Behind Your Back (21 page)

“I really like you,” she says as if it surprises her.

“I really like you.” This isn’t a lie. I really do like her. She’s sexy and funny and sarcastic and beautiful. I brush my hand on the back of her neck where her tattoo is.

“When did you get this? You’ve asked about my tattoos, and I want to know about yours.” It’s the only one she has.

“Um, I got it on spring break a few years ago. We were in Ireland and it seemed like the thing to do. My mother’s side is Shea.” I knew that as well.

“Well you got lucky. A lot of tattoos like yours turn out looking like shit.” I’d seen more than my fair share of shoddy ink. Damn shame.

“Thanks. Most of the time I forget that it’s there.” She rubs the back of her neck.

“Well, it suits you.”

“Thanks,” she says and she shivers.

“Are you cold?”

She shakes her head and we keep walking.

The group gets loud and rowdy the closer we get to the next stop, but I’m fine with that. Even when Amelia starts singing in French at the top of her lungs.

“She only speaks French when she’s wasted,” Isla explains, as she tries to help Amelia along.

The next spot we go to is more what I thought of when Saige told me we were going out. You can hear the music from fairly far away and there’s a beefy bouncer at the door checking IDs.

We make our way in and there’s barely enough room to breathe. The place is packed to the rim with sweaty bodies, most grinding and gyrating to the loud music that pours from giant speakers parked on the floor like monoliths.

“Now this is more like it,” Beck says, bobbing her head and then executing a turn that doesn’t quite happen in the limited space.

The group heads upstairs again, and it’s a battle to find a table, but JR somehow secures one and we crowd around it while Beck volunteers to get the drinks. I go for another beer since I’m playing it safe.

We toast to better music and finish our drinks pretty fast so we can hit the dance floor. I’ve never danced like this with Saige, but I’m not worried. Dancing is one step away from sex and we work perfectly in that department.

Instead of moving back to front like a lot of dancers, we face each other. I place my hands on her hips and her arms go around my neck. This time I let her lead and match my movements to hers.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

This isn’t close to sex. It’s fucking without penetration. I’ve been wanting her all night and the second she grinds her hips into mine, I’m so fucking hard I can barely see straight. Saige notices and it seems to amuse her. She just smiles up at me and keeps dancing to the throbbing beat of the music. Gripping the back of my neck, she draws my head down to her mouth.

“Do you want me, Quinn Brand?” It doesn’t matter how loud the music is. She could whisper and I’d still hear her.

“What do you think?” I say, turning my head so my lips are nearly touching her earlobe as I thrust my hips into hers. I know she can feel me through my jeans.

“I think yes,” she says back. “Are you going to do something about it?”

I flirt briefly with the idea of somehow fucking her right here on this dance floor, but that might not endear me to her friends, so I pull back a little from her.

“I’m going to dance with you, Saige,” I say back.

She puts her arms up in the air and swivels her hips as if she’s telling me what I’m missing. Oh, Redhead, I know.

In return, I grab her hips, digging my fingers in and matching her movements. I want her as turned on as I am.

“Why don’t you just fuck each other and get it over with!” A voice yells nearby. I’ve completely forgotten that we’re in a roomful of other people.

Saige and I both turn our heads to find Lo scowling at us as she dances with a random guy who seems more interested in her ass than her face.

“Lo,” Saige says in a warning voice. They have a moment of silent conversation with their eyes that I’m not privy to and then Lo rolls her eyes and says “Whatever. Do what you want.”

But she’s sending a clear signal. She’s watching me and looking out for her friend. Fine. I actually respect her for doing that. Saige deserves a friend who will have her back no matter what.

The music pulses and our hips fuse and Saige and I dance until we’re both panting and our skin is shiny with sweat. It doesn’t help that everyone is pressed so close together that it’s impossible to take a deep breath.

Saige stands up on her tiptoes and tells me she needs some water. I nod and take her hand to lead her through the crowd. I part the way for her and it makes me feel good. I know I can be intimidating, so it’s easy to tow her along as people get out of my way. I find a tiny corner of the bar where we can stand and hear each other better than on the dance floor.

“Do you want another drink, or just the water?” I ask her as she fans herself and pulls her hair off her neck.

“Just water. I’d rather not be hung over tomorrow and I’m pretty sure I danced off all the other drinks.”

I get the bartender’s attention and order two bottles of water. I hand one to Saige and she puts it on the back of her neck and sighs in relief, her eyes closing.

