Keeping Quinn: The Next Generation

by Edwards, Riley

  “Brady found the brothers,” Jasper told me.

  “Go on.” Fucking Christ, it was like pulling teeth.

  “It’s unlikely either of them will be turned over to the police.”

  Fuck.

  “Quinn’s gonna be real unhappy she has to visit her dad or uncles behind glass for the next twenty years.”

  Jasper’s mouth twitched and he shook his head. “Then it’s good she won’t have to.”

  “She likes Brady, she won’t be pleased to have to visit him, either.”

  “Brady put the word out, we have them. He’s also made it known that the brothers like to talk, and what they’re saying is making more than a few people uncomfortable. Brady’s negotiating a deal. When he’s happy with the terms, he’ll turn the Patels over.”

  “And Quinn?”

  “That’s part of the deal. They forget she exists.”

  “They’re fucking gangbangers. You really think they’ll keep their word?”

  “With what Brady got out of the brothers? Yes.”

  Thank fuck. Quinn would be in the clear, and even better, she wouldn’t have to identify the man who shot her, and she wouldn’t have to see the inside of a courtroom again. We could finally put all of this behind us.

  “When is he delivering the brothers?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Before they’re turned over, I want my shot.” Jasper tensed and started to shake his head. “You get your shot?”

  “Brice—”

  “Did Lenox? Levi? Clark?” Jasper remained silent and his gaze slid from mine.

  Yeah, they all took their shots. All of them.

  “She’s mine, Jasper. Mine. And that fucker almost took her from me. I get my turn.”

  His eyes came back to me, and he nodded.

  “Hey.” Emily poked her head out the sliding glass door. “We’re gonna order lunch.”

  “Brice and I have an errand to run, sweets,” Jasper told Emily. “You and Quinn go ahead and order lunch without us.”

  “We can wait…” Emily paused and must’ve read something in Jasper’s stare because her smile faded and she gave in. “Okay. We’ll order without you.”

  Jasper and I followed Emily into the house, Quinn was standing in the kitchen and I took a moment to study her. She looked relaxed—no tension, no anxiety, no fidgeting. She’d faced her fears head on, and damn if she wasn’t stronger for it.

  I quietly explained Jasper and I were going out for a bit and I watched for any unease, but it never came. She smiled sweetly and kissed me goodbye.

  It was almost over.

  * * *

  Jasper silently drove us to a shit neighborhood not too far from where Quinn had watched Kenneth Allen murder a man. He pulled in front of a rundown house and parked.

  When we entered the house, it was no better inside than it was outside. The place was a shithole, blankets covered the windows blacking out all outside light, old dirty shag rugs carpeted the floors, but I only had eyes for the filth handcuffed to the lone chair in the middle of the room. Brady leaned against the wall, face set to stone, and stared at me.

  “This him?”

  Brady grunted in the affirmative and I looked back to Rey Patel.

  They’d worked him over pretty damn well. Both eyes blackened and almost swollen shut, dried blood caked on his face from either his nose or the gash on his left cheek, and a busted lip.

  I felt nothing.

  “Uncuff him.” When Brady didn’t make a move, I repeated myself. “Uncuff the fucker.”

  Brady pushed off the wall and Jasper nodded his approval. Once Brady removed the handcuffs, Rey stood.

  “Can you see me?” I asked as I walked closer to the man who nearly took Quinn’s life.

  “Fuck you,” he grumbled.

  “Answer me, I want to make sure you can see me.”

  “I see you, motherfucker,” Rey snarled.

  “Good.”

  “Shoulda made sure the bitch was dead.”

  That was all I needed. Any lingering guilt I had about taking my shot after he’d obviously been worked over evaporated.

  My fist connected with his jaw, then my elbow swung back, splitting open a new gash on his left side. The sight of his blood spurred me on. Over and over. My knuckles ached and my chest burned with hatred. I no longer saw Rey Patel standing in front of me. My vision blurred with images of Quinn’s lifeless body on the sidewalk, then it flashed to her on a gurney, her heart not beating. By the time Jasper pulled me back, I was so lost in the memories I was numb.

  “Enough!” Jasper shouted, pulling me from my nightmare.

  It took a moment for me to focus on the room, my eyes finally hitting the man crumpled at my feet.

  With one last savage kick to his stomach, I walked to the door and waited for Jasper. He said something to Brady then opened the door and led us back to his SUV.

  We were on the road a few minutes when I finally started paying attention. “Where are we going?”

  “My house so you can clean up.”

  I glanced down at my hands and winced. I spent the rest of the drive to Jasper’s searching my mind, trying to sift through my thoughts and process what I’d done.

  Nothing.

  I felt not a damn thing. Not guilt, not joy, not even a hint of remorse.

  Rey Patel’s blood coated my hands and the only thing I could summon up was relief.

  It was over.

  Quinn was free.

  Jasper pulled into his driveway. But before we went in, I had to tell him something.

  “I’m doing it tonight,” I said and Jasper looked at me. “I wanted to wait until she was healed, until the trial was over. You all right with that?”

