In Too Deep: Station Seventeen Book 3

by Kimberly Kincaid

  “I’m a tough old bird. Just fine. And you can’t barge in on family,” his grandmother tsked, but the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth gave her away. “Quinn, it’s lovely to meet you. Welcome.”

  “The pleasure’s mine, Mrs. Turner.” Quinn reached out to shake Momma Billie’s hand, and now the smile on his grandmother’s mouth made a full showing.

  “Oh no, we’ll have none of that, now. I appreciate your manners, sweetheart, but Mrs. Turner was my mother-in-law. You can call me Billie, or Miss Billie if you’d rather.”

  “Miss Billie,” Quinn agreed. “Thank you for your welcome. I know I’m here with Luke unexpectedly.”

  “It’s no trouble at all. We’ve had quite a few unexpected circumstances over the last few days.” Just like that, his grandmother’s smile slipped away. “Are you two alright? I can’t even imagine…”

  The look on her face—the one that suggested that she not only could imagine, but had done so in Technicolor for the past twenty-four hours—sent unease rolling down Luke’s spine. He needed to focus on the end game. Talking about the kidnapping and the bomb threat would only terrify her.

  “We’re okay,” he said, making sure to look Momma Billie in the eye so she’d know he meant it. “The intelligence unit has a good plan. They’re going to catch this guy really soon.”

  Did he really say he was going to hurt you? Or come hurt us? Hayley asked, and shit. Shit, shit, shit, Luke had no good answer to her question. At least not one that wouldn’t frighten her out of her mind or be a bald-faced lie.

  Quinn looked at him, her concern clear, and he relayed Hayley’s question. He grasped for something—pretty much anything at this point would do—but then Quinn shocked the hell out of him by turning toward Hayley.

  “Ice said a lot of terrible things. But you don’t have to worry, because none of them are true. Your brother’s tough, and even though some of the things the detectives in the intelligence unit told you are pretty scary, they really are doing everything they can to keep us all safe.”

  Oh. Hayley paused, clearly processing what Quinn had said. Well, I guess that makes sense. And the detectives do seem really smart.

  Luke translated for Quinn, while Momma Billie placed a squeeze on Hayley’s shoulder.

  “Come now,” she said, her stare soft yet serious in the warm, cozy light of the foyer. “No more talk of bad men and empty threats. The police are doing their job, and Luke and Quinn are here, safe and sound. That’s what matters.”

  Okay. Hayley nodded, and Luke saw the glint forming in her eyes just a second too late. So if we’re changing the subject to happier things, does that mean I can tell Quinn about the time Luke put on a tiara and a feather boa to have tea with me when I was little?

  “Hayley,” Momma Billie warned. But something that had been buried for far too long broke free in Luke’s chest, and he shook his head with a slow smile.

  “No, it’s okay. Hayley’s right. We should be focusing on happier things.” He turned his attention to Quinn, whose curiosity was wildly obvious. “My adorable sister here”—Luke paused to let Hayley roll her eyes—“wants to know if she can tell you about the time she talked me into wearing a tiara and a feather boa so we could have high tea on her eighth birthday.”

  Quinn, who had zero poker face to begin with, barked out a laugh. “Oh, please tell me there are pictures. Because—”

  “No pictures,” Luke said, because as much as he loved his sister, he also wasn’t insane. “It’s a great story, though. If you want to hear it.”

  Wait. Are you seriously going to let me tell her? Hayley asked, her lips parted in surprise.

  But Luke didn’t hesitate. “Yep. I am going to let you tell her.”

  “Well.” Momma Billie brushed her fingers over the front of her blouse, and there was no missing the emotion in her smile. “I suppose all of our best stories do get told in the kitchen.”

  Quinn peered down the hallway. “Oh, can I help with dinner?”

  She gestured to the dish towel that took up permanent residence over Momma Billie’s shoulder whenever the woman cooked, and oh Lord, he’d never live down the raft of stories that were about to come out of the woodwork now.

  Funny, for the first time ever, that felt okay.

