Black Sheep Bounty Hunter Read online

  “Of course.” Sadly, her tone wasn’t as cool as she wanted it to be.

  A large hand landed possessively on her hip. “Come on,” Quinn said. “Let’s take that case to my room.”

  His room?

  “Quinn,” she murmured as they went upstairs, feeling Zane’s sharp gaze following them as they went. “I’m not actually going to be sleeping in your room.”

  “Yeah, you are.” He sounded unconcerned. “It’s going to look weird if you don’t.”

  Lily opened her mouth to protest, but he went on before she could. “You’ve been in the room before, you know the layout. I’ll be sleeping on the couch.” He didn’t move his hand from her hip even when they rounded the corner and went up the second set of stairs where Zane couldn’t see them anymore.

  She really should move it, shake him off, but she couldn’t seem to make herself do it.

  Dangerous.

  No, that was stupid. She’d recovered perfectly from what had happened in her office and so what if she’d had a little flutter downstairs? That was nothing to worry about. She was letting him to get her far too easily, becoming far too susceptible. Maybe, in a way, having his hand there, having him touching her was a good thing. Like…a vaccination or something. Inoculating her.

  Wow, justifications much?

  Lily ignored that thought. “I suppose that smug look of satisfaction has got nothing to do with how comfortable the couch is.”

  His laugh was a soft rumble. “I’ll tell you about that later. Right now you’re going to get your own personal tour of my humble abode.”

  “I know all about your humble abode and I don’t need a tour.”

  Quinn’s hard mouth curved as they paused outside the door to the suite he occupied and she had to glance away, the fluttering in her chest starting up again, her brain helpfully reminding her of how that mouth had felt on hers.

  Mercifully he couldn’t actually read her mind, pushing open the door and gesturing her inside without any further comments.

  She pushed past him, going into the living area part of the suite. The double doors that led to the bedroom were standing open, the bed beyond freshly made.

  “Clean sheets,” Quinn said from behind her. “And towels are on the dresser.”

  Lily put her suitcase down near the couch, feeling strangely awkward and not quite sure why. “I can see that.”

  “Bathroom’s off the bedroom. There’s a minibar, but it’s only full of water I’m afraid.”

  She glanced at him. “Is that for my benefit? Because I assure you that—”

  “No, it’s for mine.” Quinn shoved his hands into his pockets. He always did that when he was uncomfortable, she noticed. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

  That didn’t surprise her. She didn’t know much about the Redmond patriarch, but she did know he’d been an alcoholic. “Yes. I can imagine you wouldn’t be.”

  Quinn held her gaze for a brief moment, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be sleeping here,” he said, changing the subject and gesturing at the unmade couch.

  “So you mentioned.” There was something in his face and a hint of roughness in his voice that caught at her. Had her very vague reference to his father’s past issues brought up some bad memories? “Sorry, did I say something?” she asked before she could stop herself. “I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s not that.” His gaze was very direct. “But I do need to talk to you. Why don’t you take a couple of minutes to get unpacked then meet me in the bar.”

  Before she could answer, he’d turned and vanished through the door, leaving her there in his bedroom alone.

  An uncomfortable feeling turned over inside her, though what it was, she didn’t quite know. Dismissing it, she picked up her suitcase and moved into the bedroom,.

  He’d mentioned getting unpacked so maybe he’d made some space for her clothes?

  A closer investigation revealed he’d cleared a couple of drawers in the dresser and the closet with its big mirrored doors was already giant, his own clothes taking up not even a third of the space.

  In fact, after she’d filled the drawers with a few items and moved to the closet with the rest, she realized that the things hanging in the closet weren’t even his — unless he liked wearing a dress when no one else was around.

  But she couldn’t see Quinn suddenly liking women’s clothes and anyway, the dress was far too small for him. It had definitely once belonged to a woman.

  Slowly she hung the items she’d brought with her and then, because she couldn’t seem to help herself, she drifted down to the end of the closet where the dresses hung and examined them.

