In Too Deep: Station Seventeen Book 3

by Kimberly Kincaid

  “Is he always this cheerful?” Garza asked. Whether it was the detective’s deadpan delivery or the fact that simply no more unease could possibly fit in the damned room, Luke wasn’t sure. But the question scattered the tension, and Isabella chuffed out a soft laugh.

  “In a word? Yeah. But he’s really awesome at Jeopardy! so we keep him around.”

  The strange sense of humor they also shared at the fire house took another chip out of Luke’s stress, and more importantly, out of the stranglehold Quinn’s shoulders had on her neck.

  “Okay,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “So what do we do now?”

  Sinclair didn’t hesitate. “We step things up a bit. This all started from a drive-by. Garza, let’s find out more about the beef between the Scarlet Reapers and the Vipers, see if that’ll give us an angle on what Ice is up to. We still have BOLOs out on Cherise and Dixon. Capelli, talk to me about where to find these two.”

  “The DMV has Cherise’s last known address over on Delancey Street,” Capelli said after a few seconds’ worth of clacking, and Sinclair nodded.

  “Good. Maxwell, you and Hale go for a knock and talk. Bring her in on whatever will stick.”

  “You got it, boss,” Hale said, swiping a set of keys off the conference room table less than a breath before Maxwell could.

  “Capelli, pull up Dixon’s address along with his parole officer’s contact information. Moreno, you and Hollister work all the leads you can get on him until you find his sorry ass. Let’s see how cooperative he is when he realizes he’s about to go back to the clink for a robbery/assault with a little arson on top,” Sinclair ground out, and okay, yeah. Good. This was starting to sound like a plan.

  The sergeant turned back to fix Luke, Quinn, and Captain Bridges with a steely, no-bullshit stare as the detectives filed out of the room.

  “We’re in some dicey territory in that we don’t technically have any new or escalated threats to either of you or your families. That said”—Sinclair lifted both hands, probably in response to the way Captain Bridges had just shifted forward in his seat. Sinclair might be a badass police sergeant, but Luke’s captain wasn’t shy about standing up for his people, and hell if that didn’t send a spiral of something sharp and unexpected all the way through his gut—“I think it’s in our best interest to make some adjustments for the sake of everyone’s safety.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Bridges asked.

  “A few things,” Sinclair said, his focus lasering in on Luke. “I understand your family is out of town for the day.”

  Instinct, the tough old bitch, had him nailing a cover over both his emotions and his expression, even as he made the disclosure. “Yes, sir. Until tomorrow afternoon, actually. They’re in Asheville.”

  Hayley’s spring exam schedule had offered up a rare Monday off, and Momma Billie had taken full advantage. She’d never liked driving in the dark.

  “Good. That’s far enough outside Ice’s reach for us to breathe easy until they get back. If he’s going to act, he’ll do it closer to home first.”

  That his grandmother and sister were safe reassured him. That Quinn and everyone else at Seventeen might not be…not so fucking much.

  “So what do we do here, then?” Quinn asked, stealing the question directly from his brain.

  “We stay sharp. Ice is smart, and we know he’s watching. If we tighten up too much, he’ll spook, so we’ve got to walk a pretty fine line to stay ahead of him.” Sinclair turned toward Captain Bridges. “The RPD will put extra eyes on Station Seventeen and you’ll get a police escort on any calls your people go out on for the rest of today’s shift. We can pin it on heightened precautions from your response to this morning’s crime scene.”

  The steady stream of keystrokes sounding off from the laptop on the table said Capelli was turning Sinclair’s words into reality, and the sergeant’s gaze hardened as he continued. “We’ll keep to non-disclosure to the rest of your firefighters for now, but Copeland and Slater are off rotation until at least next shift.”

  “What?” Quinn chirped at the same time Luke’s pulse sped way up.

  “Come on,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “You’re sending us home?”

