Chapter 5
Reid
It hadn’t taken a genius to figure out where Quinn was going with the bottle of wine.
She has no friends in Poulton Springs other than the people she works with, and I’d spotted Tandy working a shift in her mom’s coffee shop.
Quinn had to be visiting Clara because there’s no way I was contemplating her spending the evening with the gardener.
My desire to protect Quinn has an edge of possessiveness I’ve never experienced before. I don’t want her hating anyone the way she hates me.
When she leaves Clara’s, I’m parked in the shadows further up the road. The streets aren’t safe right now, and she should have called a cab, but at least I get the chance to speak to her again.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I turn to the man next to me. “I’m going to follow on foot.”
Jake flicks his gaze to the wound on my head. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”
Our head of security had returned with me to Poulton Springs for our latest mission. We’ve rented a group of secluded cabins on the outskirts of a neighboring town where our presence will raise fewer questions.
I’d gone into town alone earlier, but Mace being Mace, he’d hacked into local CCTV and was watching my encounter with Quinn. The back-up I’d insisted I didn’t need had been called before Quinn’s last missile had found its target.
A second SUV with Jake and four of our guys had arrived as I was paying for the paint Quinn had thrown at me. Jake treated the gash to my head with butterfly stitches, and hadn’t stopped laughing the whole time.
We’d sent the other guys back to the cabins, but Jake is refusing to let me out of his sight. From his smirk, I’m still a source of amusement to him.
“Do you know what’s funny?” I say, nodding to the retreating figure walking along the darkened street. “That you thought it necessary to send in a whole team to deal with one woman wielding cans of paint.”
Jake’s doesn’t blink. He’s in his forties and has seen a lot of action. “Check out the way she’s holding her purse. She’s carrying, Reid, and she’ll be nervous. Don’t be an idiot. If you have to get out, wear a vest.”
I want to argue that I’m safe with Quinn, but I could be fooling myself. It wasn’t that long ago that Mace lost all sense of reason over Lily. Infatuation can do that. If that’s what this is.
I leave my woolen coat in the car and fasten the bulletproof vest over my grey button-down shirt.
I’m carrying a Glock, but I can’t imagine ever pulling it on Quinn, no matter what the circumstances.
I’ve never pulled the trigger on anyone, although I have an uneasy feeling that’s going to change someday soon.
When I’m close enough, I listen to Quinn talking to someone on the phone. She glances over her shoulder and I dip into the shadows without her seeing me.
“I’m doing this for one person, and one person only,” I hear her say.
Is she talking about herself? Barrett? Ilya? It’s a small insight into her world, but I need to hear more. And I’d be particularly interested in knowing who she’s talking to.
Whoever it is, they’re worried about her safety. My cheeks flush despite the cold when she calls him by name. Strider. Who the fuck is he?
My brow furrows, wrinkling the dressing on my forehead when Quinn puts her phone back in her purse and keeps her hand there. As she slows, my long strides quickly make up the distance between us. I pray my gut instinct about this woman is correct.
“Please don’t shoot me,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t have an armored vehicle to protect me this time.”
Quinn takes a couple more steps. She’s remaining calm, which is a good sign. At least she didn’t spin around and fire off a shot at the sound of my voice, but an unruffled Quinn is almost as scary as the one who threw cans at me. She knew I was behind her.
When Quinn finally turns, I’m busy tightening the straps on my vest. We’re between street lamps, but she recognizes what I’m wearing and her head tips back with laughter. “Is that a bulletproof vest?”
I’m not ready to relax, but I do allow myself a smile. “Do you blame me?” I ask, pointing at my forehead.
Quinn purses her lips, her amusement quickly fading.
For a second, I think she’s going to apologize.
She should apologize. The attack was unwarranted and fucking vicious.
And for reasons I can’t fathom, it turned me on.
A throb of desire pulses through my cock, then dissipates just as quickly when Quinn pulls the gun from her purse and points it at my head.
A car engine growls to life and headlights stretch across the road to my left. I raise my hand in a gesture that hopefully tells Jake not to do anything rash. My gaze remains on Quinn.
“I’d advise not giving him a reason to take you out.”
Quinn squints into the gloom. “You brought back up?”
“My brothers seem to think I need a babysitter. They don’t believe we’re capable of holding a civil conversation,” I explain. “Care to prove them wrong?”
