A muscle pulled in the man’s jaw. “I should put a bullet in your head and be done with it.”
“Funny. I was thinkin’ the same thing, but Harold will take care of ya if I miss.” He was just that kind of bastard—no boundaries, no morals. He’d lie, cheat, kill, and steal to get ahead, and not even think twice about it.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
“Fine, we’ll do this the hard way, since you refuse to cooperate. But I promise you, I’ll make you pay for it.”
Quinn shrugged. “Works for me.”
“Don’t try anything.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Lower your weapon.”
“Sure. Why not? I’ll give you a sportin’ chance.” Quinn lowered the barrel.
“Drop it and kick it over here.”
“Fuck you.”
He faltered.
“Come on. I ain’t got all damn day.”
The kid approached warily.
Quinn tensed, ready to strike.
When the dickhead got within a few feet of him, Quinn punched him in the face, and then the throat. Gasping and wheezing, he stumbled back against the wall. His grip on the weapon tightened but Quinn grasped the man in a chokehold, slowly siphoning off his would-be kidnapper’s air supply.
“Why aren’t you shooting me?” he wheezed.
“I’m tired of leavin’ a trail of bodies behind me. But it’s not all sunshine and light for you, son.”
The man tugged at Quinn’s arm, but he didn’t release his hold.
“When I leave here, I’m gonna phone in an anonymous tip to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. You’re gonna get 25 to life for murdering Madame. And if you ask me, it’s a cryin’ shame Canada don’t have the death penalty.”
“No, wait I—”
“No sense in arguin’ about it. You won’t change my mind. And do yourself a favor, don’t rat Harold out to the cops, or you won’t live to see your trial.”
The man gurgled and gasped.
“But first, you’re gonna give me some information. Has he given you any other assignments? If so, what were they?” Quinn loosened his hold, so the man could speak.
“And why the fuck should I answer your questions?” he asked hoarsely.
“Because if you don’t, I’m gonna rethink my generosity.” Quinn squeezed even harder and the kidnapper choked.
When Quinn let him speak again, he started spilling every secret he knew, which wasn’t much. Apparently, Harold had a hit list, a black book of sorts, but his kidnapper only knew a couple of people on it.
When he told Quinn one of the names, his heart almost stopped.
Chapter 2
Three days.
Mack stared at her phone, willing a text message to appear. John Doe hadn’t communicated with her in three days. Mack couldn’t figure out what was going on, and she was starting to worry.
Mack had a terrible feeling she just couldn’t shake. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I even care?
Supposedly, she was using him for information, and yet their connection felt personal. After all, didn’t you just send him a selfie? Ugh.
If she were still working in law enforcement, and a confidential informant hadn’t spoken with her in a couple of days, it wouldn’t have bothered her.
But this was different.
Not knowing where Doe was, or what he was doing gnawed at her.
It was a little after three in the morning, and she should be getting back to bed. Yet, she couldn’t put the phone down. Mack knew she wouldn’t be able to relax until she was certain he was safe.
What if the Canadian authorities found Doe? Or, what if the FBI had gone after him?
Don’t be ridiculous. You would have seen it on the news.
Just then, she heard the shuffle of feet on the front porch, slow and deliberate.
HQ was protected by a state of the art security system. Nobody could get through it. Storm had installed the sucker, and it was supposed to be impenetrable.
Supposed to be.
A chill slid down her spine. Everyone was home, asleep in their beds upstairs. Being alone in the gloomy house made her feel even more vulnerable. Lord knows, her thoughts were already dark.
Mack pulled her weapon and stepped into the hallway, gradually edging toward the entrance. She checked the panel on the wall. All systems normal.
And then the red “disarmed” button flashed.
Shit!
Inch by inch the door creaked open.
Mack was prepared to shoot whoever walked through the front door. She sucked in a breath, tensing up, ready to do battle.
Mack cocked the trigger, preparing to fire…
But she gasped when the intruder stepped forward.
Mack couldn’t think or move, breathing was even an issue. She had no idea how long she stood in the hallway, gaping at the man in the doorway.
Impossible, it couldn’t be.
John Doe.
A few minutes ago, Mack would’ve testified under oath she remembered every line of his face. After all, she’d spent hours poring over pictures of him, expertly seeing through his many disguises. But seeing him in the flesh again was like being punched in the gut.
Mack had run into him before, just once, but she’d been surrounded by her colleagues, in the middle of a hostage situation. She hadn’t fully appreciated how freaking drop dead gorgeous the man really was.
Holy crap.
Doe was impossibly handsome with a square jaw, sandy blond hair, and warm brown eyes. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and lithe as though he spent all his free time working out. He had a tan, too. Evidently, being on the run agreed with him. He was even more muscled than before.
Maybe he was outdoorsy. She pictured him cutting the grass, tilling the earth, getting his hands dirty.
Oh, something’s dirty alright. And it isn’t his fingers.
“Hello there, Mackenzie.” His full lips curled into a naughty smile.
And she couldn’t help but return it.
His voice was deeper than she remembered.
“It’s Mack.” Mack licked her suddenly dry lips and his gaze followed the movement.