  Sinclair looked about as moveable as a skyscraper. “Ice might not have overtly threatened either of you today, but I’m not taking any chances. For now, we need you both to lay low and let us see what we can turn up. Garza will get you both secure at home, and of course, we’ll complete regular sweeps and check-ins, just in case.”

  “I’m in perfect agreement,” Bridges added. “With this guy still out there, taking you both off shift and having you hunker down at home is the safest way to handle this for now.”

  “Great,” Luke said, but between the emotions in his gut and the lack of emotions currently on Quinn’s face, the truth was, he felt anything but.

  21

  It took exactly forty-nine minutes before Quinn wanted to scream just to break the silence in her apartment. Detective Garza had checked every inch of her living space to be absolutely certain it was safe, and she supposed she should be thankful the man had an obviously high tolerance for the free-range dust bunnies in the back of her closets and under her bed. Probably, she should also be thankful for the more-obvious fact that her apartment had been both unoccupied and undisturbed.

  Too bad for her she was funneling all of her energy into trying to blot out the memory of Ice’s cold, dead stare when he’d set his sights on her this morning and smiled.

  “Come on, come on. Get it together,” Quinn muttered past her ragged nerves and racing pulse. Yes, this morning had been terrifying, and God, yes, the very real possibility that he might come after her or Luke or someone they cared about was even more frightening than that. But Ice had meant what he said when he’d threatened her and Luke. She knew it in her bones and breath and blood. Something was holding him back, and it sure as hell wasn’t a conscience.

  She just prayed that the intelligence unit made good on their promise to stop him before Ice made good on his promise to torture her and all of her friends, then slowly end her life.

  Snatching her cell phone from the kitchen counter, Quinn paced the hardwoods beneath her bare feet. She needed something to keep her overly active mind calm and occupied. She’d already showered and changed into a pair of yoga pants and her favorite big, off-the-shoulder T-shirt after Garza had left to take Luke home. She could call Parker to keep her brain busy, she supposed. Although they’d exchanged a handful of texts since his accident, she’d been a little remiss as far as actual phone calls. But Parker knew her as well as he knew his own reflection—one word, and he’d be able to hear her tension from the moon. Quinn had admittedly danced around calling him for that very reason. He hadn’t exactly been blowing up her phone from his brother’s cabin, either, but still. Even if her life was a shit storm right now, she owed the poor guy a check-in text, at the very least.

  Except she knew that, while texting Parker would make her feel better in the sense of being a good friend, it wouldn’t calm her. What she needed right now was to breathe. Not just to think everything would be okay, but to believe it.

  What she really needed, above all else, was Luke.

  Quinn’s cell phone vibrated against her palm, making her jump, and the accompanying text message that flashed across the top of her screen didn’t do anything to calm her pounding heartbeat.

  Hey. It’s me, checking in from Omaha. Are you okay?

  Quinn took a breath. Considered going the I’m-fine route. Went the fuck-it route instead.

  Truth? No.

  Barely a beat passed before her phone vibrated again.

  Okay, then buzz me up.

  She blinked, but surely Luke didn’t mean…

  Are you serious? You’re downstairs?

  Yes and yes. I even come bearing gifts.

  Quinn padded over to the intercom and pressed the button to allow him access to the lobby. She barely had time to pull her
hair into a sloppy twist, let alone try to wrestle herself into a bra, before a soft knock echoed from her front door.

  “It’s me, Quinn,” Luke said, as if he’d known her heart was tapping away in full force on the other side.

  She checked the peephole, slid the chain from its mooring, flipped the dead bolt, and tugged the door an inch from the frame. God, she’d never been so happy to see someone in her entire twenty-seven years. “Um, hi?”

  “Hey. It’s just me. I promise.”

  Holding a loaded grocery bag in each hand and balancing a small duffel on his (hello, gorgeous) shoulder, Luke smiled at her.

