Good Things

CHAPTER 1

How had she gotten herself in yet another rough situation? Maybe she was a jinx? Or an all-things-evil magnet? Try to be a good person, help out my fellow man, keep my nose clean, and all that. And what do I get for it? A bucket full of trouble everywhere I go.

Quinn’s mind spun on a continuous loop as she sat in the high-traffic coffee shop across the street from where she worked, waiting to meet her rescuers. Outside the large windows, New York City bustled by, all intent on getting where they were going for the workday. Many were sweating in the summer heat. Inside, she tuned out all the conversations, both spoken and mental, with practiced ease.

What had her on edge wasn’t the noise in her head, but the conversation she’d overheard at work yesterday. People—ones like her—needed help. Fast. And then she needed to disappear, or risk ending up like them. She checked the door again and glanced at her watch. Where were the people she was meeting? They should’ve been here by now.

She tried not to shift as she sat in the green pleather seat, although her back was killing her. After spending the night in the cheapest, most out-of-the-way hotel she could find, with a granite boulder masquerading as a mattress, she’d concluded sleeping in an alleyway would probably have been more comfortable and about as safe. She’d try that out tonight. Maybe an alley by a clothes store, because she was already sick of the black pencil skirt and red blouse she’d been wearing for two days now.

“Quinn Ridley.”

She glanced up at the deeply masculine voice and sucked in a sharp breath. She’d been sent his picture, of course, so she would be able to identify him today. While her phone had shown her a man not remotely her type—dark hair longer than she preferred, beard hiding what she suspected was a highly masculine face with hard planes and jaw, and a deadly serious demeanor—the image hadn’t quite captured how tall he was, or the breadth of his shoulders and leanness of his body. Or, for that matter, the air of utter confidence and danger radiating from him, or the piercing blue eyes which seemed to see into her soul.

Daniel Cain.

Even his name instilled a strange combination of trepidation and confidence.

Quinn crossed her legs as a kick of unexpected attraction ricocheted through her. Damned inconvenient timing.

“Excuse me?”

She blinked up at the frowning man. Had she spoken that last bit out loud? She cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m Quinn Ridley.”

“May we join you?” He indicated the other seats at her table.

Oh! He had brought friends. How had she missed them? Shock bounced around inside her, joining the slow burn of attraction. Usually she was more observant.

When she’d called Delilah—the woman who’d placed her in her current job—for help, Delilah had mentioned Cain would arrive with a team. His friends were equally large, muscled, and intimidating. And equally hot, except her body wasn’t interested in them. All three men were dressed in pants and button-down shirts rather than the tactical gear they’d sported in the picture provided. Delilah always had the most interesting contacts.

Cain raised his eyebrows. She was sitting like an idiot, just staring at them. She gave a jerky wave to the seats. “Of course.”

“She’s nervous, boss,” one of the two men said to Cain as they took their seats. How the tiny wooden chairs with their green padded seats held the three large men was a total mystery.

Deliberately, Quinn glanced between them with wide eyes, then took a sip of her coffee, barely noticing the rich flavor on her tongue as she pretended not to understand the language he’d used. Russian. Perfect accent. Interesting. Hadn’t Delilah explained to them about Quinn’s job, let alone her abilities?

“That’s to be expected,” Cain replied in equally perfect Russian.

She wasn’t nervous of them. She was pissed at what she’d overheard yesterday, at what people could do to each other, and was determined to find a solution. But if these men wanted to make stupid assumptions about what she might understand or not, she wasn’t about to correct them. Instead, she’d listen politely, then ask Delilah for a different team. She needed serious people to solve this problem.

Her glance strayed to Daniel Cain, who studied her closely. Did he suspect she’d understood? Maybe not so stupid after all. His air of utter confidence settled her in a weird way. What was with her anyway? She never responded to anyone like this.

Cain sat directly across from her, his blue eyes pulling her gaze like gravity. “I’m Daniel Cain.”

Duh. She nodded an acknowledgment, though she didn’t offer to shake his hand. Touch was complicated for someone like her.

“And this is Sawyer and Shaw.”

Two dark blonde heads nodded in turn.

“Brothers?” she asked.

One—Shaw, she thought—grinned. “Twins.”

That explained why the two men had the same general appearance—similar eyes, nose, builds, and so forth. “I see.” She turned back to Cain. “And your other associate?” The picture had showed four men.

He didn’t even blink at her knowledge of a fourth man on the team. “Max is outside in the car.”

Her shoulders dropped a fraction. Everything matched Delilah’s descriptions. “What do we do now?”

He eyed her speculatively with…what? Respect? Why? Because she was jumping straight to the point, perhaps? Did he expect her to be a frightened little rabbit?

“First, you’re going to tell us everything. After that depends on you,” he said.

“Me?”

He searched her expression, for what she had no idea. She stared back, giving nothing away. “Depending on what you have to say, we’ll give you options.”

Options sounded promising. Getting the hell out of here sounded better, as long as she knew the bad guys would be stopped first. Quinn stood up, her chair scraping across the stained concrete flooring in protest. All three men tensed. Not visibly, more a tightening around their eyes as they regarded her with careful interest.

“Going somewhere?” Cain asked.

“What I have to say shouldn’t be discussed in a public coffee shop.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’d leave with four strange men? On their word?”

“Easy, boss,” Sawyer murmured. Russian again.

Quinn put her hands on the table and leaned in, refusing to be intimidated. “I was provided pictures, descriptions, and names. You match up.” She stood back up. “Do you want to waste more time on lectures? Or do you want to get started?”

Shaw choked back a laugh. “Feisty one, isn’t she.” Again with the Russian. Delilah’s idea of funny could tend to the warped on occasion. Not telling these guys about Quinn’s ability to understand all languages had to be her idea of a joke. In this case, even Quinn’s funny bone was tickled. Always interesting to know what people were thinking when they thought you didn’t understand.

Cain rose to his feet. Trying to intimidate her with his greater size now? “People can disguise themselves.”

“Not from me. There’s truth in words.” Besides, she wasn’t the helpless little girl she’d once been.

Cain’s gaze sharpened as he absorbed her retort, as if he could delve into her mind. “You’re a Psy.” His words were a statement, not a question.

“No shit!” Shaw exclaimed, sitting up straight in his seat.

Sawyer elbowed him. “Shut up.”

Quinn flicked a quick glance toward them. They’d used words she hadn’t heard before. Did the twins have their own made-up language?

“Yes,” Quinn confirmed, returning her gaze to Cain. Each of these men was also a Psy, though Delilah hadn’t shared their specific psychic abilities.

Giving a grunt Quinn interpreted as satisfaction with her answers, Cain turned to the door. “Let’s go.”

Quinn grabbed her purse off the back of her chair and her laptop bag off the floor and followed him out of the shop, with Shaw and Sawyer bringing up the rear. Outside, a generic black sedan pulled up and Cain held the door for her. She ended up in the back seat with the Thor-look-a-likes on either side. Cain sat in the front, and Max was in the driver’s seat.

He turned and gave her a once-over. “I’m Max.”

“Quinn.”

He faced forward and put the car in gear. “Where to, boss?”

“Our hotel.”

CHAPTER 2

They made the trip in silence. Before she knew it, she was in a hotel suite—generic with the usual two queen beds, desk, TV, mini-fridge, and a view of the fire escape and the brick building next door. At least it smelled better than her room last night. Not much, but still. The air conditioner propped in the window made a high-pitched whine. The thing had to be on its last leg.

She turned from her quick sweep of the room to find four large men all staring her down. “How do you decide who sleeps together? Draw straws?”

Shaw sniggered, but a glance at Cain’s rock-hard jaw showed her humor was lost on him. Rather than comment, he pulled out the desk chair and placed it facing the end of one of the beds, then sat and indicated she should sit on the bed facing. “Tell us everything you know.”

She lowered herself to the mattress, her feet barely touching the floor, and tried to ignore his proximity and mouth-watering scent—evergreen and something darker. “What did Delilah tell you?”

“Not enough, apparently.” His tone was even, but she’d bet money Daniel Cain was not happy with Delilah. “I’d rather hear it directly from you, anyway.”

“Right.” She settled her purse and laptop bag on the floor. “As we established earlier, I’m a Psy. My specialty is communication.”

Cain leaned forward, elbows on his knees and gaze intense. Way too close, but she refused to back up or give an inch. Was that a flicker of awareness in his gaze? Quinn gave herself a mental shake. Of course not.

“In what way?” he asked.

“I understand every language and communication. All human languages, of course, but also animals, computers. Anything that can communicate.”

“So you understood our Russian earlier?” Sawyer asked.

She flicked him a glance. “Da. Ya ponyal.”

“And our twin-speak?” Shaw asked.

She quirked a smile.

“Damn.”

Quinn’s lips twitched at his disgruntled expression, but she returned her gaze to Cain and continued. “About five years ago, Delilah got me a job as an interpreter for the major world-wide political body which is headquartered across the street from the coffee shop where we met.”

“What languages?” Max asked. She glanced at the man who stood in the corner of the room behind her. Broader than the other three, he had dark hair cropped military-short and fathomless dark eyes. Hard to get a read on him.

“English, French, and Spanish primarily. I also interpret Russian when the other Russian interpreters aren’t available.”

“But you speak everything?” Cain’s question pulled her gaze back to him.

“Yes.”

“Then why not interpret the other languages?”

“Delilah’s suggestion—most people don’t speak everything. Limiting the list looked more normal and helped me blend.”

“Something happened at work?”

