Quinn's Deirdre (8 page)

She debated whether she should phone her
handler, Teresa Rossi, or
go
straight up the chain of
command to Thomas Madison, the Marshal who brought her into WITSEC and
orchestrated her exit from Kansas City.
 
Deirdre decided she wasn’t up to Marshal Rossi’s grating, soprano voice
or listening to her crack her gum during a phone conversation so she called
Madison.
 
She used his direct number and
he picked up immediately.

“Madison.”

“Hey, it’s Deirdre King.”

His voice sharpened when he replied.
“What is it? Has your identity been compromised?”

“No, it hasn’t yet.” She took a long,
deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I want out of WITSEC.”

Silence radiated between them for a
lengthy moment. “Deirdre, why would you want to take a chance?”

Deirdre ignored the question. “I have
the right, don’t I? To walk away from the program and never go back?”

“Yes, certainly, you do.
 
All witnesses under protection can, but they
seldom do.
 
I wouldn’t advise it.
 
If there’s a problem, talk to me.
 
We can work it out.
 
If you want a new location, I can arrange
it.”

“No.
 
I’m home.”

“You’re back in Kansas City?” His voice
notched up several notes with surprise.

“Yes, I am and I plan to stay.”

Although she managed to maintain a calm,
level tone, her anxiety level increased until she trembled.
 
“It’s entirely your choice, Deirdre.
 
Like I said, I wouldn’t advise it, but if
it’s what you want, so be it.
 
I can’t
stop you but remember, once you leave, you can’t come back into WITSEC again.”

“I’m aware.
 
Do you think I’m still in danger?”

“Let me review your file.
 
Hold on, please.”

She listened to his fingers race over
computer keys, the clicks audible.
 
After
a few minutes, he said, “Deirdre?”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s hard to say.
 
The two men you identified are still in
prison, serving long sentences.
 
Neither
will be eligible for parole for at least seven more years and
its
debatable then.
 
The organization, however, who hired them, is still strong and powerful
in the KC metro area.
  
It’s possible
they’ve forgotten you and your testimony in the wake of bigger things, but then
they are known for long memories.
 
They
hold a lot of grudges, and you could be on their list.”

Damn and double damn.
 
Or, as Quinn would say,
bloody fucking hell.
“Is there any way to know if I am?”

“Honestly? No, there isn’t.
 
I can’t say and won’t try to predict their
actions.
 
There is an item noted here,
though, you might find of interest.”

Her stomach tightened. “What is it?”

“On the afternoon you left your vehicle
at the mall and were picked up to enter the program, one of the crime
organization’s
hitmen
apparently tracked you to your
boyfriend’s pub.”

The blood in her veins dropped from warm
to freezing. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, well, apparently he did.”
 

Something in his dry tone raised her
hackles.
 
If something had happened to
Quinn, surely she would’ve heard.
 
“What
happened?”

“He was discovered the next morning in
the alley a few blocks from County Tyrone with his throat slit and a single
gunshot wound to the head.
 
The coroner’s
report said he died from loss of blood so the shot was a classic
coup de grace.
”

Shock stunned her into speech.
“Sweet Jesus!
He must’ve been after me.”

“Or your friend,” Thomas Madison said.
“Local law enforcement set up a watch near the pub for two weeks but nothing
else happened.
 
It could’ve been random,
but I’ve never thought so.
 
So, you might
be
safe
 
-
such
a message might have been taken seriously—or you could be in peril.
 
Do you still want to leave WITSEC?”

Her mind presented images of the dead
man, blood pooled beneath him in one of the alleys.
 
Deirdre had no doubt that either Quinn or
Desmond had been responsible.
 
It must be what Des meant earlier.
 
Fear crawled over her skin and down her spine
like a host of bugs, but she needed Quinn. Even if it cost her life, she
refused to hurt him again the way she had. “Yes.”

After a pause, Madison said. “Very well,
then Deirdre. Consider it done.
 
We’ll
erase Mallory Marsh’s existence and empty the house in Siloam Springs.
 
Did you want any of the things from there?”

“No, thank you. I have what I need.”

“Then it’ll be done.
 
I wish you well, Deirdre, although I don’t
agree with your choice.
 
I wish you the
best of luck, however, and happiness.
 
Is
there anything else?”

“No,” she said. “Just thank you.”

Deirdre sat with the phone in her hand,
sobered and quiet.
 
All ties with Mallory
and WITSEC had been cut.
 
She had her
life back, but the fear she’d left behind when she departed Kansas City surged
over her and for few moments, threatened to drown her.
 
In Arkansas, she’d been miserable with little
to lose.
 
Now she could lose everything
including what mattered most, Quinn.
 
Three years ago, she ran from danger to protect him.
 
Now that she’d come back, Deirdre might have
put him in harm’s way again.
 
Her
thoughts rushed in all directions like fallen leaves blown by the wind and she
sat, pensive for a long while.

When she roused, she realized the phone
was her last tie to Mallory Marsh.
 
Deirdre removed the battery and tossed it in a wastebasket.
 
Then she considered taking a hammer to the
cell but didn’t.
 
She dropped it into the
trash, too,
then
decided to take a long, steaming
shower.
 
Maybe she could wash away the
last remnants from Mallory’s life.

Deirdre showered until the hot water
began to chill.
 
She slipped into her
undergarments and wrapped her hair in a towel.
 
Then she searched the closets and drawers for more clothing.
 
Her faded blue jeans fit looser than they had
once, and she dug out an old sweatshirt.
 
