Breaking Shadows (Darkness Falls Book 2)

by Melissa Sinclair

  “It may be, but that is exactly what they did. After they colluded, he brought me here, but there’s a case he’s working that’s kind of tricky, and he had to leave. He came back around supper last night and then got called out in the middle of the night to work the case.” Quinn looked at the purring furball curled up next to her, working hard to not look Taylor in the eyes.

  “What else?” Taylor asked with a smile in her voice.

  “What? Nothing else. He left, I couldn’t fall asleep. I got up and started rummaging around in his kitchen. End of story.”

  “You decided to make a pot roast, because you were bored? Quinn, I know you better than that. You cook when you’re stressed out or trying to figure something out. Which one is it? Stress or are you trying to figure something out?”

  “He kissed me, and…and I kissed him back.”

  “Finally!” Of all the words in the English language that Taylor could have said, that wasn’t the one that Quinn was expecting.

  “Wait, what?”

  “You mean, you have no idea? That boy has been moping around like a lost puppy for months drooling over you.”

  “No way. It was just one of those moments where an opportunity arose for him.”

  “Not hardly. Why would you think that?” Taylor asked, scoffing at her statement.

  “Well, I mean, he has a reputation for being a bit of a Casanova.”

  “Psh,” she said, waving her hand. “That’s all an act. He’s definitely been with women, but all of his relationships ended amicably, and even if he used to be a bit of a player, that was before he fell for you, and even then, he was starting to tire of the game. Not to mention, he only slept with all those women out of self-preservation.”

  “Why and how do you know all this?”

  “He was scared to let anyone close. Look at his parents. They weren’t really good role models, and I know because I watch. I see how often he actually dated, which was pretty much not at all. All of his relationships didn’t last much more than a couple dates, and he wasn’t going to bring any of them around my family—that would mean he actually wanted more from them. That was, until you.”

  “Me?” Quinn was confused and a little dumbfounded by the conversation.

  “Don’t be naïve. How can you not see how he feels about you? Granted, he didn’t figure it out all at once. I saw the change in him after he was in the hospital, the way he looked at you. Almost like he was confused and looking for an answer. Then it was like it clicked. He has it bad for you, has for months; he just doesn’t know how to tell you, and I suspect he’s being cautious.”

  “Why would he be cautious? He isn’t the type to hold back. If he sees something he wants, he’ll go for it. That is, if what you say is right, and he wants me.”

  “Oh, he wants you, but he’s being careful with you. Ethan treats Kara like she might shatter—not as much recently, but he still does it. Because of his job and what he sees, he’s very careful around people who are victims. Even if you haven’t shared your story with me, I know that you’re a victim of something, and Ethan senses that, too.”

  The two women sat in silence for a moment. Taylor was clearly giving her some time to digest what they had just discussed. A soft sigh pulled Quinn from her reverie, and she looked up to see Taylor looking sadly at her hands.

  “Do you want my unsolicited advice?” Taylor finally asked.

  “Do I have a choice?” Quinn answered sardonically.

  “Not really.” Taylor paused, took a deep breath, and let it out. “Whatever is holding you back, whatever you have in your past, just let it go—or better yet, tell Ethan what it is. I know he won’t care. Not one iota.”

  “I think you should practice what you preach,” Quinn said quietly.

  “Just call me pot, and I will call you kettle.” Quinn continued to look deeply into Taylor’s eyes until she shrugged. “I know I need to declutter my past, too, and I may have found someone worth doing that for.”

  “Oh, really? Do tell.”

  “That is a story for another day, but I think this is a good time to tell you why I’m home early. I figure you’re the safest one to tell at this point, and maybe you can help me explain to my parents.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Quinn said, wincing when she tried to shift to a more comfortable position.

  “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”

  “I’m fine. I needed to readjust. Sitting too long in one position tends to draw attention to the aches in that part of my body.” She waved her hand as if to brush it off. “Don’t think that you can change the subject twice on me. What’s going on?”

  “I quit my job.”

  Quinn didn’t get surprised often, mostly because she didn’t allow herself to be in unpredictable situations, but Taylor had surprised her more than once in a small span of time. First, with her not being surprised that Ethan kissed her, and then, with the quitting of her job. She knew exactly what Taylor’s parents would think, and it was the opposite of what Taylor thought.

  “It’s about time.” It was Quinn’s turn to surprise Taylor. “I’m not surprised that you quit. I’m surprised that you did it so soon, though. I saw this coming for a while. You aren’t happy at your job, Taylor. You know it, I know it, and your family knows it.”

  “You think they won’t be upset, then?”

  “They’ll be concerned about your reasons for quitting, but they won’t be angry, if that’s what you’re worried about. If I know anything about your mother, I know that she’s very intuitive to her children’s needs.”

  Tears sprang to Taylor’s eyes, and she blinked furiously to stop them from brimming over and spilling down her cheeks, another thing the three friends had in common—hating to cry, to show any weakness. Often the weight of holding it all in became too much, though, and the emotions spilled over. Quinn made sure she was usually alone, or in the martial arts class she taught when her emotions got the best of her. Then she took it out on her sparring partner.

  “You don’t think they’ll be mad?”

