by Alison Ryan
Canaan unlocked the door and opened it.
“I don’t know what you thought this was,” he said, waving his hand at the bed in which they’d just shared their passion. “But it’s fucked up. You’re fucked up. You’ll never win. Don’t follow me!”
“Canaan, stop!” Quinn shouted, standing up and holding her arms spread wide. “I have nothing. I’ve given up everything to help you and your friends. I have nothing, and when Quentin finds out, he’ll kill me, too.”
“Good. You deserve it,” Canaan spat back, leaving the room.
Quinn rushed to the door and called to him. “The man you call Carlton Fox is another one of my brothers. He was planted in that room with you.”
Canaan’s blood ran cold. He turned back toward Quinn, holding his head in both hands. His entire world was spinning straight into the sun.
He took two steps forward, unable to speak. Quinn rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, tears streaming down her face.
“I’m a wretched liar, as guilty as any of the lunatics in my family, but I’m finished with all that,” Quinn begged. “My brothers are monsters. I’ll do anything you ask. Please give me a chance. I know you’ll never love me, but at least let me make everything right. Let me pay for my father’s unforgivable sins.”
Canaan didn’t return her embrace, but the scent of her hair and her body pressed against his made his cock lurch and twitch in his pants. He hated himself for it.
For every reason he should hate Quinn Brentford, and wish her dead for all her family had done to his, he’d never shared a physical connection with anyone like he did with her, and so much of her story rang true with him.
He’d been born into a family with a vast fortune and influence, and the pressure was on almost from birth to become the latest and greatest Titan, almost a caricature of a high-achieving alpha male. He’d spent so much time resenting Atlas and Odin, wishing his father could just be a “Dad” and not the mighty Emerson Titan, but in the end, he couldn’t wish away being a Titan or outrun his destiny.
Fencing in Italy and serving time in Kazakhstan were mere diversions; his birthright was to be the drummer to whom captains of industry and political movers and shakers marched.
To be king, however, he needed his queen. And who better to rule by his side than a woman who was as close to 21st century royalty as Quinn Brentford? Was that not the way in medieval times; princes and princesses from rival nations marrying to unite warring kingdoms?
Canaan’s body knew what it wanted. His blood pumped faster and his adrenaline began to secrete at just the thought of her; Quinn kept Canaan’s pump constantly primed, so to speak.
His hand moved of its own volition, coming to rest on the small of Quinn’s back, pulling her in tight. Canaan bent down and kissed her, first on the forehead, both cheeks, then on her chin, finally settling on her mouth, her lips full and soft. Canaan kissed her until they were both breathless, before pulling away and holding her by both shoulders.
“I don’t know if I can save my friends without killing your brother,” Canaan explained. “There can be no peace between my family and your brothers. I can protect you, not them. Do you understand?”
Quinn leaned into Canaan’s chest, crying. She nodded her head. She’d cast her die, turning her back on her blood, and her legacy, for a chance at something better.
But her family had also given her little choice.
Quinn Brentford had visited every continent on the planet, earned multiple degrees from one of the top universities anywhere, climbed Mt. Everest, driven cars that cost more than most homes, and had clothing custom made by top designers from all over the world.
One thing she hadn’t done yet was fall in love. She hoped Canaan could be convinced to change that for her.
25
Nolan and Carlton hurried back to their room, bounding up the stairs and giving the door an agreed-upon series of knocks.
Gun in hand Annalise opened the door, scanning the sidewalk and parking lot to ensure that the men weren’t followed.
“Everything go smoothly?” Annalise asked, after locking the door.
“Not exactly,” Nolan answered, gathering up everything in the room that he anticipated taking with them. “Fox was jumped in the woods. The guy from dinner bushwhacked him.”
“He’s a damn ghost,” Carlton grumbled.
“Anyway,” Nolan continued. “We’re on the move. No idea who that guy works for, but he’s no local. He was carrying this.” Nolan slid the gun they’d taken from Stoichkov across the table to Annalise.
“This is Russian military issue,” she observed.
