Never Surrender Page 10

  “The raid was supposed to happen at seven before the club got busy. I phoned Roberts an hour after the raid didn’t happen. Do you understand?” She turned her head as he leaned forward. Her lips were a whisper from his cheek. Don’t kiss him. Don’t touch him.

  “Someone sent this communication to abort the raid three hours after it failed to go off. At ten o’clock, I’m on stage at the De’lisle. I can’t send messages when I’m on stage. Someone else did. All we have to do is find out whom.”

  “It’s not enough to build a case on.” He straightened and stepped away.

  “It’s a start.”

  “It’s something to show to Zyker. We need to get him on board. He’s so down on you for allegedly feeding false information.”

  “That’s a lie.” Her voice wobbled. “This spread sheet is evidence the information I sent was true. Damn it.”

  “Records can be falsified. Some of these entries have been.” Quinn paced to the French doors, peered out into the darkness, then returned to Maggie.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” She turned in her chair to face him.

  He got down on his haunches before her. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” His large hand rested against her knee. He indicated the laptop and USB. “But these aren’t enough. When Roberts is recovered, we’ll get his statement and go to the brass.”

  “At least we know he’s on our side. It’s a positive.”

  Quinn grasped her fingers and gave an encouraging squeeze.

  He was on his knees before her, the man she’d loved since the night they met. For twelve months she had dreamed of his touch.

  His kisses.

  Him.

  She’d woken so many mornings with damp eyes when she realized she was on her own, and the warmth, the sweetness, of the night was only a dream.

  Would tonight be different?

  She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

  Quinn pulled back. “Maggie.” He stood.

  She followed him up and placed her fingertips against his lips to stop the flow of words. She couldn’t listen to what he wanted to say, couldn’t. She shook her head and met his gaze. “Quinn. Shh.”

  She sucked in a huge breath and rested her hand against his chest. It wasn’t enough. She needed to feel his skin beneath her fingers. She undid the shirt buttons one by one and tangled her fingers in his pelt of soft chest hair. His heart thudded against her fingertips. It felt so damned good.

  Quinn remained unresponsive.

  Is he thinking about what I did with Conrad? Can he forgive me?

  Still he said nothing, but his eyes spoke to her. They were the color of molten gold. Hot and hypnotic. She’d seen him like this often in their time together. That mesmerizing gaze drew her closer, made her bold. He said something. His lips moved, but all she heard was her blood thundering through her system.

  One of her hands moved from his chest up to his throat. Muscle and strength escorted her fingers on their journey. His skin was warm. Maggie swiped her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her eyes never left his as she continued her journey of rediscovery.

  Quinn’s whisker-roughened jaw sandpapered her palm. She thought of how that abrasiveness would scratch her inner thighs and almost moaned aloud as she visualized his caresses.

  “Oh lordy,” escaped as a sigh—or a prayer. She wasn’t sure. Her fingers rested on his mouth, and his sexy, full bottom lip gave easily under the slight pressure. Next, she traced his top lip. Would he respond if she dared flick her tongue across it? Her mouth dried at the thought.

  Maggie’s gaze questioned him as he remained unmoved. Move away. He’s not interested. But the rapid flutter of the pulse at his neck belied his indifference, and try as she might, she couldn’t step back.

  When Quinn suckled her finger and stroked it with his tongue, she knew she wouldn’t have to.

  “What now?” Maggie gently withdrew her finger.

  His teeth nipped on it. “Whatever you want.” His deep husky voice close to her ear decided her.

  “Whatever I want?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “Good.” His heat beckoned her. The sensual twist of his lips encouraged her. “Good.”

  The shirt she’d unbuttoned hung off his muscled shoulder. Desperate to be closer, Maggie ripped it down his arms, uncaring if the fabric tore. He stood before her, bared to the waist.

  “Turnabout’s fair play.” Quinn grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head.

  A bra that showed more than it concealed encased her breasts. She released the hook, slipped the straps off her shoulders, and held the lacy fabric as a shield to his intense gaze. Only for a moment, just to tease, and she let it slip to the floor.

  His pupils darkened as his strong hands stroked and shaped her breasts. “I’m glad these didn’t fade away with the rest of you.”

  “Some things never change,” she whispered and stepped into Quinn’s embrace, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed herself against him. She rocked her pelvis against his straining erection and shuddered knowing he burned hard and hot for her.

  Maggie undid the belt buckle, fumbled with the button at his waist, and slid down the zipper. “Kick off your shoes,” she ordered.

  He did.

  She pushed his trousers down to his ankles and ran her fingertips back and forth across the front of his muscled thighs. Her breathing hitched. “Step out of your trousers.”

  He did.

  She stepped back and walked around him. All day the urge to touch him had overwhelmed her, and it had taken a hell of a lot of determination to keep her hands to herself. Not anymore. Now she would touch and taste every single inch of him.

  As she circled him, her fingers stroked his bare skin. They traced his spine, exploring every bump, every indentation. His heavily muscled back shuddered as her feathered caress continued. She pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades and moved around to stand before him.

  Maggie pushed his black briefs down and bared his shaft for her hungry eyes. But looking wasn’t enough. She knelt, leaned forward, and drew him into her mouth. His musky maleness flooded her senses. His fingers tangled in her hair, and his tortured breathing thrilled her.

