DRAGON SECURITY: The Complete 6 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  “He’s a daredevil,” Cole announced.

  “Just like his uncle,” Amber said. “Do you know he likes to go parachuting? Scared the life out of me, watching him fly so high above the water like that.”

  “I tried to get her to join in, but she refused.”

  “I like having contact with the earth, thank you.”

  “What’s the fun in that?”

  We settled around the table and helped ourselves to the most incredible spaghetti and meatballs I’d ever had. Cole proved himself to be an impressive cook. Olivia sat on one side of me, and Vincent on the other. He leaned close to me while Cole and Amber were busy with the baby, his lips brushing my temple.

  “You okay?”

  I smiled. “I’m good.”

  “Yeah?”

  His concern was touching. I nodded, wanting to touch him, to kiss him, but Olivia was leaning close, begging me to cut up her meatballs. When I turned, I caught Cole watching us. He smiled when he saw me looking, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Have you ever been to the science museum, Olivia?” Amber asked. “I took PJ there a couple of weeks ago and he got a kick out of some of it.”

  “No. Mom promised to take me soon.”

  “We’ll have to do it together. A play date.”

  “That’d be great.” Olivia glanced at me, the excitement in her eyes contagious. “Can we, Mommy?”

  “Of course.”

  “What’s that song you were singing in the car, Olivia?” Cole suddenly asked. “It was really pretty.”

  Olivia blushed. “Candle on the Water. It’s for our concert in a couple of weeks.”

  “You’re singing in a concert? Wow! We have a real celebrity on our hands, Vince.”

  “We do,” Vincent agreed, leaning across me to touch Olivia’s arm.

  She was beaming, loving the idea of being the center of attention.

  “When is it?” Amber asked.

  “A couple of weeks.”

  “The third,” I said helpfully. “Late in the evening, I think.”

  “You can come.” Olivia said it so quietly that I was the only one who heard her. I leaned close and whispered into her ear, “Say it again.”

  “You can come.”

  Amber smiled widely. “Yeah? I’d be honored to see you sing in a concert.”

  “We’ll make a whole night of it,” Cole added. “Take everyone to dinner afterward.”

  I thought Olivia was going to bounce up out of her chair and float to the ceiling like a balloon filled with helium. I was happy to see my child so happy, but this heaviness settled in my chest. What if they found my stalker by then? Were they making promises to my daughter that they couldn’t—or wouldn’t—fulfill?

  I glanced at Vincent, and he seemed to understand exactly what I was thinking. He changed the subject, drawing attention away from Olivia. But it didn’t matter to her. She was still beaming when dinner was over and she helped me carry our dishes into the kitchen.

  “Do you think we could go to the museum with Amber and PJ?”

  I set the dishes carefully in the middle of the sink and turned to regard her. “Olivia, you understand that all this is temporary, right? We talked about that.”

  “I know Vincent will move out when that man stops writing you letters, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, does it?”

  I touched her face, wanting desperately to protect her from the realities of life. Everything was temporary. My father’s desire to be part of a family was temporary. My mom’s devotion to me and her determination to do the right thing was temporary. My stepfather’s respect for his role in our family was temporary. Even life.

  “I love you, baby,” I said softly, pulling her against my chest for a long moment. But then she wanted to go play, pulling away from me before I was ready.

  Temporary.

  I stood there for a long time, scraping the leftovers off the plates, trying to tell myself that it was going to be okay. They promised to come to the concert. They wouldn’t forget. But after that…I wasn’t sure what would happen then, and I didn’t know how to prepare Olivia for the inevitable.

  Or maybe it was my heart I didn’t know how to prepare.

  When I ran out of excuses to hide out in the kitchen—the plates scraped and rinsed, the counter wiped down, the dishwasher partially loaded—I headed back to the dining room. But I overheard Cole and I had to stop. I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t quite help myself.

  “What’s going on between you and Quinn?” Cole asked.

  I couldn’t see Vincent’s face—Cole’s either, for that matter. They were still at the table, just beyond my line of vision.

  Vincent was quiet, refusing to answer too quickly. But Cole knew him. He was patient, waiting for the answer that he knew would come eventually.

  And it did.

  “She’s my target. I’m watching over her.”

  “Yeah, well, living with a beautiful woman day in and day out can lead to things happening.”

  “I’m a professional, Cole. You know that.”

  “I do. But I also know about your past, and I know how complicated things could get if you get involved with Quinn. Just…be careful, brother.”

  “I’m always careful.”

  “You still getting letters?”

  Letters?

  “Twice a week, regular as clockwork.”

  “What do they think they’re proving, writing to you all the time?”

  Vincent made a soft sound, like a sigh. “It’s not them anymore. It’s her mother. She’s determined not to let me forget what I did.”

  “What Sydney did? She was the one behind the wheel, brother.”

  “And I was the one who let her get the keys, the one who picked the fight with her in the first place.”

  “Let me tell Megan. She could talk to the woman.”

  “No. I don’t need Megan fighting my battles for me. Besides, if it makes her feel better, it’s the least I can do.”

