“Stop with the games, Liam. You’ve wanted a shot at me for years.” He spread his hands. “So here I am. Take it. I won’t fight you. I’ll let you do whatever you want with me—if you let Mara go. She’s completely innocent in this.”
Liam sneered. “And Rachael wasn’t?”
“No, she wasn’t. She knew the risks of a mercenary life like the rest of us.” When Liam said nothing, he played a hunch and continued, “Why did you kill Michael Bristow and his men in Transnistria? You had us by the balls there, and we both knew it. You could have ended it at any time, and the only reason we escaped is because you let us.”
Liam’s grip loosened on Mara’s hair. Quinn held her gaze, silently telling her not to panic. She had to stay still and not try to run. At least, not yet.
“It was too much,” Liam said. “They wanted only to protect their paychecks. The corruption business is lucrative, and they saw it all slipping away. I assume you know by now who the mastermind is.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Liam snorted. “And I thought I came from a fucked-up family.” He let go of Mara and shoved her to the floor but kept his gun aimed at her. “All I wanted was revenge, not money.”
Quinn moved on automatic pilot, grabbing his knife and throwing himself in the line of fire just like Mara said he always did.
The gun exploded.
Pain blazed though his ribs at the same moment he let the blade fly and the knife sank into Liam’s shoulder, close to his neck. Not a fatal wound, but he fumbled the gun and stumbled backward a step in surprise. He touched the protruding hilt of the blade, then met Quinn’s eyes with wonder in his own. “You…took the bullet for her.”
“Yeah.” Quinn pressed a hand to his side. The bullet had cracked one of his ribs and he was starting to have trouble breathing, each inhale short and choppy. Pain speared throughout his chest and light-headedness swamped him.
“Travis!” Mara was suddenly beside him, keeping him up with an arm around his waist and a shoulder wedged under his armpit.
In the living room behind Liam, Lanie staggered to her feet and fumbled a small-caliber gun out of the holster at her ankle.
Quinn met her gaze for less then a heartbeat before turning his full attention back to Liam. “I’ll take a hundred bullets for Mara,” he said, hoping to buy Lanie the seconds she needed to get within kill range. “If you had loved Rachael, you’d have done the same. That’s what you do when you love someone.”
Liam’s lips peeled back in a vicious snarl as he pulled the knife free from his shoulder and threw it aside. It skidded across the tile, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. He switched his gun to his other hand, raised it again. “Yeah? Let’s see you do it a second time, mate.”
Quinn shoved Mara out of the way and hoped like hell she knew he wasn’t doing this out of self-hate. He loved her, loved the baby, and would do anything in his power to keep them safe.
Then pain burst through his skull and all he knew was blackness.
…
The world slowed down to crawl.
Mara landed on her knees on the tile, but she didn’t feel the impact as the gun’s second explosion ripped through the enclosed space of her kitchen and left her ears ringing. She saw Travis’s head snap back and his knees give out. He collapsed where he stood and didn’t move again.
No.
No, no, no! He couldn’t die like that when they had so much to talk about, so much to work through.
Her throat went dry, and her vision clouded. The knife lay right there by her hand, and she didn’t fully register that she’d picked it up until she was on her feet. There were all kinds of noise around her—screaming and crying and more gunshots—but the pure rage roaring inside her head drowned it all out. Her vision tunneled on Liam, and all she knew at that moment was she had to keep him from hurting Travis again.
Liam dropped to his knees in front of her, his eyes wide with shock. He seemed to already be bleeding from holes in his chest, but she couldn’t figure out why. Didn’t care why. He’d murdered Travis, and it wasn’t enough for him to just be bleeding. He needed to be dead.
She stabbed the knife into his chest with every ounce of strength she possessed. But it still wasn’t enough. She didn’t believe the wound would kill him, because how could it? He didn’t have a heart like a normal person.
Sobbing, she tried to pull the blade free, so she could stab him again and again and again, but he toppled sideways and her fingers slipped off the hilt. She screamed and lunged for it—
Strong arms banded around her from behind, hauling her backward against a hard body. “Shh. Baby, stop. He’s dead. He’s dead.”
She stilled even as her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. That voice. It couldn’t be…
“Travis?” She ripped out of his arms and faced him. He was alive. A little unsteady on his feet with blood dripping down the side of his face, but alive and whole. She couldn’t believe it. “B-but h-he shot you in the head!”
“Lanie shot him first. It threw his aim off and the bullet only grazed me. See?” He turned his head to show her the gash along his scalp and winced when she gently touched it.
Her breath caught on a sob. “I thought he killed you.”
“Nah, I have a hard head.” He offered a weak smile. “And Lanie has a faster trigger finger.”
Mara gazed over at Liam’s body and shuddered. “I didn’t kill him then?”
“No, baby. He was already dying. You just put him out of his misery.”
She blinked hard. She wouldn’t cry tears for that man, and she most certainly wasn’t going to feel guilty. She turned away from him and resolved to never think of him again after today. “I wish I hadn’t. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted to kill him.”
