With a Twist (32 page)

The minute Quinn
exited the Plaza, he called Liam. The two agreed to meet at the Hart.

He walked all the way from the Plaza to the pub, trying to silence the disgusted voice in his head berating him for losing Natalie. He should have told her what was going on with Liam. Who the hell would she have told? But that wasn’t the point. The point was that no matter how hard he tried, the siren call of work was always there. She wasn’t the only one who’d thought this time would be different; he was certain that because he loved her, he’d find a way to balance a personal life with his job—after this article was done. But Natalie was right: he was kidding himself if he thought he could change his stripes. This was how he rolled. This was how he always had rolled and probably always would: solo, just like so many other obsessed reporters he knew.

He just hated how much he’d hurt her. It killed him, as did the thought she probably hated him. The thought streaked through his mind that she’d wind up with Clement. Talk about something that would drive him insane.

He walked into the pub, surprised to find the Major sitting at the bar, reading the
Irish Independent
. Quinn felt sorry for the guy. He’d never married, and he had to be pretty damn lonely to spend so much time here, probably to avoid being home alone.
Look who’s talking
.

“Hello, Major,” Quinn said as he slipped behind the bar.

The Major nodded politely. “Evening, Quinn.”

“You doing well?”

“Very well. Thank you for asking. Yourself?”

“I’ve been a little better,” Quinn admitted ruefully.

“Sorry to hear that,” the Major sympathized and went back to his paper.

Liam was stacking glasses, listening in on the exchange. “What do you mean, you’ve been a little better? Natalie tore you a new one for missing the birthday party, didn’t she?”

“She went one better: she dumped me.”

“Well, I can’t say I blame her.”

“Yeah, well, whatever,” Quinn said impatiently, not wanting to get into it. “I had a pretty goddamn good reason for missing the party.”

Liam tossed him a bar towel. “Tell me while you make yourself useful.”

“I missed the party because your pal Tommy’s boss wanted to see me.” He was trying to be as oblique as possible in front of the Major. “What was I supposed to do? Say no?”

Liam’s face fell. “Shit. What happened?”

“In a nutshell, he told me that if I dropped the article, he’d help out those who’d been hurt, but if I didn’t, he’d drop a dime on you.”

“They sent me the same message tonight—that’s why I called.”

“What happened?”

“Shoes strolls in like he owns the place and walks behind the bar. Tells me Tommy’s going to ask me for help again and that I shouldn’t let friends down. Says my family will be heartbroken if I forget how important that kind of loyalty is. And then he leaves. I have to tell you, I was shaking so bad I had to down to two shots of Wild Turkey. I don’t know whether it was because I was so scared or because I wanted to kill him. Thank God he was in and out so quick I couldn’t make up my mind.
What the hell are we going to do?”

Quinn glanced quickly at the Major sitting at the other end of the bar. “Li, keep it down.”

“No need,” murmured the Major casually. Stunned, Quinn and Liam turned to him simultaneously.

The Major closed his paper. “I think maybe you boys should tell me what’s going on. What did Shoes have to say to you, Liam?”

Liam and Quinn looked at each other in amazement. The Major had never said more than a few words to them before. And now he was asking them to open up to him? The Major obviously knew what they were thinking.

“Come over here,” he said in a voice that commanded obedience. They did what they were told.

“Quinn, look at me. Look into my eyes.”

As if under a spell, Quinn did just that. He’d never noticed it before, but the Major had dark blue eyes, almost black in their intensity. And as Quinn looked into them, he saw something he’d seen only a couple of times before in the eyes of cops he knew. Rogan called it “the shark.” It was a blackness, Rogan said, that came when a man had killed so often that he’d lost the part of his soul that hesitated to take a life.

Still looking into that frightening emptiness, Quinn started telling the whole story to the Major. Liam followed suit, describing everything that had happened. The Major listened closely and, Quinn later swore, didn’t blink the whole time. When they were done, the Major looked them both in the eye before slowly closing his own eyes and folding his newspaper. When he opened them again, the blackness seemed to have passed. He was back to being the quiet, distinguished gentleman they’d always known. He got up slowly from his stool.

“You boys go home and get a good night’s sleep. Don’t worry about anything. It will be taken care of. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

With that, the Major slowly walked out the door of the Wild Hart.

“What the fuck just happened?”
Liam asked.

“I have no idea.”

Merde, what have I done?
Natalie sat on her couch, cradling her head in her hands, staring down at the small mountain of bags and boxes at her feet. After checking out of the Plaza the next morning, she’d headed down Fifth Avenue and hurried from store to store, buying whatever struck her fancy. Shoes at Ferragamo. Earrings at Tiffany’s. Two blouses at Bergdorf’s. A handbag from Gucci. Price didn’t matter; she charged it all, telling herself she deserved a consolation prize after what she’d put up with from Quinn all these months. Why shouldn’t she pamper herself? So what if she was the one who ended things? It still hurt.

