Chapter 6 #3
Quinn frowned. “The wrong person? Like who? Another cop? Because those are the only people who have access.”
“Finch has people everywhere. Hell, he turned our newest recruit, and Kane nearly died because of it. We all did.”
“Are you implying he has dirty cops in his pocket?”
Scout schooled her features, and he knew that was exactly what she thought before she said a word.
“All I’m saying is, until we know how far his reach extends, we need to keep everything we do on the down low, and you scouring police reports outside your jurisdiction is definitely a red flag we can’t afford to have flapping in the wind. ”
Quinn inched closer, forcing her to look up to maintain eye contact. “I already told you. I’m not standing down on this one.”
“I’m not asking you to. But we’re a team, and that means that sometimes you trust someone else do the heavy lifting if they’re better suited for it. This is Zadie and Gideon’s dominion. If there’s anything out there, they’ll find it.”
“Except that I’m not really part of the team, am I?”
Scout flinched. Not a lot, but he noticed. Hell, he’d notice if she breathed funny.
She clenched her jaw, eyes narrowed. “That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair is spending the last three months putting flowers on an empty grave. Driving up to that godforsaken mine and staring at the rubble, believing you were buried beneath it.” He leaned in. “Wondering if you had even a moment’s pause before shutting me out.”
Her jaw quivered, the spark in her eyes that he’d always admired, dimming. “It wasn’t just my life on the line if I went rogue, and you know I’d never risk my teammates just so I could be happy. That’s not who I am.”
“Honestly, after everything, I’m starting to question if I ever really knew you at all.”
The words sprang free a second before he realized the sheer weight of them.
The effect they’d have on her. She flinched.
Not a little, like before, when he’d probably been the only one who’d picked up on it.
This was visceral — a noticeable jerk as she stepped back, inhaling.
He closed his eyes, working out how to take it back without making it worse, when an alarm sounded through the room.
Scout jumped, looked down at her watch. “Motion detector outside the shed.”
Coulter stepped over, looking as awkward as Quinn felt. “It’s probably just that raccoon again. I’ll go check?—”
“The perimeter’s mine, Coulter. I’ll go.” Scout took a couple steps back. “Looks like we’re done here, anyway.”
She spun on her heels, marched out, back rigid, her wet hair slapping her shoulders.
Quinn fisted his hands, then headed for the kitchen, grabbing the beer he’d left on the counter before sliding into a seat, taking a healthy pull.
He thumbed the label, rerunning their discussion, trying to pinpoint the exact moment he’d fucked everything up, when Coulter slid onto the bar stool beside him, beer in hand, his back resting against the counter as he stared in the opposite direction.
Quinn cursed under his breath, shooting the other man a quick side-eye.
“Whatever you have to say, I already know I went too far. Not that it’s anything new.
That wasn’t our first fight, won’t be our last.” He took another pull.
“I don’t know what it is, but Scout has this knack for bringing out the touch of asshole in me. ”
“Neve’s the same.” Coulter chuckled. “There’s just something about sparring with her that makes everything else sharper.”
“Amen, brother.”
“But the thing about Scout is out of everyone here, she’s had the hardest time…” He paused as if searching for the right word. “Adapting to this new normal. And quite frankly, you’re the main reason for that.”
Quinn tipped his beer toward Coulter. “All she had to do was talk to me. Explain the situation. Give me a chance to be the man she needed me to be.”
Coulter nodded, taking his own sip. “I realize she’s five-foot-five inches of ball-busting bad-assery, but underneath all that gruff exterior, she’s scared.”
Quinn nearly spit his drink across the counter. “Scared of what? Breaking the rules? Because that’s definitely not the girl I know.”
“Of hearing your response to the situation.” Coulter took a swig, meeting Quinn’s gaze. “Because despite everything, there was always a fifty percent chance it didn’t go her way.”
Quinn stopped with the beer just touching his lips before looking down the hallway toward the sliding panel door. He didn’t know if there was another exit, didn’t care. He only needed one.
He took a drink, placed the half-empty bottle on the counter, then stood, cursing when his soaked clothes tugged against his skin.
Coulter slipped off the stool beside him. “You really do need to get out of those clothes. I’ve got something you can wear for now until Shepherd grabs you some new stuff.”
Quinn waved Coulter off. “Do me a favor and put a pin in that. No sense getting anything else wet because it’s still raining, right?” At Coulter’s guarded nod, he started walking. “And Scout really is crazy if she thinks this is even remotely over.”