“Hey, lots of stuff went on sale when the Soviet Union collapsed,” Nolan reminded his cohorts. “Don’t read too much into that gun. But the fact that the man who was carrying it was out poking around in the woods after dark and got the jump on Carlton has me spooked. We’re going to get into a vehicle and get out of Dodge. Heard from Canaan?”
“No,” Annalise replied. “Nothing. But I didn’t go looking for him, either. Let’s go get him and find transportation. Hopefully it’ll be hours before anybody wakes up and notices their car is missing.”
Nolan checked the window, saw nothing, and stepped out to take point on the group’s expedition to locate transportation.
As soon as he opened the door, however, he was met with the barrel of a gun.
Arava.
“Step back inside, set everything down, all the guns on the bed and then walk backwards toward the bathroom,” QB’s deputy sheriff ordered.
Nolan and Annalise complied, backing away with their hands raised. They expected Carlton to do the same, but his reaction was entirely different. Carlton walked confidently past his erstwhile teammates and slipped a hand around Arava’s waist and pulled her in for a deep kiss, which she returned eagerly. By the time it ended, Carlton’s hand was cupping a great handful of Arava’s ass, and she seemed to mind not even a little bit.
“Where’s Canaan?” Arava asked.
“With my bitch of a sister,” Carlton replied. “Quinn has betrayed us. She’s been feeding intel to the Titans back stateside.”
“Well, that’s definitely a problem,” Arava replied. “Anything else I need to know about?”
The gears in Nolan and Annalise’s minds cranked away as they tried to process Arava’s sudden appearance, the fact that Quinn and Carlton were apparently brother and sister, and Arava— who Annalise had assumed had some sort of physical relationship with QB— was clearly very close to Carlton.
“There’s a man in the woods,” Carlton continued. “Short, probably seventy. He’s a pro, not sure who he’s working for. He needs to be dealt with.”
Carlton gathered the weapons from around the bed as Arava maintained extended eye contact with Annalise; an intense stare from Arava, intended to intimidate.
“In another life, we could have been friends,” Arava suggested. “I admire everything you’ve accomplished. It makes me proud to be a woman.”
“Does QB know that you and Carlton— or whatever his name is— are so close?” Annalise asked.
“Don’t waste your time trying to drive a wedge between us, you cow,” Arava replied, Carlton’s hand around her waist.
“It just occurs to me that he might have enough to be insecure about without being cuckolded, too, that’s all. Might make him angry.”
“You know nothing about me or my relationships with men, you whore,” Arava spat at Annalise.
Carlton intervened. “She wants to distract you, since she knows it’s over for her. It’s not worth it.”
A seething Arava gave Annalise a death stare.
Annalise smiled back at her. “You’re very uptight. Do you attract impotent men? Sex is a great stress reliever. You obviously aren’t getting any from QB, so that leaves our friend here, and—”
Arava stepped past Nolan and backhanded Annalise hard across the face.
“This is all going to end very badly for you,” Arav
a threatened Annalise, who rubbed her jaw and tried to blink her eyes into working again.
As Arava walked away, Annalise continued to pester her. “I always wondered if there was such a thing as a blind tattoo artist. Now, I see the proof.”
Arava’s response was blinding; a flying back kick that caught the entire room by surprise, connecting just below Annalise’s throat, sending her sprawling back against the wall, sputtering as she slumped to the floor.
Nolan desperately wanted to comfort his teammate, but with Carlton’s finger caressing the trigger of his Glock, he dared not.
“It’s becoming more and more evident that you’re not ‘Carlton Fox’. So who are you, really?” Nolan asked. “You’ve got me. I’m going to die. Might as well fill me in on who is doing the killing.”
Carlton looked to Arava for guidance, and when she shrugged, he came clean.
“I’m Quintus Brentford. Son of QB, brother of Quentin Brentford, Jr. the new QB whom you met earlier.”
“Lovely,” Annalise replied.
