Maximum Risk

by Lowery, Jennifer

  Face ashen and drawn, she brushed past him and walked gingerly down the aisle. She held tight to the railing as she took the steps down, but didn’t ask for help. When she stepped onto the runway she paused. Her shoulders lifted and her chin dropped. His chest constricted. He knew the power of coming home. Only this time it was bittersweet.

  Savat would be a while tending to his plane, an extension of the man. Quinn didn’t blame him for hiding behind the excuse to avoid what lie ahead. He dreaded it himself.

  His cell vibrated. Private number. He answered with a brief, “Quinn Wolff.”

  “I can’t reach Kell.”

  He went rigid at the sound of Shea Morrissey’s voice. “What do you want?”

  “Do you have Avery Marks?”

  Eyes on Avery he said, “Yes.”

  “You’re stateside?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God. I need to speak to Avery. I’ll catch the redeye.” Muffled noise in the background. “Oh, and Quinn, Avery’s presence there is classified. Understood?”

  “I don’t work for you, Shea. Or the CIA. Wolff Securities took this job pro bono, remember?”

  “Just trust me on this, would you? Avery Marks is a very important asset. Right now no one knows she’s alive except your team and me. I need it to stay that way. Roger that?”

  His gut churned. This was exactly the reason he didn’t want to get involved with anything Shea Morrissey threw their way. Not only would it send Kell into a tailspin, it would turn an already bad situation into a worse one.

  “Is Avery in danger?”

  Shea’s silence was all the answer he needed. “Goddammit, Shea. I don’t want you anywhere near here. Give me a number where I can call you back.”

  “Look, I’m not interested in messing up Kell’s life any more than I already have. This is business. National security, if you want to go there.” A pause. “I need your help.”

  Shea had never asked for help. Even if he didn’t trust the woman, she sounded sincere.

  Damn it.

  Timing couldn’t be worse. His home wasn’t a safe house, but it could easily be a fortress with all the security installed. He and his brothers didn’t take any chances with the safety of the family.

  Having Avery here during the funeral would complicate matters.

  But if she was in danger he wouldn’t turn his back on her. “Listen closely, Shea. This better be legit, and you speak only to me. Stay the hell away from my brother. Are we clear?”

  He could almost feel the tension through the phone. “We’re clear. Just give me Avery. I’ll text you my number on your secure line.”

  “How did you get—” She had already disconnected. Gritting his teeth, Quinn stuffed the phone in his pocket and joined Avery.

  She looked up at him when he stepped down beside her. The dark circles beneath her eyes were more prominent and lines of strain bracketed her mouth. She’d been to hell and back and he hadn’t helped any.

  “I don’t think I should be here,” she said in a quiet voice. “If I could use your phone I’ll make arrangements to stay at a hotel.”

  Not on his watch. “I have a spare room.”

  A pained expression fell across her face before she nodded, resigned.

  “This way.” He led the way to a newer model black truck parked next to the hangar. A sleek silver sports car sat next to it. Bypassing the sports car, he opened the passenger side door for her and helped her in. Momentarily, she hesitated before accepting his help. Her stifled wince wasn’t lost on him as he closed the door and strode around to the driver’s side.

  He climbed behind the wheel and brought the engine to life, trying not to notice how small and frail Avery seemed pressed against the door. Her hands were clenched in her lap, traces of Ryan’s blood under her nails, her mouth drawn into a tight line. The tense set of her shoulders made him want to reach over and pull her into his arms.

  He slammed the truck into gear more roughly than intended and maneuvered around the hangar to the narrow dirt lane that led through the hardwoods to his house. A weight settled on his chest as he drove closer to what would be the most painful thing he had ever done. With the woman who would only complicate it more.

  ****

  Avery stared out the windshield at the long, lean log home in front of her. Her breath caught at the ground-to-roof windows of the A-frame style that soared toward the cloudy sky. An expansive deck wound around the windows and side, covered near the door.

  She didn’t know what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it. Then again, as she looked around the secluded cabin surrounded by tall trees, maybe it was.

