by L B Wyatt
“I can’t. You’re hurt, V. Bad.”
Well, no shit, she thought maliciously. She knew there was either a bullet in that arm or a bullet had taken a chunk out of it. It was agonizing to say the least and it felt like he was ripping her limb from her body.
“I almost have it. Just hang on.”
So she did. And within a few minutes she felt the relief of him sitting up. She opened her eyes a trace and swallowed back sickness.
“Why’d you handcuff me?” she asked softly.
Quinn raised a thick eyebrow. “I was trying to avoid that right hook,” he replied as he rubbed his jaw probably in memory of what her right hook felt like.
And he would certainly know.
“I know how you like to come up swinging.”
His words were humorous to her, but she couldn’t laugh, not just yet.
“Take them off,” she ordered weakly, but if he did or not, she wasn’t sure. She was starting to drift out again. She knew her body was most likely going into some kind of shock and she tried to stay alert, but it was impossible. She felt his weight shifting on the bed and she had no idea what he was doing. She was powerless to stop him and perhaps that’s what hurt the most out of this whole ordeal.
Chapter Fifteen
When Veronica’s eyes fluttered opened again she wasn’t hurting. It took her mind a few minutes to orient to the situation. She could hear water running in a sink and she slowly rolled over in the warm, comfortable bed to see the bathroom door half open. Quinn was standing there in front of the mirror with just his boxer briefs on, shaving. He had the light on and it filtered out into the room, illuminating a trail that stopped right at the bed. She could see part of his reflection in the mirror and took a moment while he was occupied to admire the shape of his shoulders and back. The dark designs of his tattoos curved around his muscles, all the way up to the side of his neck. She continued to lie there, observing like a creep as he ran a straight razor up the side of his jaw, cutting away the excess facial hair. Her mind took a turn as she wondered who in the world would still use a straight razor. Then, still riding that same train of thought, wondered why that little tidbit seemed to turn her on so much.
Veronica shut her eyes tight. He didn’t seem to notice that she was awake yet and she needed time to sort some stuff out. Her heart sank when the first invasive thought was the book. Where was it? She didn’t make any sudden moves, although her entire body wanted to jump from the bed and demand its location. She knew she couldn’t let Quinn know how important that piece of evidence was. She didn’t want him to assume he had any sort of power over her. She figured if he had hidden it from her, she might just shoot him to get it back. There was no way she was going to lose something so valuable before she could even look at it.
Veronica heard the water shut off and she swallowed hard. Thousands of questions started to race around her mind, but she quieted them down by taking in a few deep breaths. She was okay right now. No rush. No hurry to figure things out as she dodged bullets. She could take her time to unravel this one.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw Quinn as he slipped on his jeans, but didn’t button them up. His phone was vibrating on the sink and he picked it up, reading the message before typing in a quick reply and setting the device down. He ran his hands through his coal black hair and walked out of the bathroom.
He stopped when he saw her eyes were wide open and alert. He leaned into the doorframe and crossed his arms, displaying his entire physique so beautifully she could barely keep herself from saying something.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased.
Veronica drew in a deep breath and with it the strength to sit up in the bed. She knew she probably looked like crap and she felt like it too, but she wasn’t too worried. Quinn had seen her in some pretty unforgiving situations. She cleared her throat to cover the relief she felt when she realized her dress was still on, but the cuffs were off. There was a part of her that worried Quinn might not hold himself back from certain pleasures if the opportunity presented itself as it had last night.
“You okay?” he wondered.
“I’m fine,” she assured, but she didn’t sound like it. Her raspy voice must have prompted his manners because he moved to a mini-fridge under a desk and grabbed her a bottled water.
“Thanks,” she muttered, taking it from him and gulping it down. “Where are we?”
“My hotel room,” he answered. He was quiet for a while as she drained the beverage and then managed to swing her legs off the side of the bed. When she pushed the blanket back, she was startled to see dried blood all over the sheets and pillows.
