Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
I turned to move him out of the bathroom and locked eyes with Hercules. He sat in the bathtub, still fully wet and very, very annoyed.
“Shit,” I sighed. “The dog.”
Quinn snorted lightly and moved out of my arms to help Herc. “You’re the worst dog parent I’ve ever met.”
It’s you, I wanted to say in exasperation. You make me fucking crazy.
But I stayed quiet and helped him finish cleaning the dog before helping him clean himself. Very thoroughly.
By the time I followed him into bed, we were both worn-out, and Herc wanted nothing to do with either one of us.
“Not sure the sex was worth it,” Quinn said, blowing out a breath.
“Liar.”
“Well… I guess I don’t have anything to compare it to since I was a virgin before that. It seemed fine, I guess.”
I reached under the covers and pinched his bare ass. He laugh-yelped and moved away from me, but I grabbed him and pulled him back against my chest. “Be still.”
I like this, I thought, not realizing I’d said the words out loud.
“Me too.”
I thought back to my earlier mindfuck, wondering if I was somehow using him. “I don’t want you to feel used,” I said, probably making him question my sanity. I tried to clarify. “I mean… I like you. I want to be with you. I don’t want you to think this is some kind of… that I’m just…”
“Why, Percival Champion, as I live and breathe,” he said in an exaggerated Southern accent. “Are you proposing to go steady with me?”
I sighed. “I just mean… never mind.”
Quinn’s fingers ran lightly up and down my arm. “I like you too.”
I exhaled.
“But I don’t want to marry you,” he snickered.
“Jesus, no. Fuck.”
“But this is nice. Having someone to talk to and fuck on a regular basis. It’s… convenient.”
“And to think, I used to really believe being a wedding planner meant you were a romantic,” I teased.
“Nope. I’m practical. Marriage—most relationships, really—are a sham. People are always looking for something bigger and better, and when they find it, they walk away. But I respect that other people are romantic and hopeful. That’s why I’m committed to my job. Forever might not really happen, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong to enjoy what you have while you have it.” He looked up at me. “Sappy, right?”
“No. Your dedication to your career is one of the things I like about you,” I admitted. “It’s one of the things we have in common. You go above and beyond for your clients, just like I do. Hell, we’re both relocating to a pig farm to do our jobs.”
Quinn snickered. He turned around in my arms and leaned back a little so he could see my eyes. “I know you keep shit close to the vest, but this sneaking around and lying… I’m not used to it. It’s hard for me. And I’m trying to trust you here—I do trust you, even though you keep getting me involved in shit without my consent—but it would really help me to know what the heck is on that Horn. I promise, I won’t tell a soul—”
I didn’t let him finish, because he was right. He deserved to know more than I’d told him, if only so he’d take things seriously and keep himself safe. He’d backed my plays time and time and time again, and he’d earned my loyalty. “Yeah, Okay.”
He scooted further back and propped his head on his hand with his elbow bent on the bed below. I tried to determine what information I could share with him without putting him in a precarious position.
“You already know I’m looking for a Horn of Glory device that contains sensitive information, and we think it might be in Tommy Drakes’s possession.”
“Right, but what kind of information?”
I hesitated, only because the idea of Quinn having enough information to make him a target of the Cartel de Luna made me physically ill. “Financial and possibly identifying information about drug cartel members.”
“A cartel in Tennessee?” His eyes bugged out of his head.
“No. A South American cartel full of incredibly dangerous people.”
Quinn’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Marissa’s dad bought a Horn containing drug cartel information?”
“Marissa’s dad bought a stolen Horn—an incredibly rare, easily identifiable Horn—that happened to contain drug cartel information, yeah,” I agreed grimly. “The other day when we were at the Nashville house and Tommy got called away? It was because my ex-boyfriend, the DEA agent, was at the door, asking for information on that Horn.”
“Vince was there?” Quinn demanded. Then after a beat, “Wait, why don’t we want the authorities to get the cartel information so they can stop them?”
Now came the tricky part. I didn’t want Quinn to think I was skirting the law… even though I was skirting the law.
“My client is HOG Corporate, the makers of Horn of Glory. To cut an incredibly long story short, they don’t want their game or one of their Horn devices associated with a giant drug cartel investigation. Their stock prices would tank, and so would my reputation when it came out that I hadn’t been able to protect them.”