  Quinn brought the truck to a stop in front of the door and shut off the engine. Uncomfortable silence filled the cab. He blamed her for Ryan’s death, but not as much as she blamed herself. Being here would only make that reality more painful. She wanted to get home as soon as she could and hide away from everyone. Which wouldn’t be hard since she had no close friends anymore.

  Grief tore through her chest.

  She’d thought being kidnapped was hell. Being here, at the house of the man who lost his brother while rescuing her, was much worse. How she wished she could go back in time. Do things differently. But would she? She wouldn’t have pushed her team so hard to make those extra deliveries if she hadn’t been running from her broken engagement. Even if life gave her a do-over, would she set a wedding date with Tim?

  Anguish made her head spin.

  Ironically, Quinn saved her life and in return she destroyed his.

  “Come on.”

  Quinn’s deep baritone broke through her misery and she pushed out the door. The chirping of birds greeted her. A sense of peace settled over her and she stood there listening to the wind blow gently through the trees, amazed she could hear it. There were no car horns, no traffic, no hustle and bustle of the city. And she’d swear she heard the soft lap of waves against a shoreline.

  “Avery?”

  Her eyes flew open. Quinn stood on the porch, holding the door open. The serenity evaporated and the ache in her chest returned.

  “Coming.” She took the couple steps to the porch, brushed past him and walked inside. The scent of cedar and sandalwood assaulted her as she stepped into the open room. It took her breath away. A two-story ceiling opened to the loft above. A true log cabin with walls made of rounded logs.

  “This way.”

  Quinn led her past an L-shaped kitchen, beneath the stairway and down a short hallway to a small bedroom. He took up most of the space with his masculine frame. Hyper-aware of him, she backed into the hallway.

  “Shower’s across the hall. I have matters to deal with, so help yourself to the kitchen.”

  “Where are we?” she asked, realizing she had no idea what state they were in.

  “Michigan.”

  He strode out of the room and she backed up so he could pass. She watched his broad shoulders retreat down the narrow hallway, rigid with grief.

  Soon he would bury his brother. She prayed she would be gone by then, because she wasn’t strong enough to face six funerals.

  ****

  Quinn watched in stony silence as the ambulance drove away, lights and sounds off. Chris and Kell stood on either side of him.

  “What time we meeting at Mom and Dad’s?” Chris’s voice rasped with emotion.

  “Nate and Evan should be here by seven. They’ll want to be there when we tell them.”

  “And Bailey and Dani,” Quinn added solemnly.

  His brothers glanced at him, but he turned and strode to his truck, unable to witness the grief in their eyes. Without a backward glance he drove away, the weight on his shoulders bearing down hard.

  He had already called the funeral home and taken care of the arrangements so his parents weren’t burdened with it. Not because he was the oldest, but because he’d caused this. If he hadn’t sent Ryan to protect Avery and gone himself, he would be the one lying in a pine box and Dani wouldn’t be a widow before
a bride.

  Blood pounded in his ears. Quinn slammed a hand on the steering wheel. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  At his cabin he stalked through the door and up the stairs to his bedroom, which consisted of the entire loft. With jerky movements he stripped out of his bloody clothes and went into the bathroom. Leaving the door ajar, he stepped into the shower stall and pulled the glass door closed. He turned on the water and bit out a curse when a cold spray hit his shoulders.

  As it warmed, he scrubbed Ryan’s blood off his hands, his eyes trapped on the bloody water as it circled down the drain at his feet. A fist wrapped around his chest and squeezed. A burst of air escaped his lips. He braced a hand on the wall, his vision narrowing.

  “Goddammit,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut until he could breathe again.

  Numb, he climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his hips. O eighteen hundred hours. He stepped into a pair of jeans and pulled on a clean t-shirt, the band still tight around his chest. Absently, he slipped on a pair of hiking boots then raked a hand through his damp hair and took the stairs down.

  No sound came from behind the closed door of Avery’s room. He paused outside, hand poised to knock, then thought better of it and walked away. As he passed the bathroom he glanced in to see it was just as he’d left it. The shower hadn’t been used and no towels were missing.