  Quinn let him in without thinking twice. He crossed her threshold, quickly letting her thump the door shut behind him and do up every last one of the locks before he said, “I know it’s not much, but I had a six-pack of beer in my fridge and one of my grandmother’s chicken pot pies in my freezer. I also grabbed some chips, some fruit, and some cans of cat food on my way over. I’m sure you’re usually prepared, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have extra. That way maybe poor Max will get a shot at the good stuff before Galileo hogs it all. No offense, buddy,” he added, lowering the bags in favor of placing a quick scratch behind the cat’s ears. “But you’ve gotta let that poor girl eat, too.”

  What…the…hell? “How are you here?” Quinn finally managed past the heavy haze of shock clouding her brain. “I thought Garza was bringing you home for lockdown.”

  “He did,” Luke said, picking up the bags and heading into her kitchen like please and thank you all rolled into one. “Then he brought me back here.”

  “Seriously? Are we even allowed to do that?”

  Luke shrugged. “I didn’t ask permission. But Garza agreed it seemed dumb for the intelligence unit to keep tabs on both of us separately when they could keep track of us together with half the patrols. Plus, I saw the look on your face in that conference room, Quinn.” His voice quieted. “I know you’re scared. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  Something she couldn’t define jabbed at her chest. “I’m a big girl. I’m fine.”

  He put the beer and the pot pie in her fridge before turning to look at her with that ice-blue stare that saw everything. “I know you’re a perfectly capable person. Just like I also know you’re not okay.”

  A pop of frustration sizzled through her veins. Okay, so she wasn’t made of Kevlar like Isabella or Addison, or even Shae. Still. “Look, maybe I’m not thrilled about…this…” She gestured to her apartment, and the fact that she was standing here in her kitchen, which should be terribly empty at this time of day when A-shift was at the fire house, frightened out of her goddamned mind. “But I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Is that why you think I’m here? To babysit you?” he asked, so honestly that Quinn’s answer just shoveled on out.

  “Why not? Everyone else thinks I need looking after. Garrity wants to keep tabs on all my feelings. The RPD literally won’t let me out of their sight. I get the safety part, I really do.” Anger and fear and frustration combined to form a great big emotional cocktail in her rib cage, and damn it, she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. “I just hate feeling so fucking helpless. I’m not helpless.”

  Luke took a step toward her. Her stopped just shy of contact, though, as if he wanted to be close to her, but wanted to look her in the eye even more, and hell if that didn’t make her chest ache harder.

  “I know you’re used to taking care of other people,” he said. “You’re very good at it. But a really bad thing happened to you, Quinn. Needing someone to take care of you a little while you figure out how to cope with that is okay. It doesn’t make you helpless. It makes you human.”

  Her throat knotted. “I don’t need…”

  She stopped, the argument feeling too hollow for her to finish giving it voice. The truth was, she did. She did need help. Right now, in this moment, she needed Luke.

  Quinn closed the slight space between them, her hands finding his shoulders, her belly brushing the spot between his hips. “How are you so calm all the time?” she asked, and his answer was immediate.

  “I’m not always calm.”

  There was no helping the laugh that flew past her lips, which loosened her tension at least enough to strengthen her focus on the moment. “You are ridiculously calm. You’re always ridiculously calm. I’m over here, losing my mind and vomiting my fear all over the goddamn place, and you’re just standing there…perfect.”

  Luke’s eyes blazed with sudden emotion Quinn didn’t expect. Her heart twisted at the sight of it, her pulse tripping even harder as he slid his callused hands up to cradle her face.

  “I’m not perfect. I’m a liar. You think just because you can’t see my fear that it isn’t there, but that’s not true. I’m scared just like you. I stay awake at night, just like you. And fuck, I want this, just like you, so no. I’m not perfect. I’m not perfect, because I want you like I want my next breath. I shouldn’t”—his hands moved to cup her neck, pulling her close enough to feel the heat of his words, of how much he meant them, on her skin—“but I do. And do you want to know the biggest sign of all that I’m not perfect? I’m not holding back anymore.”