She considered the man in front of her. Daniel Cain caught more than most. Maybe because he paid such close attention. She could feel his gaze on her like a caress. “I overheard a conversation I shouldn’t have.”

“When?”

“Yesterday during the General Assembly, a delegate’s aides were discussing the trafficking of supernaturally gifted people. From what I caught, they are slavers for people like us. I don’t think the delegate knows.”

Even now, fury and terror gripped her simultaneously. Trafficking and slavery in any form was horrendous. That they targeted her kind had Quinn on edge. She couldn’t go through that again. Hence the goon squad to the rescue.

Cain raised a single eyebrow. “They discussed it openly?”

She didn’t blame Cain for his skepticism. With translators of six languages listening, you’d think they’d be more careful. But…

“They were speaking Sumerian.”

The men exchanged baffled glances. Only Cain remained focused on her, waiting.

“Is that unusual?” Max asked.

“Sumerian is an ancient language.”

“So they assumed anyone listening wouldn’t understand.” Cain caught on quickly.

“Exactly. I only know two races who still speak ancient languages. Angels…”

Terror again zinged through her and she couldn’t quite hide her shiver. “And demons.”

Silence hung over the room, thick and heavy.

“You’re telling us we’re dealing with demons?” Max rumbled from his spot in the corner.

Cain said nothing, though she could see his mind ticking over.

Unnerved by his penetrating gaze and what it did to her body—highly inappropriate given the current situation—she focused on Max. “Most likely. Angels wouldn’t do the things they were talking about. Vampires are another possibility, given how ancient some are, but these didn’t look like vampires.”

“What? No pale skin or pointy teeth?” Shaw asked.

“Not exactly.” In fact, the demons appeared as rather plain humans. Smart. Too ugly and they stood out. Too beautiful and they stood out. Better not to draw any attention. In their true form, supposedly, demons were astonishingly beautiful. Even more so than angels. Quinn wondered if that was true.

“What delegation?” Cain asked.

“Mauritolla.”

“Damn.” Cain muttered the word under his breath, but she caught it, though the others might not have.

Quinn’s thoughts exactly. The Mauritolla archipelago, one of the world’s most beautiful island destinations in the Caribbean, visited almost exclusively by the world’s wealthiest people, also had several uninhabited islands, perfect for hiding captured supernaturals and using shipping lines to send them around the world. Also, a fair distance away from where they sat in New York City.

“Did they know you overheard?” Cain asked.

“I don’t think they realized I could understand. Both of us interpreting French that day heard. Sarah, the other girl with me, wondered what language they spoke. I said I didn’t recognize it.”

“Then why the call to Delilah?”

She raised a single eyebrow. “I wanted to check off my good deed for the day.”

Four sets of eyes stared back at her—three confused. Cain was…amused? No, that couldn’t be right.

Quinn stood and put her hands on her hips. “Do I really have to spell it out? They are hunting our kind. Not only does that put me in danger if they discover me under their noses. But people like us—” She waved at the men in the room. “—are being held captive and slaved out for their powers. I couldn’t let it go.” Before she got the hell out of Dodge.

“Okay.” Cain held up his hands. “I had to know.”

Comprehension dawned and she glared. “You were testing me?”

“Sorry.” He didn’t even have the grace to grimace.

“No you’re not.”

Sawyer, or maybe Shaw, coughed to cover a laugh, and Cain shot him a glare over her shoulder.

Quinn resumed her seat and glared at the man in front of her. “You said I have options.”

Cain leveled a calculating stare her way. Was that a spark of respect in his eyes? Why did a warm glow ignite in the region of her heart at the thought? This man was nothing to her after he got her out of here.

“Yes, options… Two.”

She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she crossed her legs, prepared to outwait whatever test he ran on her now.

His lips quirked. Barely. “Option one: we relocate you somewhere safer.”

Sounded good, but what about the demons? “And option two?”

“You help us investigate the demons and put a stop to it.”

CHAPTER 3

To give her credit, Quinn didn’t appear nervous as they made their way through security. In fact, he’d been impressed with how calm she’d been, given the situation. A trafficking ring was bad enough, but one which would be interested in her should’ve had her terrified. While he detected nerves, he could see that she focused only on what was to be done.

Cain’s new employee badge had been overnighted, and he sailed through without a hitch.

“How did Delilah get you access so quickly?” Quinn whispered as she led the way to the elevators. “The process usually takes a while.”

Cain flicked her a glance. “I don’t ask how when it’s Delilah.”

She hummed a response he interpreted as agreement.

They rode to the third floor in silence, her soft floral scent teasing him, though he was determined to ignore the kick of attraction which had started the moment she’d looked up at him in the coffee shop yesterday. Along with a strange sense of familiarity. But he’d never met Quinn before. He didn’t think he’d forget her heart-shaped face, or those soft eyes which seemed to take in everything.

He waved her ahead when they reached their floor, and they exited the elevator into a long, generic hallway lit by fluorescents above, which buzzed quietly in the background. Fewer people in this area than downstairs.

“Hey, Quinn!”

His companion waved at the two ladies passing in the hall.

“Thanks again for bringing my favorite muffin yesterday. Made my day,” one said.

Quinn’s answering smile was pleased. “Of course, sweetie.” She didn’t stop to chat, though, pulling him along in her wake as she kept walking.

As they passed him, both women stared at Cain as though he were a chilled bottle of wine and they wanted a drink. Focused on the job he had to do and the woman at his side, for his part, Cain nodded politely but otherwise kept moving.

Hard not to focus on Quinn Ridley. The woman was a dynamo in tiny packaging. He doubted she was more than five feet on a good day and slender with it. Her hair was a thousand colors which, if pressured, he’d call brunette, but golden brown with streaks of blonde was more accurate. She wore it to her shoulders in long layers she tucked behind her ears, adding to the pixie-like impression.

Usually he preferred platinum blondes, so why he was attracted to this particular pixie was a damn mystery. Yesterday, he’d walked into the coffee shop and taken a sucker punch to the gut when she glanced up, defiant and wary, and lust had slammed through his system. A strange reaction he intended to leave an unsolved mystery. His job was dealing with the demons she’d uncovered.

“Interpreters dress better than I expected for people who are heard but rarely seen.” The comment popped out of his mouth.

She gave him a glance that clearly said she found the comment odd, but shrugged. “Sorry you had to bother wearing a suit. We’re professionals. Plus, on occasion, we are asked to perform individual interpretation, which requires being seen.”

He rumbled an unintelligible reply. The suit didn’t bug him. In his line of work, disguises were often necessary, so he wore suits with practiced ease. That wasn’t why he’d said it. He knew exactly where the thought originated. From the way her skirt hugged her curves and how her heels made her legs incredibly sexy. But saying it out loud? What on earth was wrong with him today?

“In here.” She turned the handle on one of a series of doors spaced across one wall and led the way into the French interpreter’s booth. The space was glass-fronted, impersonal, and well lit, about the size of a jail cell. In the cramped area, Quinn’s light scent, flowery and sweet, stole around him. Through the one-way glass, the desks of the delegate hall spread out in a semi-circle, sloping, stadium-style, to the podium center stage below. The delegate hall was currently about half-full, occupied mostly by men in suits.

Quinn took one of the two seats and pulled her computer out of her bag, setting it on the desk. “Sarah will be in any second, which means, unfortunately, you’ll have to stand.”

Disregarding her, he took the other seat. “No, she won’t.”

She swung her gaze away from her computer screen to stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Sarah’s on paid vacation. I take it she won an all-expenses paid trip to Paris. I’m your partner for the foreseeable future.”

Crossed arms and narrowed eyes greeted his statement. “I assumed you were here for protection.”

“Too conspicuous. Better if I’m here in a professional capacity.”

“Fan-frickin-tastic,” she muttered.

“Excuse me?”

She flicked a wide-eyed glance, full of surprise, his way. Then her expression blanked and she went all professional on him. “What languages do you speak?”

Unaccustomed amusement tickled at him. He got the impression she hadn’t meant to say her first comment out loud. “English.”

She waited for him to continue. “And…?”

“That’s all.”

Quinn’s lips flattened. “So how will you be translating, exactly?”

“I’m going to borrow your power.”

She straightened in her seat. “How?”

“My ability is psychometry. Among other things, I have Ability Learning and Knowledge Replication. As long as I’m touching you, I can mimic your abilities, including anything you’ve learned through experience.”

She sat back in her seat, mollified. “I see. Handy trick.”

“It has its uses.” Why wasn’t she more impressed? In the Psy world, psychometry was a rare and coveted skill.

“As long as you don’t—” Quinn broke off with a barely audible gasp. If he’d been an empath, he’d bet anger would be sparking off her now.

Cain turned to follow the direction of her gaze to find a group of men entering the delegation hall. “Is that them?”

“Yes.” The word came out like an expletive.

Despite himself, Cain was impressed. Most would cower and hide in the face of that kind of danger. Not Quinn Ridley. Instead she was fuming. As fast as she’d jumped at the opportunity to help take the demons down, he got the impression this was a personal vendetta for her.

At the same time, he had to wonder if her sense of self-preservation was off. Not only was she willing to go after demons, but she showed zero trepidation around him. Most of the time, people avoided him, gave him a wide birth. Not that he deliberately pushed them away. Max said he had one of those faces. However, Quinn didn’t act intimidated or nervous of him. Annoyed—yes. Intimidated—no.