  Momma Billie put her arm around Quinn, flashing her a conspiratorial smile. “Everyone helps in the kitchen, honey. That’s how this family works.”

  Quinn shot a glance over her shoulder, her blond brows winging up as she looked at him. “You wore a tiara and you can cook?”

  Ah, busted. But it wasn’t as if he’d been willing to confess something as personal as learning how to cook at fourteen out of necessity before now.

  “A little,” Luke hedged, caving under the pressure of both his sister and his grandmother’s I-call-foul frowns. “Okay, okay! Yes, I can cook.”

  He makes the best marinara sauce in the world, Hayley signed.

  Upon hearing the translation, Quinn laughed. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

  Luke watched her make her way to the kitchen with his grandmother on one side and his sister on the other, the three of them conversing as easily as if they’d known each other for years, and his chest panged with a feeling that would have been dangerous if it wasn’t so right.

  “Yeah, well,” he whispered to himself. “I’m not holding out anymore.”

  27

  “Oh my God, I’m so full, I honestly think you’ll need a wheelbarrow to get me back to my apartment.”

  Quinn rubbed a hand over her belly, making her way to the unmarked police car in front of Luke’s grandmother’s house even though each step took effort. Between the incredible dinner, the very incredible dessert (Quinn would never look at strawberry shortcake the same again, ever), and the side-splitting laughter she’d shared with his family over the last two and a half hours, she was certain she’d burst at any moment.

  Even crazier? As full as her stomach was, it was nothing compared to her heart.

  “Yeah, Momma Billie’s cooking will do that to you,” Luke said, leading the way over the dusky front walk.

  “Nope. No way.” Quinn laughed. “I saw you make that buttery, fluffy goodness you called mashed potatoes. That meal was a team effort.”

  “You’re going to tell everyone at the fire house I can cook, aren’t you?”

  A few weeks ago, she would have worried that she couldn’t read either Luke’s guarded expression or the hard-to-discern tone of his question. But now she saw the playful glint hiding in his ice-blue stare, the slight yet definitely sexy twist of his full, firm mouth, and she didn’t even think twice about saying, “Uh, yeah. If you think I’m going to pass up a shot at having those potatoes every time you draw kitchen duty, you’re out of your mind.”

  “I knew I should’ve kept that close to the vest,” Luke replied, and even though his smile marked the words as less than serious, Quinn’s heart still squeezed.

  He’d trusted her enough to let her in, past his armor and his defenses and all the things that scared him.

  And now that she was there, she didn’t ever want to let go.

  “Well I’m glad you didn’t, because I had an incredible time tonight,” she said, threading her fingers through his. “Thanks for bringing me to meet your family. Your grandmother and sister are really great.”

  Luke’s low laugh melted into the shadowy twilight. “I’m pretty sure they both feel the same way about you. In fact, I’m willing to bet that Hayley won’t stop badgering me until I bring you back for another round of sign language lessons and crazy ambo stories.”

  While the four of them had spent a fantastic evening together, Hayley had shown a quick affection for Quinn that had been mutual. The kid was hilarious, not to mention wildly smart. Chatting with her via a combination of lip reading, white-board messages, and translation from Luke and Miss Billie had been all too easy, not to mention fun as hell. Although she’d never had a sibling of her own, Quinn had felt instantly at home w
ith Hayley.

  “I’d love to come back, and I promise to keep the ambo stories as PG-13 as possible. I’m pretty sure your grandmother wouldn’t appreciate—”

  Out of the corner of her eye, something moved in the shadows beside the house, sending an immediate, scissor-sharp fear through her bloodstream that froze both her and her words right there on the pavement.

  I will make every single person you care about feel what you’re feeling right now, and then I’ll make you watch while I blow their fucking brains all over the floor…

  No. Oh God. No, no. Ice couldn’t possibly be there, watching. He couldn’t—

  “Quinn? What’s the matter?” Luke’s body was bowstring tight and directly in front of hers in an instant. But then a breeze ruffled the thick canopy of leaves overhead, the light from the curbside streetlamp shifting to reveal nothing more than an alcove housing a pair of trash bins in the side yard of the house beside Luke’s grandmother’s, and Quinn’s muscles went lax with relief.

