* * *

QUINN WINCED RIGHT along with Ben when the doctor shoved a needle in his shoulder.

“You’re lucky,” the doctor said. “The knife didn’t penetrate deeply at all. It’s a long gash which accounted for all the blood. But once we clean it up and glue the ends together just for giggles, you won’t even realize it’s there, Agent Segar. I’ll even add a sympathy bandage as your souvenir of your ride aboard the Pickering.”

“Are you sure he’s okay?” she asked, her stomach still a mass of knots.

She couldn’t explain why she felt so helpless. There’d been many occasions when a colleague had been injured in the line of duty—several of them much worse. The distress she’d felt seeing the bloodstain spread on Ben’s chest had discombobulated her. It didn’t help that the doctor seemed intent on practicing his comedy routine. “He could barely stand up a few minutes ago.”

“When was the last time you had something to eat?” the doctor asked.

Right on cue, Ben’s stomach growled.

“I don’t remember,” he answered.

Given the events of the last twenty-four hours, she doubted he’d eaten at all. She reached into the container of goodies Marin had given her and pulled out a scone. The doctor sent his aide off to get a protein shake. Quinn carried the scone over to the exam table where Ben was sitting. His beautiful chest was now marred by an ugly red streak from his shoulder to the opposite corner of his pectoral. So close to his heart. She swallowed roughly at the sight.

Forcing her gaze up, her eyes collided with his. The desire she saw reflected in them nearly knocked her off her feet. The heat was quickly replaced by confusion, as if he didn’t trust himself completely. Or her. She could relate.

Quinn felt the same way.

“Eat this,” she commanded softly, lifting the scone to his lips.

He kept his eyes locked with hers as he bit into the flaky pastry. Heat surged through her fingers where his lips brushed against them. His pupils dilated at the contact. She drew in an unsteady breath.

The doctor returned to Ben’s side, his presence breaking the trance between them. Ben snatched the rest of the scone from her and popped it in his mouth. He closed his eyes reverently as he chewed and swallowed.

“Mmm. God bless Marin.”

The doctor adjusted the bandage causing Ben to flinch.

His eyes flew up just as Quinn was licking the sugar off her fingers. She quickly turned away at his pained hiss.

“You’re all set,” the doctor said. “The captain says we’ll be at the drop-off point in another twenty minutes.”

Ben was shrugging into a T-shirt with the cutter’s name emblazoned on the chest when she turned back to face him.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for the container of scones and tucked into them. The doctor disappeared into a glass-walled office at the end of the bay. Ben downed the bottle of water the crew had given each of them on arrival. Just as he was reaching for the last scone, he hesitated, then offered it to her. She shook her head.

“I have a right to know where you’re taking me.”

Her words were met with a sinister sounding chuckle as he slid off the exam table and thrust the Glock into a holster that had magically appeared from one of the crew members.

“You just killed two men, Brit. I wouldn’t push your case about your rights at this moment.”

She glanced back at the office to see whether the doctor had overheard him. Thankfully, the man was on the phone.

“I killed both of them to save your arse,” she whispered harshly.

He took a menacing step forward. “Yeah. About that. Where’d you learn to shoot with such skill?”

This was the problem with dealing with a man of superior intellect. Ben connected the dots a lot quicker than others. Most people were probably intimidated by his brain power. But she found it sexy.

Except for right now.

She’d had no choice but to fire that shot back at the row house. Whatever it took to keep Ben safe, she would do. But in doing so, she’d revealed too much of herself.