  It wasn’t the only thing, there was a single black suit too, though it looked hardly worn. Quinn Redmond in a suit, with a crisp white shirt against his olive skin. And a tie that echoed the color of his eyes…

  Her mouth dried.

  On second thoughts, perhaps no thinking about Quinn Redmond in a suit.

  She turned her attention to the dresses again. There were only four of them and they weren’t expensive or fancy. Just the kind of dresses a woman would wear at home when the weather was hot and she wanted to be cool and pretty.

  Whose were they? An old girlfriend’s? Or someone else’s? Though she couldn’t imagine who else’s they could be. Perhaps that was something she could ask him?

  Why do you want to know?

  Lily let out a breath. It could be for…inoculation purposes. Building up her immunity to him. Because surely once her curiosity was satisfied, she’d lose interest.

  That could apply to a number of other things, too.

  A small electric shock darted down her spine, but she didn’t let herself think too closely about what those other things might be right now. Later, when she had more time to consider.

  Lily unpacked the rest of her stuff — Quinn had even left her a shelf in the bathroom cabinet — then went out in the hallway and cautiously back down the stairs.

  There was no one around, which was a blessing, though she as crossed the foyer area near the front door, she could hear deep voices coming from the direction of the bar.

  Quinn’s growl and Rush’s slightly lighter tone. Zane’s, cold and clear.

  She was half-tempted to wait and eavesdrop on what they were talking about, but she’d always preferred the direct approach, so she headed straight into the bar.

  Quinn was behind it, leaning his elbows on the polished wood, his long fingers laced together. Rush sat on a bar stool in front of him, while Zane stood next to Rush, leaning his hip casually against the bar top.

  All three of them stopped talking as she entered and she found herself the subject of the combined gaze of three Redmond men.

  A lesser woman — and hell, plenty of lesser men, too — might have quailed under that attention. Lily merely raised an eyebrow as she came toward them. “Don’t you boys do any work at all?”

  “Sure,” Rush said easily. “We’re working right now in fact. Plotting world domination and shit.”

  “Winding my staff up seems pretty much like a full time job to me.”

  Rush’s turquoise gaze gleamed with an unholy light. “You think before was a wind up? Baby, I have not yet even begun to wind! And when I do—”

  “Where the fuck is Ava?” Quinn said, cutting his brother off. “Also, that’s Duchess to you, Rush. The only one who gets to call her baby is me.”

  Lily opened her mouth to tell him that no one got to call her baby, but stopped when Zane gave a slight but meaningful shake of his head.

  He wasn’t wrong. Getting involved in an argument with Rush and Quinn probably wasn’t the best way to proceed.

  At that point — probably mercifully — someone strode into the bar behind Lily and given the way Rush’s face lit up it was probably Ava.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” the woman in question said, appearing next to Lily, tall and athletic in her police uniform, her red-gold curls in a severe plait down her back. “I had a—”

&n
bsp; “Honey, you’re here.” Rush launched himself off his barstool and grabbed his fiancée, bending to kiss her in an extremely possessive fashion.

  He might be the biggest dick on the planet, but, Lily noticed, his hands were careful as he cupped Ava’s face, light and tender even.

  Why the hell are you noticing the way Rush Redmond is kissing his fiancée?

  She couldn’t think of a decent answer to that, at least not one that didn’t involve wondering what it would feel like to be held so carefully, and she looked away, hoping like hell she wasn’t blushing.

  “Come on,” Ava was saying, sounding breathless. “We’ll take my car.”

  “Seriously?” There was a boyish excitement in Rush’s deep voice. “Can I drive?”

  “No,” Ava said patiently as the two of them turned to the exit.

  “Can I turn the siren on?”

  “No.”

  “What about the radio?”

  “No.”

  The two of the disappeared through the door.