She pulled her glare away from the Mauritollan delegation and raised her hands to the keyboard. Hands which trembled uncontrollably. So Quinn was afraid. The strangest urge to protect her thrummed through Cain, and a bitter tang hit his tongue. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he tasted fear, but that couldn’t be right. Granted, his original job was to get Quinn out of the situation safely, but he never got personally involved. Never.

“Don’t worry. I’m here.” The words were out before he consciously thought them. Another odd reaction, all these thoughts coming out as words. Did she have another power he wasn’t aware of yet?

Cain almost laughed out loud at the incredulous glare she slowly turned his way, those grey-blue eyes disbelieving.

“Lucky me.”

He couldn’t miss the sarcasm. Strangely, instead of finding her sass annoying, he fought another urge to chuckle. Damn, he must finally be losing it. Psys had a higher rate of mental illness than most. Still, the fear that had her shaking needed to be addressed. She needed to know he had her back.

He held her gaze with his steady one until her shoulders dropped slightly. After a deep breath, she nodded, and the acceptance of his offer of protection hit him like an arrow to the heart. He would protect her from harm, he silently vowed, at the same time perplexed about his unusual reaction to her. While he helped a lot of people in his line of work, emotional attachment wasn’t his thing.

“Time to get to work,” she murmured, businesslike demeanor firmly in place, and she tuned him out as she turned back to her computer and flipped on her microphone.

Almost immediately she began translating, taking notes here or there, he guessed to help her remember what the delegate had said. Cain watched and listened in fascination as, real-time, she took what was being said in English and repeated it in French with hardly a pause and no ums or uhs or other verbal fillers. Making it more difficult in this instance, the delegate from China was speaking. Consequently, the Chinese interpreter would first interpret any spoken Chinese into English, and Quinn would translate into French. Not that she needed the assist, but still.

After twenty minutes, she indicated he should switch on his own microphone. Before he did, he took her hand—warm and delicate under his grasp. Momentarily, he was distracted by an odd sense of peace that washed through him at her touch, but shook it off and closed his eyes, concentrating. A sensation like ice slithered up his fingertips, through his nerves, up his spine and, like shards splintering through him, into his brain. Gaining someone else’s knowledge, even temporarily, was never pleasant. Agony might be a better term.

Suddenly, a cacophony of noise fractured through his mind as her ability to understand all communications kicked in. Holy crap. She hadn’t been kidding. What she hadn’t mentioned, however, was she received everything, like every radio station playing at the same time. Even phone calls, the computer thinking through its programming. Everything. The urge to slap his hands over his ears and make it stop was overwhelming. How had she not gone crazy listening to all the noise?

His Knowledge Replication took over next. That part usually took longer to sink in. Gradually, he found he could tune out the noises, focusing only on what he wished. He wondered how long it had taken her to master the skill? How long had she lived with the voices and chaos inside her head?

As the pain of his ability faded to prickling, he had everything he needed. After what constituted ages to him, but probably only a minute to her, he opened his eyes to find Quinn watching with avid curiosity. Like a seasoned vet, he switched on his microphone and started interpreting the words being said in the delegation hall on the other side of the glass.

None of the Mauritolla delegation turned or acted surprised in any way to hear a man’s voice. Good.

CHAPTER 4

Quinn watched the streets of New York blur by as the taxi took her and Cain away from the headquarters after they’d finished work for the day. “Explain to me again why we’re going back to my apartment, rather than the hotel?”

The hotel with all the other members of his team. Wasn’t there supposed to be safety in numbers?

“We want to act as normally as possible.”

“Normal doesn’t include having a man in my apartment,” she muttered at the window.

“Oh?”

Quinn scrunched up her face. Shoot. She’d said that out loud. Again. What was it about Cain that had her blurting out her thoughts like this? If she didn’t know better, she’d think interest had sparked in his deep voice, but she refused to turn his way. Resigned to the next few hours, she remained quiet the rest of the ride home.

George, the super for her building, stood outside working on a window. “Hey, Quinn!” he greeted when she stepped onto the sidewalk. “Thanks again for those Broadway tickets. Sally loved it.”

She grinned. “I’m glad.”

He glanced at Cain with avid curiosity, but she kept going inside.

“Tickets?” Cain asked as they hiked up four flights of stairs.

“I did a personal interpreting job at a party for the French delegates, and they gave them to me as thanks. Sally had mentioned wanting to see that show. No biggie.”

Cain’s grunt told her he wasn’t so sure, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue with the man.

She unlocked and opened the door to her apartment cautiously, semi-expecting her place to be ransacked, like in the movies. But her apartment was exactly as she’d left it. Relief surged through her in a wave. The mere thought of strangers going through her things gave her the heebie-jeebies.

She put down her laptop bag and purse by the door, kicked off her shoes, and moved further inside, flipping on lights as she went. Wrung out didn’t begin to cover her current state of being. “So this is what? Friendly dinner with the new colleague?”

It didn’t escape her that Cain filled her small one-bedroom apartment more than was comfortable, taking up her breathing space.

He didn’t comment. Instead he searched the place thoroughly, not that it took him long. Even after five years here, she still kept it pretty basic. Bed and dresser and night stand in the bedroom. Couch, coffee table, and TV in the living area, and a small kitchen table in the kitchenette. Even the décor was still the generic stuff Delilah’s team had furnished the place with at the time—reds and tans. She liked it well enough, so she didn’t bother to change it. Cain took off his jacket and draped it on the back of a kitchen chair before he dropped casually onto her couch and loosened up his tie.

She ignored the pitter-patter of heart at the sexy image he presented and lifted an eyebrow. “Make yourself at home.”

He ignored her sarcasm. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.”

“Not a lot of pictures.”

Especially of family. Damn observant man. “I’m camera shy.” She’d rather not hear his psychoanalysis of her life. “Can I get you a drink? Water? Iced tea? Beer?”

He let her change the subject. “Beer sounds good. Thanks.”

Quinn spun on her heel, headed into the kitchen, and pulled a bottle of her favorite beer and a pitcher of iced tea out of the fridge, then got down a glass.

“I assume you’ll get a taxi back to the hotel?” she called.

“I’m not leaving.”

She paused pouring the tea into a glass.

“Why not?”

“As your new fiancé who moved here from Paris and got a job with you to be closer, it would look odd if I went and stayed with a bunch of men. Don’t you think?”

Quinn snorted and opened a canister of sugar which sat on her countertop. “Good one.”

Silence greeted her. She stopped spooning sugar into her glass and glanced over the counter to find him watching her with patient expectance.

She scowled. “Hell, no.”

“I’m afraid so. We need to appear normal. You need protection. There’s no chance I’m leaving you alone.”

“Has it escaped your notice there’s not enough room here?” She waved at the apartment. “Where do you think you’ll sleep?”

“In your bed.”

Her heart kicked it up a notch and her body screamed yes, but her mind balked. “You really don’t value your life. Do you?”

Was that a smile tilting the corners of his mouth?Nope. Not sexy. Do not think of him as sexy. She chanted the mantra in her head, refusing to acknowledge how she was failing miserably to adhere to her own instructions. The man was sex appeal wrapped up in a fabulous package. Instead she narrowed her eyes. “What? You think I’m funny?”

“I think you’re fighting the inevitable.”

“I think you’re delusional. It’s sofa city for you, sweetheart.”

Cain broke out in a full-bellied laugh. His smile transformed his face from broodingly handsome to drop dead gorgeous, and heat pooled low as fierce attraction swept through her in response.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever called me sweetheart before.”

She didn’t doubt it. She pointed her spoon at him. “I’m serious. You’re not sleeping in my bed.”

“Your fiancé would.”

She spread her arms wide. “No one is here to know the difference.”

“Honey, we’re dealing with demons.”

His calm logic only infuriated her more. If rumors were to be believed, demons could see through walls. Quinn gritted her teeth. “Fine,” she spat. “But I sleep on the left. Touch me and I’ll cut off your hand. And you’d better not snore.”

He held up both hands. “I make no promises.”

“Grrrr.” Quinn growled her frustration and refused to acknowledge the panic tingeing the emotion. What if she did something really stupid? Like jump Cain in her sleep?

She moved around the counter, shoved Cain’s beer at him, then yanked her cellphone out of her purse. She’d had a crappy couple of days. She needed pizza. Her favorite place picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Tony. It’s Quinn. Yeah, I’ll need the usual, please.”

She glanced at Cain, who listened with raised eyebrows. “Make that a double order. Thanks.”

Quinn bolted upright in bed, gasping for air. Her nightmare, the one she had every night, dissipated as consciousness returned. But fear of a different sort seized her in the dark of the middle of the night—someone was in her room, in her bed. Without zero hesitation, she whipped out the knife hidden between her mattress and box spring and was on top of her intruder, knife at his throat, in a flash.

She froze as recognition slammed into her. Daniel Cain lay under her as she straddled him, his hands held up in a surrender-like gesture. Only the blaze of his pale blue eyes told her he hadn’t surrendered. The sound of her panting breaths was the only noise in the room.

“Quinn?”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry!” she mumbled.

As fast as she’d jumped him, Quinn rolled away, careful not to nick him with the knife. She sat with her back to him, legs dangling off the side of the bed, and stuffed her weapon back into its hiding place before dropping her head into her hands.

“If you didn’t like my beard, all you had to do was say so. No need to shave it off for me.”

His unexpected teasing pulled a huff of a laugh from her. “Normally, I don’t like beards on men.”

“But you like mine.” An interesting tone of satisfaction layered his words. The rustle of sheets told her he sat up.

