SHE STOOD THERE, paralyzed with indecision. Run after him? Leave him alone?
After several moments her uncertainty became a decision all its own. Nothing. She was going to do nothing, the way she always did where Jace was concerned.
Turning back to the double sink, she filled one side with warm, soapy water and shoved in the pots and pans from dinner. Her mind whirled while her body got lost in the mundane task.
Until she glanced up at the darkened window that usually gave her a view of her backyard. With the glare of the light from the kitchen, it showed her only the black night...and a wavy reflection.
For a moment she thought Jace had come back inside. But her body didn’t respond like normal. Instead of heat flooding her, a bone-chilling foreboding engulfed her.
The scream she wanted to let free strangled in her throat. Plunging her hand into the murky water, she searched blindly for the hilt of the dirty knife she knew was still hidden beneath the surface.
Relief burst through her when her palm closed around the hefty weight of it. Sending an avalanche of grimy water surging with her, Quinn spun to face the man standing idly behind her.
Everett Warren.
He was entirely out of place, and not just because he didn’t belong in her kitchen. His suit had probably cost thousands of dollars and was perfectly pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. She could practically see her reflection in the surface of his black, glossy shoes.
Warren’s narrow mouth twitched into a sickly smile. Nodding at the knife, he said, “I’ve been standing here for several moments. If I wanted to hurt you I would have done it already.”
His statement didn’t stop the frantic pounding inside her chest. Her heart squeezed painfully. Even as adrenaline flooded her body, Quinn realized she needed to stay calm and rational. Think.
She scanned him as she tried to slow her racing thoughts enough to form a plan. His body language was relaxed, hands hanging at his sides. Empty. No weapon clenched in either fist.
Although, that didn’t mean he didn’t have one. Just not immediately trained on her.
Okay. Okay.
Forcing her lungs to expand, Quinn pulled in a deep, calming breath. Oxygen flooded her body and brain.
“How did you get in here?”
His mouth ticked higher into a twisted smile that held no humor. “I waited until your little bulldog slipped his chain. That was an unexpected development. Honestly, Ms. Keller, you didn’t need to hire a bodyguard.”
The smile dropping from his expression, Warren took a single step forward. Quinn thrust the tip of the knife in his direction in warning. He got it, stopping midstride and raising his empty hands in a gesture that was probably meant to be friendly, but didn’t do anything to settle her nerves.
“I’m not here to hurt you, Quinn. I’d never do something like that. To you, Caroline or any other woman. I just wanted to talk to you. Try and get you to understand.”
A bitter sound escaped through her tightened throat. “Oh, I understand.” Anger was quickly replacing the fear that had settled over her skin like a nasty film. “I saw her, Warren. Not just the damage from the other night, but the scars. The ones you were so careful to only put in places she could keep hidden.”
“Caroline’s had a rough life. Yes, she was abused, but not by me. Never by me. I love her.”
The sick thing was that Quinn believed him. It was there, shining out of his dark green eyes. He loved his wife, maybe a little too much if there was such a thing. But she could read the pain and desperation intertwined with the softer emotion.
Being without his wife was hurting him. The problem was, Quinn hadn’t done that to him, he’d done it to himself.
“Even if that were true, that doesn’t explain her new injuries.”
Warren’s head bowed, his gaze dropping to the tile beneath his feet. His entire body sagged. Reaching up, he ran his hands through his hair, and for a moment, Quinn’s brain flashed to Jace giving her almost the exact same gesture not ten minutes ago.
His chest rose and fell on a defeated sigh, the sound so broken. Something twisted inside Quinn’s chest, the empathy for anyone in pain that was inherent in her personality.
She took a step forward, ready to lay a hand on his slumped shoulder, and offer support and help.
Just in time, she caught herself.
Warren looked so crushed and mournful that Quinn found herself swallowing back a rise of answering emotion. But her training, and intuition honed on the job, told her to keep her distance.
“She’s sick. Caroline’s struggled with manic depression for years. Sometimes she stops taking her medication, especially when things are going well. Then she hurts herself. Maybe it’s some twisted way to relive her past. Maybe she needs the pain. I don’t know. The episodes have been getting worse and worse.”
Tears glistened at the edges of his eyes. As she watched, several slipped free, trailing quietly down his cheeks.
“I just want to help her, Ms. Keller. I’m afraid of what she might do without the proper care and her medication.”
He was good. The tears were a brilliant touch. And if she hadn’t spent hours talking with Caroline, she might have believed his story. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. She’d dealt with mental illness and the fallout before.
Which is also how she knew Everett Warren was full of shit. Caroline was as sane as anyone, which, considering what her husband had put her through, was actually a miracle.
Tightening her grip on the knife, Quinn said, “I won’t tell you where she is.”
As she watched, his expression morphed, a switch flipped. The heartbroken husband disappeared, leaving behind a hard-eyed, shrewd and calculating monster.
This was the man she’d expected to see. The one who’d systematically abused and tortured the woman he claimed to love.
