He kissed her forehead again, released his arms, and then caught her before she could stumble backwards. “I’ll be in touch,” he said before he turned and walked away, leaving Quinn ready to scream and run after him. Instead she went back inside the bar.
“This is such bullshit,” she said, slumping into her chair and wanting to pull her hair out. “Hey, Pen,” she said, not realizing her friend had arrived.
“How long have you been seeing him?” Penelope asked.
“I’m not seeing him.” She laughed at the look on both Pen and Aine’s faces. “I don’t know. A couple of days.”
“Uh huh.”
“What?”
“No offense, Quinn,” said Aine, “but it’s kind of nice seeing you like this.”
“Are you kidding me? Nice? There is absolutely nothing nice about the way I’m feeling.”
“Falling in love is always nice,” said Pen.
“I’m not falling in love.”
Aine patted her hand. “You’re right. You’ve already fallen. Now you’re just in it.”
Quinn glared at the two of them, wanting to wipe the grins off their faces with the back of her hand. “This isn’t funny.”
“What isn’t?” asked Ava, approaching the table.
“Quinn is in love,” Aine answered.
Ava clapped her hands. “Oh, goody.”
“And Ava’s not,” Aine added.
“Can we please have one night without talking about men?” Ava implored.
First Penelope laughed, and then Aine joined in. Soon Quinn and Ava were laughing too. That was the way Tara found them—bent over, laughing so hard tears ran down their faces.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“We’re not going to talk about men tonight,” Pen said between guffaws. She was laughing so hard, she snorted.
Tara looked at Quinn and rolled her eyes. “You’re usually the sensible one.”
“Those days are over,” said Aine. “She’s in love with Mercer.”
“I wish you’d quit saying that,” said Quinn, wiping her tears away. “I’m not in love with him.”
“Yeah, right,” said Tara. “Who’s ready for some shots?”
When all four raised their hands, she went to the bar to order for them.
7
“Take as long as you’d like. I’m not going anywhere,” he’d said when she left him alone at the bar, trying hard to ignore the phone vibrating in his jacket pocket.
Mercer had put the bar coaster over the top of his beer and had gone to the men’s room. Once inside he’d checked his phone, expecting to see a message regarding Quinn’s whereabouts. Instead, there’d been one from Paps.
Need you back.
Tonight?
Tomorrow. Sorry.
Paps knew better than to apologize, and Mercer had known better than to acknowledge it. It was the life they’d chosen, and when they were needed, they came. It was that simple.
Mercer hadn’t anticipated Quinn’s earlier behavior, but he’d been glad to see it. She’d never been anyone’s doormat, and he didn’t want her to be his. He liked her feisty. He’d even thought she might belt him when he’d called her a good girl. He shook his head and smiled. There were times she reminded him of Doc. They had a similar sense of humor—when she let it show. Quinn may look like her mother, but in Mercer’s opinion, she wasn’t anything like Lena.
“Hey, Eighty-eight,” Paps answered when he called.
“What’s happened?”
“Calder showed up at the restaurant where Barbie was having dinner with Maddox.”
“And?”
“Nothing else to report, although Butler invited him to stay at the ranch tonight.”
“What? Are you shitting me?”
“Fortunately, something happened between Maddox and Alex, and Calder left on his own.”
“Why would he have made that offer?”
“Calder played it off like he had nowhere to stay. I don’t know what his motivation was. At one point, I thought it was to see if Alex would invite him to her place.”
“That would’ve solved our problem,” said Mercer.
“How so?”
“Maddox Butler would’ve killed him.”
Paps laughed, but he knew as well as Mercer did that there was nothing funny about that bastard being back in the States.
They’d known Calder was staying on the Tablas Creek Winery in one of their guest houses. The property had gone under contract, and soon Calder Wines would own it, so they assumed the current owners had permitted him to stay there in the meantime.
“Barbie is all spun up.”
Not a surprise, but her being so, only made things harder for Paps. He couldn’t rein her in without blowing his cover of protection if she spiraled out of control.
Having someone who had beaten the shit out of her to the point where she came close to dying be so close had to terrify her. He understood that, as well as the need to get her out of there as soon as they could.
On the other hand, if she suddenly disappeared, as was the plan, how would Calder react?
Mercer would rather see something significant enough happen between them that the piece of shit would take credit for forcing her to leave.
“Did he say anything else to her about wanting to meet?” Mercer asked.
“Didn’t have a chance, although it appeared he was angling to get her alone.”
“He wants that land.”
Paps agreed. “I’m sure that’s it. The first time he contacted her was shortly after Wendt arranged for it to be taken off the market.”
“Why does he want it so badly? Gotta be something there.”
“I don’t know, but my gut is telling me that whatever it is, is something we should attempt to find before he does.”
Mercer didn’t agree and said so. Maybe once he found whatever he was looking for, he’d either return to Russia or, at least, establish a contact that they could monitor.
“You’re right. That might be a more useful outcome,” Paps said. “See you tomorrow, Eighty-eight.”