In fact, she found his beard, neatly trimmed to a point and sporting streaks of grey that gave him a distinguished air, sexy as all get out. “Maybe. Not very comfortable for kissing though.” Dammit. Did I just say that out loud? This was becoming a bad habit.

“Were you planning on kissing me?”

She scrunched up her face. She had said it out loud. Time to screech this conversation to a halt before she said something that got her in real trouble. “Sorry about the knife.”

His grunt told her he’d caught the change of subject. “Was it your nightmare or having a stranger in your bed that set you off?”

“Both.” She lifted her head from her hands and scooted around to face him, crossing her legs. That she was comfortable with him as she sat there in a t-shirt and pajama shorts, and he in nothing but his boxers, struck her as odd. Though she didn’t mind the eye candy his bare chest provided.

“Tell me.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t take the softly couched words as a command, more an invitation.

“I’m guessing Delilah didn’t share much with you about me?”

His lips quirked. “Remind me to thank her for that, by the way.”

She gave him a half-smile. “Like most telepaths, I came into my powers when I was seventeen.”

“Did your family have any history of Psys?”

She shook her head. “Not that they knew of. I had a great-aunt who’d been institutionalized at the same age for schizophrenia. One day, she just stopped talking.”

Cain nodded. In families who didn’t already know the signs, blaming mental illness was common.

“I was taken to a series of doctors because of the voices in my head.”

Another nod.

“One of those doctors turned out to be a Psy. With my parents’ permission, he had me taken to what they were told was a hospital to treat my illness.”

“But it wasn’t?”

Quinn swallowed. “No. It was a…cult, for lack of a better word. Not unlike being slaved out. I was taken to a facility in the middle of the wilderness, impossible to escape. I was used for my powers.” For two long years. She shuddered.

“How did you get out?”

As usual, the black hole where that memory existed sneered at her. “I don’t remember. I woke up in a hospital. Delilah was there. She said her team got me out. After I recovered, she got me my job here and this apartment.”

“When was that?”

“Six years ago.”

A flicker of emotion passed over his face, too quick for her to catch. “Where were you held? Do you know?”

“Somewhere in Alaska.”

He was silent so long she wondered what was going on in his head, but his expression was carefully neutral.

“What’s your nightmare?”

She blinked at his sudden question, then inhaled before speaking. “I’m still there. Trapped. Used. Terrified. I promised myself I’d never be vulnerable again. Delilah helped by having me trained to fight.”

Again that flicker behind a mask of blankness. What was running through his head?

“I might be able to see more about your escape. Do you want to know?”

She’d bet her life the offer was a rare one for him to make. “So Retrocognition is another one of your skills?”

A hum of affirmation.

“Why?”

He seemed to understand what she was asking—why was he helping? “Maybe knowing will help your nightmares go away.”

Doubtful. They came to her every night. Still…maybe finding out was worth the try. She licked her dry lips. “Okay.”

He gazed deeply into her eyes, as if searching for any shred of doubt, but she gazed back steadily. Finally, he nodded. “I have to touch you.”

Quinn grimaced. “Okay.” Physical touch could be weird for Psys—a constant bombardment of their senses making it difficult for them to form relationships. For her, the connection could make the voices in her head, the ones she’d learned to block out, louder. Although come to think of it, today at work, when he’d touched her to gain her abilities to translate, nothing had happened. Weird.

Cain reached out and placed both hands on either side of her face. Again, no amplification of the voices. If anything, an unusual peace settled over her. Was he using his power on her? But no, a psychometric couldn’t soothe. Maybe being near another Psy helped?

He closed his eyes and inhaled deep and slow. “I see caves? Cells?”

“Where we lived. An abandoned mine system.”

“You’re locked in a room.” His lips tightened. She knew what he was seeing. How pitiful her living accommodations were. The room where she’d been held had sported a bed and small table. Overhead lights swung from the rock ceiling, but she hadn’t controlled when they were on or off. At least she’d been well fed and had books supplied.

“I wasn’t kept in there all the time. Mostly at night. They needed my…services…too often.”

“You’re asleep.”

His brows drew down. “Loud noises. An explosion.”

Why couldn’t she remember?

“Gunfire now.”

Total black hole for her.

“It’s gone quiet.” He continued to concentrate. “Someone’s coming down the hall. You can hear footsteps. The door is opening—”

He was quiet for a long moment.

“What’s happening?” she whispered.

“A man opened the door. He’s holding a samurai sword. You asked him if he was there to kill you.” The way he said kill made her shiver. A bottomless depth of fury laced the word. Why? For her? At her captors?

“What’d he say?”

“He said he was there to get you out. That you’d be okay now.”

Cain opened his eyes, a blaze of heat lashed at her from his gaze—anger, desire, triumph, something darker that she couldn’t identify. A confusing cocktail of information. He didn’t need to say the words for her to hear the emotions.

She licked her lips. “What did I say?”

He didn’t speak. She wasn’t even sure he caught the question, too intently focused on her. Her lungs squeezed tightly, making it difficult to breathe. Carefully, she placed her hands over his. “Cain?”

He jerked slightly under her touch. “You kissed him.” The words were dragged from him—rough and tortured. His gaze dropped to her lips, and need pulsed through every nerve in her body. What was going on?

“Daniel?”

With a low groan, he pulled her to him, his lips covering hers in a kiss both possessive and demanding. Sensation blew through her, the heady scent of his skin, the rasp of his beard against her face, the taste of his tongue as he claimed her mouth. Needing more, she practically climbed into his lap when, suddenly, the tenor changed. Gentle hands pulled her away as he broke the kiss.

“Not a good idea.”

He set her away from him, on her side of the bed, then got up and left the room.

CHAPTER 5

Ten days later, Cain followed Quinn into her apartment. After putting her purse and laptop bag down, she stood there with her hands on her hips.

Concerned, he put a hand to her shoulder, her tension screaming at him through the stiffness of her shoulders. “Hey. You okay?” She’d been unusually quiet at work today.

“We’re not getting anywhere, Cain.” Frustration filled every syllable.

Quinn Ridley truly cared about the people the Mauritollans had taken and were selling to the highest bidder. After learning about her history, he understood why she cared so much. That she hadn’t run away in terror, to protect herself, impressed him. That he shared her frustration connected him to her in a way he didn’t understand and was reluctant to explore.

He still hadn’t told her that he was the man who rescued her in Alaska. As soon as she’d described that night, he’d known. Maybe he’d known on some level anyway, having the strangest sense of already knowing her since meeting her in that coffee shop. But he didn’t want her distracted by the past. He needed her focus on this situation. Hell, he needed his own focus on this situation. He shouldn’t be thinking about that kiss—one that hadn’t ever quite left him in all these years.

He squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll get there. These things take patience.”

She turned her grey-eyed gaze—which seemed to reach into his soul—in his direction. “Why do you do this?”

“What? Hang out with a gorgeous woman? I’d think that self-evident.”

She rolled her eyes. “No. Why do you use your abilities to help others? You’re in just as much danger as I am from these people. So why?”

He considered her earnest expression. Unable to resist, he reached out and tucked a silky strand of hair behind her ear. Beyond a soft flush on her cheeks, she didn’t react or stop waiting for an answer.

Making a snap decision, he whipped out his phone and texted Max his plans. Then he bent down and grabbed Quinn’s purse, holding it out to her. “Come on.”

She regarded him with raised eyebrows. “Where are we going?”

“I need coffee—good coffee—if I’m going to talk about why I do what I do.”

Quinn took a sip of her coffee and cocked her head at Cain, who sat across the table from her in the cozy, boho-style shop, a look of pure bliss on his face as he gulped down scalding coffee. Black.

“I don’t get it,” she said.

He gave a hum of enjoyment as he lowered his cup. “Don’t get what?”

“I like coffee as much as the next girl, but, while this is good, I don’t taste much difference from the coffee shop on the corner by my house.”

“Then you’re not a true coffee lover.” Cain grinned, and the impact struck her in the solar plexus. He didn’t smile often, and now she was kind of grateful for that fact. Over the last ten days, her awareness of Cain had blossomed into full-blown attraction.

Despite the fact that he was a battle-hardened Special Ops leader, Cain had a chivalrous streak a mile wide. Small thing like holding doors. Bigger things like taking her out for coffee to try to get her mind off the people they weren’t saving.

Fact was, she liked him—as a person. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.

Cain leaned back and propped his foot on his knee. “You asked why I do this?”

She took another sip of her coffee. “Yes.”

“I went into the navy as soon as I graduated from high school. With my…special abilities, which include ability learning, enhanced marksmanship, and weapons proficiency, I did well. Eventually, I became a S.E.A.L. and spent several years putting my skills to use for my country. I’d like to think I saved lives.”

That explained the dangerous edge she could sense in him. And the way he moved. The way he entered a room and took in every detail. Despite the humbleness, truth rang in his words, and she could sense what he wasn’t saying. He definitely saved lives.

“Why’d you quit?”

“I got a call from my parents. My sister was missing. Like me, she had inherited their telepathic abilities, hers manifesting in a true psychic ability to see the future.”

Darkness infiltrated his voice now, and Quinn wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what came next.

“Max was her fiancé. She’d met him through mutual friends like us. Together, we managed to track her down.”

Quinn closed her eyes. “It was too late, wasn’t it?”

Cain twisted his cup in his hands, gaze far away, trapped in memories which made his mouth flatten in a grim line. “Yeah.” He took a swig of coffee.

“Like you, she’d been taken to be used for her skills. When she deliberately started feeding them false futures, losing them millions, they killed her. Two days before we found her.”