  “Aww, you’re no fun,” Rush complained, his voice slowly receding. “How about a BJ in the front seat? You can even use your cuffs on me if you like.”

  “Only if you’re good,” Ava said and then something else that Lily didn’t catch, prompting Rush to laugh. It was a warm sound, full of feeling.

  He really loves her.

  An ache shifted in her gut.

  She ignored it.

  “Where are they off to?” she asked, noticing Quinn’s frown as he stared at the door Ava and Rush had disappeared through.

  “An errand.” His disconcerting gaze met hers suddenly. “Zane, you want to go and deal with that other shit we talked about?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Zane pushed himself away from the bar, giving Lily a glance she couldn’t interpret as he passed by her on his way to the door. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  Quinn didn’t look at his brother, his gaze firmly on Lily’s. “Take a seat,” he said once Zane had gone. The expression on his face was serious, his hard mouth unsmiling.

  The ache in her stomach turned over into something more like dread, but she went and sat on the barstool Rush had vacated, anyway. “Seems like you have something important to say.”

  Quinn stared at her. “You want a drink?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He pushed himself away from the bar and turned, without a word, to the shelves behind him that were cluttered with liquor bottles — mostly empty — and glasses and all kind of other clutter, including what looked like a box containing human ashes, though she sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.

  Pulling one of the bottles off the shelf, Quinn turned back and reached under the bar, grabbing a heavy glass tumbler and putting it down on the polished wood in front of her.

  “I said, I didn’t want anything.” She frowned, irritated with his high-handedness.

  “You don’t have to drink it.” Quinn pulled the top off the bottle and poured a measure of warm amber liquid into the tumbler. “This is just in case.”

  “In case of what?”

  He put the bottle back down with a bang and met her gaze. “I told West about what’s happening.”

  “What?” Shock broke over her. “But I told you not to—”

  “You’ve been hurt,” Quinn snapped back, his voice a whip-crack. “I know a victim of violence when I see one and I saw one in your office today.”

  Anger threaded through the shock like hot currents in icy water and it was all she could to stay in control of herself. That he’d misinterpreted her reaction in the office didn’t make her any less mad.

  “You shouldn’t have told him,” she bit out, every word sharp as cut glass. “I specifically told you not to tell him.”

  “Yeah, you did. Which would have been fine if this whole thing hadn’t concerned not only your life, but Rose’s, too.” Quinn’s green eyes were blazing. “I know you told me that you handled it, but sometimes shit that’s been ‘handled’ hasn’t been. And considering your situation right now, I’m betting a fuck load of money that it hasn’t been as well handled as you think.”

  Her hands were wrapped around her tumbler very tightly, the threads of anger pulling tight. The worst thing about all of this wasn’t that he’d told West even though she’d asked him not too. No, she didn’t blame him for that. She was the one who’d let him misread her fear and she should have anticipated he’d act in this way, because Quinn was a protective bastard as much as West was.

  The worst part was that this was all her own fault. Yet again, she’d brought it on herself.

  “Quinn,” she began.

  But he’d already charged on. “So, I went and asked West who the fuck might be responsible for making you afraid. To his credit, he didn’t tell me immediately, but he wanted to know what was going on.” Quinn’s gaze bored right through her. “He’s got someone very precious to him that he needs to protect. But he can’t do that without all the intel. Neither of us can.”

  Her jaw ached with the tension filling her, the ghost of an old, remembered shame. Of standing in that phone box all those years ago, one hand holding tight to Rose’s as her little sister cried, while with the other she juggled the receiver of the pay phone, punching in the 111 call. Of the absolute fury that had gripped her as she’d called the police on her father.

  That fury had drained away almost as soon as the police had arrived — she’d seen the blue and red flashes from the cars from her position up the street where she’d taken Rose, so her sister wouldn’t have to see their daddy dragged away — leaving in its place a cold, empty, desolate feeling. It had gotten even worse when she’d finally understood what she’d done and what the implications would be for her and Rose, something she hadn’t thought about at sixteen and full of a chaotic, terrible rage.

