Stripped Away: Shadow Destroyers Book 2

by Sydney Somers

  She was pretending to be asleep. Braxton was almost grateful for it, finding it easier to focus on the road stretched in front of him so he wouldn’t be as tempted to try to push his way into her thoughts.

  What worried him wasn’t so much what he’d find, but how much easier it was getting. He doubted she even realized how much her guard was dropping lately, how easy it must have been for that mimic demon to pull a stray thought from her mind and use it against her.

  While she’d been fighting with the demon, the strength of her frustration and the sheer terror that seemed to reign over her dreams had curled through Braxton’s mind, damn near paralyzing him. He hated the helpless feeling that rotted in his gut. He wanted to help but couldn’t force her to let him in. Now matter how badly he wanted it.

  They hadn’t spoken since Rae gave the word for them to head back. Now that the demons knew they wouldn’t be getting to Cass, they weren’t likely to return, not at the risk to their own neck. Until the network got a lead on Woody—who seemed to be their only link to the mystery surrounding the attack on Cass—they weren’t accomplishing much by cooling their heels at Cass’s place. And once Woody showed up on the network’s radar, they could finish this completely.

  He knew Cass hadn’t been overjoyed at hearing she couldn’t go home yet, but was relieved she’d get to see her sister soon. Quinn hadn’t said much since they’d left Cass’s. Even less on the plane. Trying to delicately broach the subject got him nowhere. Two weeks ago he wouldn’t have been delicate with her. Now there was more to consider. More to get wrapped up in as the line between their professional and personal relationship blurred.

  There hadn’t been time to talk about what happened between them, and now that they were back home… He didn’t bring up the subject himself, afraid to find out that she’d want to know where they went from here. Since he was still wrapping his mind around the possibility of picking things up where they’d left off at Cass’s—assuming she was still interested in that—he didn’t have an answer, making it pointless to raise the subject at all.

  And why did that feel like a complete cop-out?

  Spotting an empty parking space, he guided his car into the spot in front of her building. Her eyes opened even before he pushed the gearshift into park. She straightened in her seat and unclasped her belt. Her hand went to the handle.

  “Wait.”

  She paused, but didn’t look at him.

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “I know,” she said softly and opened the car door. He threw open his own as she dug her bag out of the backseat. He met her gaze across the roof of the car wishing like hell they’d had more time alone. More time to figure things out.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He didn’t know whether to be relieved or not that her tone carried no obvious animosity.

  As much as he wanted to follow her inside, he forced himself to stay by the car. She glanced over her shoulder as she strode inside, a glimmer of regret tightening her expression.

  For a long moment he didn’t move, wondering if the look on her face could be blamed on their fight that morning, or if she was having second thoughts about getting intimately involved. No matter how vulnerable her mind seemed, she kept a solid grip on whatever she was thinking about him—about them. If only he could pinpoint what she fought to hide from him. Her own uncertainties of where this was headed or that she knew it wouldn’t work between them, but just didn’t know how to tell him yet?

  And if it came to that, would he be able to let her go?

  * * *

  Quinn forced herself to set the phone down. Again. Even if he wasn’t already sleeping and picked up, she didn’t have a clue what to say to him. It had taken the bulk of the flight, the drive home and the last two hours spent wandering her apartment to realize Braxton really was worried about her. She just couldn’t decide if he was more worried about her or the nightmares affecting her ability to do her job. Selfishly, she wanted it to be the former, wanted it to be more than just the same concern he’d show for any other agent. She just wished she could be sure.

  Not that she could completely hold it against him if it was about work. The man did practically sleep with the Destroyer handbook under his pillow. He was right to want to make sure things weren’t getting to her. Looking back, she knew she should have tried harder to convince him she was dealing with it instead of getting so defensive about the whole thing.

  First thing tomorrow she’d thank him for worrying and make it clear that if things got too crazy and she began to doubt herself, he’d be the first to know. It was just a question of how far off that was.

  And she’d follow that conversation up with a little chat on the subject of them. Hell, trying to figure out what adding sex to their already complicated dynamic meant was more troubling than her nightmares. Or almost anyway.

  Quinn sighed and headed for bed. Things were difficult, but she’d keep it together. She just might have to prove to Braxton that she still had a good handle on everything.

  Chapter Nine

  Classified.

  Quinn frowned at the computer screen. Seated at her desk in the field office, she tapped her fingers over the keys, retyping her password. Although she wasn’t in the habit of looking up her own personal information compiled by the network, this was the first time she’d tried to access an area of her file she hadn’t before.

  Again the computer refused to open the documents. Classified.

  Stifling a yawn, she leaned forward to perch her elbows on the edge of her desk. Why in the hell would the scant details on her parents’ deaths be off limits to her? She wasn’t even sure what made her decide to check the file. Just a vibe that churned in her gut, restless with the need for answers. The brief scenes from her nightmares—a horrific tableau where sound and logic defied comprehension—were no doubt partly to blame.

