41. Quinn
41
QUINN
My jaw keeps clenching as I lean against the wall, watching Killian’s eyes stay locked on my one-time second as he sits tied to the chair. Emmett hasn’t moved much in the past few hours. That’s the first smart thing he’s done in a while. Killian would love any excuse to gut him like a fish, and we all know it.
And honestly? I’d have a hard time stopping him at this point.
“Let’s run through it one more time,” Nico says in a low voice. We’ve been going over this plan for hours now, but I don’t mind. This has to work. We can’t afford to fuck it up.
Atlas scratches at his chest where the new tattoo I gave him is still healing. “We let this rat deliver her to Ambrose, but we stay close enough to move in when we hear the gunshot.”
“Not too close though,” I remind them. “That fucker is paranoid as hell. If he catches even a whiff of you guys, he’ll bolt.”
Killian nods. “We hang back until the shooting starts, then we rush in to provide cover and backup.”
I can feel Emmett’s eyes on me as we talk, burning into my skin. Every time I glance over, I catch that bitter fucking look. Like somehow I’m the one who betrayed him. Like I owed him something just because he wanted in my pants.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” I snap at him.
“Nothing,” he mutters, but his eyes tell a different story.
Killian must catch the look because he steps closer to Emmett, towering over him with that deadly stillness that makes even my skin prickle. “Keep staring at her like that. Give me a goddamn reason.”
“I told you I’m not doing anything,” Emmett protests weakly.
“And don’t fucking try anything either,” Killian growls.
Emmett’s eyes drop to the floor. Fucking coward. Always has been, I guess. I just didn’t see it before. Or maybe I just didn’t want to admit that my own judgment could have been so horribly wrong.
It’s painfully obvious now though.
Princess winds herself around my ankles, and I reach down to scratch behind her ears. It’s soothing to touch something soft when everything else about this night has been sharp edges and violence waiting to happen.
“We also need to figure out exactly how this fucker is going to play his part,” Nico jerks his head toward Emmett, dragging my attention back to the conversation at hand. “We have to make it believable when he contacts Ambrose.”
“You’d better make it fucking good,” Atlas warns Emmett. “Because if Ambrose doesn’t buy it, you won’t live long enough to apologize.”
A nasty idea hits me as I watch Emmett squirm. I push off the wall and walk over to Atlas, who’s sprawled in one of the fancy chairs that came with this place. Without hesitating, I straddle his lap.
His hands come up to grip my hips as I lean down to kiss him hard. I make it dirty, letting my teeth scrape his bottom lip the way I know drives him crazy. When I pull back, his eyes are dark with heat.
“Fuck, vicious,” he growls against my mouth. “I love when you get like this.”
Nico is at my back in an instant, his big hands sliding up my sides as he presses against me. I turn my head to kiss him too, making sure Emmett gets a good view of everything.
“Marking your territory?” Nico murmurs with a hint of a laugh in his tone.
“Always,” I breathe back, and he bites my neck in response.
Killian is watching from a few feet away, and when I reach for him, he walks over and yanks me up against his chest as if I don’t weigh anything at all. His kiss is bruising, claiming. His hand fists in my hair, tugging just hard enough to sting.
“Such a good little slut for us,” he says loud enough for Emmett to hear. “Aren’t you?”
“Only for you three,” I answer, just as loud.
I can practically feel the fury radiating off Emmett. Good. Let him see exactly what he never had a chance at having. Let him see how these men worship me, how they’d die to protect me instead of selling me out like he did.
“You’re really gonna let them pass you around like that?” Emmett spits out, unable to keep quiet anymore. “These fucking murderers?”
Atlas chuckles darkly, catching my meaning as he pulls me back onto his lap. “You really are vicious,” he says, and the memory of fucking him in front of Zoey flashes through my mind. His smirk tells me he’s thinking of the same thing.
“Damn right she is,” Killian growls. “And we fucking love it.”
“Better than being a spineless, backstabbing traitor,” I tell Emmett, grinding down against Atlas just to twist the knife deeper. “At least they know what loyalty means.”
“Loyalty?” Emmett scoffs. “You burned their clubhouse to the ground.”
“And they made me pay for it,” I say, remembering those dark nights as their captive. “But they never sold me out. They sure as hell never went crying to someone else to fight their battles.”
The possessive edge in their touches makes heat curl in my belly, but I force myself to focus. We still have work to do.
“It’s time to put this plan into motion,” I tell Emmett, switching back to business mode as I reluctantly pull away from my men. “Here’s how this is gonna go down. You’re gonna tell Ambrose that I tracked you down tonight. Alone.” I emphasize the last word. “Say I was pissed about you ratting me out, and came at you half-cocked and emotional.”