  “Five years. That’s a long fucking time to put up with that sort of thing. It was an accident.” There was a brief silence, then I heard Cole push away from the table. “I’m going to get a beer. Want one?”

  I turned around, busying myself with a pot I’d left sitting in the sink.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Cole said, surprise in his voice. I guess he forgot I was still in the kitchen.

  “Just trying to help.”

  “I’ll get it later. Or leave it for the housekeeper.” He pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge. “Want one?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “We have wine if you’d like some of that.”

  I smiled, wondering if he thought all porn stars were drinkers. And then I chastised myself for immediately going there. I did drink. Occasionally. Just not tonight.

  “No, thank you.”

  He closed the refrigerator and started to go back out of the kitchen. But then he stopped and turned to regard me for a long moment.

  “This situation is a complicated one. Having this person stalking you, and then someone like Vincent moving into your house and taking over your life. It’s overwhelming. And sometimes feelings get confused.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and regarded him, wondering where this was going.

  “Vincent’s been through a lot. He doesn’t really need complications in his life.”

  “You’re his friend.”

  “We’ve seen things together that no person should have to see.” He waved the beers around a little. “He’s saved my life. I’ve saved his. We have a connection that will always be there.”

  “And I’m just the little porn star who’s become a distraction.”

  Cole shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Cole. I get it. You don’t want your friend to get himself into some sort of trouble. But that won’t happen here.”

  “Quinn—”

  “Thi
s is temporary. When it’s over, it’s over. Okay?”

  I didn’t wait for his answer. I brushed past him and went upstairs to find my daughter.

  Temporary.

  ***

  Olivia didn’t want me to put her to bed anymore. She liked the way Vincent read the voices in her books. I got a brief goodnight before she curled up against the side of Vincent’s body, ready to hear whatever it was he’d chosen to enlighten her with tonight. A week and he already had her curled around his little finger.

  I went into my bedroom, ignoring the bed that had always been the centerpiece of this room. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when this was all said and done. Finding the stalker and putting him in jail wasn’t going to be enough to take away the stain of his invasion in my life. I’d already called my real estate agent and inquired about finding a comparable house and then putting this one on the market. She’d been discouraging, insisting that I’d never find a house quite like this one, but I wasn’t sure I could stay here when it was all said and done.

  I was a strong woman. But even a strong woman needed to feel safe in her own home.

  It’d been a long week! I needed a minute to collect myself, time to process it all.

  I ducked into the bathroom and turned on the taps, running hot water into the deep whirlpool tub that was part of the reason I loved this house so much. I underdressed and searched for the novel I’d been trying to read for more than three months. Every time I sat down to read, sleep snuck up on me. That’s how stressful and exciting and busy the last three months had been. But none of it compared to this week.

  Susie called me this morning. She’d sort of taken a management role in getting the studio back up to par. She and Coleman hired some workers to clean up the mess the stalker had made, carting out tons of trash and scrubbing the walls to rid them of the spray painted profanity. Then, with my consent, she ordered new furniture, new costumes, new bedding. Everything we’d need to get back to work. And now, so close to that happening, a sheriff’s deputy showed up at our door with a notice to shut us down, claiming my permit was no longer good.

  I’d been here before, back when someone else was in charge of production. It was a hassle to find a new location, get new permits, and set up production all over again. I was beginning to wonder if it were worth it. I had enough savings to keep me in the chips for more than a year at our current expenses. But every time I thought about telling all the production staff, the actors, the makeup people, and the cameramen that I’d changed my mind, that I didn’t want to continue, I got this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. These people had families to feed, children to clothe. I know what would have happened to me early in my career if the producers had walked away. I didn’t want to do that to someone counting on me to help them feed their family.

  Not to mention the contract that we had that required one more movie in order to fulfill it.

  Too many obligations to just walk away. But too much of a hassle to fulfill those obligations.

  For right now, we were shut down. And I had the weekend to decide what my next move should be.

  I crawled into the bathtub, turning on the jets. I closed my eyes, a sigh slipping from between my lips as the bubbles tore at the tension that had come to live in my shoulders and back. But with my eyes closed, all I could see was the look on Cole’s face when he was telling me to back off of Vincent. And in my head, all I heard was his disapproval of me.

  People had disapproved of me all my life. I was never well behaved enough for my dad. I was never pretty enough for my mom. I was never cooperative enough for my teachers. I was never willing enough to do the down and dirty stuff for the producers I worked for. And when people put two and two together, when they figured out what I did for a living, their disapproval and disgust was impossible to hide. That was the main thing that motivated me to move to the fetish videos, to seek out anonymity. But it was still there. I’d seen it on the faces of the cops Monday morning, on the faces of my neighbors standing out in the parking lot of the studio.

  I hadn’t expected it from Cole. And that made it hurt more.

  I wasn’t above being hurt, either. Not that I would ever let him see it.

  “How about some wine?”

  I opened my eyes to find Vincent standing in the doorway, a bottle of wine in one hand, two glasses in the other.

  “Never thought of you as a wine kind of guy.”

  “I’ll partake in just about anything once.”

