Quinn put her hand on Nick’s. “Be careful.” The dread intensified into nausea.
“I will.” He tilted toward her, hesitated, then leaned over the rest of the way. His lips met hers with warmth and tenderness, a far cry from his last kiss. Quinn whimpered, a sound she couldn’t ever remember making before. He didn’t leave it at that but moved his mouth, tasting her, telling her what he still wouldn’t say, and her head spun. She felt like she was falling, but the world righted when he straightened. “I’ll call you.”
Moments later, after unloading Quinn’s and Sam’s things from the Charger, Nick was gone.
…
Their room was light and airy, a welcome contrast to the dim heaviness of the cabin and all the cheap, ugly motels they’d stayed in over the last few weeks. Once they were situated, Quinn needed things to be normal. She could still taste Nick’s mouth, smell his skin and leather jacket, recall the sensation of falling that was far too symbolic.
She hooked up her computer to the wireless network to download her e-mail. Sam set up his own laptop on the opposite side of the wide desk. Despite the decor, it was enough like their work routine to let her relax a little. She focused on the mundane routine of the Internet. Most of her mail was spam or short check-ins from Under the Moon’s staff. She skimmed vendor solicitations, a Liquor Control Commission newsletter, and a couple of client inquiries. Then one return address made her perk up.
“We might not have to track Chloe down.” She clicked on the message. “She e-mailed…” She trailed off when she saw the content.
Quinn :
I spoke to Tanda, who said you might be heading my way. I’d love to see you—everyone seems to be avoiding me. And I have to tell you something weird that happened, but only in person. Call me.
Chloe
She reread it aloud to Sam, who whistled. “Better call her.”
Quinn already had her phone out. “She gave me a new number. The leech probably took her phone, too.” She programmed the number into her phone and hit send. It was late afternoon, but the call went straight to voice mail.
“Chloe, it’s Quinn. I just got your e-mail.” Which she realized had been sent two days ago. “I’m in Connecticut now. I can be there in less than two hours. Call me back.”
“I wonder what she has to tell you,” Sam said. “‘Weird’ makes me nervous.”
“Me, too.” She scrolled through to make sure she didn’t have any missed calls on her phone. “I hope she gets the message. I’m worried about her.”
“I’m worried about you,” he came back quietly.
Quinn stood, leaving the phone on the desk. Any worry was unproductive. “I’m no more vulnerable than all the other goddesses and less than many, with both you guys on me all the time.”
“When we’re not, things happen,” Sam pointed out.
Quinn had to smile at that. “You’re not wrong.” She felt much better having both of them around until this thing was over. She had power, confidence, and the ability to take care of herself. But Tanda and Chloe had all those things, too, and it hadn’t protected them.
She turned and sat on the sofa, thinking. “Tanda said it was raining the day the leech came, right?”
“Yeah.”
“That makes sense, because he can’t leech power that isn’t there. But her power is much less predictable than a lot of ours. Why didn’t she have a regular protector?”
“I asked Nick. He doesn’t know much about anyone else’s schedule, unless a goddess is going to be left uncovered because of conflicts or something. There aren’t enough of them to assign one fulltime to any particular goddess, though. The ones whose power comes and goes most frequently and unpredictably don’t always have a protector when they should—like on a sunny day in Oregon. Too unpredictable, and without evidence of a threat, she might never get one.”
“And Chloe lives by the ocean, so she’d only need a protector if she traveled.”
“Right.”
“Same with Jennifer, with the river.”
“As far as we can tell, no one with a protector has been leeched, and vice versa. Where are you going with this?”
She didn’t know. It seemed like it should connect to the accusation that Nick had gone rogue, but how? Nick kept insisting it wasn’t important, but it had to be. And there had to be someone out there who could fill in the blanks. It frustrated her not to have anyone in the Protectorate she could ask but Nick.
Then she remembered. “Toss me my cell phone, will you?”
