Broken Promises (The Brianna Lane Series)

by Belinda Boring

  I dropped down to my knees, making sure I didn’t bang my head on the side of the coffee table as I peered below the couch. I was surprised by what I discovered beneath there and made a mental note to clean it up sometime this weekend—another thing added to my steadily growing list.

  I slid my hand under the base so I could move items aside, my fingers closing around something small. A quick rub of my thumb immediately told me what I’d found. “Well, it’s about freaking time,” I whooped, my voice muffled as I started backing up from the floor. I was beyond excited. “I can’t believe this is where you’ve been hiding.”

  “Good, you found it. Now get up off the floor and let’s go.” He gestured with his hand, eager to leave. I stared at him, lost in thought—the man looked amazing in a pair of tight jeans.

  Wearing a goofy grin and loosely clutching what I’d found, I was brought out of my musings by him impatiently tugging on my arm. I laughed as I tried not to trip over him, our bodies bumping each other. We were almost out of the apartment when I looked down at my hand and remembered it wasn’t my purse I was holding.

  “Quinn,” I interrupted, pausing to get his attention. When he didn’t stop, I jerked away and staggered back when his grip loosened. My body lost its momentum, and I would’ve fallen if it weren’t for his quick reflexes. He caught me with mere seconds to spare.

  “I don’t have my purse,” I said sheepishly, waving my hand in front of him. “It was the digital music player I thought I’d lost last week. Don’t ask me how it got there, but here it is.”

  I expected to see annoyance in those dark brown eyes of his, and not the twinkle he got when he was amused. His gaze softened, and he twirled my red hair with his fingers before tucking it behind my ear.

  “So you don’t know where your purse is?” he asked, adding a mischievous grin to the sparkle still flashing in his eyes. He licked his lips, moving forward as he pulled his shirt out from his jeans. “I guess we’ll be missing the movie after all.”

  Quinn drew me roughly to his muscular chest and delicious warmth bubbled inside me. It was good to see he was just as affected as I was. We could never get enough of each other—always needing to be touching in some way.

  He tilted my head and reclaimed my mouth, his lips parting so he could taste me. I melted into him as my hands gripped his arms for security. It was easy to become lost in moments like these. Then I remembered what else I’d seen under the couch. Reluctantly breaking away, I stepped around him and began yanking on the couch.

  “Move you stupid excuse for a sofa,” I cursed, stopping long enough to kick it hard with my foot in frustration. It remained in the same position, totally unaffected by my efforts to move it.

  I reached for the upholstered frame and began heaving again. My efforts were rewarded with a huge ripping sound as the fabric came away—leaving a large tear and causing my body to tumble.

  At this rate, I’m going to be spending most of the night on my back, I thought, giggling quietly. Without fail, strong arms encircled me and picked me up.

  “Sweetheart, I’m tempted to start wrapping you in bubble wrap. That or lock you in your room where you can be safe. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so accident prone.”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny, Mr. Comedian,” I scoffed, slapping his chest with my palm. “It’s not like I do it on purpose or anything.” I glanced at the stubborn couch and Quinn. “Make yourself useful. My purse must’ve fallen behind it when I tossed it earlier. I’m pretty sure I saw it back there.” I used a finger to point in the direction I thought I’d seen it.

  Flexing his muscles, he grabbed the couch and dragged it away from the wall with ease. I’d been right—it was lying underneath. I could’ve stretched all I wanted, and still wouldn’t have reached the bag.

  I quickly scooted behind, bending to retrieve it. I heard an appreciative sigh from Quinn and knowing what it was for, I added an extra wiggle. Backing up, my body hit him and just because I could, pushed into his groin. The approving sigh became a groan.

  He tightly held my hips, making it impossible to move from the position I was in. “You know if you keep up all this flirting, Bri, I’m going to change my mind about the movie.”

  Releasing a chuckle, I bumped him again before rolling my eyes. “You’re no fun. Let me go so I can stand up straight.” He released me and I clutched my purse to pass by. I should’ve known I wouldn’t get away with my antics when he slapped my behind.