  He sat on the edge of the tub and poured the wine, a blood red merlot that I knew from experience was an earthy, almost bitter wine that played games with the taste buds. There were elements of vanilla and cinnamon in it, but also a sort of woody taste, like it’d drawn something from the oak barrels it was aged in. It was one of my favorites.

  “Little sips,” I warned him, as he lifted a glass to his lips. Of course, he didn’t listen and he took a significant gulp. I saw the moment the bitterness touched his tongue, and I nearly laughed.

  “Scotch is much better than this,” he said, sitting it back down.

  “Wine should be savored, not gulped.”

  “Yeah? You take a wine tasting course or something?”

  “No. My stepfather was an amateur sommelier. He used to sit my mom and me down for lessons on wine tasting.”

  Something odd crossed Vincent’s expression. It was a cross of anger and revulsion that I found both shameful and pleasing. I didn’t want him to look at me that way, but I liked that he was angry at what my stepfather had done. At least he didn’t blame me for it, like most people did. Like my mom did.

  He stood and moved the wine bottle and his own glass to the counter. Then he sat back down, moving closer to me.

  “You look exhausted.”

  “I am.”

  He ran his hand over my forehead, brushing my hair back from my face. Then the back of his hand slipped slowly down the side of my face, following the curve of my jaw. I took his hand and kissed his palm.

  “I’m sorry about tonight. I just thought if we got out of the house for a little while, it might help you relax a little.”

  “No. It was fun.”

  “Yeah?” His hand slid slowly over my chin, along my throat, his fingertips dipping under the water to follow the curve of my collarbone. “Amber’s really nice. Not quite what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  A mischievous smile touched his lips. “Cole always had an eye for women who were more adventurous, if you know what I mean.”

  “He was a bit of a playboy?”

  “Yeah. Most definitely. He told me once that his sister wouldn’t talk to him for over a year because he slept with her best friend, then dropped her the next day.”

  “Wow! That’s rude!”

  Vincent laughed. “We’ve all done stupid things like that.”

  “Have you?”

  The movement of his hand paused just as his finger was seeking the valley between my full breasts. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged, his eyes glued to his disappearing hand, watching as he slipped his fingers under one breast, his thumb brushing my nipple as he grasped me, lifting the weight of my breast just slightly.

  “I don’t know if I want to tell you. You might look at me differently.”

  There was amusement dancing in his eyes, but there was a serious lilt to his voice.

  “There first time you set eyes on me, I was jacking a guy off with my feet. I don’t think I’ll think badly of you.”

  He cocked his head slightly. “I once spent a week in a hotel room with the sister of one of the guys in my squad. When he found out, he put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger just as Cole knocked him away. The damn thing was empty or else I wouldn’t be here right now. Told me his sister was a virgin—which she wasn’t—and that she was engaged to a guy in another division—which she was. He asked to be transferred the next day.”

  “
Wow.”

  “Yeah. I’m not a nice guy.”

  “No. You’ve just done things a nice guy wouldn’t do.”

  “Same thing, isn’t it?”

  His thumb was still playing with my nipple, rolling it around until I had to bite my bottom lip to keep the groan that wanted to escape from doing just that.

  “That guy, Raymond? The one I was doing that scene with on the first day you came to the studio? He’s married to a woman I once considered my closest friend. She stopped talking to me because I lied to her about having done movies with him. Turned out I’d been with him before she was and she couldn’t stand that idea.”

  “It was business.”

  “Yeah, well, she didn’t see it that way.” I closed my eyes and ran my fingers through my damp hair. “We’ve all done things we regret.”

  Vincent’s hand abandoned my breast and began to wander down my belly.

  “When does it stop? When do we stop regretting our actions?”

  “When we become the people we’ve always wanted to be.”

  “And how does that happen?”

  I peeked at him from under my ashes. He was watching me, his eyes slightly hooded as his hand wandered further down the length of my body. I reached down and encouraged his hand to move further south, to touch me in the places that ached for him.

  “When we realize who those people are. When we surround ourselves with the people who can help us get there.”

  “How do you know who those people are?”

  I opened my thighs a little wider as his fingers brushed against my shaved cunt, his fingertips looking for the thin, fragile labia that always seemed to be slipping out, waiting for someone to pay attention to it. It was waiting there again, my clit just beginning to slip out of its little hood. He caught it between two fingers, twirling it around as I again bit my lip, not ready to let him see how wonderful that felt.

  “I don’t know,” I sighed. “I thought I was beginning to find those people, but now I’m not entirely sure.”

  The movement of his fingers slowed for an instant.

  “Quinn—”

  I reached up and pressed a finger to his lips. Then I slid my hand down the length of his arm, pressing his hand closer to my cunt. He got the message. His fingers began to move again, rubbing my clit until the water began to undulate on its own, without the help of the jets. And then his fingers slipped inside of me, the water making them warmer. I groaned, reaching for him, wanting more of him. He leaned close, stealing my lips, kissing me with that intensity that I’d begun to anticipate. He kissed as if every time was the last time. As if he wanted to remember every millimeter of my mouth, every bit of the taste of me. And I could only reciprocate, wanting to do exactly the same. I wanted to remember every second of this for those moments later when he was gone and my body ached for his touch.