“Tell him you managed to get the drop on me,” I continue. “I’ve been running on empty, not sleeping. Make it believable when you say you overpowered me.”
Emmett’s eyes dart between us. “And if he doesn’t fall for it?”
Killian’s knife appears in his hand like magic. “Then we find out how many pieces we can cut you into before you die.”
“Starting with that tongue that sold her out,” Atlas says.
Emmett swallows hard. “He’ll know it’s a trap though. He’s not fucking stupid.”
“You’d better fucking hope he buys it,” Atlas tells him. “Because if this goes sideways, we’re only going to keep you alive long enough to make you wish you were dead.”
“Okay, okay. Fuck. What exactly am I supposed to say?” Emmett asks, licking his lips nervously. “I need to get the story straight.”
“Tell him I showed up at your place,” I say. “Tell him I was screaming about how you got Atlas tortured.”
“Say she was wild and unhinged,” Nico says. “Like she wasn’t thinking straight.”
“I’m still not sure Ambrose will believe Emmett could overpower me on his own,” I sneer, mostly just to piss him off. “We might need to shore up that hole in the story.”
“Say… say you had a gun,” Atlas offers. “Say she didn’t expect it because she thought you were too weak to be armed.”
“That’ll work,” Killian nods. “He’ll believe you’d be pathetic enough to pull a gun on an unarmed woman.”
I grab Emmett’s phone from where it’s sitting on the table and hold it up to his face. “Call him. And remember, one wrong word, one hint that something’s off, and Killian gets to play with his knife.”
“Wait,” Emmett swallows hard. “What if he wants proof? That I really have her?”
“You’ll ‘knock me out’ and send a picture,” I say. “But we do the call first. We need to make sure he’s even interested before we get to that part.”
“He’ll be interested,” Atlas growls. “The bastard is obsessed with destroying everything you have, vicious.”
“Just like our little rat helped him do,” Nico adds.
Emmett swallows hard again, then nods. I take a seat, and after Killian carefully binds my wrists in case we need to send proof, Nico puts the phone on speaker and dials the number.
My stomach clenches when Ambrose answers. Just hearing his voice makes hatred burn in my chest.
“What?” Ambrose snaps into the phone.
Emmett clears his throat. “I’ve got something you want.” His voice is steady enough, I’ll give him that. “Quinn Kent. I caught her trying to come after me.”
There’s a long pause, and I hold my breath. Then Ambrose laughs. “Well, well. It seems like you might be useful after all.”
“She tracked me down,” Emmett continues, following our script. “She was screaming about what you did to Atlas. The bitch wasn’t thinking straight.”
Just like Emmett to get his digs in when he knows I can’t do anything about it. That’s okay. He’ll still pay.
“And you managed to subdue her?” Ambrose sounds skeptical. “The same woman who has been running Enigma?”
“I had my gun ready. She didn’t expect it. She thought I was too soft to be armed.”
Another pause. “Send me proof.”
I nod at Emmett, and Killian presses the knife harder against his throat. “She’s knocked out cold. I can send a picture.”
“Do it,” Ambrose commands. “Now.”
Killian pulls the knife back just enough to let Emmett move. I slump in the chair, letting my head loll forward like I’m unconscious. Atlas takes the picture with Emmett’s phone, making sure to get my bound hands in the shot.
“Okay, I’m sending it now,” Emmett says after Atlas gives him the nod.
We wait in tense silence. I can hear Ambrose’s breathing on the other end of the line.
“Where are you?” he finally asks.
“I’m holed up in a motel room. I wasn’t sure where I should take her, but I wanted to give you first dibs.”
“Bring her to the river. You know the spot where we met before?” There’s something sickeningly eager in Ambrose’s voice. “Be there in one hour.”
“I’ll be there.”
The call ends and I straighten up with my heart pounding twice as fast as before. This is it. This is my chance to end the bastard who has been haunting my life, who forced me to join the Dark Lotus Syndicate, who tried to break me by taking Atlas.
I meet each of my men’s eyes, seeing the same deadly determination reflected back at me. We’re really doing this.
“If this goes wrong,” Atlas starts, but I cut him off.
“It won’t,” I say firmly. “Because you three have my back. And that’s all I need.”
“Let’s gear up,” Nico says, already moving toward the bedroom where we stashed our weapons. “It’s time for a game of cat and mouse.”