Unable to help herself, Quinn leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. He tensed under her touch, not in a psy-to-psy kind of way, more like he hadn’t been expecting it, but she refused to pull away. “I’m sorry.”

He stared into her eyes for a long moment, and somehow she knew that he’d taken comfort, even a small amount, from her words and her touch.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Delilah was involved in our finding Casey, my sister, in the first place. She offered me and Max a job, hooked us up with the Thor look-a-likes, and the rest is history.”

Quinn’s lips twitched at his description of the twins. That was how she thought of them. But she wasn’t letting him just skip over the important part. “You couldn’t save her, so you save others now.”

Again, that steady gaze reached inside her. “Is that what your powers tell you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t need to be a Psy to see that.” She placed a hand on the side of his face, his beard tickling her palm. “You’re a good man, Daniel Cain. You would have saved your sister if you could. Your sister would have seen that. She knew you loved her.”

If she hadn’t been touching him, she would’ve missed how much her words shook him up. He tensed under her hand, and desolation—bleak and dark—filled those blue eyes. “I know,” he muttered.

She lowered her hand but jerked when he suddenly grabbed hers before she could sit back. “You remind me of her sometimes,” he murmured, soft and low. “Same feisty streak. Same determination to help others. Same caring heart.”

Her turn to be shaken now—he seemed to see her. The real her. If she wasn’t careful, she could fall for Daniel Cain. Every doubt associated with that thought made her panic and pull back. Time to do something to cut through the thick intimacy which surrounded them.

She squeezed his hand. “I like her already.”

He smiled and let her go. “Same way of not letting anyone get too close.”

Her eyes widened as she caught the teasing twinkle in his. Did he want to get close?

Part of her wanted an answer to that, and part of her didn’t. She definitely needed some distance, and they had more important things to deal with right now. “We need to get these guys, Cain. Before they ruin another life.”

“We will.”

CHAPTER 6

Cain sat, his butt numb, in the uncomfortable seat in their interpretation room and listened as Quinn translated with amazing ease while the delegates on the other side of the glass did their thing. Even though he could do the same when he touched her, the skill never ceased to impress him. Yes, her gift gave her an advantage, but still, her job demanded cognitive prowess to both listen and speak almost simultaneously while jumping through additional linguistic hoops such as syntax, humor, and colloquialisms.

Plus, he could listen to the husky rasp of her voice all day and never tire of the sound. Lately, he’d taken to fantasizing about hearing her voice as they made love. A fantasy not helped by the soft flowery scent of her skin, which filled the small space and surrounded him. The same thing happened at night when they slept. Or she slept, and he lay there wide awake.

Cain gave himself a mental shake and focused on the Mauritolla delegation. His attention needed to be on Max at this instant, not on the woman in the booth beside him. After the first week of getting nowhere, Cain ordered Max to employ his Illusion Manipulation, disguising himself as one of the Bahamian delegate’s entourage, who sat beside the Mauritollans, in an attempt to get someone closer. That had been two weeks ago.

With a weary sigh, Quinn flipped off her microphone and pushed back from the desk, her chair rolling silently across the carpeted floor. “Should be it for the day.”

A quick check told him the U.S. delegate was speaking now, giving him and Quinn a break for a while, as they had no need to translate to English.

Today she’d worn a black swishy skirt paired with a white camisole hidden under a black suit jacket. She crossed her legs, and the silky material of the skirt slid back. Even her knees were sexy. And definitely her feet in those bright red heels, though the shoes currently lay in a pile under the desk. Amusement tickled at him. Quinn never kept her shoes on long.

Get your flipping head in the game, Cain, he harshly commanded himself.

“Max okay?” she asked.

He flicked a glance at both their mics, but the lights were off, so no one else could hear them. “Fine.”

“He hasn’t learned anything new. Has he?”

Cain kept his expression neutral as he turned back to the delegation hall beyond, where Max sat. “He’s making progress.”

“Liar.”

He whipped his head toward her to find her laughing at him.

“Thought that would get your attention.” She grinned, unrepentant.

He grumbled his irritation.

The smile fell from her lips as she sobered. “I know you’re trying to protect me, or save me worry, or some such thing. I’m a big girl.”

He’d noticed.

“Have we learned anything?”

“No.”

“Too bad we don’t have a true telepath on the team.”

“Yeah.” Cain often wished for that skill. The twins were telekinetic with different focuses. Usually, the combination of the four of men on the team was more than enough. However, when their primary duty was surveillance, like now, a telepath sure would come in handy.

“Time for a different tack, don’t you think?”

Cain frowned at the resolution behind her words. Only three weeks with Quinn and he could read her like a book. He refused to acknowledge the suspected reason for that. Now wasn’t the time. Yet. “What do you mean?”

“They’re trafficking supernaturals.”

He crossed his arms, already not liking where she was going with this. “So?”

“So it’s time to offer up bait.”

“You?” He tried to keep his gut reaction out of his voice but must’ve failed.

She cocked her head. “Why not?”

“I’ve seen what you went through last time you were slaved out.” Even now he had to control the rage which boiled through him at the knowledge. That he had been the one to save her, the man she’d kissed that night, the man who’d assassinated those who’d held her captive—a fact he’d yet to share with Quinn—made little difference. He despised himself for keeping her in harm’s way now. She was too…important…to him in a way he wasn’t ready to label yet. But no chance in hell was he allowing her to get close to those men.

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m stronger now. Smarter. I’m not a seventeen-year-old girl anymore.”

That was for sure. “No.”

Like a rattlesnake striking, she spun to the desk and flipped on her microphone. She spoke softly in a tongue he’d never come across. She only got out a sentence or two before he managed to turn off the machine.

“What did you say?”

She tipped her chin defiantly. “That I know who they are and what they’re doing.”

He stood, both hands planted on the desktop and tried to reign in a mounting anger, a rock of pure fear weighing heavy in his gut. A glance showed the Mauritollan contingency not looking, but stiff in their seats. A couple of other delegations turned to stare up at the glass wall at the top of the room which hid the interpreters’ booths, probably confused by the odd language suddenly spoken in their headsets. Only Max, in his seat with the Bahamians, appeared relaxed. No doubt they’d heard her. “What have you done, Quinn?”

“Too late now.” She sat calmly, staring at him boldly despite the anger he was sure reflected in the scowl he turned her way. “You might want to stay at the hotel with the guys tonight.”

“Like hell.”

He spoke softly, but she still flinched. So she wasn’t oblivious to how furious he was with her.

“Once they have me, I’ll call and relay my location as we go.”

He clenched his hands at his sides. “And how will you do that when they take your cell phone?”

The woman smirked. “My ability includes cell phones. I don’t need to have one physically on me. I can hook into the cellular and wireless signals flying around.”

She grimaced, but he already knew because he’d experienced for himself…all those signals made the noises in her head, the ones she blocked out constantly, worse. His cell phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his pocket to discover a text from her.

I can reach you from anywhere and send you GPS coordinates. I’ll be fine.

A hiss of breath escaped him as he put his phone back in his pocket. “Why couldn’t you just listen into their calls?”

“I’ve been doing that. Nothing turned up. It’s been weeks, Cain. We need to move faster.”

Cain crouched in front of her, not that his suit gave much room to do so easily. He placed his hands on her knees—the heat of her skin through the thin silk of her skirt warming his palms—and the same odd calming effect which happened every time he touched her settled him, if only a tiny bit, and despite the fact that he wasn’t using his power on her. “If anything happens to you because of me—”

“It won’t be because of you, but because of me. I chose to turn these goons in to Delilah. I chose to help your team out. I am choosing to be the bait. If I can keep what happened to me from happening to any other person out there, I will.”

He could see the resolve in the soft grey eyes that gazed steadily at him. Jaw tense, he rocked back on his heels and stood. “Do-gooder.”

“Who me?” She pointed at her chest, all wide-eyed innocence blended with pure mischief. A combination he found irresistible.

Cain huffed a laugh. Behind the tough, often sarcastic, exterior she presented to the world lay the heart of someone truly decent, as evidenced by the fact that every person who came into contact with her loved her. Quinn’s goodness manifested as small acts of kindness every day. Only this morning she’d snuck out of the apartment to get him the coffee he liked. Of course, he’d come down on her hard. What if she’d been taken? What if he couldn’t find her? Even now, panic spiked, despite what she’d just revealed about her ability to get in touch with him.

He leaned back against the desk, trying to put distance between them and gain perspective on the situation, and crossed his arms. “If they take you, no heroics. Use your powers to contact me and wait. Agreed?”

“You’re no fun,” she pouted.

Why did he want to laugh? “That’s not funny.”

She winked. “It’s a little funny.”

“Promise me.”

She scooted her chair over to her computer and shut it down, then stuffed it in her laptop bag. Standing, she scooped up the bag as well as her purse. “Ready?”

He remained where he stood and waited.

She shook her head at him. “Are you this overprotective with all the women you rescue?”

Just one. The one he’d rescued once already. The kiss that had haunted his dreams for six years. How he hadn’t recognized her when they first met, he’d never know. His only excuse being how dark the cave cell had been, and she’d been whisked away before he got a good look at her. Besides, six years and a happier life could change a person’s appearance.

“Fine,” she huffed when he didn’t budge. “No heroics. I promise.”

CHAPTER 7

Cain laid down another hand and glanced at his phone, which sat, disturbingly silent, on the end of the desk. The hotel room only had the one piece of furniture they could use as a poker table, so they’d dragged the desk to the center of the room. Sawyer and Shaw sat on the end of the bed, using one long side. He and Max had grabbed the chair and stool and took the two short sides.