“Housekeeping is gonna be pissed,” Quinn stated.
Veronica ignored his statement. Suddenly she was so disgusting and gritty she couldn’t stand it anymore. She stood up, surprised she only swayed once. She rejected his hand as he reached out to help her and ducked into the bathroom. She twisted the lock on the door and leaned into it for a second. A shower would make her mind clearer. And it would certainly make her body feel better.
She tried to get her dress unzipped, but it was difficult considering how sore her arm was. She stopped struggling for a moment and leaned on the sink now to catch her breath and saw Quinn’s shaving kit still laid out. She grabbed his razor and sliced the material from her body. Veronica took her first real breath as the dress hit the floor. She glanced at her arm to see he had put pressure on her wound with one of his shirts.
Veronica took the straight razor and cut it loose too. She needed to see what kind of damage had been done. On the underside of her left arm there was a huge gash. The bullet hadn’t entered, but it took part of her flesh on its way through. She grimaced as blood started to seep again. It must have nicked an artery, she decided. Nothing else would cause that much blood to freely flow.
She reached down and pulled the dressing off her side to see if Quinn had busted her stitches. She was thankful to see everything looked okay other than some dried blood on the bandage. She had a lot to be grateful for, she knew.
As she laid the blade down, she realized with some alarm that Quinn’s phone was still on the sink. She looked over at the door, her heart quickening. Without reason or rhyme, she pushed the button on the bottom of the device to bring it to life. Unfortunately, the screen was fingerprint protected. She let out a breath of disappointment, yet she caught a glimpse of the last text sent to him.
As long as you keep her alive. And don’t do anything stupid.
She lowered her brow with curiosity burning her insides. Who was Quinn working for? Why was he protecting her? She dared not to think the thoughts that wanted to surface. She pushed back her wild notions and made her shower a quick one. She used all of the hotel supplied shampoo to wash her thick, long mane, but it was worth the sacrifice.
As she shut the water off, she heard the bathroom door open. She didn’t hesitate to pull the curtain back, but her heart skipped a beat with the motion. Quinn was standing there, his hips propped against the sink and his arms crossed again. She really wished he’d stop that. And he still didn’t have a shirt on.
Show off, she growled inside her head. He was looking at her naked body with a fire behind those dark eyes she recognized all too well. His relentless scrutiny hesitated only once when he noticed the wound on her side.
“How do you do that?” she demanded, referring to the opened door she’d clearly locked.
Quinn shrugged one shoulder and smirked, pulling his eyes from her body for a second. “It’s a gift.”
She rolled her eyes at him and grabbed her towel from the wall as she stepped out of the tub. She dried off, noticing some fresh blood on the crisp, white material.
“I got some supplies,” Quinn informed.
“So you didn’t break in just to maul me again?” she said doubtfully.
He locked eyes with her and she knew exactly what he was thinking. She was thinking it too. How long had it been since she allowed herself any pleasure? Since
the last time Quinn gave it to her, years ago.
Veronica tightened her towel as though that would save her from his ravenous stare. “How did you know where I was?” she asked offhandedly, thinking of his uncanny timing during her escape and the text message on his phone from a mysterious number.
Quinn finally moved, turning to pull some bandages from a Walgreens bag behind him. He didn’t answer her, though; he just made a grab at her, pulling her closer to doctor her still bleeding arm wound.
“Why are you following me, Quinn?” she demanded.
His eyes flicked up from her arm for a second to catch hers with intensity. “You know why.”
She did. She was just hoping she was wrong. He was still investigating the death of her fellow Rogue agent. He still thought she was in some sort of danger—a target for a serial killer.
Her mind went back to the events that had come to pass and she was left lingering on the last few seconds before Quinn came screeching to her rescue. She could see that black car on the curb waiting…waiting for her. She couldn’t be positive that was the case, but her instincts were screaming it was. What were the odds? Obviously Aniya and Arc had helped her escape from the throes of the Barber, so didn’t it make sense that they would be waiting for her in a getaway car?