  “That’s for being a tease.”

  As Quinn followed and locked up, the phone rang again. A feeling of foreboding came over me and I twirled around to return inside. He blocked my way, however, and gave me a slight shove in the direction of the stairs.

  “Keep moving. Thanks to your missing purse, we’ll barely make the theatre on time. We’re pushing it as it is. The machine will pick it up, and you can see who it was later.”

  “What if it’s important,” I moaned, unsure whether to tell him about the sensation I had.

  “If it is, they can call you on your cell phone.” He raised his eyebrows. “You have it, don’t you?”

  I opened my purse and saw it lying beside my lip gloss at the bottom. Admitting defeat, I blew out a quick breath and headed toward the exit. The apprehensive feeling was still there, but Quinn was right—it could wait.

  Calling over my shoulder, I began to run. “Race you to the car. Loser buys popcorn!” I didn’t pause to see whether he accepted the challenge. I picked up the pace and was out of breath when I finally reached the bottom of the stairs—beating Quinn by seconds.

  “So are you going to tell me what we’re watching, or just leave me guessing?” I asked, keeping my focus on the road. We’d thankfully missed peak hour traffic and the journey into downtown Penshurst was uneventful.

  I peered at Quinn, waiting for his answer. Ever since we’d started dating, we had this deal where we each took turns in deciding what movie we were going to see. It was something he had begged for after I’d dragged him to yet another romantic movie—a real tearjerker. He became adamant if he sat through one more “chick flick,” he’d turn into a girl, so the plan was instituted to protect his threatened manhood.

  I’d rolled my eyes when he’d said that because I knew the real reason—I’d caught him being sentimental. He still claimed it was from the air conditioning in the theatre, but I knew the truth. We’d just witnessed a tender moment and both had silent tears falling. He was busted.

  To appease him, an accord had been struck—for every “sappy” movie I chose, he would pick a “manly” one. Two hours of blowing things up and people killing each other made my brain explode, but for Quinn, I’d do anything. I didn’t mind anyway because I spent the time snuggling, enjoying the closeness.

  Tonight was his choice and after looking at the newspaper earlier, I couldn’t figure out which one we’d be seeing. There were three movies that promised guts and blood, and I tried to disguise my shudder.

  He sat there quietly, wearing a mischievous grin that suggested he was up to something and I braced myself for the worst. I checked my rearview mirror, careful as I drove through Pitt Street’s intersection. I flicked on my signal before moving over, making sure the lane beside me was clear.

  “Quit looking at me like that, and answer my question.” I laughed. “I need to know what blow ’em up, blood and guts movie you’ve picked so I can prepare myself.”

  “Well, I could tell you, but I love watching you squirm a little so . . . no. I’m not telling you anything. You’ll have to wait and see.” He looked through the side window, but not before I caught the smug look on his face. I wanted to throttle him. I shook my head in annoyance and poked out my tongue. He chuckled softly.

  “Don’t threaten me unless you know how to use it, Bri.”

  A blush burned across my cheeks and I opened my mouth to ask him how he knew. Before I could get the words out, he laughed again, tapping his knuckles against the window.

  “Remember, I can see
your reflection so unless you want a refresher course in manners, I’d keep your tongue safe in that cute mouth of yours.”

  “And if I don’t?” I replied cheekily, a small heat building inside me. Gosh, I loved this man, bantering with him. The look he was giving me almost reduced me to putty.

  He pointed at the approaching street. “Pull over, sweetheart, and I’ll show you.” He added a wink to his grin, and countless possibilities flooded my mind.

  “You know I’d love to, but . . .” I drew out my reply, putting extra emphasis on the last word. “We don’t have time so I think I’ll pass.”

  “I thought so.” Quinn turned back toward the window and strummed his fingers on his knee. I was tempted to do it—stop the car. But instead, we fell into a comfortable silence.