“Aren’t you hot in that?” she asks, motioning to my shirt. I’m boiling, but I’m not taking this thing off.

“I’m fine.” She makes a face that communicates skepticism. “I don’t share my ink with just anyone. It’s… I only share it with people I trust.” I don’t know right now if this is a truth or a lie.

“Why do you have so many if you don’t want people to see them?”

“Because,” I say, leaning closer to her so I don’t have to yell. My voice is starting to get hoarse. “I didn’t get them for someone else. I got them for me. I guess… I had all this stuff inside me and I had to get it out. But I didn’t want to forget it, so I put it on my skin so I’ll remember.” This… this is a truth. She looks up at me, as if she’s a little stunned.

“That’s both heartbreaking and very beautiful, Quinn.” Not for the first time, I wish she would call me by my real name. I wish there were a way to tell her that it’s a nickname or something, but I can’t take the risk. I have to be Quinn with her. Letting her see my tattoos is as close as she’s ever going to get.

Tonight has taken a serious turn, and I don’t like it. But we’re saved by Amelia and Isla stumbling over, both laughing. They ask Saige if she wants to go with them to the bathroom. I feel better about having her out of my sight if she’s with her friends, and watch her weave her way through the crowd, the lights shining on her red curls.

I scan the crowd and catch Cash’s eyes from the shadows. Under other circumstances, he’d be in the middle of the dance floor, tearing it up. But not tonight. He has to babysit me tonight and I know I’m going to owe him for this, as well as so many other things. Without meeting my eyes, he tips his beer in my direction and I raise my water. All clear.

A drunk girl approaches me and fondles my arm, but I extract myself from her and push her back toward her friends, who are giggling so hard it’s clear they’re definitely all wasted. I hope they get home safe. I signal the bartender and he comes over.

“Might want to call a cab for those ladies so something doesn’t happen.”

“Roger that,” he says as the girls stumble toward the door.

“I saw that,” a voice says next to me as my arm is gripped again, but by familiar fingers.

“Saw what,” I say, feigning innocence.

“I saw you worrying about those drunk girls getting home. That was really nice. You can be really nice when you want to be.” I’m not nice, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“I don’t like to see women taken advantage of,” I say. Another truth.

“That’s good to know,” she says, leaning on me. “Oh my God.”

“What?” She points across the dance floor and there’s Lo, arms up and dancing with four guys. Two in the front and two in the back.

“That’s Lo,” Saige says with a shrug. “She’s balls to the wall. All in.”

“How long have you been friends?”

“A couple of years. But it feels like forever, you know? When you meet someone and you click so much it’s like you’ve been friends for your whole lives.” Yes. I do know exactly what she’s talking about.

“I do,” I say and she finishes her water.

“Come on, let’s get back out there.”

W
e don’t leave the club until two, and even then it’s a struggle to drag Amelia out.

“I’m going to take her home and get her into bed,” Isla says, tugging Amelia (who is now burbling in French and English). “It was nice to meet you, Quinn.” I wave goodbye to them as the rest of the group breaks off and heads to their respective vehicles.

“That went well,” Saige says as we walk back to where my car is parked.

“You think?”

“Definitely. You’re a good guy, Quinn.” No, I’m not. But I kiss the top of her head and say, “Don’t spread that around too much. I have a reputation to maintain.” She laughs and we slowly stroll to the car. The city is sleepy now, most of the bars having had last call and spitting out their contents on the street to stumble their way home, or wherever they’re headed.

“Come home with me?” Saige says as we reach my car and I hit the automatic locks and hold the door for her.

“Absolutely,” I say.

Twenty

“W
hen am I going to get to see your place?” Saige says the next morning as we’re eating cereal in bed. Neither of us had enough energy to cook anything or go out, so cereal is the best solution.

I knew this would come up eventually, and I have a contingency. The guys and I rent an apartment in the city, for emergencies. It’s filled with nice furniture. No personal items or anything, other than a few clothes in the closet for appearances. I’ll have to take some of my things there to make it look lived-in and buy some groceries, but all that is easily arranged. Saige puts her empty bowl down on her nightstand and lies next to me on her side.

“How about next week you come over and we have dinner, how about that?” She flicks my nipple and smiles.

“Okay. I thought you didn’t want to take me to your place because of some reason.”