“I prefer your full name.” Doe glanced at the gun and then raised his hands above his head. “You aren’t gonna shoot me, are you?
“Not yet.” Mack placed the weapon back in her holster.
“Fair enough.” He chuckled, putting his arms down.
“How did you get past the security system?”
Doe lifted a shoulder. “I’m a thief.”
“Right. Yeah.” No wonder he’d disabled it so easily. No doubt, Doe had a lot of practice getting around security measures.
Mack had been thinking about him, dreaming about Doe for months. And here he was, like the answer to a wicked prayer. Suddenly she got the sense this was a new chapter, a fresh start, a beginning.
She clasped a hand over her mouth. Get it together, girl. This isn’t the beginning of anything It’s an ending—he’s a wanted man.
Like everything relationship, this association was concluding. Relationship? What? Are you desperate? You just texted the man. It’s not like he is your fiancé.
And you don’t even know his real name.
His parents hadn’t christened him John Doe, but the penal system hadn’t been able to determine his real name. Before he’d gone to jail, Doe had targeted wealthy douchebags, people who’d made their money by using super cheap labor, trashy reality television stars, and the like. He’d also never hurt anyone in any of his thefts.
Yeah, but it doesn’t make him any less of a criminal.
Mack had to do her duty. She swallowed. Instead of a lump in her throat, it felt like jagged slivers of glass, cutting up her insides, making her bleed.
She wanted to speak, but the huge, crushing tidal wave of disappointment had stolen her voice. Suddenly, she wished he’d never come here.
“So, what are you doing here?”
“Tell me.”
“We’ll get to it in a minute.” Doe looked her up and down and she could almost feel it, like a physical caress. “Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes and even prettier than I remember.” His gaze lit on the watch around her wrist. “You’re wearin’ it.”
He’d given her the diamond-encrusted watch from Hermès and it was worth more than she made in a month. Hell, three months.
Mack was really into fashion, and she hadn’t been able to resist the gift for long, even though it made her feel guilty.
“Yes, well, it’s pretty.”
“I’ll say.” He raised a knowing brow.
“I probably shouldn’t.” She wrapped a hand around her wrist.
“Why not?”
“You stole it.”
“No, I didn’t. I bought it fair and square. It’s actually one of my regrets.”
“Purchasing the watch?” she asked.
“Instead of stealin’ it, yeah,” Doe said quickly. “Believe me, I wanted you to have it, but I’ve never robbed a jewelry store, or a department store and I’ve always wanted to.”
The statement slapped her back to reality. Doe wasn’t the least bit sorry for his actions.
“Any second now, my co-workers are gonna head down the stairs and I’ll have to take you in.” Mack wasn’t sure if she was warning him, or simply informing Doe of what was about to happen.
Doe lifted his chin. “But you don’t wanna turn me in, do you, Mackenzie?”
She refused to answer him.
He sighed. “I’m hopin’ after you hear what I have to say, you’ll change your mind.”
“I doubt it.”
“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say.”
“No, but I know you didn’t text me.” What the crap is wrong with me? I sound like a sulky girlfriend.
Doe hesitated. “I was dealing with somethin’…important.”
“Another robbery?”
“No, a murder.”
She gasped. “You killed someone?”
“No.” His shoulders slumped, as though she’d disappointed him. “I’m a thief but I’m not a murderer.”
What if he is? What if I’ve been blind?
“The fact is, I don’t know anything about you. Tell me your name.” Doe was a mystery, a riddle and she needed to fill in some details.
He lifted a shoulder. “Why does it matter?”
“Because people have names and pasts.”
Quinn frowned. “Don’t you ever live in the moment?”
“No, because I’m not a child or a free spirit.” Mack liked her life to be organized and tidy. Once, she’d given in to her more hedonistic tendencies and her career had come crashing down around her ears. These days, she kept herself in check.
Doe made her feel reckless. Ugh. I’m like one of those dumb chicks who falls for a serial killer.
“Don’t worry. I can fix it.”
“There’s nothing to fix.”
“Yes, there is, you need some excitement. I can tell.”
He seemed so sure of himself. Doe was smooth, charming. She wondered if he’d used this routine on women before.
She rubbed her temples. “You’re getting on my nerves.”
Doe chuckled. “Nah, once you get used to me, I’m pretty likable.”
“Hmm. No, in my experience.”
He squared his shoulders. “Hey, I wasn’t textin’ myself.”
She flushed, and Mack could feel the skin burning on either side of her cheeks. She couldn’t say he was wrong. Mack had spent hours texting with him, waiting eagerly for his replies, like some lovestruck middle schooler
“Name.” Mack straightened her spine. “Give it to me now.”
“Fine, if you must know, it’s Jonathan Quinn, but you can call me Quinn.”
Holy crap. He told me. No, wait a minute. Check the fine print.
“You said I can call you Quinn, but it’s not your name, is it?” He hadn’t said, “my name is,” so this was just another evasion.
“I don’t have a name, not anymore.”
Okay, he’s not making any sense. For now, she would put it on a shelf, and come back to the comment later.
“What was it before?”
“Please, just call me Quinn.” There was something pained in his eyes, vulnerable.