  Releasing a frustrated breath, she pushed away from her desk and closed her eyes. What was she doing? Her parents died in a car crash and for some reason her psyche was simply mixing things up in her head. That was all. Wasn’t it?

  Quinn groaned and reached for the bottle of Mountain Dew on her desk. She’d come in early to have the office mostly to herself. Easier to concentrate on work without the distraction of the noises her heightened senses were struggling to keep on mute this morning. The only other person she’d come across yet was the good doctor who was quick to remind her of their morning session.

  Yippee.

  If only talking things out with him helped to settle the violent images stirred up in her dreams. In the back of her mind she heard the elevator engage and knew a few moments later by the faraway buzz of voices that Gage and Jordan were on their way up.

  Jordan grinned at her when they rounded the corner.

  Gage paused in front of her desk next to Jordan. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking her over thoughtfully. “No mysterious injuries from a lust demon?”

  “Nope.” She smiled, tucking away her puzzlement over the classified file until later. “Didn’t need saving from myself this time.” Since the break room was generally Gage’s first stop on the mornings he was in the field office, Quinn stood to join them.

  She was glad for the distraction, listening as Jordan relayed the hilarious details of another glitch with Gage’s tracker. Nodding in agreement that the man had to be cursed to have such bad luck with the tracking device, Quinn followed them down the hall. They walked past the door to the personal quarters where she’d been quarantined.

  Quinn stopped and swiveled around, something whispering through her mind. She glanced at Gage, who’d paused along with Jordan to see what she was doing.

  “Did I hit the door?”

  He frowned. “When?”

  “When I was infected. Did I pound on the door?”

  He thought it over then shook his head. “Not while I was still around. I don’t think Braxton mentioned anything about that, but since he stayed with you that night, he’
d be the one to ask.”

  She fell back into step with them.

  Take them off Braxton. Can’t breathe. Can’t think.

  Her steps faltered as she glanced down at her wrists, shuddering. “You guys restrained me, didn’t you?”

  Gage looked a little guilty at the reminder. “We weren’t sure if you’d try to take off or not. And you’re so damn fast.”

  Jordan snorted. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  A glimmer of her helplessness, the chilling panic when she’d begged Braxton to take off the restraints made her chest tighten. She hadn’t awakened with them the next morning leaving her to assume that Braxton had removed them at some point during the night. After the worst had passed? Was that when she’d begged him?

  “You okay?” Jordan asked a moment later, and Quinn realized Gage had already walked ahead of them.

  “Things are…”

  “Complicated?” Jordan offered, a small smile playing across her lips.

  Quinn knew by the look on her friend’s face that Jordan was reminded of the time they’d shared a similar conversation playing pool just over a month ago. Right before Jordan’s life had really started to go all to hell.

  Hungry for a change of subject that didn’t involve dissecting what was going on with her, Quinn steered the conversation onto new ground. “Anything new on your brother?”

  “He’s keeping a low profile wherever he is now.” Jordan sighed. “With everything Rae has said about Destroyers who end up being corrupted by a demon’s dakorum, I’m not sure what I’ll find when I catch up with him. If I do,” she added almost as an afterthought.

  Quinn only had a small taste of losing track of a sibling and that had been more than enough.

  Jordan nodded towards her desk. “So I have a report to finish working on. I swear these people need more I’s dotted and T’s crossed for one assignment than a month’s worth of paperwork when I was a cop. But how about a spin in the training room later? We can catch up and you can tell me how crazy you drove Braxton.”

  Quinn gave her a vague nod and turned back to her desk.

  “Hold up a second.”

  So much for slinking away without further comment.

  Jordan folded her arms across her chest. “What was with that look?”

  “Look?” Innocent wasn’t Quinn’s best play here and she knew it.

  The other agent’s eyes widened and she checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was nearby. “Did something happen with you and Braxton?”

  “Um…”

  Grinning as though she was looking forward to digging for details, Jordan held up a hand. “Say no more until later. I want to be able to hear the whole story at once without interruption.”

  Beaming, Jordan strode away, a fairly distinctive, “I knew it,” whispering under her breath.

  * * *

  “Have you seen Quinn?” Braxton pushed around the corner of a small stack of folders piled on Gage’s desk. Out of everyone in the office, Gage procrastinated the most when it came to paperwork.

  “I think she’s in with the good doctor.” Gage tossed down his pen. “Hey, did Quinn freak out that night she’d been infected? She was giving the door to the personal quarters a funny look this morning and asked if she’d banged on it?”

  Braxton’s heart stuck to his ribs. Quinn was remembering things from that night? “She did when she first came to and wanted out, but other than that, no.”

  He’d been vague in the small report Rae had him fill out the morning after Quinn had been quarantined. At the time it had seemed smarter to not mention most of their encounter instead of trying to slip in some acceptable details and leave others out. The only thing worse than Rae knowing what happened between them would have been getting caught in a lie about it. Being a senior agent and having that kind of lapse in judgment would have disappointed Rae on top of everything else.