Travis cupped her cheeks in his palms and thumbed away her tears. “I know, but I’m glad you didn’t. Killing’s not something people come away from unscathed.”
Across the room, Lanie finally lowered her gun and staggered, catching herself against the kitchen wall. She slid down it until her butt hit the floor and cradled her head in one hand.
Travis hugged Mara close, and she melted against him, still half afraid he wasn’t real. Her mind kept replaying the moment his head snapped back and he collapsed. Over and over again, like a horrible movie on repeat. Shaking, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. Underneath her ear, his heart beat strongly, if not a little too fast.
“I thought he killed you,” she said again. “I was so sure.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m here, Mara. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Jesus,” Lanie muttered and gazed up, exhaustion lining her face. “Is every mission like this for y’all?”
“Pretty much.” He grinned at her. “Want a job? Mine’s going to be opening up real soon.”
“Jesus,” Lanie said again.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Quinn knew where he was before he opened his eyes. Hospital. Part of that knowledge came from the training he’d endured to always know exactly where he was when he woke up. But he’d also spent so much of his recent life in hospitals that the sounds and smells—the rattle of a nurse’s cart and the beep of machines, the acrid scent of antiseptic layered over sickness and death—seared his memory, making it impossible not to know.
For a moment, he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here, and claustrophobia threatened until he turned his head on the pillow and saw Mara sitting in the chair beside his bed, smoothing her hand over a piece of blue cloth on her lap.
His T-shirt from yesterday.
He relaxed as the memories trickled back. The ring of corruption was exposed, Liam was dead. Gabe was going to recover. And, most importantly, Mara and the baby were safe.
She noticed him watching her and smiled, showing him the folded T-shirt. “I asked the hospital to wash it. They just brought it back. They got the stains out, but it has a hole.”
“Baby, I can get another one.”
She unfolded it, shook it out, and ran her fingers over the lettering on the front. “I can’t believe you bought yourself a World’s Greatest Dad T-shirt.”
He lifted a shoulder and winced at the pain it caused down the side of his body. “I wanted to prove to you that—hell, I don’t know. That I’m not the world’s greatest anything now, but I maybe could be. Except I fucked my apology all up. Proved you right—I did exactly what you accused me of always doing.”
She hugged the shirt to her chest. “You saved my life.”
“By jumping in the line of fire. Just like you said. I can’t seem to stop myself from doing it.”
“Yes, but…” Still holding the shirt, she lowered the railing on his bed and crawled in beside him. “I understand now. When I went after Liam with the knife, I didn’t think about my own safety or even the baby’s. I just had to protect you. That’s not a character flaw for either of us, and I was so wrong to throw it in your face like it was.”
Christ, he loved having her in his arms. He brushed a kiss across her temple. “You weren’t entirely wrong. I didn’t care enough about myself to stay healthy. That’s why I stopped seeing all my doctors, was bad about taking my meds…but no more. I told the docs here what’s been happening, and they ran some tests. They think the blackouts and fugue states are from scar tissue putting pressure on my brain. I’m going to have surgery in a few days to remove it, and the docs are working to find a med regimen to help me cope with the migraines. I figure if I want a shot at World’s Greatest Dad status, I need to start taking care of myself.”
Her lips curled into a smile against his neck. “I was going to name the baby Quinn.”
He lifted his head to look at her. “You were?”
“If it’s a boy, he was going to be Quinn Jackson Warrick, after you and my dad. For a girl, Quinn Rosa Warrick, after you and the women in Mom’s family—they’re all Rosas—and Dad. I plan to go back to using my dad’s last name, too, but if you’re serious about staying in our lives, I’d rather give the baby yours.”
“I’m staying,” he said and entwined their fingers together. He lifted her hand to his lips. “As long as you’ll have me.”
“So forever?”
The breath stalled out in his lungs. Nobody had ever wanted him for that long, and he wasn’t sure how to react. He reached out, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, baby. Forever.”
“Good.” Mara grinned like she’d won the lottery—though Christ knew why—and snuggled down beside him. She picked up his hand and placed it over her belly. Love swamped him, so hard and fast he was afraid he’d drown in it. He swallowed hard.
“Hi, little one,” he whispered. “You don’t know me yet. I’m—” The words seemed to catch in his throat. “I’m your dad, and I probably won’t be very good at it.” He lifted his head and met her gaze. “But I’m going to give it my best shot.”
Tears gathered in her eyes and spilled over. “The baby will need a new name now.”
His voice sounded like gravel and his cleared his throat. “I like Jackson Quinn for a boy, but you’re right. Quinn Rosa Quinn for a girl doesn’t sound right.”
“No. It doesn’t. So I was wondering if—if you—” She stopped short and worried her lip with her teeth.
“If I…?” he prompted.
“If you would be okay with naming her after your mother?”
His lip curled in disgust even as he tried to smooth his features. Why would she want to burden their child with his sordid past? Besides, Cherice wasn’t the kind of name he wanted to saddle a newborn with. “I’d rather not.”
“Oh.”