  He stopped and leaned back against the door to stare at the dry tub. Exhaustion tugged at him. A headache hammered at his temples. Did he blame Avery for not making herself at home? Hell, he’d been nothing but a jerk to her. She had her own hell to deal with. She didn’t need him adding to it.

  If only he could go back.

  “Quinn?”

  His head snapped up to see Avery standing in the hall looking at him. She still wore his shirt stained with his brother’s blood, her face pulled tight with strain.

  Damn. He’d forgotten she had no belongings. Everything had been destroyed in the raid.

  “Shit. Avery. I’m sorry. Wait here.” He took the stairs two at a time up to the loft, dug a t-shirt, pair of jogging pants, and socks out of his dresser and handed them to Avery, who stood right where he’d left her.

  She stared at them for a second before accepting. “Thanks. Actually, I need to use a phone. Make flight arrangements.”

  He hadn’t offered her a phone to call her fiancé because of the danger she was in. Quinn tamped down the perverse pleasure he got in that. He needed to get his head on straight before he did something stupid. Jeopardized another life.

  Sobered, he glanced at her. Right now she didn’t look like she could handle any more stress. When she found out she might be in danger and had to remain under his protection, it would only make matters worse.

  “We need to talk. Later. Right now I have to go to my parents’ house.”

  He walked past her into the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. Kicking the door shut, he held one out to her. She accepted and twisted the cap off with a shaky hand.

  The band around his chest pulled tighter. “Will you be all right here alone for an hour?”

  The corner of her mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. “Yes.”

  Quinn didn’t miss the spark of fear that flickered through her eyes or the way she wrapped her arms around herself, which prompted him to say, “You can come along.”

  Her head lifted. “I shouldn’t.”

  Wouldn’t make things any easier, but it wasn’t fair to expect her to be alone after what she’d been through.

  “There’s time if you want to shower.”

  She looked down at her borrowed clothes as if seeing them for the first time. “I’ll just change quick.”

  He frowned at her retreating back. Minutes later she reappeared, her hair brushed in soft waves down her back. His pants were baggy on her and his t-shirt covered her bruises to her elbows. The socks covered her feet, offering a little cushion, but not much. But she didn’t complain. Not that he expected her to. She hadn’t uttered one word of complaint since he’d met her.

  With dread riding his exhaustion, he led her outside. They drove in silence around the lake to his parents’ house. It only took a couple minutes, but felt like an eternity.

  Chris’s Harley sat in the drive next to Nate’s Jeep. Kell rarely drove, preferring to go on foot instead of drive the brand new H2 parked at his house. Bailey’s convertible sat in front of the garage and Ryan’s sedan next to it.

  Everyone was here.

  Quinn pulled in beside Chris’s bike and turned off the engine. The moment of truth upon them.

  His chest heaved.

  A hand touched his where he gripped the wheel. “Quinn?”

  Avery’s voice penetrated the ringing in his ears, propelled him out of the truck. Rigid, he strode toward the house, heard the soft click of a door as Avery followed. He crossed the low deck and pushed through the door.

  Everyone he loved in the world turned at his abrupt entrance and he knew they would never look at him the same again. After tonight they would always be reminded of what he’d done.

  His mother came forward, a questioning smile on her lips. “Quinn, dear?” She leaned in for a kiss. “Is Ryan with you?”

  Quinn stopped her before she could deliver, holding her at arm’s length. His mother frowned until she looked in his eyes, then the color drained from her face.

  “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Oh God, no.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom.” He spoke past the lump in his throat.

  Everything he knew fell apart after that. His mother let out an anguished cry. His dad caught her when her knees buckled.

  “What…” Dani asked, watching. Her gaze riveted on him. “Quinn? Where’s Ryan?”

  He lifted his chin then shook his head and demolished what was left of his world.

  ****

  From the doorway Avery watched a pretty young woman walk up to Quinn and slap him across the face. The sound echoed through the silent room and Avery flinched. The woman stepped back, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “You promised,” she said in a broken whisper.