Sam obliged, and Quinn paged through the phone book. Somewhere in here was the name and number of a guy Nick had told her to contact if she ever couldn’t reach him. There. John W. She paused to consider what she was going to say, then hit send.
“Yo.”
“John?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Quinn Caldwell. I’m one of Nick Jarrett’s—”
“Yeah, yeah, one of his goddesses. I know who you are.” He sounded cold, and she cringed.
“Nick gave me your number a long time ago, and I thought maybe you could help me.”
“With what? Nick hurt?”
“No. I hope not.” There hadn’t been time for him to get hurt. But the foreboding deepened. “Are you with the Protectorate?”
“You could say that.”
“I’m trying to get a handle on this rogue thing. He’s obviously not rogue, and I want to know why someone would say he is.”
“What are you talking about?”
Oh, shit. She thought Nick had talked to them about this, or at least that other protectors would have heard about the accusation. She thought fast. “I just met my birth father,” she tried. “My birth mother is a goddess, but she’s not really part of the Society. But my father called Nick ‘notorious’ and was pretty hostile to him. I don’t know why he’d think such things.”
Whatever John assumed her subtext was, it seemed to ease his suspicions.
“Nick’s the best protector there is. You should know that, he’s been yours for, what, fifteen years?”
“I know, but in all that time, nothing’s ever happened. He sits in my bar and drinks beer.”
John laughed. “You only know about what you saw. His presence is exactly why nothing happened. Goddesses like you are constant targets, Quinn. He’s saved you and a dozen others more times than I can count on both my hands and feet. Twice.”
She’d had no idea, and it floored her to realize it. One day, she’d make Nick tell her about them. “So why would someone try to malign his reputation now?”
“Dunno. They’d have a hard time doing it.”
“Could it be a distraction?”
“Not a good one, since I don’t know what you’re talking about. The best way to distract Nick from his job would be to go through me.”
“Would saying he’d gone rogue do that?”
His voice tightened. “It would. I wouldn’t believe it, but I’d sure as hell recall him to find out why they were saying it. That’s the second time you’ve used that word. Why?”
If Nick hadn’t told his boss about it, she wasn’t going to. “My father’s reaction, that’s all. I think he was being protective, like he thinks Nick’s my boyfriend or something.” Across the room, Sam snorted but didn’t look up. “Thanks, John.”
“Let me talk to Nick.”
Shit again. “He’s not available. I’ll have him call you.” She hung up before he could argue with her and bent, pressing the phone to her forehead. God, she hoped that hadn’t been stupid. If John did a little asking around, he’d find out she lied about the rogue thing, and he’d recall Nick, and…she felt sick.
“Well?”
She sat up and sighed. “If someone’s trying to get Nick off the job or blamed for the leechings, they’re doing a poor job of it.”
“Unless they’re just getting started. We need—”
Quinn’s phone rang. She looked at the display. “It’s Chloe.”
“That’s
what we need.” He smiled, but it was tense.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Chloe!” Her voice was full of relief and excitement.
“It’s so good to hear from you! I tried to call but—”
“I know, Tanda told me. Asshole took my phone, too. The Society’s monitoring calls, but I don’t think they’re getting anywhere.” She laughed, a brittle sound. “So, what are you doing? Do you have time to come see me? Or I could come to you.”
The last part sounded reluctant, so Quinn hurried to reassure her. “No, we’ll come there. I have plenty of time. Tomorrow morning?”
“Perfect. I know it’s silly.” She paused, and Quinn could hear the rush of waves in the background. “It doesn’t work for me now, but I don’t want to leave the shore.”
“It’s not silly. It makes perfect sense.” Even during the new moon, Quinn sensed it rising. Even when she was close to normal, she never felt like anything but a goddess. The idea of losing that froze her insides. It would be the worst kind of torture. “I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from it.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Great! Hey, is it okay if I bring Sam?”
“Of course. He’s always good for my ego. Thanks, Quinn.”