“What kind of reason?” I ask as she continues to play with my nipple. It set my bowl on her other nightstand. It’s hard to concentrate on her voice when she’s doing that, so I put my hand on top of hers to make her stop.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, looking up. “That you’ve got a weird collection of something, or you’re a hoarder, or you live in your parents’ basement.” She laughs and I join her.

“Nope. None of the above. I just don’t spend that much time in my place. It’s for sleeping and that’s about it.” She nods.

“Okay. That’s good to know. I’m not sure I could have taken it if you were a hoarder.”

“I’m more the opposite. I throw everything away.” Quinn does. Sylas doesn’t.

“Why don’t you ever talk about your family?” Why is she doing this right now? It’s too early and I haven’t had nearly enough coffee. I shrug.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She rolls her eyes.

“That’s another line you’re feeding me. Come on, I want to know. You’ve met my parents. It’s only fair that you tell me about yours.”

I shake my head and grip her hand.

“Leave it alone, Saige.” Her eyes go wide, as if she knows she’s pushed too far.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was a tough subject for you.”

“Me avoiding all talk about my past didn’t give that away?” I snap. Shit. I didn’t mean to do that. She doesn’t seem bothered.

“I’m sorry,” she says again.

“It’s fine. Just… leave it alone.”

“Okay.” There’s a tense silence between us and suddenly I don’t want to be in bed with her.

“I should probably get home,” I say, putting my feet on the floor and standing.

“Quinn, wait,” Saige says, diving across the bed and draping herself over my back.

“I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Sometimes I can be a little pushy.” That’s an understatement.

She kisses the side of my neck and I can’t help my body’s response to her. I close my eyes and feel her body against mine.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers against my neck. “Don’t go yet.”

“Okay,” I say as she pulls me back.

“N
o more messages?” Cash asks at our meeting the following Tuesday.

“None. Either he’s given up, or he’s waiting. We should be prepared for either scenario,” I say. The guys have been following me 24 hours a day and have seen nothing. No vehicles parked near my house, no one taking pictures of me, absolutely goddamn nothing.

“Oh, I’m sure he hasn’t given up,” Track says. “Do you think maybe we should get out? Do an extraction?” He’s finally voicing what I’m sure everyone has been thinking, me included. We’ve pulled the plug on a few jobs before for one reason or another. It would be easy to do. I’d just transfer all Mr. Beaumont’s assets to another advisor and we’d leave.

But… the thought of bailing makes a sharp pain shoot through my chest. I rub the spot and shake my head.

“No, I’m too far in. I can do this. I just need a little more time.” Time, time, time. We’re always racing against it, ruled by it.

I meet each set of eyes on me.

“I can do this,” I say again.

There’s a collective exhale.

“Okay,” Cash says, clapping me on the shoulder with his enormous hand.

“Just… hurry,” Row says, looking up at me.

“That’s my plan. I need the apartment this week.” That causes lots of eye rolling. It means that no one else can use it and they need to clean their shit out of it. I know they use it as a storage facility and sometimes crash pad, even though they’re not supposed to. I don’t bust them on it because it’s such a little thing.

“She’s asking me to let her come to my place. What am I supposed to do?” I ask.

There’s more moaning and groaning.

“So get your shit cleared out and I swear to God, if that shower is broken, I’m going to garrote whoever did it.” That had been a problem in the last apartment we’d had.

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault,” Baz says, putting his hands up. “She grabbed onto it. Wasn’t my fault.” If he hadn’t brought the girl in the first place, it wouldn’t have happened.

I try to get everyone back on track as Hardy gives us the facts and figures. He’s been treating me the same way he always does, but I know he’s probably going to want to collect his favor relatively soon.

The guys are out of control and busy talking about other things, so I give up. My burner phone vibrates in my pocket and I freeze.

“That’s the burner,” I say, looking at Cash.

“See what it is,” he says as I pull the thing out of my pocket. Another picture message. It’s dark, but there’s no mistaking it’s me, walking down the street with Saige. Probably after we left the club.

“Shit, shit, shit, motherfucker,” I say as Cash looks at the thing and swears.

“Another message from your stalker?” Row asks with a grim face. I nod. “Are you sure you want to keep going with this? You really don’t know who you’re messing with.” No, but that doesn’t matter. I’m not giving up this job.

“I’ll go back to the club and if I can figure out the angle the picture was taken from, I can do a search and see if he left anything behind.” Cash hands the phone around so everyone can take a look.