They dressed like they were off duty—jeans and t-shirts—which bugged him in a weird way. Quinn was out there, and he wasn’t even dressed to react quickly.

“She’ll be fine.” Max rubbed at the scar on his wrist hidden under the leather band he always wore. Clearly, he didn’t believe that any more than Cain did.

Cain grunted and waited for the guys to finish out the hand. He ignored the trickle of sweat running down his back. The air-conditioner was a piece of junk even Shaw couldn’t fix without new parts. The heat and humidity of the summer night blew in through the open window, along with the noises of the city. The breeze did little to alleviate the smell of sweat and humanity permeating the room.

Didn’t take long before Max scooped up the pot. Sawyer shuffled the cards and dealt. Cain checked his. Trash. He waited for the flop. Still trash. Sure he could bluff it out, in fact, he’d usually try that, but instead he folded. And checked his phone again.

“I’ve never seen you like this, man.” Sawyer’s gaze remained on his cards.

Tipping his chair back, Cain ran his hand over his beard and didn’t comment.

“You like her.” Sawyer’s uncanny powers of observation had nothing to do with his telepathy, but Cain often thought it might as well have.

Cain sat forward, the legs of his chair hitting the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. “She’s got guts. I’ll say that for her.” No way was he going to voice his real opinion. His team needed him to lead, not turn into a sappy, distracted ass.

Max glanced up from his cards and pinned Cain with a dark, unwavering gaze. “This is different.”

Max was right. The level of his interest in Quinn scared the hell out of Cain. “Remember our first mission?”

Shaw laid down the turn card. “In Alaska? That cave system holding all the sups?”

“Yeah.”

Sawyer frowned over the cards in his hand. “You think this is them? We took care of them.”

“All of them,” Max added, a hard light in his eyes.

“No. This is not them. But she was there.”

All three of his men jerked their heads up to stare at him.

“No way,” Sawyer said.

“Quinn was one of the sups they held prisoner?” Shaw asked.

Cain nodded an affirmative. Not the youngest being held, but close. Cain glanced down and shock pinged through him at the sight of his own clenched his fists. With a shake, he forced his hands to relax under the table where the others couldn’t see.

“How’d you find out?” Max asked.

“She had a nightmare. I touched her, saw everything.”

Max leaned back, studying Cain’s expression. “Is she the one?”

“Yeah.” After everything had settled in Alaska, Cain had tried to find her, needing to know she was okay. Max had helped, but Delilah had several teams there that day, and another group had taken Quinn to safety.

Max’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll be damned.”

Exactly.

“So let me get this straight…” Sawyer leaned his elbows on his knees. “She set herself up to be taken into the same situation we rescued her from?”

“Yes.”

“Guts doesn’t begin to cover it,” Sawyer muttered.

Also right.

“How’d you let her go, man?” Shaw asked, only to be cuffed over the head by his brother. “Ow! What was that for?” He threw his cards at his brother.

“You’re about as sensitive as a knife to the gut.” Sawyer tipped his chin at Cain.

Shaw’s scowl cleared. “Oh. You have a thing for Quinn. I get it.”

Before Sawyer could whack his brother in the head again, Cain’s phone signaled a message.

A sensation akin to panic twisted up his insides.

Not good.

“Damn,” he muttered. This woman was going to put him into an early grave from stress alone. Or put more grey in his beard at the very least.

“What?” Max asked. All three men had dropped their cards, their focus fully on him.

He shook his head and kept typing on his phone.

He waited, phone gripped tightly, but she didn’t respond. He never should have left her side. He should have let them take him too. Cain paused. As often happened, his mind cleared as a plan formed. He raised his gaze to his second-in-command. “Max?”

Max’s arms flexed as he crossed them. “You about to do something stupid?”

“I need your help. We need to get the demons to take me too.”

“Bad idea, boss,” Shaw mumbled. Sawyer said nothing, but his agreement with Shaw was stamped across the closed expression on his face.

Max studied him through narrowed eyes. “You say never separate the team.”

“She can keep us connected.”

“What if they take you to a different location. She won’t know.”

“Then you’ll have to come find me. I can’t leave her.”

Max’s jaw hardened, but he nodded. “Okay.”

Cain blew out a breath. “We need more help.” He dialed a number he’d memorized long ago. “Delilah?”

CHAPTER 8

Quinn stared out of the bars to her cell, down a long dark hallway with naked light bulbs hanging from a wire every ten feet, casting a dim light throughout the chamber. Her cell was one of three, each about the size of a closet, situated at the end, which meant she could see every new capture brought in. At least, those who posed no risk of escape. From what she could tell, another block of cells which neutralized physical abilities in various ways was located down a different hall.

Good thing they hadn’t stuck her in one of those, or she’d have no access to Cain and be up a creek without a paddle.

The accommodations here weren’t nearly as good as those in her previous hellhole in Alaska. There, at least, she’d had a bed and covers. Even some books. Here was just the cell. She sat or lay on the hard cement floor. They did feed her, but no utensils were provided, so she ate with her hands. Worst of all, she peed in a bucket in the corner. Thankfully, the building was air conditioned, keeping the summer heat at bay.

Now she sat on the floor with her back against the wall. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the concrete wall. Loneliness and fear made her want to reach out to Cain just to talk, but she didn’t want to drive him nuts with idle chatter.

You talk a good game, Ridley, but inside you’re a coward.

She plucked at one of the wireless signals floating through the air. While she couldn’t see them, she could sense them there, and, more importantly, hear them. Tapping into them had taken a ton of practice. She used the signal now to check the time. Almost seven at night, just a few more minutes and she’d check in with Cain. She’d been here two days, every second eternal, but she’d caught a conversation on a walkie-talkie which led her to believe tonight or tomorrow they’d take her to a boat to be shipped to their longer-term holding facility in the islands.

Anticipation stirred as she mentally composed her text, using her Telecommunication ability to convert it into the digital signal which would travel a cellular signal she’d hooked into—a signal which she couldn’t see or touch, but she could hear it and speak to it. The noises that came out of her reminded her of the clicks dolphins made to communicate. Cameras throughout the area caught her making the noises, but no one would understand her. However, she tried not to do it too often. Better to not draw extra attention.

She waited for Cain’s reply. “Bet five bucks he asks for my location,” she muttered, smiling to herself.

With a jerk, Quinn sat forward abruptly.

Quinn forced herself to relax back against the wall, acutely aware of the cameras, when what she wanted to do was pace. Of all the stupid, idiotic… Don’t be a hero, he told her. What about him? She should’ve made him promise the same darn thing.

Which told her Max wasn’t any happier about it than she was. He didn’t tell her that Cain wouldn’t be in this situation if she would’ve just shared her location. But she was thinking it. A frantic sensation clawed at her insides. She had to find him.

And now she waited. Not passively, though. Quinn methodically started checking every transmission and digital communication out of the area where she was held, listening for any sign of Cain.

Nine hours later, exhaustion dragged at her eyelids, but she forced herself to stay alert, searching for the man whom she trusted above all others. A few weeks of constant contact and she found she craved his presence, his voice, the odd sense of calm his rare touches brought her. Her nightmares, a nightly occurrence for six years, had ceased completely with him in her bed. She hadn’t wanted to examine why too closely before, but now she had nothing but time and her thoughts. And the knowledge that she was falling for Daniel Cain. Hard.

The clank of the metal door at the end of the chamber dragged her from her telepathic stupor. She gave a slow blink as footsteps echoed down the hallway, preceding the figure of a man too lean to be Cain or any of the others on his team. She straightened as she recognized the man who brought her food and a fresh piss bucket every day. Only he carried neither.

Key in hand, he stared at her through the bars with a blank expression and the eerily beautiful pale blue eyes of a demon. “Stand up, turn around, hands on the wall.” He spoke in broken English.

“Where are you taking me?” Quinn used Sumerian, the language she’d overheard the islanders speaking weeks ago. She didn’t need to fake the fear which lent a wobble to her voice.

His eyes widened, but he didn’t answer, merely repeated his instructions in perfect Sumerian. Yup. Demon.

She did as he asked as quickly as muscles weakened from two days of minimal food and water and limited movement would allow. That she couldn’t control the shaking of her body irritated her.

He unlocked the cell door with a metallic click, then took her hands and bound them behind her with industrial zip ties. A blindfold came next. That part didn’t worry Quinn too much. Immediately, she sent a signal to Cain’s cell phone, confident Max would receive it. Using a tracking app, she allowed him to watch on a map as she was led out of the cell, down the hall, and out the heavy metal door. After that, she would’ve lost track of the twists and turns through the building if not for her own signal.

A blast of humid air, followed by the sound of water lapping against a shore, and she was outside the building. Were they at a dock?

Her footing changed, and they were walking uphill. A gangplank? Had to be. She was grateful she’d worn running shoes when the demons took her because the stilettos she sported at work would’ve been crap at negotiating the slatted metal flooring she was walked along once inside what she assumed was a large boat. Finally, they stopped and a door was opened with a rusty creak. She winced as the demon cut her zip ties off, nicking her skin with his knife. Her blindfold was whipped off, and she stumbled as he shoved her roughly inside before he slammed the door closed.

Wherever he’d put her had no window and no light. Quinn felt her way through the pitch dark, glad her previous experience hadn’t resulted in claustrophobia or a fear of the dark. Otherwise, she’d be wigging about now. Encountering smooth metal walls, she explored the space by touch alone.