  Avery waited for Quinn to defend himself, to tell this woman that she was the reason Ryan was gone, not him. But Quinn only stood there, shoulders heavy beneath the burden he carried, head held high. A red handprint colored his cheek, vivid where the color leached away. He looked so proud, so strong, bearing the burden of his brother’s death, holding it so no one else had to.

  Avery shook her head, willing him to do something. Tell them the truth. Put the blame on her. But he stood there, tall and proud, accepting her fate.

  No one noticed her lurking in the doorway and her legs wouldn’t carry her into the room to do what Quinn couldn’t. Why wasn’t he defending himself?

  A man, dark-haired, smaller in stature than Quinn, but with the same strong, stubborn jaw, wrapped an arm around the woman and steered her away. He spoke quietly to her and she went willingly, her shoulders wracked with grief. The blond woman who shared Quinn’s eyes held tight to the burly man who wrapped her in his arms. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt where her tears fell silently. Avery saw tears shining in the big man’s eyes, but he didn’t let them fall.

  Her gaze flew to Kell, standing alone across the room, his face a hard mask. His eyes met hers, seeing her for the first time, and she silently pleaded with him not to let Quinn do this. Kell simply shook his head.

  A striking blond woman crossed the room from where she had been hanging in the background and wrapped herself around the woman Avery could only assume was her mother. The same tall, slender figure and hair color.

  The man who’d slammed a fist on the hood of the classic muscle car stood off to the side, face pulled tight as he watched the two blondes. Yet another dark-haired man watched rigidly from his position by the fireplace. A muscle jumped along his stubbled jaw.

  And in the middle of the nightmare stood Quinn, rigid beneath the weight he carried on his broad sh
oulders. Alone.

  Anger built in Avery’s chest as her gaze bounced from one to the other. She burst forward into the room and planted herself in front of Quinn, startling those that hadn’t seen her. “What is wrong with you people?” she demanded her voice shrill. “How can you let him do this? Ryan’s death is not his fault! It’s mine!”

  Nine pairs of eyes turned to her and she continued, addressing all of them. “Don’t you dare lay this on Quinn. He didn’t—”

  Quinn grabbed her arm and she spun to glare at him.

  “Enough, Avery,” he growled.

  She yanked her arm free. “No, Quinn. I have to do this.”

  He leaned in to pin her with a hard stare. “No. You don’t.”

  Deep-seated pain shown in his eyes, despite his anger. She had to do this. If they wouldn’t fight for him, she would.

  Another hand landed on her arm and spun her around. Facing the young woman who’d slapped Quinn, Avery stared into her red-rimmed hazel eyes. Her nails dug painfully into Avery’s arm.

  “You got my fiancé killed?” she spat.

  Avery lifted her chin. Dani. Oh, God. “I’m sorry.”

  What color remained in the woman’s face drained away and Avery hated herself for causing Ryan’s fiancée more pain.

  Quinn stepped in, reaching for Dani’s hand. “Dani, don’t—”

  Dani launched herself at Avery. Her nails raked her face. “You got my Ryan killed, you—”

  Kell pulled Dani off. Avery clamped a hand over her stinging cheek, tears floating in her eyes. She refused to let them fall in front of these people. They didn’t need her tears. Didn’t deserve them.

  Quinn glared at her even as he blocked her with his body. Refusing to let him shoulder any more blame, she stepped around his arm, dodging his hand when he reached for her. Addressing the room she said, “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.”

  Then on legs that shook, she turned and walked past Quinn out the door. The instant her feet touched the deck a sob escaped her lips and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Pain built in her chest as she looked around for somewhere to go. She ran to the end of the deck only to see a navy blue lake behind the house.

  Trapped, she spun around and jumped the foot to the ground, cried out on impact, and ran toward Quinn’s truck, ignoring the ache in her feet. Desperate for escape, she scrambled into the driver’s seat and slammed the door closed. With a shaky hand she found the keys in the ignition.