Quinn's Undying Rose
Page 29
Blake’s jaw dropped. “Cool! I’m in, man. What do I do?”
Quinn pulled out one of Scanguards’ cards from his pocket and handed it to him. “Be there tomorrow night at 9 p.m. That’s when the selection program starts. Ask for Quinn.”
“Quinn,” he repeated, staring at the card.
“And your name is?”
Blake stretched out his hand. “Bond. Blake Bond.”
Quinn did a double take. Rose had neglected to tell him Blake’s last name, and had obviously had some fun with him over that little omission. Great, add that name to the ego the kid had, mix it with the twenty brain cells at his disposal and the packed muscles of his body, and there was disaster waiting to happen.
“Bond, huh?”
Blake grinned from one ear to the other. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“Well, see you tomorrow night . . . Mr. Bond.”
Turning, he walked back to Rose. Before he even reached her, he knew she wasn’t happy about what had just happened.
“Are you crazy?” she hissed. “You can’t just expose yourself to him. We were going to watch over him, not turn him into Rambo.”
“And what better way to keep him safe than bring him in and make him think he’s working for us. Don’t worry, it’ll work out perfectly.”
Yeah, perfectly blow up in our faces, he mused. But what was done was done.
“He’s going to find out who we are.”
“And would that be so terrible?” Quinn asked.
Rose glared at him. “Yes, it would be. He’s got a right to a normal life.”
He took a step closer to her, eliminating any space between them. “He lost that right when Keegan decided to hurt you by harming him. Now, let’s go.”
Puffing up her chest, she gestured toward Blake who was now talking to a few other clubbers.
“We have to watch him. Keegan could show up anytime, anywhere.”
Did she really think he was an amateur? “That’s already taken care of. I’ve had somebody assigned to him from the moment you told me his name and where to find him.”
Her shoulders suddenly dropped. “Oh.” Then she took a deep breath. “Okay, where to now?”
Quinn bent his head to her ear and sensed her draw closer as if expecting to hear a secret. “Time to collect the first payment.”
As Rose’s breath caught, a white hot flame of desire shot into his groin. Yes, payment was just what he needed now.
11
She would never survive this. This much was certain.
Rose listened to the sounds of the shower in the en-suite bathroom and felt her body heat rise with every second that passed.
The room Quinn had led her into was a large bedroom, luxuriously furnished with a King sized bed and comfortable looking furniture in the sitting area in front of a fireplace. Yet instead of using the furniture, she paced about the room.
This was not good.
What had she been thinking, accepting his outrageous condition? If she slept with him, she would never be able to keep her emotional distance from him. She would want more, feel that closeness again that they had once shared. And she would want to confess. Tell him what had really happened. Everything. And it would get her killed.
When the floorboards creaked, shortly after the water was turned off, she knew her short reprieve was over. Quinn demanded what was due to him, and she had no choice but to do what he wanted.
Slowly she turned and looked toward the door to the bathroom. Shock made her freeze in place. He hadn’t bothered wearing a robe. A towel that barely covered his groin was slung low around his hips, the ends tucked in so haphazardly, they threatened to come loose if he moved.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of his chiseled abs and the defined muscles of his chest, arms, and legs.
Her breath caught, and she quickly averted her eyes.
A moment later, the soft trickle of his voice reached her. “Now, now, Rose. You’ve seen me wearing less than this.”
Maybe, but he hadn’t looked like that back then. Clearly the year he’d spent on the battlefield with Wellington’s troupes had made him leaner, more defined. And stronger. She chanced another look at his thighs, admiring the smooth skin that covered sinew and muscle, creating a physique that would have put any Greek god to shame.
Swallowing away the lump in her throat, she allowed her eyes to travel higher. It did no good to show weakness now. She couldn’t let him know how much he affected her. After all, this wasn’t about the fabulous sex they would have shortly. It was about power, about who would come out ahead. And if she admitted that the mere sight of him made her weak in the knees, she might as well throw in the towel now.
