Quinn

by D. B. Reynolds

  Quinn smiled broadly, careful to make it more friendly than threatening. He wasn’t ready to take on the Irish lord just yet. “Excel­lent. Now, where do you want your guns?”

  “My lads will handle that. Where’s the vehicle?”

  Quinn thought quickly. He and Garrick had left nothing in the SUV but the guns. And it was the one they’d rented under one of their many aliases. The one they’d bought was safely parked at the house in Howth. “Give our new lord the keys, Garrick.”

  Garrick tossed the keys in Sorley’s general direction, where they were caught by one of his guards.

  “Down two blocks and across the street,” Quinn said cheerfully. “Just click the fob if you can’t find it. Oh, and, don’t damage the vehicle. It’s a rental.”

  Sorley’s mouth twisted sourly, but he nodded at the guard, who imme­diately left the room with one other. When he looked back at Quinn, he had a grin on his face that was as false as his welcome. “Feel free to stick around, lads. The party will run late tonight. There are plenty of those beautiful women you’re looking for, and there’ll be no shortage of sucking or fucking,” he added with a chuckle.

  Quinn matched the grin with one of his own, then stood. “Thank you, my lord. We’ll definitely be staying.” His words were innocuous enough, but there was clear understanding in Sorley’s eyes.

  The gauntlet had been thrown. Quinn would be watching his back from here out.

  SORLEY WATCHED with hooded eyes as the American intruder strolled out of the house, smiling at the women and greeting Sorley’s own vamps as if he belonged here, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Bastard thought he could steal Sorley’s guns and waltz in like the high king himself. He should have killed him on the spot.

  He’d considered it. He’d known the moment that fucking Quinn had entered his house. Asshole thought he was so clever, masking his power. He was strong, no question of that. But Sorley was the damned Lord of Ireland. This was his domain. He had nearly unlimited power at his command and two centuries of learning how to use it against his enemies. And this little puppy thought he could fool Sorley? In his own lair?

  Damn, but he hated everything about the American vampire, beginning with the fact that he was American. But his hatred went much deeper than that. Quinn might pretend he was simply an Irish-born lad come back to claim his heritage, but Sorley knew better. He had connections, too, including spies in Kildare who told him everything he needed to know about the bastard, from his Ivy League background to his time with Rajmund in the Northeast. Everything he’d learned convinced him that Quinn was in cahoots with fucking Raphael and his gang. He had no proof, no one who could confirm his suspicions, and he wasn’t likely to get it. Raphael held his secrets closely and his people were slavishly devoted to him. But Sorley had been around a long time, and he could figure things out on his own, even if he hadn’t gone to fucking Harvard like Quinn. The prissy son of a bitch thought he was better than everyone else.

  He was about to learn different. Sorley had ruled Ireland for more than 65 years, and Northern Ireland for decades before that. He had friends and allies in places Quinn didn’t even know existed. It wasn’t a question of whether he was going to kill the smug bastard, it was only a question of when.

  QUINN DIDN’T STAY long after his little tête-à-tête with Sorley. The Irish lord might have welcomed them publically, but everyone under­stood they were on probation. There’d be no sharing of secrets tonight, but then, he hadn’t expected anything else. Vampire politics was a long game. Maybe it was because they lived for centuries, and so thought in years instead of days. Or maybe they simply liked to watch their prey twist in the wind. But Quinn had always planned on taking a few weeks to learn everything he needed to know, before he could challenge Sorley. Now that he was here, however, he found he had no tolerance for the long game. He was a disciplined man, but not a patient one. He figured a month at most before he lost what little patience he possessed and decided to confront Sorley and be done with it.

  For now, they’d have to mingle with Sorley’s inner circle, which the Howth acquisition would help him do. After all, Quinn couldn’t kill every single vampire in Dublin. When Ireland became his, he’d need at least some of them to run his new territory. Vampires tended to be practical about such matters, switching their loyalty to whichever vampire provided the strength and protection they needed to go about their lives. Only those most loyal to Sorley would have to be eliminated, and they were as likely to die in the final battle, trying to defend him.

