guy who was into that once,” he said, mind drifting back to the incident. He shuddered. “No. Never again. If all you want is an FBI agent, I can find you one who’s into being fawned over. Does he have to be gay?”
Keegan laughed again, and Jon decided that making him laugh was going to be his goal for the afternoon. Be a distraction, and keep Keegan as amused as possible.
“Oh,” he said, holding up a hand. “Sorry, I forgot. No questions. I have to wait for you to think of more, then. Or possibly,” he suggested, “answer the same ones you’re asking me.”
After a moment’s consideration, Keegan nodded. “I don’t want to be called ‘Agent’ in bed either.” Jon glared at him, and Keegan smirked back. “Okay, okay. Yeah, from Chicago, but you probably knew that. What do you do when you’re not being Agent Brookfield?”
That was not a question that played to Jon’s strengths. He scrunched up his nose. “Read, mostly. Sorry. I’m really not the most exciting guy. It disappoints my brother Miles on an almost daily basis.”
“Don’t I know that feeling,” Keegan muttered. “Little brother?”
Jon shook his head. “Nope. I’m the baby of the family. Two older brothers and a sister. Only close to my oldest brother, though. The others are more interested in their careers and kids.”
“Why am I not surprised that you’re the baby?” Keegan gave him that wicked smile of his.
“Are you saying I’m spoiled?” Jon asked, eyes narrowed in mock anger. “Because I’ll tell my mom on you.”
Keegan chuckled. “I’d say you sound like my little brother, but I was the one he tattled to most of the time. He and Dad—” Keegan stopped and sighed.
Jon frowned. “This isn’t going to work.” Keegan looked stricken, or like someone had gut-punched him, so Jon quickly amended, “Pretending, I mean. Your father is who he is, and we can’t pretend you don’t have one. You’re allowed to tell me that he doesn’t get along with your brother. As long as you don’t tell me that he ordered a hit on someone.”
As Jon spoke, Keegan’s face slowly went from thunderclouds to sunshine. By the end, he was biting his lip trying not to laugh again. “I think I can manage that. I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t know anything about the business.”
“You knew about O’Hanrahan,” Jon said, and he could have kicked himself for even bringing it up.
“Uncle Patty tried to have Dad killed,” Keegan answered simply.
Jon’s eyes rounded. “That’s—That’s a thing you shouldn’t tell me,” he said.
Keegan shrugged. “So report it to your guys. Dad and Uncle Pat will deny it, I’ll look like a crazy person, and nothing will change. It’s not like anything’s gonna come of it.”
It was a fair point. While Jon suspected that Keegan knew about plenty of crimes that were still well within the statute of limitations, he also believed that he didn’t know anything about the current business. Except, Jon supposed, that the reason O’Hanrahan was on the outs was an assassination attempt. And Jon should file a report about the matter, even though Keegan was right and nothing would come of it. Well, other than maybe Keegan being dragged down to HQ for questioning. The thought of losing Keegan’s trust so early in their attempt at a relationship made his stomach twist, and really, it would be a waste of department resources if he did file a report.
He was going to have to spend some time reconciling it with his conscience, but Jon already knew he wasn’t going to file any report on it.
“Can we go back to twenty questions now?” Keegan asked, looking hopeful but uncertain.
“I wish we would,” Jon agreed instantaneously. “It’s a lot more fun than talking shop. I get bored talking about my job. You’d fall asleep.”
Giving him that smile again, Keegan went back to his questions.
CHAPTER FIVE
Keegan Is Not Romeo
Calling Brendan Quinn a bad patient would have been kind. He’d argued with the doctor about continuing treatments. He’d argued with the nurse who came to take his vitals one last time about his blood pressure. He’d argued with the orderly who had come to take him to the door in a wheelchair about whether he could wal
k for himself. He’d snapped at Owen for trying to help him into the car. He’d glared at his driver, Alan, for asking how he felt.
The only person he hadn’t been a complete ass to that morning was Keegan, and that was because Keegan had kept his mouth shut through it all.
As they finally got him settled into his room, Keegan thought his luck was about to end. Owen was so irritated that Keegan was surprised he hadn’t already flounced off to his room. Alan had been sent to attend other duties. Wilkes had been summarily dismissed from the fray the second he’d tried to approach them in the entryway.
Worse still, Keegan’s father was looking at him with something resembling anger in his eyes. Brendan Quinn was not a man who lost his temper easily. He would argue with Owen, tell him that his career choice was crazy and his idealism was going to be crushed by reality. He wasn’t the kind of man who let his anger simmer, though. He didn’t glare, or lash out, or say truly hurtful things.
Keegan was afraid that was about to change, given the look the old man was giving him. He wasn’t even sure what he’d done to earn it.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, his father didn’t let him wonder for long. As soon as Owen threw up his hands and marched out, declaring that someone else could deal with all that attitude, Brendan’s eyes flashed back to Keegan.
“What the hell are you doing, boy?” he demanded, accent as thick as Keegan had ever heard it. That was bad.
Still, he didn’t know why. “I’m trying to help you get settled, Dad. You should wear long sleeves.” He motioned to the wardrobe. “How about that sweater Owen gave you last Christmas?”
“I’m not talking about this cold and you know it,” his father growled. That grumble triggered a coughing fit. The man still refused to admit that he had anything more serious than a simple cold. Keegan got him a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand and held it out, only to be dismissed without a glance. His father looked even more irritated when the coughing finally stopped, but was obviously having a hard time breathing and talking in turns.
“Dad,” Keegan sighed. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait. You can yell at me for making you stay in bed when you’re feeling better.”