Mercer ended the call, went into the kitchen, and opened the bottle of wine that sat on the counter. It was one of his favorites, a 2015 Butler Ranch Vin 22 Syrah. He’d had the wine often enough that he knew a lot about it. The soil of Vineyard 22 was rich in limestone, and thus, produced grapes that maintained good acidity throughout the growing season.
Through Doc, Mercer had learned that Maddox began experimenting with this particular vineyard several years ago, destemming and crushing the fruit directly into new French oak barrels, using the bound wooden staves to both ferment and age the juice.
As a result, the wine was full-bodied with a vibrant hue and aromas of ripe plums and brambly fruits. Its richness on the palate and flavors of black fruit, along with its firm structure and silky tannins, provided a long and luscious finish.
He thought about Quinn, wishing he could share it with her, but it was far too soon for that. Like so many other things, this was something he couldn’t talk to her about yet.
Given he had little wine in the apartment that wasn’t from the Butler Ranch winery, it had necessitated his stop earlier to stock up on different labels.
Paps and Razor were craft beer connoisseurs, but he and Doc had always preferred wine. Mercer had learned a lot about the intricacies of wine tasting as they’d traveled the world together. Sitting on the edge of a Tuscan vineyard with the breeze on their faces as a signorina brought them taste after taste, had given them a brief respite from the horrors they faced almost daily in their line of work.
Doc once told him that his family thought he had little interest in the ranch or the winery. They’d been wrong. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested; it was that he’d known he had a different calling.
“One day, Maddox will be considered one of the greatest winemakers of all time,” Doc had told him. “And Naughton, it’s like the vine’s juice flows through his veins instead of blood.”
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What Naughton didn’t know yet was that Doc had come to an agreement with his parents which made him heir to Butler Ranch.
Their father, Laird, had been an only child, so when his parents passed away, the ranch became his. With seven siblings, Doc had feared that when their parents died, there’d be turmoil over its ownership. To him, the possibility of Naughton being the one to walk away, represented what was paramount to tragic. He’d told Mercer that he’d do anything to prevent that from happening.
So, he’d left money in a trust to be paid out to each of his siblings on the day Naughton married, equivalent to their share of the ranch.
As far as the winery went, there was also sufficient money left in a trust to buy out any of his brothers or sisters who wanted to sell their stake in the family business. Otherwise, they’d be considered silent partners, each earning a share of the income generated, like they did now.
What Doc had done ensured Naughton and his future wife, whoever that may one day be, would live in the ranch’s main house and raise their family on the land passed down from their grandparents.
Naughton had also been given two-hundred acres of the land Doc owned that had once belonged to Lena’s parents. He’d deeded the land, half to Maddox, half to Naughton, before he’d left on his last mission.
He’d told Naughton about the property, even walked the vineyards with him, and made him aware of the stipulation under which Maddox would learn of his inheritance. Mercer was aware of it too, and while he didn’t understand Doc’s logic, it wasn’t for him to question his motives, but simply to carry out his former boss’s wishes.
Mercer finished the wine in his glass and poured what was left of the bottle.
Maddox was the third of the siblings to receive a message from Doc. Coincidentally, the youngest brother, Brodie, had received his and had gotten engaged to Peyton Wolf the same day Quinn turned twenty-one.
Mercer only knew that because he’d been the one to arrange for Paps to have the letter and box, which had been inadvertently left in Argentina, delivered to Brodie.
A little over a month ago, they’d feared Brodie had been killed in a small-engine plane crash in Argentina. Maddox and Naughton, both helicopter pilots, volunteered to help the search team. Little did they know they were aided by two of their older brother’s business partners. Paps had been the one to locate the crash site, but he and Razor took a step back when the search had turned into a recovery mission.
Now, not only was Brodie engaged, Peyton was pregnant with their child.
One of Doc’s sisters, Skye, had received a letter shortly after Doc died, however, what her brother had done for her happened well before that final mission when, a few years prior, Doc had arranged for Skye to meet the man who was now her husband, Mac Campbell.
As with the rest of the letters that had been delivered or were waiting to be, Mercer didn’t know what Doc wrote to Skye.
Mercer rubbed his chest, wondering if angels really did exist. If Doc was really dead, was he watching over them all? If so, what would he think about Mercer’s budding relationship with Quinn?
He shuddered at the thought. Few people had ever intimidated him, but Doc certainly had, and he’d hate to think that he wouldn’t have approved of Mercer falling in love with her.
His phone vibrated, and he looked at the screen. The message said Quinn had entered the building with her four friends. Vinnie also added that it appeared they’d consumed more than their share of alcohol, but hadn’t left Paddy Murphy’s until a few minutes ago, when Tom picked them up in his cab and brought them here.
The man had balked at driving around a big, yellow minivan, but soon realized the reason K19 had insisted on it rather than a sedan. Tom had shuttled the tribe of five home more nights than he could count.
Mercer listened for the elevator, but couldn’t make out much of the conversation they were having in the hallway. He heard Quinn’s door open, and waited for the sound of it closing. Instead, he heard a knock at his own door at the same time a text from Quinn appeared on his phone.