“You’re welcome.”
She quirked a smile at Sam when she’d hung up. “You’ll need to lay on the charm tomorrow. She can’t wait to see you.”
He didn’t smile back. When he closed the lid of his laptop and pushed his chair back to lean over his knees, she braced herself.
“What’s between you and Nick?”
Nothing stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard, then admitted, “I don’t know.”
He dropped his head. Quinn bit her lip, unsure what to say or why he was asking. She couldn’t measure the silence and like a fool, filled it.
“He’s always been my friend. My security. He somehow knows me without explanation, understands what I need and what I don’t. He’s fiercely loyal and defensive.” She stopped, struck by the realization that she could also be describing Sam.
He raised his head when she didn’t continue. “What happened that night?”
“When I was abducted?”
He nodded, and she studied him, again wondering why he was asking. But the pain she’d seen behind his eyes in the first couple of months after she stopped recharging with him wasn’t apparent now.
“Um…let’s say he was…upset.”
Sam’s brows lowered. “He didn’t hit you, did he?”
“No! God, no!” She laughed and passed a hand across her face. She never talked about Nick like this. “We…reacted…unprofessionally.”
He rose to his feet and stood inches away. Confused, Quinn didn’t move. He slid his hand along the side of her jaw, cupping her face and neck and stroking his thumb across her cheek.
“You never kissed me, Quinn.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I never kissed anyone else, either.”
“Because of the intimacy.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t wrong. “Is it more than you can give?”
“No. It’s more than I can take.”
Sam nodded. “But you kissed Nick.”
Quinn opened her mouth but had no response. He must have seen them from the hotel office. Sam framed her face in both his palms, tilted his head, and lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was tender, loving, but nothing like Nick’s kiss earlier. A tear slipped out from beneath her lashes and slid down her cheek, then along Sam’s finger. A matching tear leaked from the other side. Sam released her mouth but not her face, and his eyes shone. Not with need or competition, but with regret.
“I love you, Quinn.”
She buried her face in his chest. “I love you, too, Sam,” she whispered, knowing he’d understand how she meant it. Sam’s arms came around her, comforting. Pure friendship. Quinn’s heart thrummed with her relief.
“Don’t give up on him,” he said. “It’s not the same. He loves you, too.”
Quinn backed up and palmed away the moisture on her cheeks. Nick’s story wasn’t hers to tell, but despite his recent lapses, she didn’t believe anything was going to change.
“I don’t deserve you,” she said instead.
He smiled crookedly. “Nope. But you do deserve to be happy.” He sat back at his computer. “Let’s talk about Chloe.”
Later that night, as Quinn lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her entire being seemed lighter. Freed from the burden of guilt over rejecting Sam, yes, but also hopeful. Which was stupid, because nothing had really changed for her and Nick.
They’d never discussed the soul-deep connection they’d made the first time Nick was assigned to her or the friendship that had deepened with every new moon. The heat between them had always been there, too, but never acknowledged or acted upon. The strength of his duty had always been apparent. But Quinn had yearned for Nick like a fish yearned for water. When she needed to recharge she chose men who reminded her of him, and the encounters always ended in disappointment. Sometimes, when she chose unwisely, they ended in something worse. Nick never knew.
One night about ten years ago, Quinn had built up the courage to make a move. Tension in the bar had been high, and a fight broke out at closing time. It was one of the few times she witnessed Nick in action. She wasn’t afraid to carry a bat into the fray, but Nick had beaten her there, landing enough blows to break it up and haul the main offenders outside. Then he’d cleared the bar and returned to her, fired up and eyes blazing with the strength of emotions neither one of them had ever acknowledged out loud.
And Quinn had taken a chance. She dragged him behind the bar and kissed him. He kissed her back at first, his hands tightening on her hips hard enough to leave bruises and ignite five years of banked passion. But when Quinn tried to take it further, he pushed her away. She stumbled against the liquor shelves hard enough to rattle the bottles. He flinched, but Quinn ignored the flare of pain, both where the hard shelves dug into her back and in her rejected heart.
