Hard Justice: A Cobra Elite Novel

by Clare, Pamela

  This was news to Quinn. Who the hell was Katie Cameron?

  Elizabeth explained. “Jack must have recorded something about her on his phone. That’s why they murdered him.”

  Grant grinned, a feral, vicious smile. “I’m goin’ to enjoy endin’ you.”

  But Elizabeth had more questions. Of course, she did. “Did you force Jack to carry drugs for you?”

  “What’s it to you, bitch?”

  Grant kicked Lewis’ injured leg, making him shriek. “Dinnae be talkin’ to McManus’ woman like that.”

  Lewis groaned. “Jack was a righteous prick. He refused.”

  Quinn’s face burned with fury. He took a step toward Lewis, itching to kill the bastard. But he’d made a deal with Grant. “You planted drugs on him, just like you planted them on us. You broke his wife’s heart, and you stole him from his wee ones. Their lives will never be the same. Then you tried to sully his memory, too. You’re no’ the man I thought you were. You’re no’ a man at all.”

  Lewis opened his mouth as if to say something, then his eyes went wide.

  The guard Quinn had seen last night stepped into the room.

  Lewis shouted to him. “What the fuck are you doing? Shoot them!”

  “The warehouse is secure, sir,” the guard said, looking not at Lewis but Grant.

  “Shoot them!” It took Lewis a moment to catch on.

  “I dinnae work for you.”

  Grant chuckled. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while now. If we were just competin’ for drug sales, I’d have let you be. Business is business. But you cut down a man I loved like a brother.”

  Grant met Quinn’s gaze, thrust out a gloved hand. “It’s been good workin’ with you, but it’s time for you to take your woman and go. You dinnae want her to see this. I’ll wait until you’re away. If you ever turn to the dark side, let me know. We could use a man wi’ your skills.”

  Quinn shook his hand, gave him Lewis’ blade. “Thank you for your help. I willnae forget it.”

  “I’m always happy to help out another brother of Jack’s.” Grant chuckled again. “But stay the hell away from Troon, aye?”

  “Aye.” Quinn handed the M4 to Grant’s man, put his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders to steady her, and faced Lewis. “There was a time when I’d have followed you into hell, even given my life for you.”

  “You’re going to leave and let this fucker butcher me? McManus!”

  Quinn ignored his pleas, guiding Elizabeth from the building and onto the dock where a small boat waited for them. It would carry them up the estuary into the River Clyde and on toward Glasgow.

  He helped her climb aboard and led her inside the heated wheelhouse, giving a nod to the captain—one of Grant’s men. “Evenin’.”

  “We’re off home, then, aye?”

  “Aye.” Quinn sat Elizabeth on a bench, wrapped his arms around her. “Och, you’re shakin’ like a leaf.”

  “I-I’m cold.”

  Quinn took off his jacket, wrapped it around her. “We’ll get you warmed up.”

  She clung to him. “I thought I was dead. I thought…”

  It had been close—much too close.

  Quinn kissed her forehead, held her tight. “You’re safe now.”

  * * *

  Still woozy, Elizabeth dozed off and on while the boat made its way upriver. The captain let them off just outside Glasgow, Quinn leaving his body armor on board.

  Then Quinn called Nigel. “McManus here. I’ve got her. We’re near Victoria Bridge. The bastards drugged her. She’ll need to see your doctor. I think she’s in shock. I’ll explain when we get there and I know she’s okay. Aye, thanks.”

  “It’s cold. You should take your jacket back.” Elizabeth started to remove it, but he stopped her.

  “You keep it. I’m fine.”

  Still, the wind cut through her, chilled her to the bone. Maybe she was cold from lying on that damned warehouse floor. Or maybe Quinn was right, and she was in shock.

  It took Nigel only ten minutes to reach them. He pulled up in a black Land Rover. “Good to see you, Ms. Shields, McManus. We’ll get you home and have our doctor check you out.”

  “Thank you.”

  The car was warm, city lights and Christmas displays passing by outside the window. Christmas? What day was it?

  November 16.

