Quinn II (Undaunted Men #2) (12 page)

I can hear his clothes rustling as he bends down behind me, and then he places a cool washcloth on the back of my neck. My entire body shivers, both from the cold rag and his warm, tender touch. He holds it in place a moment before he gets back up and runs the water again, leaving the rag on my skin. This time when he comes back, he takes another cool rag and washes my face for me.

“Are you finished?” he softly asks.

“I think so.” My voice comes out hoarse and throaty.

“Come on. Let's get up off this cold, hard floor.” He helps me stand up on shaky limbs, and turns me around. I come face-to-face with myself in his full-length bathroom mirror. I’m wearing one of his T-shirts, the sleeves coming down to my elbows and the hem coming down to my knees. My hair is a mess, and I look every bit of what I feel, which is like shit.

He reaches around me and picks up the cup of mouthwash he had laid out for me, bringing it to my lips. “Come on, Baby. Let's rinse this out.”

I go through the motions of doing what he asks in a numbed state of mind. I swish the strong minty flavor in my mouth, and then spit it in his sink. He rinses the rag out under the cool water then washes my face one more time. He turns me around in his arms, holding me against his chest; while he wears a remorseful frown, I search his eyes for answers. “How can you be so vile one minute, and full of empathy the next?” I ask with a scratchy voice.

He lays his forehead against mine, softly breathing over my skin. “To be honest,
I sometimes don’t know how to handle you. I want to be gentle with you, but the second I am, you want to plow over me.
Why? Why do you push me like this?” I swallow hard against my sore throat, saying nothing. I’m still in shock over that picture.

“Dammit,” he curses under his breath, “do you really think I want shit to go down this way between us? Do you?” he asks, frustrated.

I surprise myself by having a response. “You need help.” He lifts his chin toward the ceiling and bellows with laughter.
 

“Do you think this is funny?” I ask, perplexed and a little perturbed, thinking he might’ve just flipped his lid.

He looks back at me, his laughter coming to an abrupt halt. His jaw muscles flex, and just that quickly he’s angry. I’m officially scared as he pushes me up against the wall, his body pressing into mine as he gets in my face.

“No, I don't think this is fucking funny,” he barks. “You're driving me mad, and making things far more difficult than they need to be. I wouldn't have had to take things to the extremes I did to get your undivided attention. You needed a reminder that I will stop at nothing to get what I want. So no, this is far from being funny.”
 

I don’t know where I find the nerve to speak. Maybe I’ve flipped my own lid as I boldly state, “I don't care what you say; my dad will help me.”

Vince laughs again, but this time it's a coldhearted, deep laugh that gives me chills. “Now
that
is funny,” he says, emphasizing the word
that
. “Your father has been played like a puppet in a marionette show, and he knows it. There’s not a damn thing he can do about your situation, let alone his own.” My eyes
grow wide
as I silently shake my head in disbelief. My heart begins to thrum in my ears, wondering how it's possible he got one over on my dad.

Vince watches his own fingers as he gently trails them down my neck in a show of ownership, and then flicks his eyes back to mine. “It's true, Sweetheart. I've got everybody right where I want them, including you.”

My knees collapse, and my body begins to slink to the floor. I can't take anymore. Vince wraps his arms around me to hold me up. I don't want him to touch me. I shove my hands against his chest, trying to push him away, but he won’t budge. My hands begin to tremble. I feel clammy, and my sight
turns dizzy
. My body sways, and then suddenly I find myself airborne. He has me cradled in his strong arms as he carries me out into the hallway and into another bedroom.

Vince gently lays my overstressed body down on top of a soft down comforter. I want to scoot myself back up against the headboard to get away from him, but I can’t seem to move. I'm both stunned and paralyzed from his declarations. I must be in some sort of shock.
 

He silently gazes over me, and I watch as his face softens, his lips turning down into a frown. I think for a minute he feels bad for putting me through all this mess, but that’s a ridiculous thought. Vince doesn’t feel anymore, but I have to stay in his twisted game, because he now has something I want – Quinn.

He turns and disappears out of the bedroom for a minute, and when he returns he's holding a glass of water and something in his other hand. The mattress dips down beside me, his weight making me roll toward him. “Sit up a sec,” he says softly. “I want you to take these.”

“What is it?” I ask, curious.

“I know you have a headache, plus you're dehydrated.” I sit up in bed and hold out my hand, but he pulls his hand back. “Uh-uh, let me take care of you.” I roll my eyes at him, but nevertheless, I allow him to place the pills on my tongue. He brings the glass of water to my lips, and I drink, swallowing the pills.
 

Once I've had my fill of water, I lay back down on the bed and roll to my side, facing away from him. Saying nothing, he crawls into bed beside me and pulls my back into his chest. I just want to cry for everyone and everything. He’s lost in his own thoughts as he silently plays with a few strands of my long hair.
 

“I know you think I’m a heartless bastard, and maybe I am, but not when it comes to you. You make me feel whole, Lexi. Even when we were kids, you filled an empty part of me. I can't seem to breathe without you.”
 

I have nothing to say to him. If I open my mouth, we will only argue. He falls silent again as he continues to twirl a strand of hair around his finger. He’s being introspective, and I don’t want to know what he’s thinking.

He startles me when he breaks the silence with a soft, gentle voice. “You see, right after Bennett died, Connor and I began investigating his death. Shortly after he was murdered, I got on Bennett’s personal computer to look for any sort of clues. Both Connor and I were determined to find answers.”

