Tears rushed to the surface and she knew if she didn’t let it out, she would burst.
“Okay, fine. I’m only telling you so we can move on. It’s no big deal but Harrison Dex kissed me in the surveillance room behind the glass. He’s always had a thing for me and I guess he thought it was okay to just take what he wanted.”
“Was this consensual?” Silas asked quietly.
“Hell, no, it wasn’t consensual. He just grabbed me and smashed his mouth against mine. I thought I was going to throw up.”
Silas swore under his breath. “I knew something was wrong. Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because, I mean, it was just a kiss. Harrison is harmless, mostly. He’s annoying but I can handle him.”
Well, she could until today. That helpless feeling continued to linger and she hated it.
“It wasn’t just a kiss—a man in a position of power assaulted you,” Silas disagreed, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. “Has he done this before?”
“No.”
His strained silence weighed on her shoulders. She knew what he wanted to ask—did you report Harrison?—but he didn’t and she was grateful.
“I’ll handle Harrison when the time is right,” Quinn said. “He’s an annoyance. If he tries something like that again, I’ll knee him in the balls.”
“I’m sorry... I can’t let this go.”
“Why not?”
“Because the fact that he touched you without consent...it’s sexual assault.”
Quinn knew Silas was right. Harrison often abused his authority in small ways, nothing so dramatic as what he’d done to her, but little slips turned into big falls, which was what Silas was saying.
But Silas didn’t have to live in this town in the aftermath.
“Trust that I’ll take care of it,” she assured him, though Quinn didn’t actually have a plan; she just wanted Silas to stop. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks for having my back, though. I could get used to this working-together-with-benefits gig.”
He followed a faint scowl with, “You’re making light of this to try and distract me but it’s not going to work.”
“Please, Silas. Let’s just get back to the case.”
Her plea seemed to reach him and he grudgingly backed down but she could still sense that red-hot ember, pulsing beneath the surface, just waiting for the right breeze to spark again.
“Not quite yet...” he said in a low tone, his gaze locking with tenderness on hers.
Silas pulled her to him, sealing his mouth to hers in a firm, cleansing kiss that wiped away the memory of Harrison and replaced it with one hundred percent Silas.
She melted against him, blissfully drowning in the sensation of being wholly safe and secure for the first time since that awful moment.
Silas slowly broke the kiss but held her gaze. He thumbed her bottom lip and said, “If he touches you again...”
“He won’t.”
“No. He won’t,” Silas promised with a dark edge that stole her breath. “Ever again.”
Quinn shivered.
That worked for her.
* * *
Silas knew all the good reasons to distance himself from Quinn, especially in light of the startling information she’d shared about the detective.
The smart decision would be to take her assurances at face value and move on—he didn’t have time to meddle in someone else’s business—but the knowledge was like a burr under his skin.
“I just can’t shake the feeling that there is something behind Sara Westfall’s death that wasn’t right,” Quinn said, deep in thought, ready to move on. “Maybe I’m way too open to conspiracy theories but it feels too coincidental that Sara died after posting personal opinions on Spencer’s death.”
Quinn’s musing pulled his focus. “The problem with looking for conspiracies is that you often find them—even if they aren’t real. Be careful chasing after ghosts.”
“I would’ve thought that you’d be on board with chasing down this particular lead,” Quinn said.
“It just seems far-fetched,” he admitted.
“So you don’t think that whoever killed Spencer might’ve found a way to kill Sara as a way to shut her up? What if she accidentally stumbled on something and the killer got twitchy?”
“That’s an awful lot of ‘what-ifs.’”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“Have they?” he teased.
“Yes,” Quinn replied with a small sniff. “Truth is stranger than fiction.”
He chuckled, his thoughts still preoccupied. Silas knew all the good reasons to drop the subject of the detective but he could still see Quinn’s shaken expression and he knew she was making light of something terrible.
But before he could broach the subject again, Quinn asked, “Why did you bring me all the way here?”
The truth was he wanted to bring her someplace away from prying eyes. He was tired of the hotel, skulking around so as to avoid curious stares and the inevitable questions. But to admit that was to admit something was happening between them in spite of both insisting it wouldn’t.
“A change of scenery,” he finally answered. “And I thought you’d like the cabin.”
“I do. Under different circumstances...this could be quite nice.”
He agreed with a brief smile before sighing. “Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve been here. The offer is always there, but returning to Port Orion was never high on my list.”
“I can only imagine.” She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly as her fingers twined with his. “Maybe talking about the case isn’t a good idea. Maybe we should just talk, get to know each other.”
“You sure you want to do that?” he asked, enjoying the feel of her fingers entangled with his. “Things could start to get complicated.”
“Only if we let them.”
Easier said than done. Silas already felt knotted up over Quinn. “What do you want to know?” he asked.