“Rat and mouse,” Killian corrects with a rumble before turning to Emmett. “Remember, if you try anything cute?—”
“I know, I know,” Emmett cuts him off. “I won’t try anything. I’d rather have a chance at living through this.”
A few minutes later and I’m pulling my tactical pants on when Atlas appears in the bedroom doorway. There’s a softness in his eyes that I’m not expecting, especially under the current circumstances.
“I got you something,” he says, stepping into the room.
I pause, one boot half-laced. “What?”
He holds out several glossy volumes, and my heart damn near stops when I recognize the distinctive artwork on the covers. The Twilight City Chronicles.
“I figured you needed new copies after the fire,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “I still haven’t written any fanfic for you yet though.”
My throat gets tight. It’s such a small thing, but it hits me right in the chest—the fact that he remembered, that he thought to replace them when everything else I owned went up in flames.
I rise onto my toes and kiss him hard, trying to pour everything I’m feeling into it. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, and for a moment I forget about Ambrose and Emmett and everything else except this man who knows exactly how to touch my heart.
“It’s time to get moving.” Nico’s voice breaks the moment as he appears in the doorway.
Reality crashes back in, and I feel the weight of what we’re about to do settle over my shoulders. I nod and follow them out into the living room.
We’re almost ready to go, but my men are nothing if not thorough. Especially where I’m concerned.
“Let me check those bindings one more time,” Killian says, running his hands over the ropes at my wrists. His touch lingers longer than necessary. “Are you sure you can get out of them fast enough?”
“I’ve got it,” I tell him, but let him fuss anyway. I know this is killing him—the idea of me walking into danger without him right beside me. “Stop worrying so much.”
“I can’t help it,” he mutters. “Letting you go anywhere with this bastard…”
“We’re not letting her do anything,” Atlas growls from where he’s checking his weapons. “We don’t have a fucking choice. This is the only way to draw that son of a bitch out.”
Nico hands me a small gun. One that’ll be easy to hide. “Remember, wait for the right moment. Don’t try to take the shot unless you’re sure you can make it.”
“I know how to handle myself,” I remind them, but there’s no heat in my voice. These men have earned the right to worry about me.
Killian grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “If we lose you, we lose everything. You understand that, right?”
The raw emotion in his voice hits me hard. “Hey,” I say softly. “You’re not losing me. Not tonight, not ever.”
“Damn right we’re not,” Atlas says, coming over to kiss me hard. When he pulls back, his whole expression is stormy. “We’ve been through too fucking much for it to end like this.”
“Nothing is gonna happen,” I say for the hundredth time. Sometimes it’s still good to hear those words though.
Nico checks his watch. “It’s time to move. Quinn, you remember the route?”
“Yeah. And I remember to loop around a few times to make sure we’re not being followed before we head to the meeting spot.”
“Good girl,” he says, and something in me warms at the praise despite the tension of the moment.
We head out, making our way across Detroit to where Emmett’s car is parked. We’ll need him to be driving his own vehicle if we want to sell the lie that I’m his captive.
My men all dismount their bikes as I park my car, and then we haul Emmett out of my trunk. The night air is cool on my skin, and somewhere in the distance, I hear a siren wailing. It seems fitting somehow.
“I love you,” I tell them quietly. “All of you.”
They each nod solemnly, echoing the words back to me before Killian shoves Emmett roughly into the driver’s seat of his car. Then I slide into the passenger seat next to my would-be captor.
“Let’s go,” I tell Emmett, training the gun on him where it’s hidden from view. “It’s time for you to give the performance of a lifetime.”
We head out into the dark streets, leaving my men behind as they mount their bikes again. It feels wrong, being separated from them, but I know it’s necessary. Looking in the side mirror, I barely catch a glimpse of their bikes behind us before they hang back, keeping their distance like we planned.
“Why are you doing this?” Emmett asks after we’ve been driving for a few minutes. “Do you really think you’re gonna kill him?”
“Shut up and drive.”
“He’s got resources you don’t even know about. Connections?—”
I press the gun into his ribs. “I said shut up. You lost the right to worry about me when you sold me out.”
“I didn’t want to,” he says, and something in his voice makes me want to punch him. “But he made me an offer I didn’t think I could pass up.”
“An offer?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “A little cash and a safe place to lay your head for a while? How did that work out for you?”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly. You’re a fucking coward who would sell out anyone to save his own skin.” I dig the gun in deeper. “Now focus on driving. And remember to loop around like we discussed. I don’t want anyone following us.”
He falls silent, taking us through the quiet streets. It’s just as well that most of Detroit seems to be asleep, because I don’t think my jittery fucking nerves could take a lot of traffic right now.