Her heart lurched. What if Arc had been in that car? What if he had been waiting on her? The idea didn’t seem as farfetched as it once had. After all, she had met the physical form of Aniya just hours before that. Why wouldn’t Arc reveal himself to her as well?
A flash of anger surged through her suddenly when she looked on at Quinn. Had he robbed her of the one chance to finally meet her old boss? Just the idea made her want to scream at him. But the idea he might be working for Arc too wasn’t leaving the realm of possibilities either.
“What kind of deep shit have you gotten yourself into now, Veronica?” Quinn’s voice brought her out of her destructive thoughts and she heard the tape rip as he applied the last piece to her arm. He’d wrapped it like a pro and it felt nice.
“No more than usual, Murphy,” she assured, pulling away, but he grabbed her roughly before she could slip away and hauled her up on the sink. The marble was cold on her bare bottom and thighs causing an involuntary shiver to rake through her entire body. He forced her legs apart and pressed himself closer to her.
“I think this is a little more than the usual, V,” he growled, pushing her wet hair over her shoulders and wrapping it around his fists. He gave her a not-so-gentle tug, causing her head to fall back. “Stitches on your side? Gunshot wounds? And that ledger…” he trailed off as his eyes roamed over her face. He let go of her hair and cupped both hands under her jaw. “That ledger has a lot of important names in it.”
“I just need one,” she countered, trying to pull her head free from his grip. It just made him tighten his finger tips around the nape of her neck causing a small gasp to escape her lungs.
“You can’t tell me at your funeral, Covey. You might as well talk now,” he insisted.
“It’s none of your damn business,” she ground out, pushing herself forward, but it had the opposite effect she was hoping for. Instead of her slipping off the sink, Quinn pushed her back and locked one arm around her back, securing her in his hold. He lowered his mouth to hers and Veronica tried to keep her lips closed. But Quinn was persistent and eventually broke through her defenses by thrusting his tongue into her mouth and stroking her own, taking complete possession of her self-control.
Veronica was rocked backwards with the force and her hands instinctively went up, grabbing his arms to hold herself steady. The moment her fingers felt the firm flesh of his biceps, she was a goner. What was it about this man that made her so stupid? She already hated herself and she hadn’t even committed the sin.
But she knew she would…
A low moan escaped her throat with the anticipation of the pleasure he could indubitably give her. She then let out a startled cry when Quinn ripped her towel off and threw it to the side. He dipped down, running his mouth and hot tongue over places he hadn’t been allowed to explore in a while. Just when Veronica thought she was going to lose her mind, he stopped caressing her with his mouth and scooped her up effortlessly, carrying her to the bed.
Now’s the time, Veronica.
Make him stop.
Tell him no.
Her inner coach was just an adorable afterthought by this time though. She wasn’t turning him down. Her emotions were all over the place and when she was suffering from inner turmoil, Quinn was usually her go to. He made her forget about what was going on and right now a distraction sounded amazing. And it felt even better, she realized, as she ran her hands over his chest and back, allowing herself to truly enjoy how incredible and masculine he felt.
Veronica was no fool, but it did seem like she was stuck in a vicious cycle with Quinn Murphy. One she hadn’t been able to break for a very long time. She thought she was doing better, but tonight…with all the memories and reminders of Arc, well, maybe she was feeling just a little vindictive. Maybe that was the driving force behind her reckless actions.
Nevertheless, now certainly wasn’t the time to overanalyze her past and what could have been. Now was time for her to enjoy an experience she would no doubt regret later.
Chapter Sixteen
“Stop! I can’t,” Veronica said sleepily as she pushed Quinn’s strong arm off her body. She was on her stomach, utterly and completely comfortable. She couldn’t have moved another inch had she wanted to. She was trying to sleep in a blissful state of numbness, but he was dragging her into his body for another round. A round for which she did not have the strength. “What’s the problem, Covey? Three times and you’re done? That’s not like you,” Quinn growled in her ear.