“Ow! Son of a—” She bit off the expletive and rubbed her shin before bending down to feel for what she’d walked into. Pleasant surprise washed through her when she discovered a bed with a mattress in the corner. Even better, more exploration and a couple more bruises revealed a toilet and sink as well. Better than her little cell in what must’ve been a dock-side warehouse.

With a resigned sigh, she plunked down on the bed. Max had her location. He’d be coming. She just hoped he found Cain, too. Her own searching had turned up nothing. How long would it take before Max came anyway?

Despite the fact that she strained her ears for any sound of a fight, of rescue, she had zero warning when her door jerked open. A broad-shouldered man stood silhouetted in the doorway and memory slammed through her. In a split second, she mentally transported back to the prison in Alaska when her rescuer had opened her door.

Quinn gasped, but before she could do more, the man in her doorway was shoved roughly inside, and the door slammed closed behind him. The lock turned with a thunk.

“Quinn?”

One syllable, but she’d know his voice anywhere.

“Daniel,” she choked as she threw herself in his general direction.

The dark hampered them both, and she managed to slam into a wall of muscled man and bump his chin with her forehead. His strong arms closed around her, and calm descended over her body. She was safe as long as he was near.

Without thinking it through, she went up on her tiptoes and pulled him down to place her lips over his. The kiss was sweet and hot, zinging through her nerves in a delightful way. After a shocked second of hesitation, he pulled her closer and took over, claiming her lips with his and stoking the fires inside her.

With a low groan, he pulled back, their panting filling the room.

“Why’d they put you in here?” she asked, voice raspy.

“I managed to touch one of the humans involved. He was easily manipulated to get orders to hold us together. Touching any of the demons would’ve been useless, so I got lucky.”

She pulled back and punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

He didn’t even give her the satisfaction of an ‘oomf,’ nor did he let go of her. “What was that for?”

“Next time you promise me not to be a hero,” she grumbled.

A low chuckle reached her ears. “I should have been with you in the first place.”

“Oh!” Realization struck. “Max has the coordinates and is on his way. I should stop him.”

“Why?”

“Now that we’re together, I’m taking these jerks down. No one should be held against their will. Ever.”

CHAPTER 9

Consciousness returned slowly in the pitch black room. Quinn’s body told her morning had arrived, but she’d only know for sure when the lights came on in the room. They had zero control over the lights. Still, their captors could’ve left them in the dark the entire trip, so she wasn’t complaining.

The heartbeat under her ear thumped slow and steady, a comforting sound she’d come to crave over the last nine days. A little voice in her head said she didn’t need anyone—not anymore. But this was different. Not pathetic like she was when she’d been taken the first time. There could be strength in needing another person. She became her best self in Cain’s presence.

Weakness, however, came in the form of the other small voice in her head wishing they’d never reach their destination, because she’d have to give him up. They were forced to sleep like this because of the tiny single bed in the room. Otherwise, Cain hadn’t touched her again since that kiss. Every so often, she’d catch him watching her with a strangely intent expression. Did he remember? That he was the one who saved her from her captors? She hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had he.

“We docked last night.” The deep rumble of his voice vibrated under her cheek.

“I heard the anchor drop.” Hard to miss the heavy battery of metal on metal as each massive link of the chain attached to the anchor unreeled. After three days of using the boat’s system to communicate, she’d finally been able to tap into a cellular signal. “I’ve alerted Max. They’ll be waiting.”

A soft buzz preceded the lights blinking to life, and she squeezed her eyes closed at the sudden brightness. With a reluctant shove, drawing a grunt from Cain, she sat up. “When all this is over—”

“You’re going to take a shower and put on clean clothes.”

Quinn chuckled because she’d been saying that every day. She’d washed herself at the sink as best she could, washed her undies too. However, that didn’t help much. They were both rank, and her hair was a greasy mop pulled back in a ponytail. No wonder Cain hadn’t wanted to touch her.

“No. I’d like to—”

The lock to their door clicked, and she let her words fall away. Rather than breakfast being slid in on the floor, however, the door was opened wide and four men stood in the corridor, each with a pistol trained on her and Cain.

The shortest of the bunch waved his gun at them, indicating the far wall. In Sumerian, he said, “Hands on the wall.”

She caught Cain’s glance as she turned. “He said to put our hands on the wall.”

Like before, when they were put on the boat, they had their wrists strapped behind their backs and blindfolds roughly tied over their eyes.

As they clomped through the inside corridors of the boat, Max’s message came through.

A distraction for their captors might not be a bad idea. “Is where you’re taking us going to have a bath? We stink.” She used Sumerian to speak with the demons who held them.

“Humans always stink,” one of them spat.

“Right, because smelling of rotten egg is so much better.”

And angry hiss sounded from behind her.

“Might not be a good idea to piss them off.” Cain’s rebuke was conversational. Not that he’d understood a single word, but the hiss was a decent hint.

“Demons always smell of sulfur to me. Don’t they to you?” she asked in English now.

“The few I’ve run across smell like rotting meat to me. Putrid.”

Finally, they made it outside. A humid breeze feathered across her face, and sunlight penetrated the rag tied over her eyes. The hushed murmur of surf rose in the distance.

“An island?” She pretended to not know where they were. The ground tilted under her feet as they led her down what she assumed was the same gangplank she’d used to board.

“Cain. Drop!” she yelled as she allowed her body to go limp, doing a great imitation of a potato sack as she rolled to the ground.

The whistle and burst of bullets was drowned out almost instantly by the thunder of an explosion. Heat kissed her back. Then running feet, and someone cut her hands loose. Quinn yanked away her blindfold to see their four escorts on the ground with bullet wounds to each head, the only way to kill one. A series of low buildings were on fire along the docks. Cain, now on his feet, held out a hand to help her up. She stood and threw her arms around Max.

“Hey, we helped too! I’m the one who blew shit up,” Shaw complained.

Sawyer slapped him on the back of the head, but she laughed and hugged the brothers too. “Thanks for coming to our rescue.”

Cain accepted a Beretta from Max. No samurai sword for this rescue, as when he’d saved her, she guessed. He glanced her way. “You stay here with Sawyer.”

“The hell you say!”

He crowded her. “I can’t protect you and lead my team at the same time.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who says I need protection?” She looked at Max with raised eyebrows, glad she’d already asked him to bring her a weapon. Reluctance pulled at his mouth, but he pulled out a .357 Magnum.

“We don’t have time for this.” Anger and another emotion—fear maybe?—gave Cain’s words a dark edge. She refused to back down though.

The sounds of screaming pierced the air above the roar of the flames. “Max?” Cain demanded.

Max shook his head. “Radios are down, boss.”

“I can hear them,” Quinn said. “They’ve split up. Two of ours are engaged with four demons at the far side of the complex in some sort of lab. The others are across the island dealing with a larger group.”

She implored Cain with her eyes. “Let me come. I may come in handy.”

He nodded at Max, who placed the gun, grip first, into her outstretched hand. Without hesitation, she checked the chamber, then unloaded four shots into the bodies on the ground with absolute accuracy.

Cain’s jaw could’ve been hewn from granite. “Fine.” He pulled off the tactical vest Max had handed him and passed it over to her. The man had a hero complex, but he was letting her come, so she wouldn’t argue. With efficient motions, she strapped it on over her t-shirt and yoga pants, once again glad the demons had taken her during a workout. She also accepted several mags from Max, tucking them into the vest.

Cain tipped her chin up. “You stay close to me.”

As a unit they moved, silent and swift with weapons at the ready, past the row of burning buildings and into the complex beyond. They entered through a side door, careful to check the corners. “Clear,” each murmured in a low voice.

Moving quickly, they navigated a series of hallways—generic, with cream colored tile, white walls, and white doors every ten feet—when suddenly, Quinn pulled up short. “Wait.”

The network of computers here wasn’t as secure as it could’ve been. The demons had become arrogant and lazy on their own island. She talked to the array of servers, sifting through data. “This way.”

Cain grabbed her arm. “I lead.”

“Do you know where you’re going? Can you see with the security cameras?” If those blue eyes had been lasers, she’d be dead about now. “Because I can.”

He didn’t take long to debate the point. “Go.”

Using the information at her fingertips, Quinn led the team through the buildings. Mostly dark, the only light coming from small windows close to the ceiling—someone must’ve cut the power—the buildings were strangely office like. Or maybe the best comparison was a hospital, with its long corridors shooting off from a hub at the center. “Two around the corner,” she said, as they neared one of the hubs.

Shaw and Sawyer stepped forward, as Max guarded their rear. Cain stayed beside her. “Where?” Shaw whispered.

“Either side of the door, crouched low.”

“Got it.” Sawyer’s face contorted with concentration until, suddenly, the two creatures on the other side of the double doors howled in pain. With speed and precision, Sawyer and Shaw burst through and took out their opponents with two quick pops.

Cain waved her ahead, and she moved around the corner and through the swinging double doors. She glanced down at the demons as she passed and couldn’t help but notice the blackened burn marks both bore on their hands. A demon’s primary weapon was an energy ball they could form at will, then throw at their enemy.

“What happened to their energy balls?”

“Sawyer’s telekinetic. His specialty is energy manipulation.”

Ah. He must’ve fried them with their own energy. “Cool.”

Sawyer grinned.

Quinn checked the cameras in the building again. “This way. We’re close. Be ready.”

A few more halls and turns later, and the reek of antiseptic hit her nose. The fight must’ve opened up some of the containers in the lab.

“There are eight demons now, instead of four. One of our guys is down. The other is pinned behind the large table to the right.”

