Page 53 of Brutal Savior

Tomorrow, I need to work with Hadrian, sort through what his bots have found, and get his help searching the dark web. IT has never been my strong point. I’m more interested in decoding humans.

I offer Barry a reassuring smile. “Thanks for this, mate. I’m going to send in one of my associates now. I need you to be helpful and tell him everything you can about the guys who gave you this job. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure, boss. Anything you need.” He’s eager now, seeing a light at the end of the tunnel that isn’t there. I almost feel bad for the guy. Maybe he didn’t have someone hard and steady like Grandad keeping him on the straight path.

“Good, mate. Good.”

I stand to leave. Barry stammers, “And after that, you’ll let me go?”

I hate lying. I hate it, but sometimes, I have to do it. “Course we will. So long as you cooperate.”

I feel dirty saying it. Liar. Quinn called me that, too. Why? It niggles at me as I rap the door to leave.

Don’t worry. It’s just another test.

The moment comes back to me in a rush, and all at once, everything makes sense. Bloody girls’ night. One of them must have told her about the tracker, and of course she put two and two together.

Shit. I broke her trust.

I don’t often feel guilty, but it hits me now, a thick, black wave of it. She’s supposed to be able to rely on me. If I’m not keeping up my end of the bargain, why the fuck should she?

Her actions take on a different color. Still disrespectful and worthy of punishment but brought on by upset, not spite. She’s a firecracker and overreacted. Were my punishments too harsh? Maybe. I’ll tackle that question in the morning.

As I close the door behind me, I ignore Brackis and address Kendrick directly. “He’ll tell you anything you want but doesn’t know much. Bring his associates in. We’ll question them too, but I don’t think they’ll be any use either. This hit was ordered on the dark web, so maybe Hadrian will be able to help. I’ll talk to him in the morning.”

Kendrick nods. “Good work in there.”

I go to leave, then something occurs to me. “Can you put security on my grandad’s house? Someone’s got it in for me. I don’t want them going after him.”

At the thought of it, pure red rage surges up. If that bastard dares—

My phone rings, and a cannonball drops into my stomach. It’ll be bad news. What other news is there after three in the morning? It’s going to be bad news about Grandad. I just know it.

I smile when I see Quinn’s name, cool relief sweeping my veins. She’s probably bored or busting for a pee. She downed the water way too fast. I should have warned her. I step away from Kendrick. “This better be good.”

There’s a long silence, then a tight gasp and Quinn’s strained voice. “My heart. Come, please. I need help.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Jacob

I’m running before she’sfinished speaking. Kendrick shouts after me, and I take a second to yell back, “It’s Quinn! Something with her heart. Alert medical!”

If she’s fucking with me, there will be more hell to pay than she can possibly imagine. But I’d never assume that, and her voice sounded genuine. “I’m coming, love. Be there soon.”

No answer.

Shit.

The short distance feels a mile long as I arrow towards my building, hopping a wall and crashing through a flower bed to slap my hand on the entry scanner. I don’t bother with the lift, taking the stairs three at a time to my floor. I find Quinn limp in the cage, on her side, eyes closed and chest heaving rapidly. I yank her out, clutch her to my chest, and race out of the flat.

Her heart? What the bloody hell is wrong with her heart? She’s young and fit. I thunder down the stairs. By the time I reach medical, I’m drenched in sweat. Light as she is, running withanother person is enough to puff anyone out, and I’m breathing hard.

Kendrick has done his usual efficient job, and the sleepy-looking senior doctor waits at the doors with his younger assistant. Kendrick must have rousted the top doc out of bed in less than ten minutes.

They’ve brought a wheeled stretcher, and I place her gently onto it as the doc bends to look at Quinn. “Ah, yes. The young lady with Brugada syndrome. Very unusual at her age, and it looks like she’s having an episode. Get her inside please.”

I hold back all my questions, help the docs wheel Quinn into the spotless medical center, and stand back to let them work. Brugada syndrome? I’ve never heard of it. Why didn’t I know about this? I watch in simmering, helpless rage as they put Quinn on a drip and take an ultrasound of her chest.

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