  “Nothing.” She gave up a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “I thought I saw something in the side yard there, but…I swear, being under surveillance all the time is sending my imagination into overdrive.”

  “Are you sure?” He lasered a stare over the yard. “Maybe we should have the officers check it out, just to be on the safe side.”

  Quinn took one last look at the shadowy space between the two houses before shaking her head. She wouldn’t let these creepy, paranoid thoughts snuff out the fun of her evening, and she definitely wouldn’t let them unnecessarily frighten Luke’s grandmother and sister.

  “No. They’ve been out here, keeping an eye on the house this whole time. If someone was out here, they’d know. Really,” she said, nodding toward the unmarked car a few dozen feet away. “It was nothing. I promise.”

  “Okay,” Luke said after a long second, pulling her close to complete the trip to the car. “Then let’s go home.”

  The officers made quick work of both the fifteen-minute trip from Miss Billie’s house to Quinn’s building and the sweep of her apartment, proper, before offering up a polite goodnight. She kicked off her sandals, the warmth and safety and pure goodness of the last few hours wrapping back around her as Luke pulled her close.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Quinn whispered back. She knew it should seem odd or even awkward that they were standing there in her living room, hanging on to each other without talking. But as crazy as it sounded, she didn’t need words. She was safe, strong. Here, in his arms, nothing could touch her.

  Here, she felt cared for. Beautiful just as she was.

  Loved.

  Quinn pushed up to her toes, slanting her mouth against Luke’s. Forcing herself to ignore the provocative urge to rush, she let her lips rest on his with only the barest hint of pressure. His mouth was warm, soft, yet steady at the same time, as unique as a fingerprint, and she memorized the feel of him before beginning to move.

  Slowly, she cautioned that part of her that still wanted to hurry. Quinn brushed her fingertips over Luke’s shoulders, the cotton of his T-shirt giving way to bare skin as her hands skimmed up to his neck. His muscles flexed at her touch, pulling and releasing in response to each of her movements, and she couldn’t help but press closer against his body in search of more.

  “Quinn.” He pressed back in a motion that fit hers perfectly, his hands at her hips, holding her tight. There was no mistaking the ridge of his cock against her lower belly, and the proof of his obvious arousal sent a curl of uncut lust to Quinn’s core.

  But she didn’t give in to it. Instead, she dropped her mouth to the slope where his neck met his shoulder. Hooking her fingers around the neckline of his shirt, she tugged the fabric aside, parting her lips over his collarbone so she could taste him.

  Luke stiffened at the contact, the blunt edges of his fingertips curling harder against her jeans. His breath coasted over her shoulder in a heavy exhale that threatened to rock her steadiness. It wasn’t that she couldn’t be patient—God, she’d wait all night if it meant she could have Luke in her bed, his cock buried between her legs until they both forgot their names. It was how much he clearly wanted her that pushed at her composure.

  Quinn didn’t want to hold back. She wanted to give him her body. Her mind. Her heart.

  She wanted to give him everything.

  Parting her lips wider, she kissed the column of his neck, trailing upward to the hinge of his jaw. The friction of Luke’s lightly stubbled skin sent little sparks of want through her blood, and she pressed up to her toes to angle closer.

  “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” Quinn whispered, selfishly letting her mouth linger over his pulse point just to feel it hammer and jump.

  “No.” His answer slid down her shoulder on a warm exhale. Even though her mind and body sent up matching protests, something deeper made her let go of his shoulders and take a step back. Grabbing his hand, she led him to her bedroom, turning on the small lamp on her dresser before turning to look at him in the soft, golden light.

  “You’re fierce. Steadfast,” she said, stepping in close and brushing her fingers over his temples. Slowly, she coasted them down his face—God, how had she never seen the subtle play of emotions there?—before lowering her touch to Luke’s chest.

  Quinn’s heart beat faster, in time with his. But holding back now wasn’t an option, and what’s more, she didn’t want to.

  She didn’t just want him. She wanted him to know.