“Where are the demons?” Cain asked.

“Scattered across the other side of the room. Go in blazing.”

Shaw pulled out an odd device, which he attached to the door. “Always do. Sawyer manipulates energy, but I got mechanical manipulation.” He turned to his brother. “Sawyer?”

Cain grabbed her arm and pulled her around the corner. After a second, howls of agony echoed through the room. “Cover your ears,” Cain warned.

She did just before an explosion blasted around them, shaking the wall she leaned against as a wave of heat blew past her down the hallway. Without hesitation, she followed her men through the smoke and damage. Gunshots echoed in the room as the team opened fire. The demons hunkered down across the large room filled with lab tables, the walls of bottles already a mess of broken glass and dripping chemicals.

While the demons were unarmed, so to speak, after Sawyer’s manipulations, they wouldn’t stay that way long. Quinn stooped behind a tall piece of equipment and used her abilities to check the cameras. Difficult to see through the smoke, but she could make out where most everyone was. She stayed in position as Cain and the team spread out. The first blue blast came from the right, like a miniature lightning bolt. The air sizzled as the energy ball passed her to explode against the wall above Cain.

Demons were powerful but often stupid. They were lucky none of the spilled chemicals had gone up in flames yet. Chaos erupted around her as they exchanged fire.

Quinn stayed in position and saved her ammo, until, finally, an opening presented itself. As subtly as possible, she popped out from behind her shield just enough to see her target, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. Clean shot to the head. One down.

She dropped back behind her cabinet, as a barrage of bullets slammed into the machine. She checked the cameras and waited again.

Cain managed to take down another demon, and Max got two. Sawyer put out as many energy balls as he could, but with this many demons, he couldn’t douse them all. As he concentrated, he worked his way around it to where the downed man lay and dragged his body back behind a barricade of tables. A movement caught her attention across the room.

“Throw it to the back right corner,” she yelled to Shaw.

“Fire in the hole,” he yelled. The grenade in his hand went sailing, and Quinn braced for the explosion which ripped through her ears. The floor under her feet shuddered with the impact. A high-pitched ringing in her head brought tears to her eyes. All sound ceased to exist for her. She shook her head, trying to clear the pressure in her ears, but she couldn’t hear a damn thing—not Cain who was yelling at her across the room, not the computers. Nothing.

A flash of fear froze Cain’s features just before an arm snaked around her neck from behind and jerked her upright. Her hair stood on end in reaction to the blue energy coming from the ball of light held near her temple as her captor dragged her out from behind the cabinet.

He was yelling, she could tell by how the sound reverberated off her back, but the ringing hadn’t subsided and she couldn’t hear. The demon let her go, backing away slightly, and pressed the energy ball close to the back of her head, if the stench of singed hair was anything to go by.

Cain, Max, Sawyer, and Shaw all put their weapons on the ground. She might not be able to hear, but the message was clear. Surrender or she’d die. On the other hand, the demons were as likely to kill her men either way.

Quinn took a calming breath and concentrated on her self-defense training, compliments of Delilah. Six years of hard work better payoff, dammit.

In a rapid series of moves, she turned, bringing her arm down, which aimed his hand upward. Holding his wrist for leverage she brought her leg up and kicked him in the neck, crushing his windpipe. The demon dropped to the ground and she followed, bending the arm she held and slamming the energy ball still sizzling in his palm into his chest. Then she dove back behind the cabinet.

The demon screamed, his beautiful face contorting in agony and his body thrashing as the condensed source of energy devoured him from the inside out. In seconds, he went limp. Dead.

Cain and the others picked up their guns and resumed the fight. Quinn, who no longer had her hearing or her gun—she must’ve dropped it when he grabbed her—waited it out from her shelter. About the time the firefight wound down, the ringing in her ears had lessened.

Finally, Cain stood, and the others followed, telling her the battle was over and they’d won. After a cursory check of the room, he moved to where she still sat on the floor and crouched down.

“You okay?”

She caught the words in blips, pieced together with the movement of his mouth.

“My hearing is shot, but it’s coming back.”

His quick smile told her she’d shouted the words. “That’s all right. Shaw got the radios back up, and the fighting is over.”

“What about the prisoners?”

“Still looking.”

The memory of the map of the facility she’d pulled from the computers flashed through her mind. “I know where they are.”

CHAPTER 10

Quinn sat on the tail of a pickup truck outside the compound and submitted to being examined by Sawyer, who was apparently also a medic. The others were nowhere to be seen.

After checking her eyes, her balance, her reflexes, and checking for other signs of concussion, Sawyer stuck an otoscope down her ears. “Looks like your ear drums are still intact.”

“I told you. My hearing’s almost all the way back,” she grumbled.

He held up both hands with a grin. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Cain said to check you out, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

She rolled her eyes, but let Sawyer get on with it.

“How is she?” Cain’s deep voice skittered down her spine, and she turned to find him leaning against the side of the truck.

“Fit for duty, sir.” She gave him a sassy salute.

He ignored her, gaze on Sawyer.

“She’ll be fine. No permanent damage.”

“She’s right here.” Quinn waved her arms.

Cain ignored her and gave Sawyer a curt nod, then jerked his head. Sawyer gathered up his gear and left them alone, giving Quinn a wink as he left.

Cain moved around the truck to stand in front of her.

“So…” She raised her eyebrows. “What now?”

“Delilah’s other teams will handle things from here. But we got them.”

Relief and a heady sensation from the knowledge she’d helped save a lot of people swept through her, and Quinn smiled.

Her breathing hitched at Cain’s answering grin. “You did good today.”

She sobered. Now the bad guys were history, she had to face facts—knowledge sunk like a lead weight to the pit of her stomach. This might be the last time I ever see Daniel Cain.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

What? Oh, holy crap, she’d done it again. Spoken her thoughts out loud. Then his response finally penetrated her mortification at that particular flub. “What do you mean?”

He moved closer, hands on either side of her hips, taking up all her space. She inhaled the spicy scent of him.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

After only a few weeks in Daniel Cain’s constant presence, Quinn sensed his hesitation. Though how, when his expression gave nothing away, she didn’t know. If she had to put money on it, she’d bet Cain was nervous. Why?

“We’d like to offer you a position on the team.”

Quinn sucked in a breath. She hadn’t seen that one coming. Everything in her screamed yes, but she had one tiny problem. “I’m flattered, but I don’t think that will work out.”

“Why not?”

She sighed, but held his gaze with her own, heart thundering away. “I’m falling in love with you.”

There, she’d said it. Now he could shut down and walk away.

His lips flattened. He stepped back, out of her space and away from her body, and her heart cracked at the obvious signs of rejection. “You remembered, didn’t you? That I’m the one who got you out of the hellhole in Alaska?”

Confusion joined her heartache. What did that have to do with it? She nodded slowly. “The night they put you in my cell on the boat.”

He ran a hand over his beard, his blue eyes flinty. “I see.”

Confusion swirled through her. What did he see exactly? “I’m not harboring a hero crush if that’s what you’re thinking. Didn’t I prove I could take care of myself?”

A hint of a smile made his mustache twitch. “You certainly did that.”

“But you don’t believe I’m in love with you.” This had to be the strangest conversation she’d ever had. She’d expected him to be cold or spooked. She certainly hadn’t expected to have to argue about the true state of her feelings with the man.

“I believe you think you are.” The heaviness in his eyes sparked a glimmer of hope inside her. Did he want her to be in love with him?

She hopped off the tailgate and stepped up to him, right in his space, though she had to tip her chin to look up at him. “Kiss me.”

Shock widened his eyes. “What?”

“Put those amazing psychometric powers to use. Kiss me and see exactly what my emotions are.”

He stared at her a long moment, and she could see the debate in his eyes. So she took the decision out of his hands. Quinn went up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. Tenderly, she lay her lips over his in the sweetest of kisses. Desire flamed within her, but she banked her need. Desire could come later. This was about connection. She allowed her emotions to flow freely and hoped like hell his gift would kick in. He needed to know.

The second his unyielding lips softened, she pulled back. His blue eyes blazed at her, almost sizzling her with the heat of desire within.

“Do you believe me now?”

“Quinn—” He groaned the word.

“No?” She grabbed his hand and dragged him back into the building.

“Where are we going?” She ignored the amusement in his voice.

Finally, she found the rest of the team still in the cells where the demons had held their prisoners before sale. Purpose in every step, she marched up to the brawny man who was Cain’s second-in-command. “Max, I need you to kiss me.”

Cain stopped cold and jerked her around, yanking her into his arms. “Like hell.” He took her lips in a possessive kiss that left no one in the room, least of all Quinn, in doubt. Daniel Cain claimed her for his own.

A wolf whistle sounded somewhere in the background of her pleasure. Probably Shaw. She ignored it, ignored everything and everyone, in favor of the pleasure this man could bring with such a simple touch.

Only the need for oxygen stopped them. He pulled back to lean his forehead against hers, both of their chests heaving as they gasped for air. “I think I’ve loved you since the first time you kissed me.”

“Oh? Maybe I trigger a savior complex in you,” she teased. How she could go from having no clue as to his feelings to trusting in his love in the span of moments, she had no idea. But the glow of contentment, and safety, and pure joy told her, in no uncertain terms, she could trust him, trust them together.

He chuckled. “I couldn’t get you out of my head for six years. No other woman stood a chance.”

Satisfaction swelled inside her. “Good.”

“So about joining the team…”

Quinn grinned. “I could use a job anyway. I’m sure I’ve been fired from my current one.”