  “Already told you I was.”

  “No, I mean now.” I held up my hands, not sure what I was really asking or even showing him.

  “Especially now.” I nodded and started to open the door when Jasper continued. “When a father gives his daughter to a man, he does so with the hope that the man he’s giving her to will love and protect her the way you would. Delaney found that in Carter. Wouldn’t have thought less of you. Didn’t even want you too near the situation. But I have to say, I’ll be goddamn proud to walk my daughter to you.”

  There was nothing left to say, not that I could’ve spoken if there was.

  32

  Brice came home wearing my dad’s shirt, his knuckles torn to hell, but otherwise uninjured. I wanted to ask where they’d been and what happened, but I didn’t. Not when Brice looked at me and smiled.

  Peace.

  That was the word that came to mind when Brice pulled me into his arms and kissed the top of my head. All the questions I had seemed to flit away, leaving me with nothing but calm. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  My parents had left shortly after Brice and my dad had returned and I still didn’t ask. Wherever Brice had gone, whatever he’d done, he obviously needed it. If he wanted to tell me I had to trust he’d do so—in his own time. Something I’d learned about Brice—he liked to mull things over, sort them out in his mind before he talked about it.

  I was okay with that. What we had, our bond, was unbreakable. It was far from superficial.

  I was in our bedroom looking at the laundry basket full of clean clothes my mom had insisted on folding. Mine and Brice’s. Something about that made me smile. Even our clothes looked good mixed together.

  I heard him doing something in the living room and I knew it was time.

  Today was the beginning of a new chapter.

  Today marked the end of me being afraid.

  The trial was over—I’d faced the monster. I’d sat on the witness stand and looked Kenneth Allen in the eye as I drove home the nails that would bury him. The verdict wasn’t in yet, but I had no doubt he was going down. I watched the jury as I told my story, I saw the flinches when I described in detail what I saw as Kenneth Allen plunged his blade into Homer Wallace’s throat.

  I’d fac
ed a lot of fears today but there was one more I needed to conquer.

  Before I could chicken out, I made my way into the bathroom and gently pulled my t-shirt over my head. I was still sore but had vowed to push through the lingering pain. I couldn’t have Brice or Mom helping me dress for the rest of my life.

  I dropped the shirt on the floor, pulled the bandeau down, settled it around my waist, and stared at myself in the mirror. Two white bandages covered my wounds—mocking me, reminding me what a wimp I’d been.

  Not anymore.

  I looked down at my chest and peeled away the tape quickly and efficiently but didn’t linger on the scar. I moved to the second one, repeated the process, tossed the bandages into the sink, and closed my eyes.

  Come on, Quinn. It’s now or never. Buck up and open your eyes.

  I took a deep breath—luckily it was getting less painful each day—and opened my eyes.

  I winced as two angry, puckered marks marring my flesh came into focus. Ugly greenish-blue bruising surrounded both wounds. My gaze flicked back and forth from the scar damn near in the center of my chest to the second one just over my right breast.

  I was damn lucky both bullets had gone right through me. Neither of them had hit my heart.

  Movement caught my eye and I glanced to the door. I found Brice standing there staring at me, his face tight, expression unreadable. He’d seen them of course; since I’d been home, he’d been cleaning and changing the dressings.

  Each time I’d kept my gaze adverted. I’d been too afraid to watch him even though he’d already told me I was beautiful—no matter what.

  Now there was no hiding.

  “They’re not as bad as I thought,” I admitted, and they weren’t.

  In my mind, I conjured up all sorts of grotesque and gruesome images. But I didn’t even have stitches, just red, irritated, creased skin, and a bruise.

  Brice moved farther into the bathroom and came to a stop behind me.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered.

  “Touch me.”

  “Quinn—”

  “Please, Brice. I need to feel you touch me.”

  His hands went around me, one palm rested on my belly, the other went higher and he cupped my left breast. I watched in the mirror as his thumb grazed my pebbled nipple.

  “More.”

  “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he whispered against my neck right before Brice nipped my shoulder.

  My hands had already started to push down my shorts when his head came up and his gaze caught my movement.

  “Baby—”

  “More, Brice.”

  “Not—”

  “I have the all-clear. So unless you no longer—”

  My words were cut short when he turned me in his arms and I was suddenly face-to-face with a very pissed-off male.

  “Mine!” was all Brice said before he gently picked me up and carried me to the bed.

  His clothes were gone in a flash and he was climbing on the bed before I even had a moment to enjoy the sight of him naked.

  Then he stopped, reached into the nightstand, after a second of fumbling, he rolled to his back, gingerly taking me with him so I was sitting astride him. My knees were pressed to his sides, my palms resting on his chest, but the only thing that I registered was his pounding heart.

  “Are you—”

  “I wanted to do this later. Hell, I’ve wanted to do this a hundred times. I wanted it to be special, something you’d look back on and smile. But I can’t wait,” he said bizarrely.

  Brice pulled my hand off his chest and kissed my palm before he slid something down my finger.

  “Marry me.”

  My lips tipped up and I smiled so wide I was sure I looked like a loon.