And somehow, she couldn’t refuse his request.
“Can I ask a question of you?”
“Sure, go ahead.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Why were you texting me?”
Mack didn’t know what to say. Maybe because the reason wasn’t rational. It all seemed so harmless. As though interacting with him didn’t count, because she hadn’t done so face to face.
“I don't know, on some level, you weren't real. You were just these words on a phone.”
Quinn flinched. “It was all a game to you then?”
Dammit. “No, I said it was safe. I could control the situation.”
He shook his head. “Control is an illusion.”
“No, it isn’t.” Mack was a big believer in controlling her situation. She made lists, schedules, and had a five-year plan. “Why did you come here, Quinn? What’s wrong?”
“Listen to me very carefully. You're in danger.”
Silence fell between them. Mack could hear every creak of the floorboards, the whirr of the air conditioning.
“What?” Mack couldn’t decide if he was pulling her leg or what. Was this some elaborate lie? “Why would anyone want to hurt me?”
“Be patient with me,” Quinn said softly. “You and I have an enemy in common and he’s cleanin’ house right now.”
“This isn’t making any sense.”
And then Quinn shut up and lifted his arms over his head again.
What the...?
When Mack glanced over her shoulder, she saw every member of the Black Star Security team standing there, holding a weapon. Mack hadn’t even heard them come downstairs.
“Howdy, Doe. It’s nice to see you again.” West tightened his grip on the trigger. “Get your ass on the floor. Now.”
Chapter 3
“I should be the one guarding him.”
They’d left Quinn face down in the foyer, and Mack was getting agitated. The rest of the group had gone into the conference room, but Storm and Mack were standing just outside, in the hallway.
Storm’s girlfriend, Lucy Scott, was watching Quinn. She was a former Marine and bounty hunter before she’d joined Black Star, so she could handle the job. In short, Quinn wasn’t going anywhere.
But Mack wanted to be supervising his capture.
“We need to stop and think about this, rationally.” Storm was trying to be the voice of reason, but she was too upset to really hear it.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Mack, I don’t wanna offend you, but you’re not being reasonable.”
“In what way?” Because she felt like the rational one, while everyone else was crazy pants.
“Look, I’m saying Doe baited a hook for you.”. Travis “Storm” Reynolds had a lean, muscular build. He stood a bit over 6 feet tall, with dark brown hair and eyes. He slouched against the wall, so they were at eye-level, which wasn’t easy since Mack was nearly a foot shorter
“First of all, his name’s Quinn. And what does that make me? The stupid fish who swallowed it? Thanks a lot.” Mack couldn’t help it, she was spoiling for a fight. Seeing Quinn again had her feeling on edge and she wasn’t even sure why.
He backed up a couple of steps. “Easy now. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Yeah, well you did. Besides, he wants to talk to me, not you guys.”
Storm waggled his brows. “Oh, I bet he does.”
Mack closed her eyes. “Shut up.”
Storm paused a moment and then spoke slowly. “I just mean you’re emotionally compromised.”
“I am not.�
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“Then why are you getting so angry?” Storm asked.
Mack scowled. Storm had a point, not that she’d tell him so. Maybe she couldn’t be objective about the situation.
“What the fuck are you two doin’?” Jackson West poked his head out the door. “Get in here.”
West is the leader of their group and used to be a Navy SEAL. He had short-cropped blond hair and piercing blue eyes. His features were refined— high cheekbones, full lips, and arched brows.
It’s like working at Playgirl Magazine around here. None of them were ugly and right now, it pissed her off even more.
Mack made a face at Storm and headed inside. Like the rest of HQ, the conference room was rustic.
There were three brick walls, and one large floor to ceiling window, with a breathtaking view of the woods behind the barn.
In the center of the room, stood a farmer’s table surrounded by several brown leather chairs. There were a series of framed posters on the wall, all of them featuring motivational sayings.
The only easy day was yesterday.
Don’t run to your death.
All in, all the time.
The last one resonated with Mack. She wasn’t someone who believed in half-measures. Mack was a maximum-effort kind of girl.
Mack took a seat at the conference table. “I should be the one to question him.” There was no sense in postponing the inevitable showdown. They might as well have it out.
“Fuck that,” King said succinctly.
Thomas King was six feet eight with reddish blond hair and a thick layer of stubble on his chin. Like West, he was a former Navy SEAL, and he never hesitated to share an opinion.
“I second that notion,” Nox put in.
“Nobody asked you,” Mack grumbled.
Nox grinned. Logan Knoxville was a former Army Ranger and a damn good sniper. He had a devilish twinkle in his blue eyes and his hair was coal black.
Obviously, they wanted to keep her safe.
Mack didn't know whether to be charmed by their behavior or annoyed. They were treating her like a little sister. Mack knew the team cared about her, but she didn’t need anyone’s protection. She’d been taking care of herself for a long time.
“Well, somebody needs to interrogate him.” West placed his hands on his hips.
“I have a lot of experience questioning suspects, so I can take a stab at it.” Storm had once been a CIA agent and she didn’t even want to know how he’d gotten information out of detainees.
Black Book: Black Star Security Page 2