“You really love them?” he asks suddenly. “Those three psychos?”
“More than anything,” I tell him, wanting the words to hurt. “They’d die for me. Kill for me. What would you do, Emmett? Besides stab me in the back?”
He doesn’t answer, but his hands tighten on the wheel. Good. Let him feel it. Maybe he’s finally starting to understand exactly what he lost when he betrayed me.
The streets get darker as we head closer to the river. There are fewer streetlights here, and more abandoned buildings. It’s a good spot for a secret meeting. Or a trap.
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, but I keep the gun steady on Emmett.
“Slow down,” I tell him. “There’s no reason to get there early.”
He eases off the gas. “You really think this is gonna work?”
“What I think is that you need to shut your fucking mouth before I put a bullet in you ahead of schedule.”
“I’m just saying?—”
“You’re just saying shit to get in my head,” I snap. “I fucking know how you operate, Emmett. You try to make me doubt myself, time and time again. That’s always been your play, hasn’t it? Making little comments, trying to undermine me?”
He falls silent again, but I can practically hear him thinking. After a minute, he tries a different angle. “Your dad wouldn’t want this for you.”
White hot rage floods through me. “Don’t you dare talk about my father.”
“He wanted better for you than being some biker’s whore?—”
I slam the gun against his temple, hard enough to make him swerve. “One more word about my father and I’ll shoot you right here. Fuck the plan.”
“Alright, alright,” he mutters, straightening the wheel. “You’re as fucking crazy as they are.”
“Consider it one more reason to keep your lying mouth shut while you’re driving.”
We pass the spot where my men will be waiting, hidden in the shadows. My chest aches, wanting them closer, but I know this has to play out exactly right or Ambrose will bolt. Violently.
The river comes into view, and I know we’re almost there. It’s almost time to end this, one way or another.
“Turn here,” I tell him, recognizing the route to the meeting spot. “And Emmett? When this is over, if you’re still breathing, you’d better run far and fast. Because my men won’t forget what you did, and neither will I.”
We pull into the meeting spot, an old boat launch area surrounded by abandoned warehouses. The whole area is sketchy as hell, and I can easily imagine Emmett meeting up with Ambrose here to sell me out.
The bindings around my wrists are loose enough that I can slip free quickly, but tight enough to look real. My gun is hidden but ready. Everything is set. So why does my stomach feel like it’s trying to crawl up my throat?
“Kill the engine,” I tell Emmett. “But leave the keys in.”
He does it, his hands shaking slightly on the wheel. “How long do we wait?”
“Until he shows.” I scan the shadows around us, looking for any sign of movement. “And remember—if you try to warn him, try anything at all, and you die first.”
“You keep saying that like I need reminding.”
“Because you do. You’re a survivor, like a fucking cockroach. You’re always looking for the angle that’ll keep your worthless ass alive longest.” I give him a cold smile. “But there’s no angle here that ends with you walking away if you cross me again.”
The minutes tick by so slowly it feels like time is moving backwards. Every sound makes my muscles tense—a bird flapping its wings, water lapping at the shore, distant traffic. My men are out there somewhere, but I can’t see them and I can’t hear their bikes.
A pair of headlights sweep across us, and my blood turns cold. This is it.
“I’m slumping down,” I hiss at Emmett. “You’d better fucking sell this.”
I let my head fall forward, keeping my eyes barely open through the curtain of my hair. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, ready to spring.
The car pulls up beside us—some fancy black thing that was probably financed with Enigma blood. The engine cuts off, and I hear a door open and close.
Footsteps crunch on gravel, getting closer. My finger twitches on the trigger of my hidden gun.
“Well?” Ambrose’s voice carries through the night air. “Show me what you brought me.”
“She’s out cold,” Emmett calls back. “Just like I said.”
More footsteps. Ambrose is coming around to my side of the car. I keep my breathing slow and steady, fighting every instinct screaming at me to move and fight.
“You actually managed to keep her subdued,” Ambrose says, sounding impressed. “Maybe you’re not completely useless after all.”
The door beside me creaks open and cold air rushes in, carrying the scent of Ambrose’s cologne—something expensive and sharp that makes my nose burn.
Just a few more seconds. I need him to get closer if I’m going to make this shot count.
“It’s sort of a shame, really,” Ambrose says, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. “All that fire. All that potential. And look at her now.”
I can feel him leaning in, probably to grab me. My muscles tense, ready to strike.
“Get back!” Emmett’s voice cracks through the night. “It’s a trap!”