  “Was that a question?”

  Brice returned my smile, only he did it better. He didn’t look like a loon, he looked hot. Then his smile faded into a sexy smirk and I knew I had my answer—he wasn’t asking.

  My gaze left his lips, moved down the column of his throat, hit his bare chest, then slid to my left hand resting on his chest. And I got my first look at my new, sparkling diamond.

  Holy shit, I’m gonna marry Brice Lancaster.

  “Make love to me,” I croaked through the lump in my throat.

  “Was that a question?”

  I leaned forward, brushed my lips against his, and whispered, “Hurry, honey.”

  Brice didn’t hurry. He took his time. Slow, gentle, and unbelievably sweet. When I was close, he knifed up, slammed his mouth on mine, and we fell off the edge together. Both of us moaning our pleasure.

  It was perfect.

  It was sublime.

  Brice was all mine.

  After we came down, Brice settled me on my side. My left hand rested over his heart, my leg hitched over his thigh, his hand was on my hip, and just like he’d done hundreds of times, his fingertips gently grazed my skin.

  “Are you happy?” he asked.

  “I’m dizzy with it.”

  His fingers stopped moving and he squeezed my hip.

  “Good,” he returned.

  “Are you happy?”

  “No, baby. Happy doesn’t begin to cover it. This is bliss.”

  I lifted my head off his shoulder, looked down at his handsome face, and I saw it.

  Bliss.

  It would be much later that night, when my eyes were closed and I was near sleep, when I heard it.

  “Mrs. Quinn Lancaster.”

  That’s when I realized what Brice had called bliss was really heaven, and it was a really great place to be.

  33

  Levi McCoy

  “We need to start recruiting,” Jasper said, and Levi looked up from the case file in front of him.

  Jasper was not wrong.

  “We need at least five,” Carter agreed.

  Levi looked around the conference room, and not for the first time, pride swelled in his chest.

  They’d done it. What had started out as an idea jotted down on a cocktail napkin as he, Lenox, Clark, and Jasper were nearing the end of their Army career, had turned into more than they’d ever expected.

  A legacy they’d pass down to their families.

  “Jason ready to leave the DEA yet?” Clark asked Jasper.

  “Not for a few years,” Jasper returned, then asked, “What about Nick? Is he done with the FBI?”

  “Soon,” Clark told him. “Only so many years a man can take spending time in the minds of psychopaths before a career change is necessary.”

  “Then we need to start recruiting,” Jasper reiterated. “I’ll start making calls this afternoon.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Lauren came to the door.

  “What is it, Lauren?” Lenox asked, and the receptionist visibly shrank back.

  “Sor…sorry to interrupt,” she sputtered and Levi fought back the urge to remind her she’d already apologized. The woman was as skittish as a cat—something that Levi found mildly annoying—but Lauren’s attention to detail more than made up for her nervous habit. “There’s a gentleman here to see Mr. McCoy. He doesn’t have an appointment but he says it’s urgent.”

  “Did he give you his name?” Levi asked.

  “Colonel Coffey,” Lauren answered.

  “Send him on back,” Levi told her, and then closed the file in front of him.

  He was barely to his feet when the colonel entered the room.

  Levi couldn’t stop the spasm in his chest.

  Dress uniform. Official business.

  Blank, assessing eyes took in the room and landed on Levi.

  A chill slid up his spine.

  “McCoy—”

  “Tell me,” Levi demanded.

  Coffey glanced around the room a second time, and Lenox stepped closer to Levi’s right, Clark positioned himself on the left, and Levi fucking knew.

  “She’s MIA.”

  His daughter.

  Levi locked his knees as they started to tremble.

  “I
ntel says she’s being held by rebels.”

  His goddamn baby girl was a POW.

  “We have a SEAL team en route to the region. ETA is two hours.”

  “Where?” Levi choked.

  “That’s classified.”

  “Where the fuck is she?” Levi roared.

  “McCoy, you know. You know better than most, I cannot tell you.”

  The chill turned into fire and his heart threatened to explode.

  His girl.

  His daughter.

  Taken.

  Captured.

  “Fuck!” The sound that emanated from the back of his throat sounded feral, tortured, savage.

  Levi’s legs buckled and Lenox was there to catch him before he went to his knees. Memories flashed in rapid fire. Liberty’s beautiful gold eyes lit with excitement when she announced she was following her father and uncles’ footsteps and joining the Army. The day she graduated from OCS. The day she pulled Levi aside to tell him she’d been chosen for RASP. The pride he’d felt when his only daughter explained why she wanted to be a Ranger.

  Captured.

  “Christ,” he exhaled.

  “Which team?” Carter asked.

  “Yours,” Coffey replied. “Drake says you know how to get in touch. I suggest you hurry.”

  Levi heard Carter leave the room. He knew he needed to focus, knew he needed to be strong. He took one last moment to allow his mind to wallow in fear before he shoved that emotion down and determination took over.

  He found his bearings, steel infused his spine, and he looked at Coffey.

  “We’re gonna find her,” the other man announced.