Made to Be Broken

Chapter Forty-one

When we reached the end of the files, our energy drained fast. We only had the one room – renting a second hadn't crossed anyone's mind until it was too late to bother.

Even as we slowed, no one actually mentioned going to bed. We just started winding down and settling in. Quinn checked his business e-mail while I tidied. Jack stretched on the bed, and got messages from his voice mail while I used the washroom – brushing my teeth, washing up, putting on my nightshirt but leaving my jeans in place. When I came out, Jack had his eyes closed, still on top of the covers, and Quinn was at the desk answering e-mail. I crawled into bed, shedding my jeans once I was under the covers. I was asleep before the lights went out.

I woke a few hours later to the soft whistle of deep breathing. I looked over to see that Quinn had crawled into bed with me. He was being circumspect, lying a foot away, and he was dressed – at least in a T-shirt.

I watched him sleep, the streetlight between the curtains casting a pale mask over his eyes.

This afternoon, when he'd come to the hotel, I'd decided I was going to take the plunge. Stop pissing around with "should I or shouldn't I," stop waiting for the stars to align and the firecrackers to pop and the tiny violins to start playing. So what if Quinn didn't make my heart pitter-patter? He could make other parts of me pitter-patter, and that was more than I could say for any guy who'd shown an interest in me in a very long time.

I'd made my decision. I started following through. I'd liked following through. Even now, thinking of that kiss brought a blast of delicious heat. Yet the moment he'd misinterpreted my discomfort over being caught as reluctance, and offered to give me more time, I'd ducked out the chicken door.

If I had any lingering romantic notions about Jack, I had to get rid of them – fast – or eventually I'd do something to totally embarrass myself, and send Jack away for good.

I was ready for romance. I was definitely ready for sex. I wanted Quinn as more than a friend. I wanted to keep Jack as a friend. The answer to all this was lying right beside me, and damned if I was going to dither and fret another six months.

Tomorrow I was telling Quinn that as much as I appreciated his patience, I didn't need it. I was ready.

The next time I woke was from a dream in which I was on a game show, about to win a trip to Egypt, if only I could remember the name of the guy in the Inferno whose contrapasso punishment was eternally eating the brain of the coconspirator who'd betrayed him. The show's buzzer kept malfunctioning, going off before my time was up, and I was about to complain when I realized the buzzing sounded like Jack's predictably banal ring tone.

I pulled myself from the dream as he was slipping out the door, phone to his ear. A moment later, he returned.

"Everything okay?" I whispered.

"Yeah. Go back to sleep."

I did.

I woke again as the daylight streaming through that crack between the curtains hit my eyes. As I shifted, Quinn's eyes opened. He reached over and pushed a strand of hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear, his fingertips gliding over my cheek.

"Good morning," I said.

His lips curved in a drowsy, sexy smile. He started to say something, then a sharp rap at the door had me jumping back so fast I pulled the covers with me.

"Got it," Jack grunted.

I looked past Quinn to see Jack sliding out of bed. He stood, rolled his shoulders, then stepped over, peered into the peephole, and let out a profanity.

"What the fuck is this?" he said as he opened the door.

"Just repaying your ungodly early visit from yesterday." Evelyn's voice preceded her. "Is Dee bunking down -?"

She stepped in and noticed me, sitting on the edge of the bed. Then she saw Quinn rising on his elbows, and cocked her eyebrows, gaze traveling from us to Jack.

"Well, that's one solution," she said.

"The cheapest one," I said, stifling a yawn. "But, no, I'm not making the guys squeeze into one room to save money. We were up late and never got around to renting another."

Quinn got up, and I saw he was wearing only his boxers and T-shirt. He stretched, then grabbed his pants.

"Sorry," he said. "We're a little casual around here."

"Oh, don't rush on my account."

I glanced over to see Evelyn admiring the view as much as I'd been, and taking far fewer pains to hide it.

I fished my jeans from under the bed. "Coed sleeping arrangements are always tricky."

"Not if you do it right. Of course, if you do it right, there's no need to worry about clothes."

I shot her a look.

She sighed. "Youth really is wasted on the young."

"How'd you find us?" Quinn asked as he sat back on the bed.

"I can find anyone."

"Called last night," Jack said. "Wanted the hotel number. Said she had to fax something."

"I needed to talk to Dee."

"The phone works."

"And I had business in Detroit, so I decided to make a trip of it."

"What business?"

"None of yours."

Jack snorted, not buying it, but when he opened his mouth to call her on it, I shot him a look that asked him not to.

I said, "If it's about what we started to discuss yesterday, let's let the guys get showered and shaved while we go grab coffee and talk. I'm interested in hearing – "

"Oh, I'm sure you are." She flashed a smile that set my teeth on edge. "We'll get to that. Eventually. Probably."

I turned to Quinn. "Up for a jog, then? I've missed the last couple of mornings, so I'm heading out. You're welcome to join me."

He grinned. "Love to." He crossed the room and opened his suitcase. "Even brought sweatpants. I've been trying to get out a few times a week. I'm not up to your five miles yet, but I don't get your quiet country lanes. Or your clean air."

I tossed the grin back. "So that's your excuse?"

"Absolutely."

I took my duffel and headed for the bathroom, then stopped, leaned out and looked at Evelyn. "Catch up later, then?"

Her lips tightened. I smiled and closed the door.

For the first half of the run, I said little, feet pounding the pavement hard, knocking thoughts of Evelyn from my mind, letting myself get caught up in Quinn's chatter instead, commenting just enough so he knew I was paying attention.

Having now finally passed that first-date exchange of information – "What's your job? Ever married? Any kids?" – seemed to open the floodgates for Quinn. He talked about his family. They seemed close. Enviably close, and I was happy for him.

Mostly, though, he talked about his job, including a couple of cases he was currently working. While he avoided identifying details, he still gave me more than he should have. I knew that was intentional. It was his way of saying he trusted me, and he knew I didn't quite trust him yet, so here was a bow-wrapped package of confidential information, proof he had no plans to flip on me.

By the halfway mark, Quinn's chatter had banished Evelyn from my mind, and I began to share my own story, starting slow, with my family and my dad, and how I grew up, then moving into what I knew he really wanted to hear: how I shot Wayne Franco and what happened afterward.

For the first time in seven years, I told my story to someone who understood. Really understood. I'd had people say, "I see how that could happen." I'd had some – cop friends – who said it and meant it. I'd had plenty of people who tut-tutted at the media for ruining my life. I had people who were outraged at it and fired off letters on my behalf. But the one thing I never had was the one thing I needed most, and Quinn gave it to me.

He understood what it meant to me to lose my job. Others said it was a shame, but I'd only been an officer for a few years, and I got a good buyout, so no harm done, really. Quinn understood that, for me, the end of my career was more devastating than all the front-page photos in the world. I'd grown up to be a cop, and now I wasn't, and I don't think I'd ever stop feeling the loss, ever stop grieving.

The more we talked, the more I realized that Evelyn had been right. You couldn't find a better match for me if you tried. And if I screwed this up, I'd never forgive myself.

When we were a block from the hotel, I stopped at the mouth of an alley. Quinn got a few more strides in before realizing I wasn't beside him and circling back.

"You okay?" he asked. "Did you -?"

I wrapped my fist in his sweaty shirt front and walked backward into the alley.

His eyes danced. "I meant what I said. No need to rush. I'll give you all the time – "

"I've had more than enough," I said, pulled him to me, and kissed him.