This is the most he’s talked about Bennett to me. Bennett was Vince's brother, and his best friend. Since we all grew up together and had known Bennett for years, experiencing his death was tragic and untimely. He was so young, only two years younger than Vince. We all looked after him when he was little. I have many fond memories of the both of us making his favorite cookies in my mother's kitchen when he was little. He was a cute little cuss, and his trying to pronounce his favorite, chocolate chip cookies, was priceless. He grew to be a very handsome man, and being the baby of the family, he was loved by everyone who surrounded him.

After Bennett died, both Vince and Connor changed. They became reclusive and quiet. I had no idea they were doing their own investigative work. “We had plans, you know,” he whispers solemnly.
“The three of us had so many plans…” He trails off, not finishing his sentence. He chokes back his emotions, and holds
me tighter, pressing his lips to the top of my head.

When he regains his composure, he continues, “Anyway, I was able to hack into his laptop, because I wanted to leave no stone unturned. I needed answers. I found a few things out that day, and needless to say I was floored.”

Curious, I twist around in his hold, looking up at him. He meets my gaze, giving me a soft smile. “What did you find?” I whisper.

He shakes his head wearing a frown. “No, Baby, it’s not for you to know. There are only two other people who know what I know, and Connor isn’t one of them.”

My forehead wrinkles as I process this news. “What does all this have to do with Bennett?”

He thinks about my question as his thumb lightly strokes along my cheek. “I can’t discuss it yet. There are still a few gray areas I’m working through.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, confused.
   

He bites the inside of his cheek, thinking before he speaks. “I guess I don’t really know. Most times, what I love about you is your sweet innocence, and I fear it would crush you if you knew what I know.”

“Even though you crush me in other ways? Like framing me for murder. How is that any different?” I ask, my tone more unruffled, masking my irritation in hopes of getting a real answer.

“I don’t mean to crush you, Baby,” he murmurs, his eyes downcast, seemingly remorseful for what he's putting me through. “I love you so damn much, and when you rub me against the grain…” He shakes his head as if he doesn’t know how to put his thoughts into words. “I just go crazy inside. Just don’t fight me anymore, because if you do, I will surely push back ten-fold,” he solemnly promises. “You’ll continue to force me to come up with more consequences for your actions, and trust me when I say you won't like them.” I search his eyes and a chill runs through me. I bite at my lower lip, because I know he’s dead serious.
 

“I want to go home,” I whisper, needing to get away from his proximity.

He looks at me thoughtfully before he answers, “You are home now, Lexi. We can go visit your family when I feel you're ready.” I close my eyes in defeat. I’m so damn exhausted it’s not even funny. I don’t have the energy to argue anymore; he’s depleted me.
 

I wanted to go home so I could enlist my dad’s help to rescue Quinn. I have no idea what they plan to do with him, but my imagination is running wild. I need to know the answer more than I need my next breath. “What are you going to do with Quinn?” I ask with trepidation.

“The less you know, the better.” His jaw muscles flex as he grinds his teeth, and I know I hit a nerve. He didn’t like the fact that Quinn and I became intimate.

“He’s innocent,” I carefully insist. “He didn’t know about your plans, so you can’t just...”
 

Vince harshly interrupts, “He’s not innocent.”
 

“What are you talking about?” My heart skips a beat as I think of Quinn tied up somewhere, and I can only pray he’s safe until I can get him help. “Stop talking in circles, Vince. He didn’t know you were trapping him. He didn’t know you had already laid claim to me.”

“No…you got it all wrong.” He looks down on me with a sadness I don’t understand. He caresses the side of my face in a comforting gesture, but his touch is anything but consoling. “He’s the one who murdered Bennett.”

My heart had skidded to a full stop. I’m slammed with shock and disbelief -
 
there is no way Quinn killed Bennett. He’s not part of anything mafia-related, at least not that I know of. Plus, he lives far away.
 

Vince remains silent, studying my reaction, but I’m too taken aback to have a reply as I digest Vince’s claim. As I think back, it dawns on me that my dad hired Quinn to track me down. How would my dad have known him otherwise? He is a private contractor after all, but I don't see Quinn getting mixed up in my family's business. I’m perplexed, because Quinn is one of the good guys. He wouldn't kill without reason. Either way, I just know he doesn’t have any connection to Bennett.

“No,” I whisper as I start to panic. “That can’t be right.”

“I’m afraid it is,” Vince replies. “Quinn is every bit the cold-blooded killer as I am.” He runs his fingers through my hair in a gentle caress, and I jerk back from his touch. “Don't you see? Your lover and I are really no different. We’re two of a kind. This is the way the real world works, Sweetheart.”
 

“Is that statement supposed to make me feel better about you?”
 

Vince shrugs his shoulders. “I’m just stating the obvious. We both kill to protect the things we deem most important.”

I shake my head, denying his claims. “Quinn is nothing like you.” I begin to fume. “There’s no way he killed Bennett, and even if he did as you say, I know without a doubt his back was probably against the wall, making it the only viable choice he had.” I witnessed Quinn firsthand when we were ambushed, and again when he rescued me from those horrid thugs. He told me he didn't want to kill those men in front of me, because he knew of the nightmares that would follow. There’s no doubt he would kill if his life was on the line, but if he had a choice, I know he prefers not to. If he were a bloodthirsty monger like Vince, none of those men would’ve made it out of the woods alive. It was his job to protect me, and he did.

Vince scoots backward a tad in order to roll me over. He lightly holds my chin as we face each other eye to eye, and then he explains, “We all have our own reasons for doing things the way we do, and whether they’re valid or not isn’t the issue. He crossed the line.”
 

“You mean he crossed
your
line. He could be innocent, and yet you automatically count him as guilty. You’re not going to kill him,” I demand in a low shaky voice. “You can’t.”

“There are some things you shouldn’t be in the know about, Alexis - this is one of those things,” he states with steeled coolness.