“Ever married?”
“No. I guess this is where I say I’m married to the job and the FBI is a demanding mistress, but if I say that then I might give you the impression that I’m giving something up by being a workaholic.”
“Are you?”
“No. My job is fulfilling.”
He sounded like a robot, parroting the right words, but there was something lacking in their delivery. What was he supposed to do? Admit that sometimes he wondered what his life might’ve been like if he’d pursued a less demanding career? Thankfully, the moments were few and far between but they were poignant when they came.
The fact was none of his brothers had married yet.
Maybe they all had the same hang-ups about loss.
“What about you?” he asked, turning the tables. “Why no boyfriend?”
“When you grow up in a fishbowl, you get tired of the same old goldfish swimming in circles around each other.” Quinn pulled her hand free and adjusted her blanket before sharing, “You know, it just became clear to me that everyone was screwing everyone else. It was this big circle of who’s sleeping with who, partners switching with each other like a damn square dance and I didn’t want anything to do with it so I took myself out of the equation.”
“You don’t date?”
“Not locally.”
Ah. “Well, there are advantages to that, I suppose,” he said.
“Absolutely. I like that no one knows who I’m seeing and no one pokes their nose into my business. And aside from certain people, the guys have stopped pestering me. Funny thing, though, somehow a rumor started that I was a lesbian and suddenly, I was getting hit on by chicks at the bar. That was funny, but once I assured them that I enjoy a sausage and not a taco, they backed off.”
>
Silas laughed. “Never tempted to play for the other team?”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. After a few drinks I may have thought about the possibility for a night, but in the end, I knew I was firmly dedicated to Team Sausage.”
“That works for me,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. There was something intriguing about Quinn that drew him deeper and deeper toward the very thing that he ought to be avoiding but he wasn’t fighting it all that hard. “What other secrets do you have, Quinn Jackson?” he asked in a low, playful tone as he brushed another kiss across her lips.
“I’m lactose intolerant,” she answered, smiling against his mouth. “So whatever you do...don’t let me eat ice cream. Ever.”
“What about cheese? I recall you ordering a cheese omelet that was more cheese than egg.”
“Yeah, I paid for that later but there are some things you just can’t give up.”
“So what happens when you eat something with lactose?”
“Let’s just say gastric distress on par with Armageddon. My uncle Leo says I should have to register with the government as a weapon of mass destruction.”
At that Silas lost it, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. “You’re something else,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “Fart humor. How’d you know that was my secret weakness?”
“Isn’t it everyone’s?” she countered, grinning. It was almost too easy between them, seductively dangerous. Quinn knew it, too. Their laughter subsided and Quinn ventured, “Silas...what happens if the killer isn’t connected to Spencer’s death?”
That question haunted him at night. He knew it was a possibility—hell, it was a probability—but the answer always remained the same. “I’ll go home and resume my life,” he said.
“It must be hard to live with the knowledge that you might never get answers,” she said.
“It’s more like a numbness in your brain. After a time, the pain fades to a dull ache, never quite gone, always pulsing in the background. But you learn to deal with it.”
“What was Spencer like?”
Silas chuckled. “Like any other snot-nosed little brother who was always up your ass, wanting to do what you were doing.”
“Were you close?”
“Yeah. All of us were. But I resented him a lot. Spencer was the baby. He always got away with shit that I didn’t, and because he was closer in age to me, I always ended up his babysitter.”
Silas fell silent for a moment. With the resentment came the guilt after Spencer was found dead. “If it weren’t for me... Spencer would still be here.”
“That’s dangerous thinking.”
He agreed but didn’t change the facts. “I ditched him that day.”
“You couldn’t have known what was going to happen. Don’t you tell parents not to think that way?”
Of course he did. But it was different when the mirror was facing you.
“I don’t believe in fate. If I’d been there, none of this would’ve happened. That’s the reality. I don’t fight it anymore. I’ve accepted it. But it still sticks like a rock in my throat.”
“Where is Spencer buried?”
“He isn’t,” Silas answered. “My parents had him cremated because they knew they weren’t staying in Port Orion and hadn’t wanted to leave him behind. To my knowledge, my brother’s remains are in a vase in my mother’s bedroom.”
“Sometimes it’s nice to have someplace to go, to feel close to the people we’ve lost. I always feel better when I visit my parents’ graves.”
Even if Spencer had been buried in Port Orion, it wouldn’t have mattered. Silas would never have visited.
Quinn’s soft smile mirrored her touch as she tapped his chest. “Your brother is here. Always. No matter where his remains are.”
Silas fought the tears that burned behind his eyes. He caressed her cheek. “Who are you, Quinn Jackson?” he asked with subtle wonder. How had she dropped into his life without warning and yet...he couldn’t seem to imagine his life before her. He brushed a tender kiss across her lips.
