Chapter 9 #4
“I think Dad might have kept backup copies of his evidence. Or information about Clara. Or—I don’t know. But it’s worth checking.”
“Then check it. Finish what he started, sweetheart. Make sure he didn’t die for nothing.”
“I will. I promise.” Quinn blinked back tears. “I love you, Gran.”
“I love you too. Be safe.”
The call ended, the soft beep loud in the quiet cabin. Quinn looked at Dax, who’d been listening to the whole conversation, his arms crossed, his expression intent.
“Seattle,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “Three hours away.”
“We have to go. If there’s evidence in that box—” Quinn’s pulse quickened, adrenaline already flooding her system.
“It’s risky. Wheeler might be watching the bank. Might have flagged your father’s name in case anyone tries to access his accounts.” His jaw worked, considering the angles.
“So we’re careful. We scout it out first. Make sure it’s safe.” Quinn moved closer, closing the distance between them, her hands gesturing as she spoke. “Dax, this could be everything. Whatever Dad was protecting, whatever he thought was important enough to hide, it’s in that box.”
Dax rubbed his face with both hands, his palms rasping against the stubble, thinking. “We’d need to bring proof of your relationship to him. Death certificate. Your birth certificate showing you’re his daughter.”
“I have copies in my bag. I always keep important documents with me.” A habit from foster care. Never know when you might need to prove who you are. Her hands were already moving, reaching for her bag.
“And we’d need to be smart about this. Go early in the morning when the bank opens. Get in and out fast. No lingering.” He was thinking tactically now, his detective mind planning.
“So we can go?” Her voice rose with hope, her whole body leaning forward.
Dax looked at her. At the hope blazing in those amber eyes, bright and desperate. At the determination in the set of her jaw, the way her hands clutched together like she was physically holding herself back from running to Seattle right now.
“We can go,” he said, his voice quieter. “Tomorrow. First thing.”
Quinn threw her arms around him before she could stop herself, before her brain could catch up to her body. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Dax stiffened in surprise, his whole body going rigid, his arms frozen at his sides. Then slowly, carefully, like he was afraid she might break, he put his arms around her, his hands settling on her back. “You’re welcome.”
They stood like that for a moment. Quinn pressed against his solid warmth, her cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beating steady and strong beneath her ear. Dax holding her like she was something precious, his chin resting lightly on top of her head, his breath stirring her hair.
She could smell him—soap and coffee and something distinctly him. Could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, the strength in his arms, the heat of his body seeping into hers.
Then Quinn pulled back, suddenly aware of how close they were. How her hands were splayed flat on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. How his arms were still around her waist, his fingers warm through the thin fabric of her sweater.
“Sorry,” she said breathlessly, her voice coming out thin and unsteady. “I just—I got excited.”
“It’s fine.” But Dax’s voice was rough. Affected. His hands tightened fractionally on her waist before he released her.
They separated. Stepped back, their movements awkward, uncertain. Put safe distance between them again. The sudden absence of his warmth left her cold.
“I should—” Quinn gestured vaguely toward the bedroom, her hand fluttering. “Get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Good idea.” His voice was still rough, his dark eyes unreadable.
Quinn fled to the bedroom and closed the door, the latch clicking softly. She leaned against it, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat, her whole body trembling with something that wasn’t fear.
What was she doing? Getting emotionally involved with Dax when her life was in danger and nothing about this situation was permanent?
But it was too late. She was already involved. Already cared more than she should. Could still feel the imprint of his arms around her, the solid safety of his chest, the way he’d held her as if she mattered.
She already wanted him in ways that had nothing to do with protection and everything to do with the man himself.
Quinn climbed into bed, her legs unsteady, and stared at the ceiling, her eyes wide in the darkness. Her body was still buzzing, hyperaware, her skin too sensitive where he’d touched her.
Tomorrow they’d go to Seattle. Find whatever her father had hidden. Maybe crack this case wide open.
But tonight, she’d lie here and try not to think about how good it had felt to be in Dax’s arms. How right it had felt, like pieces clicking into place.
Even if just for a moment.
Even if it could never happen again.
Her fingers traced where his hands had been on her waist, the ghost of his touch still burning through her sweater.
Sleep, when it finally came, was restless and full of dreams she wouldn’t remember in the morning.