Quinn pulled out one of Scanguards’ cards from his pocket and handed it to him. “Be there tomorrow night at 9 p.m. That’s when the selection program starts. Ask for Quinn.”
“Quinn,” he repeated, staring at the card.
“And your name is?”
Blake stretched out his hand. “Bond. Blake Bond.”
Quinn did a double take. Rose had neglected to tell him Blake’s last name, and had obviously had some fun with him over that little omission. Great, add that name to the ego the kid had, mix it with the twenty brain cells at his disposal and the packed muscles of his body, and there was disaster waiting to happen.
“Bond, huh?”
Blake grinned from one ear to the other. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“Well, see you tomorrow night . . . Mr. Bond.”
Turning, he walked back to Rose. Before he even reached her, he knew she wasn’t happy about what had just happened.
“Are you crazy?” she hissed. “You can’t just expose yourself to him. We were going to watch over him, not turn him into Rambo.”
“And what better way to keep him safe than bring him in and make him think he’s working for us. Don’t worry, it’ll work out perfectly.”
Yeah, perfectly blow up in our faces, he mused. But what was done was done.
“He’s going to find out who we are.”
“And would that be so terrible?” Quinn asked.
Rose glared at him. “Yes, it would be. He’s got a right to a normal life.”
He took a step closer to her, eliminating any space between them. “He lost that right when Keegan decided to hurt you by harming him. Now, let’s go.”
Puffing up her chest, she gestured toward Blake who was now talking to a few other clubbers.
“We have to watch him. Keegan could show up anytime, anywhere.”
Did she really think he was an amateur? “That’s already taken care of. I’ve had somebody assigned to him from the moment you told me his name and where to find him.”
Her shoulders suddenly dropped. “Oh.” Then she took a deep breath. “Okay, where to now?”
Quinn bent his head to her ear and sensed her draw closer as if expecting to hear a secret. “Time to collect the first payment.”
As Rose’s breath caught, a white hot flame of desire shot into his groin. Yes, payment was just what he needed now.
11
She would never survive this. This much was certain.
Rose listened to the sounds of the shower in the en-suite bathroom and felt her body heat rise with every second that passed.
The room Quinn had led her into was a large bedroom, luxuriously furnished with a King sized bed and comfortable looking furniture in the sitting area in front of a fireplace. Yet instead of using the furniture, she paced about the room.
This was not good.
What had she been thinking, accepting his outrageous condition? If she slept with him, she would never be able to keep her emotional distance from him. She would want more, feel that closeness again that they had once shared. And she would want to confess. Tell him what had really happened. Everything. And it would get her killed.
When the floorboards creaked, shortly after the water was turned off, she knew her short reprieve was over. Quinn demanded what was due to him, and she had no choice but to do what he wanted.
Slowly she turned and looked toward the door to the bathroom. Shock made her freeze in place. He hadn’t bothered wearing a robe. A towel that barely covered his groin was slung low around his hips, the ends tucked in so haphazardly, they threatened to come loose if he moved.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of his chiseled abs and the defined muscles of his chest, arms, and legs.
Her breath caught, and she quickly averted her eyes.
A moment later, the soft trickle of his voice reached her. “Now, now, Rose. You’ve seen me wearing less than this.”
Maybe, but he hadn’t looked like that back then. Clearly the year he’d spent on the battlefield with Wellington’s troupes had made him leaner, more defined. And stronger. She chanced another look at his thighs, admiring the smooth skin that covered sinew and muscle, creating a physique that would have put any Greek god to shame.
Swallowing away the lump in her throat, she allowed her eyes to travel higher. It did no good to show weakness now. She couldn’t let him know how much he affected her. After all, this wasn’t about the fabulous sex they would have shortly. It was about power, about who would come out ahead. And if she admitted that the mere sight of him made her weak in the knees, she might as well throw in the towel now.