  But that wasn’t a failure she wanted frighteningly competent Quinn and West to know about. That wasn’t intel they needed.

  You should tell him the truth.

  Ah, but which one?

  She clenched her teeth together hard. The scent of whisky rose from the tumbler Quinn had put in front of her and suddenly she’d never felt more like a drink in her life.

  “Go on,” he said. “I poured it for you.”

  Fucking man. How did he seem able to read her mind so easily?

  She clenched her teeth harder, trying to resist, because she wasn’t going to break and taking a drink would be a break.

  “What did you tell him?” she forced out.

  “I told him you were being blackmailed and had been for months.”

  Her anger coiled like a cut snake. “Jesus Christ, Quinn—”

  “I had to tell him.” Quinn’s voice was hard. “You can’t do this on your own and neither can I. And it’s Rose’s life we’re dealing with too. I know you’re trying to protect yourself, Duchess, but there’s too much we don’t know. Too much you’re not telling me. And I can’t help you if you’re holding back vital information.”

  There was steel in his gaze, the kind that brooked no argument. The SEAL commander not the attractive, grumpy bounty hunter she knew. The kind of man you could trust absolutely, because he always knew what he was doing and whatever decision he made, it would always be the right one.

  It would be so easy to let him take the weight of everything. The heavy load she’d been carrying so long she’d almost forgotten it was there. But although Quinn Redmond was undoubtedly a man she could trust, she’d been wrong about people before. Which meant fundamentally she couldn’t give that trust to him. A suitcase, sure. But with everything else?

  Never.

  Yet Quinn’s gaze was relentless, a shard of sharp green diamond running straight through her. He wasn’t going to give up and she knew it.

  “Who’s Mason, Lily?” Quinn asked.

  Lily’s gaze faltered for only a second, but Quinn saw it. Her pupils dilated, her focus shifting from him minutely.

  What West had told him back at Duchess Bail B
onds had been bad enough, but seeing the confirmation in Lily’s eyes — slight as it was — was worse. Some part of him had been hoping that perhaps it hadn’t been as bad as West had said. But it clearly had been — and West hadn’t even told him all that much. Just that Duchess had hired him to protect Rose a few years ago from her abusive ex.

  An ex who’d left his mark judging from the expression on her face right now.

  “He’s no one,” she said coldly. “An old boyfriend of mine.” There was a warning in her voice, a very clear warning.

  Quinn ignored it. The time for warnings was over. He had people to protect and so did West, and he was done with Duchess putting a brave face on everything.

  “He’s someone, and you’d better give me the details. Now. I can’t keep intel back when it could be used to protect someone, understand? West has sent Rose to stay with Rhys and Vivi for a few days.” Duchess opened her mouth, but Quinn held up a hand. “Let me finish.”

  She shut it again with a snap. Her hands were clasped around the tumbler he’d given her and for some inexplicable reason, he wanted very much to cover her white fingers with his own, tell her that everything was okay, that she could trust him. But he’d long since lost the ability to reassure people, and besides, he couldn’t give in to those instincts now, not when the truth was more important.

  “If anyone can keep Rose safe it’s Rhys,” he went on. “And no, West hasn’t told Rhys that there’s an issue. What he is doing, though, is staying in your apartment for the next couple of nights, see if anyone breaks cover thinking it's you.”

  Her delicate face had gone white, making her eyes look very dark. “What has Rose been told?”

  “That West is having renovations done on his apartment and he has a job for a couple of nights, which means she has to stay elsewhere.” Quinn paused. “But if this goes on longer than a couple of days, there’s no way you can keep this from your team, Duchess.” It was the truth and they both knew it.

  Duchess looked down at her hands. Her shoulders were stiff and tight, her whole body radiating a brittle kind of tension, and the strange need to reassure her morphed into something else, something more intense. The need to gather her into his arms and hold her.