  She must have dozed again because the next thing she knew, Quinn was lifting her from the car, settling her onto a gurney. “You don’t need to do this. I can walk.”

  “We’ll let the doc decide that.” Corbray stood there, wearing full combat fatigues, Tower, Dylan Cruz, Malik Jones, and Thor Isaksen beside him.

  Her throat went tight. “You’re here.”

  They’d come for her.

  “Where else would we be?” Tower smiled.

  “Nice of you boys to show up.” McManus shook their hands.

  “It looks like you took all the glory, McManus,” Dylan teased.

  “You couldn’t save any of the action for us?” Malik chuckled

  “That’s what happens when you’re late for the party,” Thor said.

  Tower narrowed his eyes. “McManus, we need to talk.”

  “Aye—but no’ yet.”

  Quinn stayed with Elizabeth while the doctor examined her, standing beside the gurney, holding her hand, concern on his handsome face.

  The doctor took her pulse, her temperature, her blood pressure, and checked her oxygen saturation. “You’re slightly hypothermic, so we need to warm you up. They injected you with a high dose of a sedative—maybe Versed or Demerol. We’re lucky you didn’t stop breathing. You’ll probably feel drowsy for the rest of the evening, so it’s best if you just rest. I’ll get you a heated blanket.”

  “Thanks.”

  The doctor walked away, leaving Elizabeth alone with Quinn.

  She raised Quinn’s hand to her lips, kissed it. “You came for me.”

  His gaze was soft. “Aye, I did. I’m sorry I let them get to you. I’m sorry I didnae get there sooner.”

  “You joined forces with a drug dealer and possible terrorist to save me.”

  He ran his thumb along the curve of her cheek. “I’d have made a deal wi’ Satan himself if that’s what it took to get you back. I love you, Elizabeth.”

  Her pulse skipped. “You … what?”

  “I love you. I know that’s not what you want to hear. I know you—”

  She pressed her fingers to his lips to quiet him. She needed to tell him. He needed to know. “When he held that knife to my throat, I knew it was over. My last thought before you stormed in was that I love you.”

  He searched her gaze, clearly surprised. “You cannae mean that. You could have any man you want—”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I want you, Quinn McManus. I never expected to feel this way about anyone.”

  He kissed her, soft and slow, then wiped the tears from her cheeks. “We’ve really made a mess of it, haven’t we?”

  “I suppose we’ll be fired.”

  He nodded. “I’ll probably wind up in prison.”

  “Prison?” Her heart sank.

  She’d been so out if it that she hadn’t thought about that. He had risked everything—his life, his career, his freedom—to save her.

  “Aye, prison. It’s okay. It was worth it.” He gave her that smile, the one that melted her insides. “A perfect time to fall in love, aye?”

  The doctor returned with a heated thermal blanket. “This ought to warm you up.”

  Quinn helped him tuck it around her. “Is that better?”

  Warmth enfolded her, seeping into her skin. “Oh, that feels good.”

  And despite every effort to stay awake, Elizabeth drifted off again.

  * * *

  Quinn watched sleep overtake Elizabeth. He kissed her and dragged himself from her side, leaving her in the infirmary and riding the lift with Smith upstairs.

  It was time to pay his debts.

  He sat down with Smi
th, Corbray, and Tower in Smith’s office and told them everything—except for the private details about his relationship with Elizabeth. Then he answered their questions, one after the next, until it was just shy of midnight.

  Smith took notes, preparing a report for the police, who would likely show up to arrest Quinn sometime tomorrow morning. Already, word of a shoot-out at a warehouse near Clydebank was on the news—reports of nine found dead and millions of pounds worth of cocaine and heroin recovered.

  Quinn had been at that warehouse. He’d carried an illegal weapon. He’d watched men kill other men—criminals, the lot of them—and he’d done nothing to stop the carnage. He’d left Lewis with Grant, knowing Grant would make Lewis suffer.

  Aye, Quinn deserved to go to prison.

  At least Elizabeth is safe.

  “Why didn’t you wait?” Tower asked at last. “I believe that’s what you were ordered to do.”