  But Quinn wasn’t quite ready to play Sorley’s happy underling, yet. It was partly why he’d chosen Howth as his first conquest. It gave him access, but also distance and a semblance of independence. No need to kiss the ring nightly as long as he was well away from Dublin. At least as far as Sorley knew.

  Before long, he and Garrick said their farewells, then retrieved the SUV keys, carefully scanning the guard’s mind to be certain there’d be no unpleasant surprises. They finally made it out the front door and were just sucking in a breath of fresh air, when Quinn caught a flash of red hair disappearing along the side of the house.

  He froze. Then shook his head. Impossible. How could Eve have snuck her way into Lord Sorley’s lair? Sure, he and Garrick had managed, but they were vampires. She was . . . Oh fuck, she was a beautiful wo­man. He wondered how closely Sorley’s guards had screened the “food” they’d brought in for the night, and knew the answer. Not very well.

  “Wait here,” he told Garrick and took off.

  It didn’t take long to find her. But then, she wasn’t exactly hiding. She was cozied up to one of Sorley’s white-collar people, a vampire who, if Quinn recalled correctly, was some sort of accountant who’d been thrilled to be invited to the night’s soiree. He sure as hell didn’t deserve to meet the same end as those two thugs in Howth.

  He strode up to the couple and caught the vampire’s attention. “Get lost,” he snarled, putting a punch of power into it. It didn’t take much. The vampire might be a financial genius, which made him valuable, but he had no power to speak of. Hell, he was about to be seduced by a human female. Clearly no one had taught him that it was the vampire who did the seducing.

  The vamp’s eyes gleamed briefly red, before widening in recognition. He’d been in the room for Quinn and Sorley’s little sit-down. His hands came up, and he backed away several steps, before spinning about and rapidly disappearing around the back of the house.

  Eve turned with a snarl that was far more vampiric than her retreat­ing prey . . . until she saw who it was. “You,” she said, giving him a confused look. “What are you doing here?”

  “Yeah, that’s my question, sweetheart. I was invited. How about you?”

  “I was dinner,” she answered, sounding a little defensive as she brushed her top off with nervous little jerks. She looked up suddenly and gave him a narrow look. “Wait. Why were you invited? You’re not their usual taste.”

  “Cute. I’m here to negotiate a business deal with Orrin Sorley.”

  “Business? What kind of business?”

  “None of your business, that’s what kind.”

  She stared at him. “Do you know what he is? What he does?”

  “Yeah, do you?”

  “Obviously better than you.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Oh, really,” she said. “What are you? Some kind of vamp lover?”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” he said darkly. Hooking a hand around her arm, he hustled her out to the yard where Garrick was waiting. “Look what I found,” he said, meeting his cousin’s curious gaze. “This is Eve. I walked her home the other night. In Howth.”

  Garrick’s gaze sharpened knowingly. “Small world,” he commented, then turned to Eve with a welcoming smile. “Nice to meet you, Eve. I’m Garrick, by the way, though my rude cousin did
n’t bother to introduce us.”

  Eve’s entire body language changed in an instant. She was all sweetness and light as she gave Garrick a polite smile and held out a hand. “A pleasure.”

  “Yeah, lots of pleasure all around,” Quinn said sourly. “How’d you get here, Eve?”

  She exchanged a commiserating look with Garrick, as if to say they both had to put up with this rude asshole, then turned to Quinn. “Not that it’s your concern, but I took the train.”

  “Fine. You can ride back with us.” He hooked her arm, but she jerked it away.

  “I have business in Dublin, and I’m not finished.”

  “Sure you are. The party’s over.” He didn’t grab her arm again. He wasn’t a fool or a brute. But he used his much bigger body to get her moving in the right direction.

  She turned on him with a furious hiss, and he felt the sharp sting of a blade against his abdomen. He looked down in amazement at the small knife she was already disappearing into a hidden sheath between her thighs. “Did you just draw a knife on me? What the fuck, Eve?”