As soon as she sank down deep in the tub at the Plaza, she realized
she
should have been the one to leave. It was torture being there alone in the plush suite they should have been enjoying together. His gift to her, and still he couldn’t keep away from the phone. That was when she’d known he’d never change.

After her bath, she’d gotten tipsy on champagne and was tempted several times to call Vivi to let her know what had happened. But she was afraid that in her distraught state, she’d let slip the envy she felt toward her half sister, who seemed so effortlessly to have it all: a successful business and a man who loved her more than life itself and who wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Why couldn’t she get it right? Why did she always pick jerks? First that career-wrecking, lying bastard Thierry when she was still back in Paris, telling her he was separated from his wife when he wasn’t, and now Quinn.

She’d cried herself to sleep in the big bed, sleeping fitfully, waking up with a skull-shattering headache. Thankfully, it was gone by the time she’d finished the sumptuous breakfast she’d ordered, courtesy of Quinn O’Brien.

She rose from the couch, surprised to find her hand trembling when she poured herself a glass of water in the kitchen. She wished she could hide there. Her headache was returning. When she forced herself back to the living room, a fresh wave of despair assaulted her.
Stupid girl,
as her mother used to say.
Stupid, stupid girl.

Knowing she had to take responsibility for what she’d done, she forced herself to go to her purse and fish out all the credit card receipts, tallying up the damage. A small cry of horror escaped her lips when she came to the grand total: six thousand dollars. She’d spent six thousand dollars in three dazed hours. There was no way she could afford this. And yet, the addict inside her wanted to keep it all. All the old familiar lies and justifications came rushing back to the fore.
You’ll figure out a way to pay it off; just get a second job. It’s not really that much. Besides, you deserve it.

She closed her eyes tight, clenching her hands into fists, knowing that if she allowed herself to keep it, she’d start buying more and more and would be unable to stop. She had to take it all back, or disaster would ensue. She would lose Vivi. She would lose her job. Worst of all, she would lose self-respect. She resolved to return it all tomorrow. But right now, she was going to find out when the soonest SA meeting was, and she was going to go—and keep going for as long as she needed to. At least there would be one thing in her life she could control.

The next night
at work, Natalie decided she had best tell Quinn’s parents that she and Quinn had split, and that she’d leave just as soon as she could find another job, since it was probably best for everyone. The truth was, she’d gotten somewhat complacent in her job search, since she liked working at the Hart, especially now that she was considered part of the family.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Quinn’s mother declared. “I’d rather that eejit son of mine and his friends find somewhere else to wet their whistles than lose you. You’re a good waitress. And you’re family. You stay.”

Natalie teared up. “That means so much to me.” She didn’t have the heart to add that a part of her wanted to leave, since she didn’t know if she could stand seeing Quinn night after night. It would be too painful. Not that she’d ever let that show.

Quinn’s mother embraced her. Natalie had come to love the way she smelled: like fresh-baked bread and fried onions and love all mixed together. It occurred to her that she had no idea of her own mother’s scent, so rarely had her mother hugged her.

Quinn’s mother pulled back, running a tender finger down Natalie’s cheek. “I’m sorry he hurt you, love. And it pains me to say this about my own flesh and blood, but you deserve better.”

“He’s a good man; he just—”

“Has his head up his arse,” Quinn’s mother finished tartly. “Mark my words: one day the chickens will come home to roost, and he’ll rue the day he let you go.”

Not likely,
Natalie thought sadly, but she appreciated the sentiment.

She gave Quinn’s mother a quick peck on the cheek. “I’d better get to work.”

Natalie desperately hoped
tonight would be one of the rare nights Quinn didn’t make an appearance, but of course he did, coming in late with his coworkers. For a split second she refused to look at him. Then she gathered her pride and used it to build a wall around her heart. Quinn came over to speak with her while she was waiting at the bar for a drink order from Liam.

“Did you enjoy the rest of your evening?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, yes. It’s always been my dream to spend a night at a fancy hotel all alone.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked miserable. “I’ll say it as many times as it takes for you to believe me.”

“I believe you,” she said as coldly as she could.

Quinn grimaced as he glanced past her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. “Did you tell—?”

“Yes.”

Looking uncomfortable, he’d shoved his hands deep into the front pockets of his pants. “I guess I’ll go sit with my friends.”

“I take it you’ll all want your usual?” Natalie asked, all business.

“Yeah.”

“Very good.”

He turned to go, then spun back around.
“Nat.”

“What?” She was becoming desperate to get away from him, tortured by those dancing blue eyes of his that she loved and by the weary handsomeness of his face.
Stupid girl. Harden your heart.

He looked sheepish. “Again . . . sorry.”

“Go to your friends, Quinn,” she said wearily, “and let me do my job.”