  “If I’d waited, she’d be dead.” The memory of Lewis holding the blade to her throat made Quinn’s gut twist.

  “What concerns us is your refusing to follow instructions.”

  “You also ordered me to keep her safe.” Quinn spelled it out for them. “I knew it would be at least eleven hours afore you got here, and every minute of that time, she’d be in that bastard’s hands—a man who slit a friend’s throat, who gives drugs to teenage girls so politicians can assault them. Then Grant pulled up, said he had a man inside Lewis’ organization and knew where Elizabeth was. What would you have done?”

  The three men looked at him, their expressions grave.

  Smith tapped his notepad with his pencil. “I’ve been taking notes, and I’d like to run my summary by you before I turn this over to the police.”

  “Aye, go ahead.” Quinn steeled himself for the words that would send him away.

  “On the evening of sixteen November, two rival crime syndicates got into a lethal conflict at a warehouse near Clydebank, leaving nine dead. One of those syndicates has associations with MSP Whitehall, who has an appetite for underage girls and drugs, some of which he imports through ties to British veterans who served in Afghanistan.”

  That was news to Quinn.

  Smith went on. “Among the dead is Andrew Lewis, who was found beheaded.”

  So that’s what Grant had done to him.

  Smith kept reading. “Lewis helped import and distribute illegal drugs. He was responsible both for concealing the overdose death of Katie Cameron, aged fourteen, and killing Jack Murray. Footage taken from Murray’s phone and delivered to British Intelligence by Cobra this evening shows Lewis and other men in MSP Whitehall’s employ loading Miss Cameron’s body into a vehicle. Her body was subsequently dumped in a ditch. Is that everything, Mr. McManus?”

  Quinn blinked, stared at Smith, momentarily speechless. The man had said nothing about Elizabeth’s abduction or Quinn’s involvement.

  They’re letting you off the hook, man.

  Quinn nodded. “Aye, that’s it exactly.”

  Smith stood. “You’re wondering why you’re not being led away in handcuffs. I’ll explain. The intel you and Ms. Shields provided has proven to be most interesting. You two exposed two drug dealers, revealed a possible IRA cell, solved a murder, and uncovered a sexual exploitation scheme, resolving the death of a teenage girl and leading us to a leak in the police station.”

  “The leak—you found it?”

  Smith nodded. “PC Patel has been feeding information to Grant for years. She also had a relationship with MSP Whitehall, who was manipulating her, using her to feed information to the media. It was Whitehall, through Lewis, who told her that you and Shields were distributing drugs. DS Wilson suspected her after the drug raid at the hotel. We knew we had her when he discovered that she had illegally prepared the warrant to search your suites before the tip from Lewis came in.”

  Smith stood, Corbray and Tower, too. “Thanks for your help.”

  Quinn stood as well, shook his hand, unable to believe he was going free. “Thank you, sir. I’m grateful.”

  “You help us. We help you. We’re the good guys, right?”

  Still reeling, Quinn stepped out into the hallway, followed by Corbray and Tower, who shook Smith’s hand and thanked him.

  What the hell had just happened?

  He walked with Corbray and Tower to the lift. “If you’re goin’ to fire anyone, it should be me.”

  “McManus…”

  “None of this was Elizabeth’s doin’.” Quinn had to make certain they understood. “She only came here to help me and—”

  “McManus!” Tower shook his head. “No one is being fired.”

  Corbray clapped Quinn on the shoulder. “Get some sleep, man. You’ve had a busy day. And, hey, remind me never to go on vacation with you.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Corbray and Tower stepped into the elevator.

  “Aren’t you coming up?”

  Quinn shook his head. “I’m goin’ down to the infirmary to check on Lili… Elizabeth.”

  The two men looked at each other as the doors slid shut, both grinning.

  Jesus.

  Quinn needed a drink.

  No, no more drinking. He needed Lilibet.

  21

  Elizabeth woke the next morning to find herself in Quinn’s arms, his warmth surrounding her. She snuggled into him, her face pressed against his heartbeat.