  That morning he must have devoured a whole bottle of antacids, waiting for Quinn to wake up. Afraid she’d remember nothing. Afraid she’d remember it all. The seconds on his watch had ticked off a full calendar year it seemed as he’d watched the door to the personal quarters until she’d finally shuffled out. She’d looked so damn tempting in the simple faded T-shirt and shorts he’d taken from her locker, he had to physically dig his fingers into the arms of his chair to avoid going to her.

  Those first few agonizing minutes as he watched her struggle to figure out why she was in the field office had damn near killed him. Made all the worse when Rae had called Quinn into her office just when he’d gotten up the nerve to go to her. He thought he had himself convinced it would be better if she really didn’t remember what happened. Better to avoid getting involved with someone he worked with, especially the mess that inevitably followed when it ended.

  The blistering disappointment when easy-going and confident Quinn had been embarrassed and bothered by the thought of even coming on to him had stung far more than he’d anticipated. Reassuring her nothing had happened wasn’t nearly as hard as listening to her apologize for him having to stick around the night and then watching her walk away. Watching her walk away without saying a damn word.

  And now Quinn was remembering that night?

  Braxton rubbed his hand over his face. He needed to tell her the truth before she remembered on her own. Otherwise… He shook his head, refusing to even contemplate the worst case scenario.

  Gage took a sip of his coffee. “So how did you two get along?”

  Braxton shrugged, hesitating a moment before finally answering, “The usual.”

  “And that would be? Because the tension between you two in the last couple of months has driven me up the damn wall.”

  “We’re…better,” he settled on. Unless he counted the way she’d distanced herself last night when he’d dropped her off. Not that he could blame her, but as much as he didn’t understand what came next for them personally, when it came to work he was concerned her nightmares could end up putting her at risk.

  “Good.” Gage snapped his pen up and jotted something down on the file open in front of him.

  Braxton turned away, paused and swung back. “Quinn and I are…” he trailed off, not quite sure what he wanted to say. Gage was his closest friend and yet things seemed so indefinable between him and Quinn.

  “Complicated?” Gage offered.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s not always easy to be involved when you work together, especially in our line of work.”

  “Funny, I seem to recall having that conversation with you not so long ago.” Right around the time when Gage had refused to consider bringing Jordan into the network despite that she’d already been slaying demons on her own for years.

  “Having been there myself not so long ago I know how things can seem like they’ll never work out. But I let Jordan believe I was dead for almost five years. At least you don’t have any secrets like that to get past.”

  “Right.” And just when Braxton thought his guilt was reasonably under control—boom.

  “And hey,” Gage called out as Braxton turned to go wait for Quinn. “For the record I think you two would be great for each other.”

  As Braxton strolled away he thought he heard Gage mumble something about, “Sure as hell couldn’t be any worse off together.”

  Braxton headed back down the hall, smiling. Right up until Rae stepped out of her office and angled her head in that authoritative way she had of inviting him inside.

  “What’s up with Quinn?” The demand was out before she even finished closing the door.

  Before he could figure out the best way to proceed, she continued.

  “You’ve just spent the last few days with her, so don’t think you can sweep anything under the carpet with me. If there is something going on with one of my agents, I need to know about it, Brax.”

  * * *

  He braced himself as he watched Quinn storm out of Rae’s office. Braxton stood at his desk as she sailed past him, the ske
wering glare she shot him almost enough to make him rethink trailing after her.

  Except there wasn’t any avoiding it—they needed to talk.

  She reached the training room, flinging the door open. He caught up with her halfway across the gym floor on her way to the locker room.

  “Hold up, Quinn.”

  “If I talk to you now, I’ll hit you.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  She whipped around so fast he barely avoided the collision. “You might not like the odds,” she snarled.

  “We need to talk.”

  A brittle smile cracked her lips. “Okay,” she said slowly—dangerously. “I’ll go first. Did you tell Rae I wasn’t fit for active duty?” She might have been discussing the latest in demon tracking accessories judging by the innocent inquiry.

  He started to shove his hands in his pockets then thought better of it in case she really did take a swing at him. “Not exactly.”

  She arched a brow, her face deceptively calm. “Did you imply to Rae that you questioned my ability to do my job?”

  “What I said was that maybe you’d benefit from a few days to clear your head and spend some time with your sister.”

  “The sister that is now holed up in an undisclosed safe house?”

  “Undisclosed?”

  “For some reason Rae pussyfooted around and said it was best not to have the two of us together until we determine how big of a threat Woody poses.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.” The odds of Woody somehow tracking Cass across the country didn’t seem likely given what they knew about him. He doubted even a telepath Shadow Demon would be able to maintain a link to Woody if he was too far away.

  “You’re telling me. And thanks to the good doctor and whatever sound advice you imparted, I’m suspended from any active assignments until further notice.” She stalked away.

  “Wait.”

  “No.”

  “Quinn, come on.” He squared his shoulders and followed her into the locker room hoping things didn’t go from bad to disastrous.