“It can’t happen, Quinn.” His tone was raw and harsh, but she believed it was because he wanted it to happen, not because he didn’t.
“No other man measures up to you, Nick.” She stepped forward, and this time, when he lurched back, her heart broke open and bled. She didn’t move again, but she couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t give up, though bitterness coated her tongue and her words. “Believe me, I’ve tried to find one.”
He flinched again, to her gratification.
“I want you as more than this. I want to be more than a job to you.”
“You are,” he growled. “But I don’t have a job, Quinn, I have a duty, a responsibility that goes far deeper than a little bit of lust.”
Quinn gasped and backed away, raising a hand to stop him from saying any more. But he didn’t stop.
“You’re important to me. It would kill me to leave you to another protector.”
She sobbed a laugh. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’re making this worse.” She wished he’d come to her, hold her, reassure her somehow. But he either didn’t trust himself or didn’t trust her, so he stayed where he was.
“I’m being as honest as I can be. You—” He shoved a hand through his hair and gritted his teeth enough to make his jaw muscles flex. “You are incredible. The stuff you do, the people you help—you validate every choice I’ve made. Which puts me in an impossible situation. I can’t do it, Quinn. I’m sorry.”
It was the apology that hammered home the nails of his words. No more harshness, no raw pain, just conviction. And that was it.
Quinn hadn’t bothered trying to convince him that twelve weeks a year was better than nothing, or that she’d never find a man she could have a normal life with. She suspected Nick had hoped she’d find it with Sam when he came to work for her, and maybe at first she’d thought that, too. Instead she’d used him and risked the best friendship she’d ever had.
She rolled over and watched her ivory curt
ain go from glowing red to glowing green as the stoplight outside changed. A lone car drove up the road, engine whining slightly when the automatic transmission changed gears. She remembered listening to cars outside her apartment even when Nick wasn’t expected, hoping to hear the familiar purr. She didn’t know when that had changed. Maybe soon after she hired Sam.
Who had just told her not to give up on Nick, even as he finally gave up on her. Damn both of them for making her hope, anyway, after a decade of pining silently. No. Forget hope. Forget kisses and crumbling walls and the sense that freedom and love were attainable. No matter what, it wouldn’t happen.
She couldn’t handle that kind of pain again.
Chapter Ten
While our abilities are generally accompanied by compassion and wisdom, goddesses are as human as anyone else. Jealousies, rivalries, and split loyalties are all threats to the balanced dynamic of the Society. However, the truest friendships can also be formed between members, and these often begin at chapter meetings.
—The Society for Goddess Education and Defense, Special Session on Relationships
…
Sam, missing his Camaro, insisted on renting a sports car, then complained that men who drove late-model Mustangs were pussies.
“You’re the one who didn’t want another sedan,” Quinn said.
“This is a chick car.”
“They didn’t have Camaros.”
He shot her a pitying look. “Like a modern Camaro compares to my ’84, anyway. But that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
He set his jaw and looked sullen for the next thirty miles.
Chloe lived in a small cottage on stilts right on the beach near Westerly, Rhode Island. Her little place was crammed between two larger homes but set closer to the water than most of the houses on the street. The ten-foot yard held wild-looking rosebushes and sea grass, and a crushed-shell path led from the rocky driveway to the steps up to the porch.
Sam parked behind the Prius that was under the building, and Quinn got out and strode toward the steps, pausing to inhale the deliciousness of the salt air. The temperature was still mild for November, a light breeze off the water complementing the hazy sunlight. The rolling rhythm of the waves drew Quinn past the cottage and down onto the sand. The moon wouldn’t rise until afternoon, but its tug on the tide echoed in her blood. Today her abilities would be meager, but maybe the energy between moon and ocean would amplify them.
Under the Moon (Goddesses Rising) Page 17