“We’ll see about that,” he growled. “I tried to do this the easy way, but you just won’t give.” A sickly smile twisted his mouth, glee flashed through his eyes before he managed to clamp it down. “So I’ll make you.”
Quinn was already scrambling backward before he’d taken a single step forward. Maybe if she could reach the back door she could escape into the night. Find Jace.
Find Jace.
The words pounded through her brain over and over again.
Her breath was harsh in her lungs. Labored. She needed to get a grip on herself or she wouldn’t be able to run ten yards, let alone outrun this maniac.
For every step she took, he managed two. The gap between them was closing, but so was the space between her and the door.
Until he seemed to realize what she was intending and changed directions, cutting off her escape.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said, waving a single finger in her direction. “You don’t like to play nice, do you, Ms. Keller? Simply tell me where Caroline is and this ends right now.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“Why would you put yourself in danger to protect someone you don’t know?”
“Because she deserves a chance to escape from you, you monster.”
He shook his head, genuine confusion beetling the space right between his eyes. He really didn’t understand how someone could be willing to sacrifice themselves to help someone else.
Complete narcissism. Quinn shouldn’t be surprised, but she was. Because she really did believe that more than simple frustration at losing his toy was driving him.
The emotion when he spoke of Caroline was real...or as real as it could be for him.
Her avenue of escape cut off, Quinn had switched directions, trying to keep the bubble of space between them. Not until her back hit the edge of the island in the middle of the kitchen did she realize where she was. She’d been too preoccupied with keeping her focus on Warren.
Now she was trapped. Before she could scoot sideways, he was there, in front of her, blocking her way.
But he didn’t touch her.
Maybe it was the knife she still held.
He simply stood there, staring at her, his head cocked to the side as if she was some oddity on display.
Her breath wheezed in and out, harsh to her own ears. Her fingers cramped, her grip on the knife handle was so tight.
It shook as she raised it into the space between them, pointed directly at the soft middle of his belly.
“Don’t come any closer.”
His gaze flicked down to the gleaming blade and then back to her, dismissing the threat in a way that sent chills racing across her skin. Why wasn’t he worried?
Quinn stood there, poised on the precipice, realizing these could be her last moments on earth. Or at least, the last few without unbearable pain. She’d seen the evidence of just what kind of physical damage Everett Warren could inflict.
She almost wished he’d get on with it so she could at least fight. Despite having the knife, she couldn’t bring herself to make the first move.
But it didn’t happen.
Instead, the sound of the front door slamming blasted between them.
Warren jerked back, as if he’d just been slapped awake from a dream.
Spinning on his heel, he was halfway across the kitchen before Quinn could blink.
“We aren’t through, my dear,” he growled and then disappeared.
Quinn stumbled several steps, needing to feel empty space all around her instead of the hard press of counter closing her in.
She trembled, staring at where he’d just been, sucking in air.
* * *
GOD, HE WANTED to hit something. Preferably his own damn face, but since that was difficult to accomplish Jace settled for the support column holding up Quinn’s front porch.
His knuckles burned at the impact, and unfortunately the torture didn’t have the desired effect. It couldn’t make him stop wanting her.
Although, Jace wasn’t certain there was anything in this world that could do that.
He shouldn’t want her. She was Michael’s and off-limits for him.
She’d loved his brother. He didn’t need to hear them recite wedding vows in front of friends, family and God to know that. He’d seen it with his own eyes. The way her expression had gentled when she’d looked at Michael. The softness of her touch as she’d moved a sweaty piece of hair off his forehead.
Her broken grief when Michael had left them all.
Jace dragged a heavy breath through his nose, trying to clear out the lingering scent of her body. It didn’t help, not when the taste of her still rolled across his tongue.
It was like ambrosia, a gift from the gods that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to ignore now that he’d gotten a sample.
No. He was going to have to find a way back to before. Reaffirm his hands-off policy.
But every time he closed his eyes he could see her. Passion staining her skin pink beneath the dusting of freckles. The way her beautiful brown eyes had gone unfocused even as she’d stared up at him, golden flecks flashing fire.
She’d started the kiss, but he’d taken something she’d probably meant as soft and easy, friendly, and twisted it with his own heat and need.
Even then she’d been with him, every step of the way. Which only made what he had to do now harder.
Quinn was lonely. He’d seen it last night at the fight, recognized the hollow emptiness inside her because he had a matching black hole sucking at his own chest.
But that didn’t mean she wanted him. He was convenient and comfortable, nothing more. She’d have reached out for anyone.
He couldn’t be the one to help her move on, not without losing her completely when the physical need had passed. Eventually she’d crash back to reality, take one look at him and see the man she’d lost.
And he didn’t think he could handle the crushing blow when that happened.
Pulling in one more steadying breath, Jace paced across the porch. He bounced on the balls of his feet, welcoming the familiar way his muscles warmed beneath the action. He let muscle memory take over, arms flashing out in quick succession, jabbing at blank air and giving his mind something else to concentrate on.
