Page 26 of Lethal Vengeance
Reluctant to disclose my confusing night with Quinn, I shrug and take a sip of the very warm beer in my hand. I grimace and set it down. “Did you find anything new?”
Raider gets up and grabs two beers. He hands one to me and sits. “Nothing. Spill.”
It couldn’t hurt. Raider’s got an uncanny sense about people. It’s probably why he’s such a good chameleon. I blurt it all out. His expression is blank while he listens, except for the times I mention Rodrigo. That’s when Raider gets what I call his “killer face” … an unemotional mask of death. I tilt my beer toward him and nod in agreement. Rodrigo’s days are numbered.
Ten minutes later, I wrap up. “Tell me, oh wise one, what the hell did I do wrong?”
“Nothing. She told you why she was withdrawing, but I don’t think you heard her. Not a surprise. You get tunnel vision when you’re trying to help others,” he says coolly, taking the last sip of his beer. “You and Sterling are good men. Not once in your lives have you abandoned your principles.”
I shake my head. “We’ve killed people, hacked systems, bribed officials, and a hell of a lot more. I don’t understand.”
“You did those things to protect others, to fight for what’s right, or to do the right thing. It’s admirable, and it’s why I joined your team. I needed something to good to balance the bad,” he explains, then leans forward, his eyes locked on mine. “Quinn is seeking vengeance; the opposite of doing what’s right.”
His light blue eyes gleam with memory. “Vengeance is the name your soul screams when it shatters. It’s a call into the darkness, a promise to Death himself, to abandon the light until death is served to those who wronged you. Quinn is fighting for death, not life.”
He hesitates for a brief second. “The guards at the facility whisper about Armando’s twin brother, Julio. Almost two years ago, he was brutally tortured, and killed, along with every single one of his men.” He pulls up a picture on his phone. “My brother sent these to me.”
Rearing back from the image on his phone, I swipe through the rest of them, full of disbelief. “You think Quinn did this to them?” My mind stutters, trying to reconcile the fierce, petite woman with the brutality of those deaths. But if Raider’s brother sent it, the picture is authentic. “I’m not a fan of digging into someone’s past, but maybe we need to know more about Quinn.”
“I agree, but not for the same reasons,” Raider slowly admits. “Your priority is to protect our team, but I’ve been in her shoes. She needs someone to make sureshecomes out of this alive.”
After Mozambique, I swore to do everything in my power to protect my men. I look at Raider. I also swore to never leave a man behind. Quinn’s face flashes in my mind. Fuck me.
12
QUINN
Zane paired me with Cruz this morning and sent us to the facility to map the guard routes on the inside. Most of the routes have been fairly predictable, except this one. Now we’re stuck in a closet, trying to figure out when the next guard will make his rounds.
Standing chest to chest with Cruz in the incredibly tight space, I can barely draw a breath. I strain to hear the slightest noise beyond the door.
Silence.
Exhaling slowly, I shuffle back a half a step to alleviate the friction of our bodies rubbing lightly against each other.
The stifling heat in the closet is causing sweat to drip down my face, but the cool metal shelves against my back are helping to alleviate the worst of it.
Cruz bends forward to whisper in my ear. “Tell me, Quinn. Did you find someone to help you finish?” His finger traces a path down my neck.
Hmph,someone’s ego is dented.
I snort. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” he flatly states, lifting his head to stare down at me, eyes boring into mine, while he waits for an answer.
Good.I press my lips together and stare at his chest. The subtle scent of soap and man drifts up to my nose. Cruz. The smell is barely there, but it makes me want to dive into his skin until it surrounds me.
He shifts closer until the space between us disappears. The palm of his hand cups my neck and jaw, holding me in place. Hard lips brush mine, but they don’t settle. Instead, they journey to the other side of my neck and begin nibbling and kissing up and down its length.
I gasp, and his hand immediately moves to cover my mouth.
He lifts his head to listen, but when only silence reigns, he drops those devastating lips to the juncture between my neck and shoulder.
Instead of shoving him back, I turn my head and arch up to give him greater access. My hands grasp his hips tightly, the need to pull him closer like a drum beating in my blood, but I lock my arms and resist its call.
Tongue joins lips, flicking lightly against a sensitive spot, and I barely hold back my words.
“Tell me,” he orders softly in my ear. The pad of his thumb slides across my lips. “Let’s start with something easier. Did you kiss another?”