Silas didn’t want to talk about Spencer any longer. He rose and helped Quinn to her feet. “Time for bed,” he told her, leading Quinn to the bedroom.
The heat from the fireplace didn’t quite warm the chill in the bedroom but a nice, thick quilt would keep them toasty.
That and their bodies pressed against one another.
Silas helped Quinn undress and they climbed into the soft bed, the old springs creaking slightly.
“I feel like I’m on Little House On the Prairie,” she giggled from beneath the blanket.
Silas moved his hand across her smooth belly, loving the way she trembled at his touch as he traveled between her legs, cupping the moist heat.
“It’s a good thing no one is around for miles...because we’re about to shake the rust off this old bed.”
Quinn giggled and wrapped her arms around him as he rolled on top.
Silas took his time, teasing her, showing her all the ways he was beginning to care about her with the power of his tongue and hands.
Neither were ready to deal with the ramifications of the words.
Even if they were both feeling it.
Chapter 18
Silas dropped Quinn off at first light to pick up her car to avoid as many questions as possible, and Quinn was thankful no one saw her as she drove away.
Tiptoeing into the house, she yawned and headed for her bed, hoping to catch a few more winks before it was time for work but as luck would have it, Uncle Leo was already up.
And the thunderous expression on his scruffy face was pretty intimidating.
“Is this how things are going to be? No call? No check-in to let me know you’re not dead on the side of the road somewhere?”
Quinn bit her lip, apologetic. “I lost track of time. I’m sorry, I stayed at Johnna’s place last night and forgot my phone charger. Were you worried?”
“Hell yes, I was worried,” he said, looking as if he’d aged ten years. “There’s a killer on the loose and you’re determined to put yourself in the thick of things. Why the hell wouldn’t I be worried?”
“I’m so sorry for worrying you,” Quinn said. “I’ll call next time.”
“Quinn...what is happening with you? It’s like you’re changing right before my eyes and I don’t think I like what I see.”
Quinn drew back, stung. “And just how exactly am I changing?”
“You’re just so...reckless and inconsiderate. I don’t even recognize you these days.”
“I’ve always been reckless,” she disagreed, but not because she wanted to own that argument but because she was hurt that her uncle was disappointed in her for whatever reasons he’d cooked up in his head as valid. “I will call next time.”
“You look exhausted,” Leo remarked with grudging concern as if he couldn’t help himself. “Did you and Johnna stay up all night, gabbing?”
Yes, because I’m twelve, Uncle Leo. She held the quip back, knowing that to let that comment fly would only inspire more questions. Instead, she smiled and said, “Yeah, some habits die hard. I’m going to crash for a little bit.”
“All right,” Leo said, grabbing his coffee mug. “I have errands to run. Be home tonight, please. My heart can’t take another long night of worrying.”
She was truly sorry for worrying Leo. He was such a protective bear sometimes. Quinn never bugged him when he went on his Thailand photography excursions. Not that she could. He always seemed out of cell service when she tried.
Quinn always had to wait for him to call her, which he did, but sometimes days went by without a single call.
But Leo had always subscribed to the “Do as I say; not as I do” camp and that was nothing new.
She went to her bedroom and
climbed into her bed, ready to fall instantly asleep but even though she was tired, sleep didn’t seem in the cards.
Her mind was already buzzing.
Was it wrong that she wanted Rhia’s murder to have some connection to Spencer’s, if only to spend more time with Silas?
No, that wasn’t the only reason, she told herself. Silas needed closure.
She couldn’t imagine bearing the burden of all that guilt for so long.
Silas deserved a break.
He was such a good man.
And so different from anyone else.
Even the way he touched her was unlike any other man.
Quinn ought to focus on the case but her mind was stubbornly set on thoughts of Silas.
Strong, stoic, surprisingly funny—and sexy as hell.
Anyone would have to be blind not to see what Silas brought to the table.
She wondered how many broken hearts he’d left behind in his life.
Being married to the job...it was tough for any woman to compete.
What would people say if they found out that she was sleeping with Silas?
Oh, God. The tongues would fairly fall out of people’s mouths.
In spite of the horrifying thought, Quinn grinned.
Let their tongues wag.
But most of all, she hoped that word somehow got back to Harrison. Maybe then he’d leave her alone.
What was she going to do about that situation?
Harrison had assaulted her.
Silas was right—there was no whitewashing what the detective had done.
But if she reported Harrison and the investigation went nowhere, she’d have to live with Harrison in the same town.
He could make her life a living hell.
So leave Port Orion, a voice said. Leave all that bullshit behind.
As much as she’d love to pack up and head for greener pastures, she wasn’t ready to make the leap.
She didn’t want to fail because she jumped too soon.
Failing and having to return with her tail between her legs would be worse than anything she could imagine.
The Killer You Know Page 15