Ten minutes later, sweat was popping out across his forehead for a very different reason than his body had expected. But he felt more in control. At least enough to go back inside.
What he didn’t expect to find was Quinn standing in the middle of her kitchen, her face ghostly pale, her freckles popping out from her skin. She was shaking, a fine tremble wracking her from head to toe.
“What the hell happened?” Jace asked, searching for the source of her fear even as he bounded across the room to her. Because it was clear from the vacant expression in her eyes that she was scared spitless.
Slowly, she turned. For the first time he realized she had a death grip on a knife. It clattered to the floor at her feet.
He didn’t know what to do. What was wrong? A sickening sense of helplessness dropped into the pit of his stomach.
Without thinking, he reached for her, gathering her into his arms and sheltering her with his body. She buried her head in his neck, sinking in and letting him hold her. And some of that restless energy began to fade. Until her muffled words reached his ears. “Warren. Was here.”
Every muscle in Jace’s body went rigid. “Here? Just now?”
Quinn nodded. He swore, long and low, beneath his breath.
Placing a hand on either side of her face, Jace eased her head back so he could look into her eyes. “You’re fine. You’re safe. Where did he go?”
She licked her lips, shaking her head. “He left. Out the back door.”
He hooked the leg of a chair with his foot and pulled it out until it touched the back of her legs. Easing her down, he crouched in front of her, wrapped her hands in his and placed them in her lap. Ducking so he could snag her gaze, he said, “Stay here.”
He didn’t like leaving Quinn, but he didn’t like being unarmed more. Striding down the hall to his room, he pulled out both of the handguns he’d brought with him. They were loaded and ready to go. Tucking the Glock into the waistband of his jeans, he checked his .22 anyway, flipping off the safety and then putting it back into place.
Returning to the kitchen, he opened Quinn’s palm and placed the gun in it, wrapping her fingers around the grip.
She resisted, trying to push him and the weapon away. “No. I don’t want—”
“Quinn, I have to go outside and check to make sure he’s gone. I don’t want to leave you alone in here unarmed.”
Quinn’s gaze strayed to the knife sitting several feet away on the floor. Slowly, she nodded. “But I don’t know how to shoot,” she whispered.
“Doesn’t matter. If he comes back just point it at him and fire. Hitting anything will slow him down and probably have him scrambling for cover, at least long enough for me to get back to you. I won’t be far.”
She nodded, her lips pale and bloodless, but beneath the telltale signs of stress there was a resolve he admired. Quinn was tough and always had been. He’d seen it time and again as she’d stood at Michael’s side, his rock through everything.
Quinn had nerves of steel. She tackled problems head-on, including this.
Leaving her sitting there was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, but logically he realized securing the perimeter was more important. Better late than never.
The thought had his stomach filling with the heavy weight of regret. There’d be time enough for self-recriminations when this was finished.
Jace slipped into the night. Now he taught others how to blend into the darkness and assess surroundings for evidence of a threat. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a small part of him that relished the rush of adrenaline pouring into his system.
If the source of that were anything besides danger to Quinn he’d have been in seventh heaven. But since it did involve her...
He didn’t bother turning on the outside lights, preferring the cover darkness provided, although it helped the enemy just as much as it aided him.
In a widening circle, he rounded the house, checking for any sign that Warren was still out here. He didn’t think the man was stupid enough to stick around, but then he’d been half convinced by Quinn’s arguments that Warren wasn’t stupid enough to do anything at all.
After five minutes he’d combed every inch of her yard and the neighbors’ yards on both sides. There was no sign of the man—or anything to indicate how he’d gotten in and out without notice.
Walking in the back door, part of Jace was proud to look up and find Quinn still sitting where he’d left her, but with the barrel of her gun pointed straight at him. It didn’t waver for several seconds before she dropped her arms and let it fall back into her lap.
At least her skin had lost the ghostly pallor.
Striding over to her, Jace eased the gun out of her hands and laid it on the table beside her. Bracing his hands on the arms of the chair, he looked down at her. Her head dropped back against the rounded curve as she watched him.
“Let’s get you packed.”
He’d expected to rehash the same argument they’d had yesterday when she’d refused to leave. It was clear by the quick glitter that shot through her eyes that she wasn’t happy about the situation. But at least she was smart enough to realize the intelligence of leaving, now that they knew Warren could—and would—get to her.
With a tight nod, she moved to stand. Her body brushed against his, sending him straight back to red alert.
Taking several huge steps back, Jace gave her the space to scoot around him. She headed down the hall, hopefully to pack.
He stayed right where he was, hands tightened into fists at his sides.
They’d shared her three-bedroom, two-bath house for less than twenty-four hours and he’d nearly lost his mind, kissed the hell out of her and let his own libido chase him away and leave her vulnerable.
How the hell was he going to handle moving her into his tiny apartment with only one bed? Here they’d had a little space.
There...they’d be crawling over each other.
His rock-hard erection thought that was just a jim-dandy idea. At least his brain realized he was setting himself up for more torture than relief.