  The peace was shattered by a vibrating sound against the seat. Someone was calling and each time it rang, anxiety crashed over me. Whoever it was on the other end was persistent—when the call ended, it restarted again.

  I blindly reached for my purse. When I couldn’t feel it, I glanced down at the floor and a horn blasted loudly. A second later, my fingers grazed the bag.

  The cell phone stopped buzzing, and I thumped my hand on the steering wheel in frustration. I glared at Quinn who continued to look out his window, something obviously on his mind. He was being unusually quiet, but instead of questioning him, I reached for the radio dial.

  An unfamiliar song started playing and I began my daily ritual. I couldn’t go five seconds without fiddling with the radio, changing stations at a rapid pace while searching for music. Sometimes I didn’t even listen to the entire song either—one minute singing loudly and the next bored.

  He often teased me about it. He’d watch to see how long it took before I grew restless and switched programs. It forced me to try and finish at least one, but so far it hadn’t worked. He simply laughed, telling me how much he adored my quirkiness. It didn’t bother me—I loved that he was easy to please.

  Not wanting to break with a well-established tradition, I searched for a great song and after pushing several buttons, finally found something with a good beat. Increasing the volume, I leaned back and started humming. Another intersection was approaching and I turned at the light.

  “What are you thinking about over there,” I asked, checking the rear view mirror. The clock on the dashboard told me we had ten minutes left before the movie started. The theatre was on the corner of Bryce and Chestnut Road—not too far away. It would take another five minutes to arrive so I relaxed.

  He reached over and caressed the side of my face before tugging on my hair slightly. The gesture was accompanied by a smile and it warmed my heart. The man had a thing for my hair. It didn’t matter what I did or how much time I spent styling it, within moments of Quinn being near me, he had his hands in it.

  I’d questioned him once, and he’d said he loved how it felt against his skin. He could sit for hours if I let him, running his fingers through it, pulling the reddish locks to his face so he could smell it. The sensation was completely erotic and one of his most endearing quirks.

  I couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment when he stopped.

  “I was just thinking about the future,” he answered, before returning to his thoughts.

  I knew I should respect his privacy—he would tell me in his own time. I looked again, waiting to see if he’d continue. Quinn didn’t return my attention.

  Obviously I was going to have to drag it out of him.

  Chapter Three

  “Is something bothering you?” I asked, feeling a little concerned because it wasn’t like him to be so quiet. Something was clearly wrong so I tried to be patient—a virtue I didn’t possess.

  He must’ve sensed my apprehension because he tenderly touched my cheek, caressing it with the back of his hand. “There’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Just something I’m thinking on . . . kinks that need working out.”

  I started to ask if he was sure, but was interrupted by the irritating song that was playing—I instinctively changed the station.

  Quinn snorted. “Yep, right on time. I guessed it’d take you just over two minutes and sure enough.” I slapped his hands away when he tried to turn the dial.

  “Please tell me you weren’t thinking about touching my knobs!” I blurted before realizing what I’d said. Stammering as a scalding hot blush broke across my face; I grimaced and quickly added, “I meant the dial!” His deep throaty laugh filled the car.

  “Forget it,” I muttered, thoroughly mortified. I waved my hand, gesturing toward the stereo. “Go ahead. Pick a song.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, Bri,” he replied. Even mad, he had a way of making my stomach flutter and I couldn’t resist his cocky grin.

  “Please, just pick something.” The clock showed we had around six minutes left before the movie started and looking at the street signs, I recognized the road the theatre was on. Only a few more moments, and I could escape the embarrassment.

  He began clicking through the stations and was about to try the next when I screeched. “Stop right there. No, no, go back one!”

  Rolling his eyes, he did and instantly the beat from Linkin Park’s Numb blared out from the speakers. Taking in a deep breath, I started singing loudly—obnoxiously—with the song.

  His fingers began tapping along with the beat, followed by his perfect baritone. He joined in, his voice blending with the melody.

  I peeked at him and he smiled, placing his hand on my thigh. With a slight squeeze, I rested mine over his and enjoyed the tingle I got from the contact.

