Page 24 of Quinlan

“You’re right. I should’ve said something.” Damien loosens his dark blue tie, relaxing into the sofa as if Liam didn’t just accuse him of going rogue.

Because Liam didn’t really accuse him of anything. Liam was being Liam. Collecting information to file in the millions of cabinets in his head. Pulling it out and drawing conclusions.

Predicting people’s actions used to be a survival method for him in the past. He’s never let go of that habit.

“There’s no excuse for what I did.” Dame’s calm and piercing stare passes from Liam to me. “I had to talk to her, and I did. I had to touch her, and I did. Couldn’t wait anymore.”

I understand damn well how bad he had to go to her. Quinlan didn’t save me from Rex’s abusive claws, and I feel the pull this woman has on me anyway.

Fuck that.Pullis too subtle of a word. I’m obsessed. Have been for years.

For the first eighteen years of her life, Liam and I hadn’t been around anywhere near her. Damien had kept tabs on the baby, then the girl. He’d been worried for her safety first and foremost. Given what he’d gone through with Rex, it made sense.

Things changed when Blake, Quinlan’s younger brother, died. Rex hadn’t visited them as much. That raised a few red flags for Damien. For us. He never hit her, and that helped Damien breathe a little easier.

The girl was safe. Our plan wasn’t affected.

But at eighteen, her pictures started pouring in. She stopped being only Damien’s.

She was ours.

I didn’t have a single nice thought when our private investigators delivered her photos to us. Pictures of Quinlan jogging. Pictures of her sitting in front of a desk at homeworking. Of her hunched over her laptop in the café her dipshit brother manages.

The videos of her showering that Damien let us watch.

I’ve been obsessed with her as much as Damien is. I’ve admitted it to myself long ago. Have been celibate for years, because let’s fucking face it, no one compares to Quinlan. To what she’s done to my heart. No. One.

It’s not like I’ve been with a lot of women before her. Never needed anyone for months—years at a time.

Those days are over. IneedQuinlan.

The three of us do. We haven’t admitted it to each other. No need. It’s glaringly obvious.

Damien stayed away from her because he wants her that much. Liam’s eyes talk a language I’m fluent at. He’s been eyeing Quinlan’s pictures for longer than necessary. I’m sure I have my tells.

So yeah, Damien’s obsession isn’t a surprise. We all share it.

“What do you mean you had to?” I demand anyway. He owes us answers. He has to realize he can’t disappear and do whatever the fuck. Has to realize she isn’t only his anymore. “You’re going to throw away years of plotting? Take her and disappear on us?”

Fuck. This isn’t me, being the jealous type. I don’t bitch about and moan.

I have my fists for that.

My nails dig into the inside of my palm. Liam senses this, his probing stare zooming in on my fists. I release them. Shrug.

No problem here.

“Fuck, no.” Damien’s fingers flex on his thighs. His eyes blaze. “Is that what you think I am? That something—anything—will be a good enough reason for me to pull the plug on this? I’ve cared for Quinlan since the moment she was born. This isn’t news to you. I’ll care about her well after we’re done.” He leans forward, pressing his finger to the coffee table between us. “Butour revenge? I’ll never risk it. We will finish this. I had to talk to her. Had to touch her. The first we talked about, the second happened. The plan still stands.”

I glare.

“What else do you want me to say?” Damien’s brow furrows. “That I’m obsessed with her? Fine. I am.”

This isn’t a joke to him. None of this is. His adamance is enough reassurance for the time being. I’m still jealous.

Fuck. Me.

“Are you going to do that again?” I resist the urge to ball my hands into fists. There’s no comfort in being angry at my best friends. “Do we need to speed this up? Move the meeting with her sooner than a week?”

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