  “Oh, man! He blew your fuckin’ head off.”

  Men’s laughter.

  She sat bolt upright.

  Dylan was out there in the living room. Malik, too.

  But what…?

  Memories from yesterday crashed in on her, adrenaline making her pulse spike. Setting out for the castle. The bee-sting prick in her arm. The warehouse.

  And Quinn…

  He’d risked everything to save her from Lewis.

  “Hey, it’s all right, love.” Quinn sat up, rubbed a big hand over her bare arm, kissed her shoulder. “It’s over.”

  “And you’re not being charged with anything?” She vaguely remembered him saying something along those lines last night when he’d brought her upstairs.

  “Naw. Smith thanked us. You’ve got a debriefing wi’ him at eleven.”

  “Oh, yes.” Then she remembered something else, something that made joy blossom behind her breastbone. “Quinn McManus, you told me you love me.”

  “Aye, I did.” His blue eyes looked into hers, not a hint of teasing. “I’ve loved you since the day we met. It just took me a while to own it. I didnae think a woman like you would even look at a man like me.”

  “A man like you?” She rested a hand on his chest. “You mean a courageous man who would risk anything for me? A man who’s sexy and ripped and strong and fucks like an angel?”

  He chuckled. “I’ve no’ spent much time in church, I admit, but I dinnae recall hearin’ much about the sex lives of angels.”

  She laughed, imitated his accent. “Ya daft bampot.”

  “I’m no’ educated like you. I’ve no talents aside from combat—and carryin’ heavy things.”

  “That’s not true.” She wished he could see himself the way she did. “You’re funny. You’re brave, intuitive, and smart. Yes, I said smart. You dance really well, and you sing. You’ve got the biggest heart of any man I know. You must have broken a half dozen laws to save my life.”

  “I’d do it again.”

  “I know.” She stroked his beard. “I think I’ve loved you since you barged into the airport and threatened to feed that bastard’s nuts to your dogs. Do you know how romantic that was?”

  He chuckled. “I do like to sweet-talk you.”

  She was serious now, her throat going tight. “That’s the most afraid I’ve been—until yesterday.”

  He drew her against him. “When I discovered they’d taken you, I was scared, truly fuckin’ scared. If I’d lost you, Lilibet—”

  He held her tighter, Elizabeth yielding to his embrace.

  Shouts and laught
er came from the living room.

  Elizabeth drew back, looked up into Quinn’s eyes. “If I didn’t love you before, I would have fallen in love with you on this trip. You never lost faith in Jack—not for a minute, not when the evidence seemed to pile up, not when I was certain he was dealing. You are the reason he’ll get justice now. You’re the best friend a person could have.”

  Grief slid across Quinn’s face, his jaw going tight. “He was my brother.”

  Elizabeth’s stomach growled. “Sorry.”

  “You’re hungry.”

  “Famished.” She hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday.

  “Are you ready to face those bastards out there? They’re on the wrong side of the clock. Jet lag. They’ve been playin’ video games for a few hours now, yellin’ at each other to be quiet so you can sleep.”

  “I guess our secret’s out.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “Dinnae let it worry you. We’ll work it out.”

  She nodded. “You’re right.”

  They got up and dressed, Elizabeth wearing jeans and her warmest sweater over a T-shirt, Quinn wearing jeans and a dark green Henley.

  They opened the door and stepped out together, holding hands.

  Three men turned, grinned.

  “The red-headed lovebirds are awake.” Cruz paused the game and got to his feet. “How are you feeling, Shields?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You want to tell us what the hell happened?” Malik stood too, tossing his game controller onto the sofa. “One minute you’re here for a funeral, and Shields is on vacation. The next, you’re chasing killers, and she’s been abducted. What the fuck?”

  “It’s been on the news all morning.” Thor took the remote, switched from the game to the BBC. “They arrested the fucker behind all of it.”

  There, on the screen, was Alastair Whitehall in handcuffs.

  “Doin’ the perp walk.” Dylan glared at Whitehall’s image. “Cabrón.”