  “Not at all. They love you. Once you tell them and explain your reasons, they’ll understand. I’m not going to lie and say they won’t worry. They’re going to worry that you’re back on drugs, but you’ll explain that this is for your mental well-being. That you quit because it isn’t what you want out of life. That you aren’t the girl that you were when you had wanted to be a graphic designer. You’re different now. Explain that to them, and they’ll understand it’s part of your healing.”

  “You know me too well, like you can read my mind. But that’s a good thing, I think.”

  “You should also explain to them that you didn’t quit your job until you knew what else you wanted to do.”

  “Again, with the eerie mind reading ability.”

  “I’m not doing any mind reading. Like you said, I know you and that you wouldn’t just up and quit your job without a backup. You wouldn’t do that to your family; you wouldn’t worry them. You fought too hard to get where you are.”

  “Just like you. Just like Kara.”

  “Exactly. When do you want to start?” Taylor just shook her head and smiled.

  “How long have you known?”

  “A while. You spend every moment you aren’t at work at the center, and we need another full-time person. Someone to help teach the self-defense classes, among other things. The pay sucks, but I did get the board to approve a full-time position. I’ve been waiting for you, so I could fill the spot.”

  “I know it’ll be a bit of a pay cut. That was part of what took me so long. I’d like to go back to school and get my therapist license, and I was hoping to be able to move out of my parents’ house soon. This will delay things a bit.”

  “Hold on to that thought. I have an idea, but I need to talk it over with someone first.”

  The wheels in Quinn’s head were already turning. She knew Ethan wanted to sublet to women getting on their feet. Either Taylor could move in with
her, or she could take one of the other apartments. Something told her that Ethan wouldn’t hesitate for a second.

  The reunion between Kimora, Keisha, and Davon Washington was worth the bone-weary feeling Ethan had when he got out of his car. Seeing the sheer joy and relief on Keisha’s face when she embraced her daughter was enough to keep Ethan going for days, maybe even weeks. Coming home to a house that smelled heavenly and a gorgeous woman snuggled in his armchair with his cat could keep him going forever, and seeing that exact scenario when he came through his front door was a sucker punch, because he knew that Quinn fit in his life, and he didn’t want her to leave. Even if it was only in the upstairs apartment.

  It would be a lie if he said that offering the apartment to her wasn’t partly a selfish move on his end. What he told her was true; he did want to open it up to people who needed help, but he also wanted her close. If not in his apartment, at least in his building. He didn’t like her in that run-down house in that high crime neighborhood. Not with the job she had. All other thoughts stopped when she looked up and smiled that thousand-watt smile at him.

  “I was starting to think I might have to put leftovers in the fridge for you.”

  “Sorry about that. We had ten kids to get back to their families, and it took some time.”

  “Did you say ten kids?” Her face went from startled to ferocious in a heartbeat. “I hope you killed the son of a bitch who had them.” Ethan knew that she meant it, and he was inclined to agree with her, except that meant they had no one to question.

  “Not me, personally; but yes, he’s dead. Along with two others.”

  “Officers?” He could see her whole body tense.

  “No, the people that he was selling the kids to. And not by an officer’s hand. They’re still there trying to piece together what happened.”

  “Somebody executed them to keep them quiet, didn’t they?” Her voice had gone cold.

  “We don’t know; it’s possible, but it’s just as likely that it was someone who’s competing for territory or someone who wanted to take advantage of ten kids ready to be sold. Unfortunately for them, we were in position at the time. Fortunate for the children, though. The youngest one was eleven and packed one hell of a kick.” He rubbed his jaw; it was still a bit sore.

  “Thank goodness for small favors.” His wry smile had her eyes going wide. “I mean that you were in place, not that you got kicked in the face.”

  Ethan couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the look of mortification on her face. He could have teased her some more, but she looked so embarrassed that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His stomach unabashedly growled, and his mouth was salivating from the aroma of the food that was cooking.

  “What smells so good? It smells like pot roast.”

  “Probably because it’s pot roast.”

  “Where in the world did you get that from?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

  “Your freezer. It was the only thing in there other than pizzas.”

  “You made it?” His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

  “I most certainly did. I know how to cook.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just, well, you’re laid up with all kinds of injuries. I mean, you have a broken arm.”

  The sound that came out was less than ladylike, and the gesture she sent his way was even less so. He chuckled, and she flung a pillow off the couch at him. He swatted it away efficiently and smiled from ear to ear at the indignant look on her face. She went to pick up another pillow to throw at him and winced at the movement. He was crouched in front of her in a second, looking deeply into her eyes.

  “Are you okay—?” He didn’t have a chance to finish the statement before she moved on him, securing him around the waist with both legs as she battered him over the head with the pillow that was in her hand. “Uncle, uncle!” he shouted through his laughter.

  “Had enough, big boy?” she asked and burst into a fit of giggles, but it was his turn to move on her, and he had her off the chair and pinned under him in a flash. Another wince had him pausing until he saw the sparkle in her eye. The little harpy wanted to play.

  “Not. Even. Close,” he said as he pinned her good hand above her head.