“I’m spent, Murphy. Let me sleep,” she growled back.
She felt his hands linger on her body, caressing the small of her back, over her bottom and back up again. She wondered if he would listen to her. If he would obey her command for rest, but she had her doubts. He was just as stubborn as she was and when she wanted something, it was hard to tell that desire no.
“Fine, I’ll let you rest for now,” he relented, but it sounded more like a warning.
She moaned in lieu of an answer and felt the bed shift as he stood up. After a few seconds, she heard the door shut to the bathroom and the shower turn on. Veronica lifted her head, looking at the alarm clock. It was after noon. She figured it was probably late in the day by the way Quinn’s phone had been vibrating off the hook. Work was certainly looking for him…or someone. The mysterious text flashed through her mind again.
She sat up on the bed, wincing from the movement. She shouldn’t have slept with Quinn for more than one reason. She was exhausted and sore from the events with the Barber, and now she was even more exhausted and sore from her adventures with Quinn. She gathered her strength and her wits, knowing her time was limited. She was ready to tear the place apart to find the ledger, but surprised to see it sitting out in the open on the desk by the door. With its location giving her some peace of mind, she turned her efforts elsewhere while she still had time.
She had known Quinn for a very long time. She had spent many nights in his hotel rooms and she knew from experience just where he liked to work. She flipped on the light beside the desk and opened the wardrobe doors, revealing Quinn’s evidence board and other things related to his current case. She figured while she was here, she might as well take a look at how far they had come along in the murder case.
There, taped in the middle of the cabinet was a picture of Parker Farris—the dead Rogue. She was dead in the picture too; it was an unflattering post-mortem photo taken from the medical examiner’s office. Above it was the name Jane Doe with a large question mark beside it. Veronica knew they would be lucky to find out Parker’s identity—Arc would make sure she never existed so she could never be traced back to him. His anonymity was more important than letting anyone who might have loved Parker know she
was gone. Although, it was more than likely that Parker did not have any family she was associated with. That was part of the selection process when Arc chose his Rogues—they had to be unattached in every possible way. They had to be able to disappear or turn up dead without any emergency contacts. An image of Veronica’s own mother flashed through her mind and she wondered if Allison would even be able to identify Veronica in the likely event that she turned up a floater on the river banks.
Shaking off that notion, she reached out and touched the photo of Parker, feeling an overwhelming surge of remorse. This young, vibrant female would still be very much alive if Veronica had never approached her. If Veronica hadn’t been so selfish in her motivations.
I’m cursed, she thought. Everyone around you dies, Veronica. Everyone you talk to, everyone you touch. She tried to ignore the thought as it appeared, but it was poignant and refused to go away.
Veronica pushed aside the rush of guilt and rage toward herself and focused on the rest of the wall around the photo. Surrounding Parker’s picture were several other pieces of information, but Veronica’s eyes lingered on the woman for a moment longer than necessary.
It had been a while since she’d seen Parker. In fact, they’d only met face-to-face the one time. It had been during a time when Veronica had worked an undercover case. She had been at the same party as Parker, obviously working the same job; except Veronica was working for the police station and Parker was working for Arc.
Veronica would have liked to been able to say finding Parker took months and a lot of dedicated hard work, but in truth, it had just been pure dumb luck. If Parker hadn’t been attached to the drug lord’s side in a teeny bikini, Veronica would have never caught sight of the mark on her body that connected the two more than words would ever be able to describe. One look and Veronica felt like she’d won the lottery. All it took after that was a quick flash of her own tattoo when no one was looking and Parker was eager to hear what Veronica had to say. Before finding one another, fellow Rogues were just as shrouded in obscurity as the man who gave them their missions.