“What do you suppose happens when the Russian in the woods comes to, Quintus?” Nolan asked. “I mean, what if I didn’t bear down on that chokehold quite tight enough? He could be up and looking for you, as we speak.”
Quintus snickered. “Let him come. I’ll be ready for him next time. Besides, we…err…. you took his gun away, remember?”
Just then, a knock came at the door, the knock predetermined by Nolan to gain entry into whatever hotel room they inhabited.
Arava put a finger to her lips to signal for everyone to be quiet, and she made sure her captives remembered who held the gun.
Quintus opened the door wide enough for Canaan and Quinn to come in, quickly shutting and locking it. Quinn’s eyes flew open when she spotted Arava.
“And now, all of our guests have arrived,” Arava laughed. “You two, go and stand by Nolan and Annalise while we figure out who dies first.”
When Quinn hesitated, Quintus gave her a nudge. “You’ve betrayed the family. You’re no better than they are, in my estimation.”
Quinn considered protesting, but if she had to choose between standing with Canaan or standing with Arava, it was really no choice at all. She walked over and stood beside Canaan, who guided her to stand behind him, so that he’d be a human shield.
Chivalry wasn’t something Quinn was accustomed to, growing up with a largely absentee father who spent more time jumping from bed to bed, impregnating women all over the world in his downtime between illegal weapons deals to whatever conflict needed them, and bribing politicians, than he did teaching his daughter how she deserved to be treated.
Canaan squeezed Quinn’s hand, and she squeezed back. If this was to be the end, at least she’d had a taste of what she’d been missing her entire life— love.
“I have a truck downstairs,” Arava told the group. “You’ll walk in a single file line to the truck and get in the back. If any of you deviate from the plan. I will shoot you. If QB didn’t want to see all of you again, I’d do it now.”
“Qadim is dead,” Quinn blurted out. “Quentin killed him. Because they had a disagreement. How many more of your siblings have to die for you to wake the fuck up, Quintus?”
“How…?” Quintus asked, looking to Arava for answers.
She stepped over close to him, putting her hand on his face.
“It was necessary,” she explained. “He was in his helicopter. But he’s gone now. And she will be, soon. Then it’ll just be us and Quentin, lover. Don’t you see?”
Quintus considered her words, and seemed on the fence, but the amoral greed and lust for power inherited by all Brentfords won the day.
“Fuck it. You’re right. Let’s get them back to Quentin and we can figure out just what she’s told them and how. Then we can move forward.”
“Quentin thinks she’s loyal to him,” Quinn pleaded with her brother. “But you know she’s not. If this is what she does when she’s away from him, what does she do when you’re not around?”
“Shut up, Quinn!” Quintus warned. “You’re the one who fucked up. You’re the one who betrayed your family. Not me, you!”
“You’re all fucked,” Canaan said, stepping forward and puffing out his chest defiantly. “There’s nowhere you’ll be able to hide from my family. Nowhere.”
“You’ve begun to bore me,” Quintus announced, reaching over to take a gun from Arava, a piece with a silencer screwed onto the barrel. Quintus lifted it and pointed it at Canaan’s forehead. “You’re just some wannabe Olympian anyway. This isn’t even your world. You were just bait. A pawn. And my foolish sister decided to slum it with you. Well, no more.”
Bang!
Quinn shrieked at the sound of the suppressed gunshot, and Canaan shut his eyes, bracing for impact.
Then the entire room looked on in shock as Quintus pitched forward, dead of a gunshot wound to the head.
Behind him in the doorway stood a little old man with a Russian-made pistol in his hand, which he now pointed at Arava.
“Please, do something foolish, young lady,” Stoichkov said to Arava.
Before Arava could act or even process the death of her secret lover, Annalise leapt across the bed and kicked the gun from Arava’s hand. She followed with a series of punches, to the stomach and face, most of which Arava parried. Her Krav Maga training served her well, and she struck back, sending Annalise sprawling across the bed. Canaan was next to reach her, but she countered him with the same fury she had Annalise, and Canaan staggered back, clutching his ribcage and wiping blood from his mouth.