  A flash of fear crossed her face but was quickly extinguished and replaced with another look, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was a look of lust that floated into her eyes. Without conscious thought, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers and ignited a fire. While his mind knew that he needed to be careful with her healing body, the other part of his body that was rock hard and pushing against her warm entrance took very little time to even consider the bruises on her body. Her lips opened, allowing him access to her mouth, and his tongue swooped in, tangling with her eager one. He did his best to keep his weight off her, but she tugged him closer.

  A moan escaped her, and her hips gyrated up and into that hardness that needed to be rubbed. He desperately wanted to sink into the welcoming warmth between her legs. The kiss deepened, and his hand was tangled in the hem of her shirt. So much of him yearned to let go, to take what he wanted to be his, but he knew that he still needed to be cautious. She was healing, and he could barely contain himself. Tentatively, he reached under her shirt and skimmed his fingers across her belly, only to be distracted by the knocking at his front door.

  “Ignore it,” Quinn panted into his mouth. He kissed her again and again. Damn right, he was going to ignore whoever the hell had made the mistake of coming to his house right then. But the knocking continued—louder and more insistent.

  “Quinn, it’s Taylor, are you all right? I left my phone. Answer me, you’re worrying me, please answer me!”

  Ethan stopped kissing Quinn and sighed, resting his forehead against hers. After another heavy sigh, he got to his knees. With a glance down at her kiss-swollen lips, he groaned with displeasure. Damn Taylor. This time the moment felt right like there was nothing but him and Quinn in this world. Enter Taylor, a sister to him, but not who he wanted to see right now. Beyond grumpy, he stood and reached down to help Quinn up off the floor. Carefully, he adjusted himself, hoping to hide the evidence of his arousal from Taylor.

  Opening the door harder than necessary, he stood staring at the young woman who was clearly startled either by the way he had opened the door or that he opened the door and not Quinn.

  “Hello, Taylor.”

  “Oh, hi! I didn’t know you were here. I was here earlier and left my phone.” She looked over his shoulder at Quinn and blushed. “I got a little worried when Quinn didn’t answer, but it looks like you were, um, occupied? I’ll just get my phone and leave.”

  With a huge grin on her face, she pushed past Ethan and walked over to the chair that Quinn had been snuggled in when he got there. She looked at the pillows on the floor, and her grin turned wicked. After a quick glance around, she found the phone, pocketed it, and walked back to the door she had just come through.

  “Well, I would love to stay, eat, and chat, but I really don’t want to interrupt.”

  “Too late,” Ethan muttered and shut the door on her laughter as she sashayed out of his apartment.

  There were many reasons he didn’t want to turn around and face the woman standing behind him, but Ethan was never one to shy away from difficult situations. Taking a deep breath, he turned around. He wasn’t prepared for the look of sheer panic on her face at getting caught by their friend.

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “What? Oh, no, there’s nothing to apologize about. I just, well, I’m sorry for losing control.”

  “Losing control? You didn’t lose control.”

  “Trust me, I did.”

  “Did I hurt you?” His voice was laced with fear.

  “No. I mean, my body is still really tender, and I shouldn’t have provoked you, but you didn’t add any injuries to me. I actually feel a lot better today. We should probably eat; the pot roast is going to be dried out if we wait much longer.” With that, she turned and walked t
oward his kitchen.

  The full moon and cloudless sky made visibility perfect; however, when one wanted to be inconspicuous, it really was a bitch. Black was currently deep in the woods tracking who he hoped was the killer from the previous night. If he could find out who the shooter was, he might be able to get out of this particular case before he turned ninety. Clad completely in black, he blended in, but not good enough—not by far.

  Melting into the night as best he could, he hunkered down behind a fallen tree. His NVG firmly in place, he peered over the top of the tree trunk at the two figures standing in the trees. They were arguing about the merchandise, which he assumed was the kids the police had rescued, and the discussion was getting more heated by the second. Bad guy number one shoved bad guy number two, and number one pulled a gun. Number Two put his hands in the air in a placating gesture. But it was too late. Number One shot Number Two between the eyes, and he crumpled to the ground. A noise behind the gun bearer had him spinning around, and bad guy number three walked out of the cover of a nearby tree.

  “What the fuck, man? I told you to get information from him. I didn’t tell you to kill him. Did he know who the fuck killed our best two transporters?”

  “Not likely. It sounded like he was pretty low on the ladder. It doesn’t sound like it was anyone in their organization. The boss on their end is as furious as you are. Apparently, the guy that lost his brains was their best, too.”

  “That’s a small consolation.”

  “You’re telling me. What are we going to tell him?”

  “I have no idea, but we have an order to fill, and if we don’t bring him something, we might end up like those poor suckers last night. I’ll have to see if I can buy us some time. He won’t be pleased if we’re spinning our wheels. I might be able to pull some girls from the massage parlors, but they’re going to be older than he was looking to buy.”

  “They’re definitely going to be more seasoned. I thought he wanted ten pure kids.”

  “There are some new recruits in one of the massage parlors in Green Bay—they’re young enough. It’ll have to do. We can’t go grabbing them off the street like that dumb shit did yesterday, and we don’t have time to get another purveyor to find them for us.”