  Pulling into the changing lane so I could turn right, we sat at the red light and waited for the road to clear. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long before it changed and we continued onward.

  Suddenly his fingers tightened, hurting me enough that I flinched. “Ouch, Quinn, stop.” I tried loosening his grip, but he tensed it even more. Tears formed from the pain, and when slapping his hand didn’t work, I dug my nails into his skin. I moaned with relief when I finally pried his fingers away.

  “What’s the matter with you? Are you even listening?” I hit him again, thoroughly pissed and confused. He’d never done anything like this before—always gentle when he touched me. We rarely argued so his behavior was totally out of character.

  He snarled—the menacing noise shocking me. I looked away from the road and stared at him. I was stunned.

  “Watch the damn road. It’s like a death sentence getting in the car with you.” He reached over and I cringed, scared for the first time what he might do. “What’s the matter? Scared I might hit you?” His cold voice was heavily laced with sarcasm. He feinted forward as if to strike me. The smirk he wore placed fear in my heart—no longer the mischievous one I adored.

  That’s when I noticed his eyes. They flashed—rich chocolate brown then a light crystal blue. When they flickered and changed, I wondered if something was messing with my vision. Brown. Blue. Brown. Blue. Blue. Blue.

  “Quinn, what’s wrong with your eyes?” I asked. “They’re changing color.” I pointed to the flap that hid the passenger side mirror.

  He ignored my question and didn’t move. He simply leered and without warning, pulled the steering wheel, causing the car to dangerously veer to the side.

  “Pull over. I don’t want to go to the movie anymore. I have a much better plan instead.”

  Struggling to regain control over the vehicle, I panicked again when I over compensated and almost drove into oncoming traffic. Horns blasted as drivers flashed their headlights, and I scrambled to safely stop the car. He was different, crazed, and I wanted away from him.

  “I said pull over, Bri.” Hardness edged his voice like steel, and he gave the steering wheel another tug. I was prepared this time, and managed to keep the car on course.

  “Let go, so I can!” I yelled, no longer caring if he knew he’d scared me.

  Caught up in the moment, I realized I’d tuned out my noisy surroun
dings. Everything came crashing back—the blaring music and busy traffic. It was obvious a madman sat beside me and out of sheer desperation, I turned off the radio.

  Spotting a parking spot, I pulled in and was already in the process of undoing my seatbelt. I didn’t care about the car keys or that the engine was still running. I was scared, and the only thing on my mind was getting away from him.

  I made it as far as unlocking my door before his hand shot out, grabbing me. This time his grip was gentle, and without thinking, I stopped.

  It took some courage but when I finally faced him, I was relieved at the change. Gone was the lustful leer and coldness. Gone was the aggression I’d seen seconds before. The Quinn I was staring at looked mortified.

  “What the hell just happened?” His voice quivered, giving away his uncertainty as his fingers raked through his hair. His voice wasn’t the only thing shaking—his hands trembled when he lowered them. He sat there for a moment, turning them over—back and forth—studying them as if they held the answer.

  “Oh, Bri,” he repeated, shame splashed across his face. It seemed as if he wanted to touch me but hesitated at the last moment. My heart broke as he withdrew in horror over his actions.

  “Did I hurt you?” he whispered, and then added before I could answer, “What a stupid question, of course I did.”

  “Look at me,” I commanded gently, realizing whatever happened had past and I was no longer in danger. I cupped his face, brushing my thumb across his jawline. I felt him tremble as he leaned into my touch. He was clearly upset.

  “It’s okay. It’s over. It did hurt, but more than anything, you scared me.” I held onto his hand, placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. I needed him to know we’d get through it. “What happened? What were you thinking?”

  His forehead creased, showing me he was struggling to remember. “I don’t know. One minute I was singing with you, and the next, I had this overwhelming feeling to hurt you. I knew it was wrong, and I tried telling myself to stop, but it was like I was possessed. The harder I fought it, the angrier I became.” A sigh ripped from him. “Am I going crazy?”