Are you awake?
Yes, he answered.
He was already to the door when her next text came through. Can we talk?
“Hi,” she said when he opened it.
“Hi.”
“Did you get my text?”
Mercer nodded. “I did.”
“And?”
Mercer hesitated momentarily, doing a quick run through in his head of the state of his apartment. He stepped aside and motioned for her to come in.
“I didn’t want you to leave without saying goodbye.” Her eyes filled with tears, and he put his arms around her.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he whispered, and he felt her nod.
She shifted and kissed him, far more passionately than he’d expected. Her hands slid under his shirt, and she plastered her body against his.
“Whoa, there,” he said, taking a step back.
As soon as he saw the look on Quinn’s face, he kissed her again, slower, softer, and gentler than she’d kissed him.
“Don’t make me leave, Mercer,” she whispered against his lips. “Let me stay with you tonight.”
A war waged inside of him. He was tempted to tell her that if he did, she’d have to sleep in the guest room. At the very least, he’d tell her upfront they wouldn’t be having sex. That wasn’t why she was here, though, as much as she thought it was. Quinn needed reassurance from him that he’d be back, and when he was, they’d be together.
“Please,” she begged.
Mercer took her arms from around his neck and stepped back far enough that he could look into her eyes. “Listen to me,” he said. “Are you listening?”
She nodded.
“There isn’t anything I’d like more than to feel your body against mine, but, precious, it can’t be like this.”
“Why not?”
He pulled her into the living room that looked so much like hers, and over to the sofa. He sat down and cuddled her next to him.
“I want you, Mercer,” she said, trying to get her hands back under his shirt. “Don’t you want me?”
“Not like this.”
She tried to stand, but he pulled her back down next to him.
“Let me go,” she said, but her head settled on his shoulder. “Just let me go.”
“Never.”
“Do you promise?”
“I swear on my own life.” If she hadn’t had so much to drink, he’d tell her now what his ink meant. He almost wished he had earlier, just so she’d believe him.
“Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”
She tried to pout, but her eyes were drifting closed. “Is it bad that I always fall asleep when I’m with you? I mean, not always, but I can sleep.” She looked up at him. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”
“You’re making perfect sense. Now, come on, let’s go.”
She crossed her arms, and the pout was back. “I don’t want to.”
“Okay, but I can’t promise you any blankets if you don’t climb into bed first.”
Her eyes opened wide, and she looked up at him. “Really?”
Mercer laughed. “Yes, really, but if you don’t move in the next ten seconds, I’ll carry you into the bedroom.”
“I kind of like the sound of that.”
Quinn squealed when Mercer scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She giggled all the way down the hallway, past the office door that he needed to remember to come back and lock, and into his bedroom. He set her down on his perfectly made bed, took her shoes off one at a time, and then tried to figure out what of his she could sleep in. Her jeans had to go, and when they did, the shirt she wore wouldn’t cover anything below her waist.
He walked over to his dresser, pulled out the first t-shirt he laid his hands on and tossed it to her. “Put this on, precious, and I’ll be right back. Bathroom’s in the same place as yours, by the way.”
He went back down the hall to grab his
laptop, put it in his bag, and lock his office door. He had to be up and out of here early tomorrow, far earlier than Quinn would want to wake up, and he wasn’t quite sure how he’d handle that. There was no way he could leave her in here on her own, even with his office locked up tight.
When he walked back into the bedroom, her clothes were neatly folded on his dresser. Jeans, shirt, and bra in a nice little pile. Jesus—he should have his head examined. He was about to crawl into bed with the woman who occupied every single one of his fantasies, who, by his own decree, he wouldn’t lay a hand on tonight. He didn’t see panties in her pile of clothes. He was about to thank God, but decided instead to pray she was still wearing them.
“What’s K19 Solutions?” she asked, stretched out on his bed, wearing the last t-shirt he should’ve given her.
“A security firm,” he answered honestly.
“Is that who you work for?”
“No.” Also the truth. He didn’t work for K19. He, Paps, and Razor owned it.
“Why do I think there’s more to the story?”
“Because you have a very active imagination.”
Mercer went into his bathroom and saw a discarded package that had once contained the extra toothbrush that was neatly placed on the edge of the sink he obviously rarely used. When he walked back into the bedroom, she’d crawled under the covers, and her eyes were drooping. She was going to hate him at zero six hundred hours when he made her get up.
He got into bed and was about to turn off the light when Quinn put her hand on his arm.
“Yes, precious?”
“Do you always wear so many clothes to bed?”
No, he didn’t, but tonight he’d considered full tactical gear. Even that wouldn’t prevent his body from reacting to having her almost naked next to him.
“Please take your shirt off, Mercer.”
He looked into her eyes, wondering what she was up to.
“Please,” she said again.
He pulled the shirt off with one hand behind his back, and tossed it on the floor.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and when he rested his head on the pillow, she scooted over and put her head on his chest.
The Truth Page 8