Nolan considered repaying Arava for the groin kick she’d given him the previous morning, but instead he chose discretion, diving onto the bed for the MP-443 Grach he’d taken from Stoichkov earlier. He fired three shots from point blank range, concurrent with Stoichkov hitting Arava with a volley from his own backup weapon. She fell back into the corner, giving a grimace of rage and pain before sliding down the wall, leaving it covered with a streak of blood.
“Local law enforcement will be here soon, and this is a shit show of the highest order,” Nolan said. “We move now.”
“I have a vehicle on the street,” Stoichkov said.
“Do you mind me asking who you are?” Nolan asked, as they hit the stairs to the parking lot.
“Oleg Drenik sends his regards,” Stoichkov replied, with a smile.
Annalise and Nolan exchanged knowing glances.
Quinn and Canaan followed, holding hands.
They made for Stoichkov’s car, but noticed a box van and black SUV parked at the opposite end of the parking lot, with two men arguing nearby.
“Go to the car. Pick me up on the street,” Nolan ordered, and the group complied.
Nolan ran alongside the building in the shadows, getting close enough to hear the men arguing in French, arguing whether or not they should stay with the vehicles or go to the room and investigate the gunfire. Making the decision easier for them, Nolan ran from cover, expertly dispatching them both with headshots.
He reached the SUV and got low, flattening his back against the rear passenger door before laying down and rolling beneath it, popping up on the other side and pulling open the driver’s door.
In the backseat, alone in the vehicle, sat Quentin Brentford, Jr. QB.
“You son of a bitch,” Nolan hissed, emptying his magazine into the last of the Brentfords who intended him harm. It was a far more merciful death than QB Jr. deserved.
Nolan wasn’t sure he completely trusted Quinn Brentford, but they had her outnumbered now, and he had time to debrief Canaan later.
And she’d saved them. Without a doubt.
Stoichkov peeled out around the corner, and Nolan leapt into the passenger seat. The nondescript, but well-maintained sedan drove into the darkness, bound for Romania.
26
After a pit stop in Vienna to pick up some of her things, Canaan and Quinn arrived in Las Vegas on a typically blistering hot summer afternoon.
Canaan was eager to see his brothers, to embrace them and thank them for the part they’d played in saving him and his friends.
But he was also filled with dread, knowing that nobody could blame the rest of the Titans if they despised Quinn and never accepted her, regardless of the fact that Canaan himself had forgiven her and, furthermore, fallen head over heels in love with her.
He hoped the contents of the briefcase at his feet could help to sway at least one of them.
The Titan Holdings’ Range Rover took the couple comfortably to Arroyo Place, where Atlas and Odin had gathered their families to welcome Canaan home.
The doormen at Arroyo tried to take all of Canaan and Quinn’s things, but Canaan insisted on keeping the briefcase; never letting it out of his sight.
On the elevator ride to the penthouse, Canaan noticed Quinn biting her bottom lip and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m terrified, Canaan,” Quinn replied. “They’re going to hate me, and Atlas is probably going to defenestrate me.”
“How long have you been waiting to crowbar that word into a sentence?” Canaan chuckled.
Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ve never before had occasion,” she admitted.
Her accent drove Canaan wild, and the reflection of her backside in the mirror behind her made him want to push the emergency stop button and have her right there in the elevator.
He ignored his lust, however, and soon a “ding” announced their arrival atop the gleaming Arroyo Place tower. They both took a deep breath, Canaan kissed Quinn on the forehead, and they stepped out into the hallway.
Odin opened the door with a grin and Lea came toddling out behind him. “So pretty!” Lea exclaimed. “Princess!” She pointed at a blushing Quinn, and suddenly Quinn’s nerves dissipated as Piper stepped into the hallway, laughing at her daughter.
Atlas and Canaan shared an aggressive embrace, thumping their chests together like silverbacks and holding tight as the corridor filled with people. Clara was next, carrying Emmie, and Odin stood behind her, looking down as Abner II weaseled his way thought the maze of legs to greet the newcomer.