The disappointment in her voice brought on a startling realization, and he sat up, wincing at the pain it caused. “Wait. Which mother?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “The only one who’s ever meant anything to you. Bianca. I was thinking we could name a girl Bianca after your mother and Rose instead of Rosa.”
“Bianca Rose.” His mouth went dry. All of the moisture must have transported to his eyes, because suddenly everything blurred. He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I love it. And I love you. I haven’t told you that again, have I?”
“No.”
“I love you, Mara. I love you so much it feels like a grenade in my chest waiting to explode and kill me, and it scares the hell out of me. Christ, taking on the baddest bad guys the world has to offer by myself would scare me less than loving you.”
She laughed and sat up beside him to wrap her arms around his neck. “My warrior. Always the romantic.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I always say the wrong things, but I don’t know of any other way to describe how I feel. I wish I could give you pretty, romantic words and flowers and—”
“And I don’t want any of that. I love you, too, Travis. Exactly the way you are.”
Quinn shut his eyes. “I—I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.”
She kissed him but then leaned back and wrinkled her nose. “Well, maybe not the way you are right at the moment. You could use a shower before they discharge you. You kind of stink.”
Quinn laughed. It was exactly what he’d needed to hear, because things were getting too heavy for him and he hadn’t known how to handle it. “I don’t have a change of clothes.”
“Yes, you do.” She scooted off the bed and opened the closet. “I had Lanie pick up your bag. The one you left over the summer? It has some clothes in it.”
She set the duffel on the end of his bed and started pulling things out. A book landed on his leg, and he reached down, picked it up.
It was just a normal paperback book by one of his favorite thriller writers, but something about it had adrenaline singing through his veins. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something…
He flipped through the pages. Once, then again. Maybe he’d written something or…
Christ. Why couldn’t he remember?
Mara had stopped unpacking the bag and watched him closely. “What’s wrong?”
“This book. I feel like I should know something about it.”
“But it’s just a book.”
“Yeah.” He opened to the page marked with a receipt and read a paragraph. Nothing. He stuck the receipt back in, but stopped short and picked it up again…
And the missing puzzle piece clicked into place.
“Oh, fuck me,” he breathed. “Someplace nobody would think to look.”
She pulled the receipt out of his hand and read it. “What? It’s just a receipt from a liquor store.”
He took it back and stuffed it into the book, then folded his hands around hers. “Are you up for a trip to Baltimore when I get out of here?”
Her brow wrinkled, but she nodded. “Why?”
“Because…” He grinned. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Baltimore, Maryland
Five months later
The late-spring wind was pleasantly warm, chasing away the last vestiges of a stubborn winter as Quinn led Mara through the cemetery. He’d needed the surgery to remove the scar tissue sooner than he’d thought, and this visit had been postponed longer than he’d have liked. But after spending far too many of the last few months in the hospital, he enjoyed the walk, the warmth of the sun on his face, and the comfort of Mara’s hand in his.
Life was pretty damn good right now.
At the far end of the first row of graves, he stopped and let go of Mara’s hand to brush some dry leaves off the familiar tombstone. “Remember the old man I told you about? The one who set me on the right track with his stories of the navy?”
She nodded. “Froggy. Is this him?”
“Yeah. William ‘Bill’ Thomas Beaty. I didn’t know his real name until after he died. He’s always been Froggy to me.” He rested his hand on the tombstone. “And he’s been keeping secrets for me. Haven’t you, Frogman?”
“What secrets?” Mara whispered.
“Hang on.” He squatted in front of the tombstone, then used his Swiss Army knife to pry up a plaque engraved with the same cartoon frog he had tattooed on his arm. “Froggy didn’t have any family left—or at least, none that cared to give him a proper burial, so I bought his tombstone. Had it custom-made with this cubby, wanted to make sure he always had his favorite drink. I used to come here once a year on the anniversary of my graduation from BUD/S to have a drink with him and thank him for steering me in the right direction, but I haven’t been back since before the car accident.”
Mara gasped. “The receipt in your book. It was for a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.”
“Yeah. And I’d been trying to read that damn book since before the accident even though reading gives me migraines now. Still, something told me I had to keep trying. I had to keep the book. And the receipt.”
Smiling, she crouched beside him. “Your subconscious at work.”
“Apparently.” He reached into the cubby and pulled out an empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Inside, swaddled in a waterproof bag, sat a small bundle the size of a flash drive. He grinned and held the bottle out for her to see. “Because I left something other than alcohol last time I was here.”
The flash drive.
He dumped it out of the bottle and turned it over in his hands. “Hard to believe all this for something so small.”
“And so big. Think of how many lives they’ve probably destroyed over the years. Not to mention the pain they’ve caused you and Gabe. And all for nothing more than money.”
“The great evil.”
“I suppose so.” Mara propped her head on his shoulder. “Now what?”
“I’ll have to get this into the proper hands, but at this point it’s just extra ammunition for an already loaded gun. Hell, for all I know, the FBI has the original files in hand by now.”
The two of them crouched there in the mud, staring at Froggy’s grave for several long seconds. Finally Mara tried to stand, but she couldn’t quite make it up.
Broken Honor Page 29