“Shit, that’s a sexy girl,” Baz says, completely ignoring everything but Saige. I want to punch him for a second, but just snatch the phone back.

“I’ll go with you, Cash,” Hardy says. He’ll be able to pinpoint the exact location, no problem.

“Time for a new phone,” Cash says, but I don’t want to hand it over. I look again at the picture. Saige and I are walking together, my arm around her shoulders, her arm around my waist. She’s pressed into my side and laughing as if I’d said something funny. And there’s a smile on my face.

I hand the phone over to Cash and he collects everyone else’s before breaking out a new set and handing them around.

“We should probably go now, because the light will match,” Hardy says and he and Cash depart together.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Row asks. He looks odd without his twin by his side. Like he’s missing something.

“Yes,” I say. “I just need a few more…” I don’t know. Days? Weeks? I’m not sure. “I’ll get it done.”

He nods as if he doesn’t believe me and chucks his empty beer bottle in the recycling before heading out. Track is next, telling me to be careful and then it’s just Baz and me.

“Look, we bailed you out, no questions asked,” I say in case he’s going to tell me to stop.

“I know, I know,” he says, his face getting tight. He’s not one to be serious, but he’s got his serious face on right now.

“Just let me do this,” I say, and I realize I’m begging. We’re not supposed to let our personal whims get in the way of the work we do, but I can hear it in my voice.

“You’re getting too involved,” Baz says.

“I know,” I say. No matter how many times I tell myself that this is just another job, it’s not. This one feels like a personal quest that has been sent to me. I have to slay the dragon or else the entire kingdom will be held hostage by the monster. It doesn’t make sense and I can’t even explain it, but I need them to trust me. Trust me to do this and get out alive.

“Just be careful,” he says. I nod and he leaves, and I’m the last left. I sit on the couch for a few minutes and crack open another beer. The place is quiet. I close my eyes and lean my head back.

Before I started this particular job I remember being bored. Wanting something to happen. Something to set me on fire like I was when I first started. It was so easy to turn my young vengeance into something constructive. But I was alone until I met Cash. He shared my views for his own reasons and we made a plan, but we knew we were going to need help. He found Hardy and by extension Row, then Track and finally Baz. We asked them to join us, to work for something more than just a paycheck.

Rage boiled in us when we first started. We made a rule to never talk about our reasons for wanting to do this and we’ve respected that rule for the most part, but when you spend years with other people, you learn things about them without them having to tell you.

Row and Hardy are both gunshot wound survivors, with identical bullet wounds on their chests. Baz’s back is covered in cigarette burns. Not all our scars are visible, but we all have them.

Cash has never talked about his own, but I figured them out anyway.

He’s a refugee from the foster care system. His parents had made investments with someone who betrayed them and stole all their money. His father was so devastated he fell into a deep depression and only came out of it to shoot his wife and then himself. Cash was spared because he was sleeping. I know that part of the story, because that man who stole his parents’ money was one of the first jobs we did. Back then, Cash wanted to kill him. To seek vengeance that way, but we’d calmed him down and showed him that an eye for an eye was all we needed. Money for money.

We’ve all been dealt shitty cards in our past and are trying to undo it. To break even somehow.

I sigh and stand up. I need to go home and feed Leo.

I
’m still in a nostalgic mood when I get home, so I go into the small safe that’s in the back of my closet and undo the lock with a combination of my fingerprint and a code. Leo follows me into the dark closet, curious.

I pull out the few pictures I was able to save from the fire. They’re not much, but they’re something. My mom saved hundreds of pictures in albums. I remember them being stacked side-by-side in the living room, their spines with years on them facing out and in order so she could find what she was looking for.

The first few years were filled with pictures of me and both my parents, and then with all four of us with Lizzy, but the pictures weren’t as happy. Sure, the adults were smiling, but there was a tightness around my mother’s eyes and my father seemed distant. And then it was the three of us.

The ones I was able to save were in a few picture frames she hung in the hallway. I almost grabbed the picture of my parents on their wedding day that my mother would never take down, but I let it burn. I let it burn with the rest of the house. I’d found my mother’s body on the kitchen floor only the day before and I had the feeling they’d be back for the house.

I’d sent Lizzy to stay with neighbors, which was a blessing. We’d both been at school when my mother was murdered. I discovered the body because I’d walked into the kitchen first. I was able to grab Lizzy and hide her eyes so she didn’t see. It was the one good thing that happened that week.