  And then he kissed her.

  Luke had made more risky moves in the last week of his life than he had in the last ten years combined. But as foreign as it felt, as downright dangerous as he knew it should be, he didn’t want to hold Quinn at arm’s length anymore. He wanted to ease her fear. To hold her close. To strip her bare and take in every inch of her, every curve and every nuance, and he wanted to let her see him right back.

  He wanted to let her in.

  She sighed against his mouth, the soft vibration making him bite back a moan. Luke pressed his fingers against the hot skin where her neck met her hairline, holding her steady as he dragged his tongue over the line where her top lip met its counterpart. Quinn opened easily, her tongue meeting his for a provocative game of give and take that quickly had his cock growing hard behind the zipper of his jeans. Instinct combined with something even stronger, though, and Luke forced himself to slow down.

  He might not be able to erase Quinn’s fear entirely, but he could give her other things to remember. He could take care of her.

  Starting right now.

  “Follow me.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he took a step back, grabbing her hand as gently as the need in his bloodstream would allow and leading her to the large, well-cushioned chair in her living room.

  Luke looked at the windows along the wall a handful of feet away, taking in the sheer curtains covering them and the amount of afternoon sunlight and privacy they allowed into the room, and yeah, this would do. In fact, it was perfect.

  “You want to have sex in my living room?” Quinn asked, and even though her voice didn’t carry any reservations, he still answered with a nod meant to reassure her.

  “I want you to be able to see.”

  She followed his gaze to the ample daylight spilling in from the windows. Her gold-blond brows tucked just enough to mark her confusion, but Luke didn’t hesitate.

  “There are things in your memory that scare you. I know I can’t replace them.” He paused to kiss her, to ground her in this moment, here, now. “But I can make you feel good, Quinn. I can give you new things to remember. Better things. All you have to do is let me.”

  Her blue eyes went wide. She nodded, a tendril of hair tumbling down from the knot at the crown of her head, and impulsively, Luke reached out to capture it between his fingers.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said, although Christ, the words were honestly tiny in the face of how he meant them.

  Quinn coughed out a laugh, her cheeks coloring a shade of pink that made Luke want to do the most wicked things he could think of, just to keep that blush in place.

  “You don’t believe me?” She hardly struck him as vain, but still. She had to know she was pretty.

  The color on her face intensified. “I don’t know. I guess
I never gave it a ton of thought.”

  “Oh, we’re fixing that right now.” Turning her toward the mirror over the nearby side table, he stood behind her, catching her stare in the reflection. “Do you see yourself?”

  “Of course.”

  “No,” Luke said. “Do you see yourself? Do you see how pretty your skin is when you blush?”

  He traced the apple of her cheek with two fingers, smiling when her body proved his point.

  “I guess,” she said, but oh, no, that wasn’t going to be good enough.

  Luke reached down for the hem of her shirt, lifting it slowly, first over her hips, then higher, until it was over her head. He wasn’t prepared for her not to be wearing a bra, and fuck—fuck—this whole thing just might kill him. But Quinn needed to see everything he saw, exactly as he saw it, so he forced his resolve into place even though his cock was hard enough to be damn near painful right now.

  “Look. Look how beautiful you are. How strong.” His fingers coasted over the muscles on her shoulder, finding the hollow where they met her neck. He tasted the spot, his mouth curling into a smile when she shuddered. “How sweet.”

  Quinn did as he asked, her eyes unmoving from the reflection in front of them. Luke tugged his own shirt over his head, partly because he didn’t want her to feel self-conscious and partly because he wanted selfish access to her, skin on skin. He pressed his chest against her back, his hands tilting her head gently to one side as he explored the warm stretch of her neck with his mouth. Her pulse hammered against his tongue, her breath moving in shallow sighs, but he refused to speed his movements.