  “It’s been a long night, and I’m tired of being manhandled,” she muttered.

  “Come on, then,” Garrick interrupted cheerfully, ignoring their hostile interaction. “It’s far too late for a lovely woman like yourself to be taking the train alone, and we’ve plenty of room. Idiot Americans, you know. We got the biggest vehicle we could find. Totally impractical on these narrow Irish roads, but I’m a good driver. Honest.”

  Eve’s eyes flashed a warning at Quinn, but she turned to Garrick with another smile. “You’re a sweetheart to worry,” she said, laying on the Irish brogue. “And me a girl you’ve barely met. You’re much nicer than the rumors say.”

  “Rumors?” Garrick repeated. “There’re rumors about me?”

  She laughed right on cue. The Eve and Garrick Show. What a hoot, Quinn thought sourly, as he followed the happy couple through the gates and onto the street. Realizing he didn’t know where the SUV was parked, he followed his own earlier suggestion to Sorley’s vamps and pressed the key fob, following the sound of the beep to where the guards had parked almost directly in front of the house. It was an oddly reassuring location. If they’d planted a bomb inside, they’d have moved it farther away.

  “Keys,” he said, and tossed them to Garrick, who turned just in time for the catch, as Quinn had known he would. Vampire reflexes. “You drive, since you’re so good at it.”

  Garrick grinned and went ahead to the driver’s side, while Eve dropped back next to Quinn. “Seriously, Quinn,” she whispered as they walked around to the other side of the SUV. “These are dangerous people you’re dealing with.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware of that, Eve. It’s kind of what I do.”

  “What do you mean? Are you mafia or something?”

  Quinn laughed. “Mafia? You’ve been watching too many movies. I’m a lawyer.”

  “Even worse,” she muttered.

  “Oh, ha ha. I’ve never heard that one before.”

  “I wasn’t joking.”

  He pulled open the back door of the SUV. “Get in.”

  “Why can’t I ride up front?”

  “Because I’m riding there. Come on, Eve. It’s late.”

  “Obviously, you’re the old cousin,” she said snippily and climbed into the backseat with a flash of pale leg.

  Garrick snickered, earning a glare from Quinn that promised payback . . . and had no effect whatsoever. Clearly he was going to have to work on his vampire lord mojo, because it was failing miserably with these two.

  THE RIDE BACK TO Howth was a silent one. Eve was regretting the snap decision to lie about how she’d gotten to Dublin. Her only thought at the time had been to give away as little as possible about her investigation, which, by the way, Quinn had completely ruined. She was still fuming about that. She hadn’t believed her luck when she’d realized that the vampire she’d been hustling inside the party was some big money manager for Sorley. Vampires were no different than anyone else when it came to money, especially ill-gotten money, the kind that came from smuggling and who knew what other filthy endeavors. She’d thought to seduce, or threaten, enough information from Sorley’s accountant to disrupt the flow of his cash. She was no super computer genius, but she had some skill. More importantly, she also had a close friend from all the way back in primary school, who now worked for a major financial firm on the Isle of Man. One who was always willing to help a friend out for a small fee. A very small fee in Eve’s case, since the two of them had raised hell together back in the day.

  She’d been well on her way to gaining exactly the info she needed when super-Quinn had rescued her. Or maybe he’d been rescuing the vampire from her. Either way, he’d destroyed her best chance yet to fuck with Sorley and his vampire empire. She’d actually held out hope that she could still salvage the night once she got rid of Quinn. The party had still been going strong, and while the accountant was probably running for his life, thanks to a certain interfering busybody, there were still plenty of other vamps she could hustle for information, building on what little she’d gleaned before Quinn interfered.

  It hadn’t even occurred to her that Quinn would offer her a ride back to Howth, or that he’d be so insistent she take it. She shouldn’t have been surprised, though. He might be irritating with his attempts at controlling her, but he didn’t do any of it just to be an asshole. Every­thing he’d done so far had been to protect her, to keep her safe. It had been a long time since anyone cared enough to worry about her. It made her want to like him, to worry about him, in turn. It also left her in a bit of a pickle. She’d either had to admit she’d lied about her car—and why the hell had she lied?—or accept the stupid ride and take the damn train back to Dublin.

