Chapter Eleven
Alanna pilfered a diet coke from Quaid’s office fridge and listened to the conversation in the main entry area.
Mackey was giving security instructions to Celissa.
She stayed to the side of the floor-to-ceiling windows, sitting on a low credenza, more aware than ever of Mercer’s sniper expertise even though his compulsion required hands on.
She’d have to think through those skills and his history with Whit.
He’d crossed her once, twice if she counted Quaid and the parking lot.
Why was she a target? Was it because she was searching for Esme?
What difference did her digging make to a man who killed dozens – military and potentially civilian.
There was no answer to that, so she shoved the whole line of questions aside and confronted what she was really worried about.
Was now the time to talk to Quaid or should it wait?
She could go to her quarters upstairs. Pretend to work.
Except she knew she’d dither over the next steps – avoidance procrastination.
In truth, in only four days, she had come to depend on Quaid’s solid presence and needed to smooth over the unintentional hurt.
Because that’s what she’d done. Hurt him. Not acceptable.
She sipped and waited. The caffeine did not help calm her, but she drank anyway, drawing Mercer’s psychological profile on a whiteboard in her head. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear him come in until the door clicked shut.
She glanced at him, assessing his mood. He shed his suit jacket, and left her stunned at his silhouette in the dark slacks and white shirt. He went to the fridge for his own diet coke.
She needed to break every boundary.
He came and sat next to her, invading her space, and something sighed inside.
“I’m sorry.” His low, even tone reassured her.
“This is on me.” The confession came hard. She didn’t like making mistakes.
“I promise I will never charm or force you, and especially not at a bad moment.”
“I know.” She touched his arm. “I know. This isn’t you. It’s me being all screwed up.”
He took her hand and laced their fingers together. “Everybody I know is screwed up in some way.”
“Mine doesn’t feel like it’s ever going to get put away. I quit actively working on it.”
“Or maybe it’s sitting in front of you in living, breathing technicolor right now because of what happened. It’s valid the memories would be messing with you.”
She shifted, needing eye contact. “When I was first on the streets, I was on my own. I’d hang at the library mostly, but I went hungry when I took that safety approach.
But the streets were dangerous for a girl alone.
When Whit pulled me in, he got me back in school, and he gave me rules.
Because he was such a force on the streets, I felt safer than most. Without him, I might have ran from Mercer, left Esme to fend for herself – results would have been the same. Her gone. Me hurt.
“You dead, more likely.”
“He didn’t kill me because of Whit?”
“I’m guessing, but yes.”
The conclusion tumble through her memories, but she let it go.
“After my injuries, I stayed ridiculously close to Whit and only went to school. I was his shadow. I shoved what happened aside. I was a kid. I couldn’t do anything about it.
What’s a healthy response to the violence anyway? I certainly didn’t have that playbook.”
“Understandable, Lani. I have stuff that happened overseas, and I still wake up in the night from those chaotic memories.”
“This is different. When I got into college, I went through a period where I drank and partied. It would dull the pain, everybody was doing it, so what could it hurt, right? It made me horribly vulnerable. And in the midst of one party, I realized the mess I was putting myself in, and left. I’ll pass over describing the freak out and hysteria.
I quit drinking, and I avoided drugs, sex, making friends, and focused on school. ”
He stayed silent, as if he knew there was more.
“I haven’t changed my habits. I have people I interact with at work, but I don’t do the friends thing, and men get an automatic no-go. I protect myself always.”
He squeezed her hand. “Do you want to change that? Because I’d like to point out, you and I are already friends.”
“Yeah, but could we be more?” She turned away to stare outside again.
Her heart died a little when he didn’t answer.
Instead, he rose, pulled her to her feet, and eased her close to kiss her forehead. “We’re already there, Lani. Do you want to go further?”
“You…”
“I what?”
“Our worlds are really different.”
“My money, your homelessness? My business, you in the FBI? Those aren’t differences.
They’re details. Things in our lives. If you are comfortable with this, we’ll build together.
We’ll find out what works, explore and fight out what we want together.
This is us, not you and me. We’re already partners.
I can and will work with you whenever I get a chance.
We work well together. But the question is, do you want to have the personal and the intimate with me? ”
“We’re talking sex and rock and roll here, aren’t we?”