  “But you’re also kind and honest. And I love you. You don’t have to say it back,” she added quickly as his eyes went round with shock. “In fact, you don’t have to say anything. But it’s how I feel. When I look at you, that’s what I see.”

  For a minute, Luke simply stared. But then the surprise on his face became intensity, and he pulled her close until only a few inches remained between their mouths.

  “I do have to say it back, Quinn. Not out of obligation.” He held her even tighter, their bodies fused from shoulders to chests to hips. “But because it’s true, and you deserve to hear it. I love you, too.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers, and just like that, Quinn was lost. She opened to his kiss, letting him search and find and take before claiming the lead and doing the same to him. Luke gave it readily, their back and forth building with ease that was both familiar and incredibly erotic.

  She slid her fingers beneath the hem of his T-shirt. A sudden urge tore through her, refusing to be denied, and she lifted the cotton just enough to take the edge off of it.

  “I want to see you.” Holding the fabric with one hand, Quinn ran the other over the hard, flat plane of Luke’s abs. “I want to see all of you.”

  He answered with a nod. A shot of desire bloomed between her legs as he let her lift his T-shirt over his shoulders, growing stronger still when she reached for the button on his jeans. She forced herself not to rush, to feel the glide of his skin, hear the shush of her fingertips on the cotton and denim as she undressed him. Finally, Luke stood in front of her bed in nothing but his boxers, and oh, she’d never wanted anyone so much in her life. But the hunger was so much more than a sexual pull to have him strip her bare or slip his fingers into the wet, slippery heat that had built between her thighs or push his cock into her harder and harder until she flew apart at the seams.

  Luke had given her the power to find what she needed. And now, she wanted to take care of him.

  “Quinn.”

  The whisper was all permission, and she didn’t hesitate to take it. She brushed her fingers over the curve of his biceps, marveling at the way his muscles tightened and flexed at her touch. Her hands traveled the expanse of his chest, her breath catching in time with his exhale as she skimmed the flat disk of one dark brown nipple. Luke watched her in the muted lamplight, and the intensity on his face amped her want even higher, making her heart pound and turning her nipples to hard peaks beneath her tank top.

  “God, baby. Please,” he hissed, his hips
bucking into the hand she’d lowered to his waistband. One swift tug had his cock springing free, and Quinn wrapped her fingers around him for a long, purposeful stroke.

  “Yes. Fuck, yes.” Luke dropped his stare to her hand, watching as she pumped from root to tip. Swiping her thumb over the bead of moisture there, she let her touch linger over the head of his cock for just a second before returning to the slow up and down rhythm. Luke kept his stare in place, and Quinn couldn’t help but do the same, the provocative sight of her fingers working his body making her clit throb.

  A moan escaped from her chest. Still, she didn’t slow her movements, testing out different speeds and pressure until Luke moaned right along with her. He thrust into her palm, his movements growing firmer and firmer, until finally, he pulled back from her with a sharp curse.

  “No more waiting.” Reaching down, Luke grabbed the edge of her tank top, guiding it over her head in one fluid yank. Her shorts were next, gone with an economical set of twists and tugs, and Quinn’s pulse sailed through her veins. Her bra and panties lasted only a few seconds longer, the lace barely having hit the floor beside them before Luke guided her back over the bed.

  “This is supposed to be for you,” she whispered, parting her knees to accommodate his body as he leaned in to cover her mouth with a long, sweeping kiss.

  “Don’t you see? This is what I want.” He paused just long enough to draw one finger over her sex, smiling wickedly when an involuntary sigh rolled from her throat. “I love you, Quinn. I want you.”

  Kissing a path over her breasts and belly, he slid his way lower, settling his shoulders beneath her thighs. Her clit ached with need and want and a thousand other things she couldn’t name. But Luke seemed to need to touch her as much as she yearned for him to give it, and he angled forward to lick her in one long, firm stroke.

  “Ahhh!” Quinn arched off the bed, her pussy clenching at the contact. His lips quirked in a smile that sent shivers over her hyper-sensitive skin, and oh God, oh God, she needed this man.