The barrel of the gun remains pointed at my head. “I’m hardly going to let my guard down when you have a habit of creeping up on me.”
“No creeping up on you, got it,” I say. “So could I have your number instead?”
“You make it sound like you’re asking me on a date.”
“I did ask you on a date,” I remind her. “Just before you split my head open.”
“The answer’s no,” she says, but she does lower her weapon.
Quinn slips it back into her purse, but rests her hand on the strap so her gun remains within easy reach. When she resumes her walk home, I fall into step beside her, shortening my stride to match hers.
“Is that no to giving me your number, or no to the date?”
Quinn looks straight ahead, ignoring me and the car crawling behind us. “No to both.”
“Because you already have a boyfriend? Or is it because you still think we Griffins are evil monsters?”
“I don’t know what kind of man you are, Reid,” Quinn says. “And I don’t care to know. You’re a complication I don’t need. Can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Sorry, that isn’t going to be possible,” I say, annoyed with myself for wrapping two questions up in one. She’s ignored the one about boyfriends. “We have a very good reason for being here.”
“Such as picking a fight with Ilya Barkov?”
“Yes.”
I’m not telling Quinn anything she doesn’t know, or that the Russians don’t know for that matter. The only thing I won’t be sharing is that we still don’t know how the fuck we’re going to stop Ilya.
“Here’s the thing, Quinn. I don’t know you either, but I get the feeling we’re on the same side. Even if we can’t work together, we could at least make sure we don’t waste effort pushing against each other,” I say. “Unless you enjoyed us pushing against each other as much as I did.”
She shakes her head and keeps walking. Not a denial then.
“Look, I appreciate your loyalties are to one person, and one person only,” I say, repeating her words back to her.
Quinn glares at me. “You’re listening into my phone conversations?”
“I was walking behind you and I overheard your conversation,” I clarify.
“You mean you were stalking me again.”
I step in front of her, bringing her to a stop. When I rest a hand on her hip to keep her in place, she doesn’t push me away. “Who has your undivided loyalty, Quinn?”
Her eyes glisten with reflections from the streetlight. “None of your damn business.”
I prod her from a different angle. “Then tell me who Strider is? Your boss? Your boyfriend?”
There’s a flash of annoyance, but she quickly recovers. She juts out her chin. “You really are obsessed with who I’m dating, aren’t you?” she asks, placing her hand over mine.
I take it as an invitation to put a hand on her other hip, and she covers that one too. My thumbs stroke her curves as I breathe her in. Roses. “I’m obsessed with you,” I correct. “And I’d like to know if I have competition because damn it, I think about fucking you way more than I should.”
She doesn’t blanch at the confession. In fact, she rolls her hips slightly from side to side.
Her lips part and my gaze drops to her mouth.
If I see the tip of her tongue, I might just combust. Quinn dips her head, forcing me to meet her gaze again.
“In case you haven’t worked it out yet, I don’t fuck around,” she says.
“I came to Poulton Springs to do a job.”
She peels my hands off her body, and marches off again. I have to adjust myself before I hurry to catch her up.
“Are you in a rush to get home and Google the Griffins?” I ask. “Or was that what your friend was doing for you?”
“You and your brothers do some good work, I’ll give you that,” Quinn says with obvious reluctance. “But you’ve also confirmed your links to the McConkeys. Did John send you here? Are the Griffins under orders to take over Ilya’s operations?”
“Wrong on both counts,” I say through gritted teeth.
I’m not angry with her, or any of the residents in Poulton Springs for their ill-informed opinion.
Not much anyway. They’ve been gaslit into believing Barrett’s the hero and we’re the villains, but it’s a lie that makes the town even more vulnerable.
It makes Quinn especially vulnerable, if only she’d see it.
“If you’ve learned anything about our business today, it’s that we build communities. Unlike Barrett. The food processing factory isn’t the first business he ran into the ground. Maybe you should get your boyfriend to do some proper fucking research.”
She huffs, but carries on walking.
“I’m sure Barrett’s given you some awful sob story about how he stumbled into this mess, but he was the one who thought a fire would solve all his problems. Even if he didn’t fully appreciate the consequences, he struck the match.
He killed Clara’s husband, Quinn. And it was his choice to go into business with the Russians.
He might act all innocent, but Barrett knows exactly what the Bratva intend to use his land for. ”