Quaid laughed, quietly. “I wouldn’t have put it that way, but we can do whatever you want.”
“That’s the point, right? It shouldn’t only be about me.”
“Lani, I’ve been all over the world as a billionaire’s grandson, as a Marine, as a CIA asset. I’ve been tabloid fodder, a smart-ass playboy, and a serious operator – a target for bad guys and a threat to bad guys. I’ve been shot, lost friends, made a few more. You know what I want now?”
She slid closer to him. “Tell me.”
“I want this team, this family at QM going forward. I want my comfortable house to be a refuge. And I really liked sleeping with you last night. Can we start there?”
She gave him the courtesy of thinking it through. His eyes stayed on her, the deep brown a window to the soul of the real Quaid Daniels.
His expression was closing, and she wouldn’t have that. “Yes. Let’s.”
She leaned close. Don’t think, Lani. Just do.
He read her. He got her. He met her halfway.
Her lips settled on his, and the warmth as he gathered her close and kissed her back came in a gentle caress that blew through her every vulnerability and left her standing in naked need.
He groaned, and she knew she’d done the same thing to him, wiped away any reticence.
He raised a hand and cupped her cheek, shifting to kiss her deeper, and she gave in to the need to touch, too.
She slid her hands up his chest, enjoying the cotton of his shirt and the heat of him.
He broke away, letting her breathe, but she didn’t want that.
She eased her hands around his neck and coaxed him back to her mouth.
He cooperated, but the thrill of victory when he responded by fusing his mouth to hers was incomparable to any experience she’d had.
Too vulnerable for this? She must have been out of her mind to turn away from the experience.
Maybe she’d only been waiting for Quaid.
He broke away to nip at her lips before setting her away from him.
The knock on the door brought her back to reality. She’d been so lost in the moment, nothing could break through her concentration on Quaid.
“Later, at home, with no interruptions.” He stepped behind his desk. “Come in.”
Breath erratic, she moved to the credenza and sat.
Emotions tumbling, she focused on the large painting on the wall, the only art in the office.
The dark, jagged rock cliffs were battered by a relentless, splashing surf while a sliver of sunlight pushed through tumbling, angry clouds in the stormy sky.
The blues, grays, and greens of the work sparked against the turbulence, leaving it calm yet stormy.
Control started with shutting off her emotions – a practice she’d used frequently in school, in FBI training, in work.
It didn’t succeed this time. Whether it was the nightmare come to life in Mercer or that Quaid had delivered safety and pleasure, she wasn’t going to dissect.
Her body was telling her to find another way. To not check out. To not shut down.
Harrison stepped into the room. “Mackey took Delaney. They’re hitting the streets again.”
“Do they have a plan?”
“Not one they discussed with me, and you know Mackey. He flows with the moment and innovates, not plans. What’s yours?”
Quaid looked to Alanna.
“I need a whiteboard. A couple would be better. And some markers. I need to dump what’s in my head into tangible notes, something I can deal with.”
“Bring them in here. We’ll do it together.”
“Two sets of eyes better than one?”
He raised a brow. “I wouldn’t say I’m on par with you, but my tactical and your knowledge might let us figure out his operating field and his weaknesses.”
She stayed silent, but nodded agreement.
Harrison glanced from one to the other. “Anything else?”
Alanna grimaced. “Kerry is still checking morgues for Esme. What next?”
Quaid hesitated to answer, telling her the truth of where they were. “We could check hospital records during the time frame, but there’s so many medical sources, the answer might not be conclusive. Frankly, it’s a waste of time. Nowhere else to search.”
Harrison waited, but neither of them came up with anything else.
“Shall I shift Kerry off it, then?”
Quaid grimaced. “Give her the rest of the day.” He looked to Alanna for agreement.
Disappointment rifled through her. “Agreed.”
“Sorry, Williams. We tried. I know you talked hospitals with Kerry, too, but morgues are bad enough. So many places to cycle through for information that might not be there.” Harrison’s sympathy cut, too. “Seth Tenney wants a status update.
Quaid groaned, then laid out the facts. “Tell him we’re examining all the details for accuracy. It’s a cold case. The review won’t produce an answer just because he wants one.”
“Do you want to pass that diplomatic answer on to him?” Harrison’s sarcasm made them both grin.
“No. Tell him it’s in progress. Nothing to report.”