  Which was how she came to be stuck in the backseat with an uncommunicative Quinn sitting in front of her. The few questions she asked, mostly about Quinn’s business and what had brought the two of them to Dublin, were met with few words and cool silence. He didn’t seem like the criminal type, but what did she know? He was a lawyer, and everyone knew they were sneaky at best, outright criminals at worst. Garrick seemed like a nice sort, but whatever relationship the two men had, it was obvious that Quinn was the one making the decisions. She studied his profile by the dash lights of the big SUV. Garrick was friendlier and much easier to get along with, but it was Quinn who intrigued her. She’d always been drawn to demanding men, and God knew Quinn fit that bill. The cranky bastard. Besides, he was so big and fit. And strikingly handsome, even more so now that she had a chance to study him at leisure. When they’d first met the other night, she’d been more concerned with getting rid of him before he realized she’d just killed two vampires.

  But now that she’d run into him again—at Orrin Sorley’s house, of all places—she was worried about him. Worried for him. He didn’t seem to realize whom he was dealing with in Orrin Sorley. Didn’t understand what he was dealing with, the monster that Sorley truly was. There were few things and fewer people that she truly cared about anymore. But, for some reason, she felt the need to warn Quinn. He probably wouldn’t listen, but she had to try.

  She glanced out the window, surprised at the sight of familiar landmarks. She had to admit that riding back to Howth was a lot nicer in the big SUV than in her small sedan. Or maybe it was just having someone else doing the driving. She wasn’t used to watching the scenery go by.

  Garrick drove them to a house in one of Howth’s nicer neighbor­hoods, an area of big homes with walled-in yards. It was smaller than Sorley’s place back in Dublin, but still large by Howth standards. He pulled through the open gate and stopped. Both men climbed out, with Quinn stepping back to open her door for her, as well.

  “What’s this?” she said, frowning. Did they think she was going to join them in some kind of three-way free-for-all? Because that wasn’t goin
g to happen.

  “I’m going to drive you home. I assumed you’d rather switch seats to ride in front, but you can stay back there if you’d like.”

  She scowled at the snide comment, but accepted his proffered hand as she climbed down from the SUV. It was too high, though she’d have been fine if not for the damn Miu-Miu stilettos which she’d worn solely to lure one of Sorley’s vampires—a mission that Quinn had neatly sabotaged with his interfering ways. She lifted one high-heeled foot to the running board below the front passenger seat, trying not to flash Quinn in the process. But before she could do anything else, he caught her around the waist and lifted her onto the seat, as if she weighed nothing. Her heart did that flutter thing again, in appreciation of his strength and gentlemanly ways. Stupid heart. He hadn’t lifted her to be a gentleman. He’d done it because she was taking too long, and he was in a hurry to get rid of her.

  “Thank you,” she said nicely. Just because he was churlish, that didn’t mean she had to be. But then she remembered her earlier deter­mination to warn him about Sorley and sighed. This could be her only chance for a private conversation. He might not listen, or he might brush off her concerns as craziness. But at least she could sleep at night knowing she’d tried. Well, at least as well as she ever did. She didn’t sleep much after dark, too aware that any day the vampires might figure out what she was doing and come after her. She had no illusions about the odds of her survival in that case.

  She waited until they’d left Quinn’s neighborhood behind, with the lights of the harbor shining on their left, then said, “How about a drink?”

  QUINN’S EYEBROWS arched in surprise at Eve’s offer. She was up to something. She’d been cool all the way home, talking mostly to Garrick, and now, suddenly, she wanted to stop for a drink? Maybe she’d figured out he was a vampire and was plotting his demise. He wasn’t worried she’d succeed, but he was curious enough to indulge her.

  “Sure,” he said evenly. “What’s open this time of night?”