After she combed out and dried her hair, she padded out of the bathroom
still barefooted and almost collided with Quinn.
 
If he hadn’t caught her, she would have
fallen.

“There ye are,” he said. His worry line
dissected his forehead. “It’s after six and I wondered where you were.
 
I thought ye’d come back down.”

 
Quinn thought I might’ve taken off again.
The idea saddened her, but she tried to let it go. It might take awhile before
he could trust her and the fault was hers, not his.
 
“I wanted to take a shower, first.
 
How’s your head?”

He smiled, a little. “Ah, ‘tis fine
now.
 
The wee drink did the trick.
 
Did ye take care of your business, then?”

“Yes, it’s done.”

“That’s grand.
 
Won’t ye come down? Uncle Des and I are going
to sing a bit, later, but we can eat first if ye like
..
It’ll be good craic.”

His expression became so wistful it touched
a deep chord within. “I will.
 
I’ve
missed the music almost as much as the food.”

“Good.
 
Are ye comin’ down now?”

Deirdre glanced down at her outfit. “I
think I’d better change first.”

“Ye’re fine the way ye are.” Quinn’s
gaze raked down her with such obvious approval she swore she felt the heat.
“But if ye want to wear something else, ye can.”

She smiled at him. “I’m sure I can find
something better than this outfit. I didn’t bring many clothes, though.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t like most of the things I
had.
 
They were as drab and boring as a
nun’s habit,” Deirdre said.
 
It sounded
lame, but he’d understand it more after they talked. “I’m glad I had some
clothes left here, but sometime, I’ll have to do a little shopping.”

“If ye’re goin’ to the mall, then I’ll
go along,” he said with a growl, a fierce frown marring his darling face. “I
won’t risk losing
ye
a second time.”

A volatile stew of emotions simmered
within.
 
Her wild, strong love served as
the base, but the ingredients included guilt, self-blame, resentment at his
apparent lack of trust, and anxiety.
 
Once again, she’d tilted her world on its axis and had to scramble to
gain her footing.
 
Coming back was easier
than leaving, but it required more care than she’d expected.
 
“You can go with me anywhere and everywhere
for the rest of our lives,” Deirdre said and meant it. “I’d like to dress up a
little, though and fix my make-up.
 
Do
you want to wait while I do?”

Quinn sighed. “Aye, I’d like to, but I
can’t.
 
Woman, you’re an aggravation, but
I love
ye
.
 
Don’t take half the night gettin’ ready, please.”

“I won’t.” Deirdre rested her hands on
his shoulders and lifted her face toward his.
 
He took the hint and kissed her. The moment his mouth touched hers, she
knew it wasn’t the kind of sweet, tender kiss he’d shared since her
return.
 
His lips burned with heat as he
shared a blazing passion.
 
Combined with
wild desperation and overwhelming love, the kiss proved more potent than
Jameson’s best and caught her in thrall as if Quinn possessed supernatural gifts.
 
His mouth devoured hers, seeking and taking
with the frenzy of a starving man.
 
Deidre answered him back, lips locked with his, game for whatever he
sought.

She inhaled his heady man scent, so
familiar and long denied.
 
Quinn smelled
of the same soap he’d always used, a hint of the men’s cologne he favored, and
of the pub.
 
A rich, delicious hint of
alcohol lingered about him combined with cooking aromas from Des’ kitchen and
added another layer to the pleasant smell.
 
Deirdre recalled it well, and it kindled her desires into open
flame.
 
She raked her fingers through his
thick, dark curly hair and clung tight to him.

His hot mouth strayed from her lips to
deliver kisses and nibbles on both sides of her throat.
 
Quinn paused at the base to drop a tender,
sweet kiss then moved lower.
 
He thrust
his hands beneath her sweatshirt and undid her bra with finesse, a particular
talent he hadn’t lost.
 
Quinn fondled her
breasts with his hands, his thumb tweaking the nipples until they awakened into
taut, hard pink blossoms.
 
“Ah, yer roses
are bloomin’, love,” he whispered, his breath ticklish against her skin.
 
He kissed each nipple, which sent erotic
shivers through her body.
 
The pure
pleasure became almost too much to stand, and she whimpered aloud.

 
In response, Quinn took each, one at a time,
into his mouth and suckled with slow tenderness.
 
Deirdre arched her back as every nerve ending
in her body went on high alert.
 
She
twined her fingers tighter in his hair until he undid her jeans.
 
“I think ‘tis time to hit the sack,
mo ghra, mo chroide.”

She agreed and they managed to shuck
their remaining clothing.
 
With hands
fondling, fingers caressing, mouths connecting, they made their way to his bed
and collapsed on it, face to face.
 
Quinn
traced the edge of her face,
then
used his finger to
trail down her body to her feet.
 
He
tickled the bottoms and made his way upward as Deirdre sprawled back with legs
spread wide in invitation.

Dear god,
his hands are as hot as a demon’s straight from hell.
 
She gloried in the way his feverish
fingers stroked her with appreciation and reverence.
 
“Ye’re so lovely,” he whispered. “God, I’d
forgotten how much, though I dreamed of this near every night.”

By the time Quinn reached her pussy, it
radiated heat and pulsed with need.
 
Her
slick, wet walls ached for him with such intensity it almost hurt.
 
His gentle hands rubbed her mound and sent
spirals of sweet, potent delight through her body.
 
He inserted one finger and probed her,
then
he lifted up to thrust into her with one graceful
motion.