  “For God’s sake, woman!” Quinn moaned, pulling her to her feet. “You’re driving me out of my mind. Do you have any idea how close I am to the brink?”

  She gazed into his eyes and recognized the emotion blazing there. “I’m going right over with you, Quinn. It’s been so bloody long since I’ve tasted you, touched you.” She licked his neck, and her hand cupped his balls. “I—”

  “If you keep that up, I won’t last long enough to please you.”

  “I’m not worried about your staying power, Quinn. I just want you. Here. Now.”

  “Well then, these are going to have to go.” He unsnapped the stud at her waist and peeled the denim slowly over her hips and down her legs. Her knickers followed, and he pulled her snug against him. His mouth roamed down her neck, along the ridge of her collarbone, and back to that spot behind her ear, making her quiver.

  His huge hands lifted her effortlessly. He cradled her to him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he slid himself into her. He took two steps, and Maggie had the wall at her back.

  His heat ignited the embers hidden deep within her. Still she wanted to be closer. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, amazed at the silken feel of his skin, before wrapping themselves around his neck. The hair brushing against her fingertips at his nape became the thread that bound them together. Her breasts, crushed against his muscled chest, were sensitized to the extreme. It seemed every hair on his chest took individual delight in tormenting her nipples.

  Her skin became his as she wound herself around him, the embers well and truly stoked as he thrust deeper and harder into her.

  Everything about him worked on setting her alight, from the throaty murmur rumbling in her ears to the deep thrusts accompanying them. The callous roughness of hi
s hands splayed against her bottom was a caress in itself. He was inside her, loving her. His tongue, warm and slippery, licked the cord at her neck before he kissed her with long, wet, drugging kisses that drove her wild. Maggie may have instigated this, but she was no longer in charge.

  She clung to his shoulders and met his every thrust: fast, furious, and fantastic. When he thickened and tightened inside her, she clenched her muscles around him, covered his face with a thousand kisses, and went right over the edge with him.

  Once she’d caught her breath, she opened her eyes to meet his gaze, praying she wouldn’t see regret in his. Any lingering apprehension evaporated under his smoldering gaze. She smiled.

  He smiled back. “Well…” His mouth covered hers. As she untangled her legs from his waist, he scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the bathroom.

  When Quinn didn’t release her, Maggie wondered why. Did he think the closeness they’d shared was too fragile to bear the brunt of a physical separation? Or was it because he didn’t want to be parted from her, even for a second?

  Maggie slid from his arms inside the shower cubicle and turned on the taps. He picked up the soap and lathered it between his hands.

  Then his mobile rang.

  “You’d better get that.” Maggie turned to face him.

  He scrunched his eyes in frustration. “I know.” He rinsed his hands but didn’t make any attempt to get out.

  “It’s probably James. He said—”

  “I’m going, don’t sweat it.” His eyes were shadowed as he stepped out of the cubicle. Naked, he strode toward the doorway. Then he turned to face her.

  Even across the distance, she read the question etched in his eyes, answering it before it was voiced. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Keller.” His voice faded into the background as she stood beneath the hot water praying for the muscles that had deserted her legs to return.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Quinn returned to the bathroom.

  Maggie still stood beneath the shower, the water pelting her skin. “Any news?” she asked over her shoulder.

  He stretched his lips into a smile. “James has her. She’s safe.”

  “Fantastic!” Her smile was so wide it almost split her face. She turned and stared into his eyes.

  Her gaze was as hot as it had been earlier, and he knew the fire between them still smoldered. Maggie stood proud, if somewhat nervously, before him as he stepped back inside the cubicle.

  Quinn grabbed the soap and lathered up his hands. Maggie turned, stretched out her arms, and rested her hands against the tiles. Quinn enjoyed the sensation of hot water pelting him as he slipped his hands over her lush nakedness. When he tugged her arm, she stepped into him, and he burrowed his fingers into her hair, drawing her closer and covered her mouth with his.

  The fiery need between them pulsed through the texture of her lips, the silkiness of her tongue, her ragged breathing.

  “I knew once wouldn’t be enough,” she gasped.

  “Tell me about it,” he whispered and nibbled the pulse beating in her neck. Then reality crashed back in. “But we’ll have to survive on this entrée for a while.”

  She nodded and caressed the bunched muscles in his shoulders.

  It was time to get out. He sighed. He didn’t want to leave this steamy haven and go back to the real world. Maggie must have been receptive to his thoughts, because she gathered him close and covered his face with kisses.

  He eased away from her temptation. “I’ll be with you, Maggie. You’ll be safe.”

  “I know, I know…it’s just…I want it over.”

  He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. “We have to finish this case before we can move on.” He paused. “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He reached over and turned off the taps. When they stepped out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and trailed into the bedroom to sit on the end of the bed.

  “Are you going to contact Zyker?”

  Quinn nodded. “As soon as we’re dressed. I’ll call him and let him know you’re with me. And fill him in regarding Roberts.” He strode into the bedroom.

  “That’s going to create hassles.” She plucked at the towel.

  “Don’t stress.” He pulled on his briefs and trousers.

  “Can we trust Zyker?” She sounded worried.

  He met her gaze. “We have to trust someone.”

  “But we know someone is falsifying records. Can you be sure it’s not him?”

  “No.” He scooped his shirt from the floor and shoved his arms into it as he crossed the room to stand before her. Her eyes followed his every move as one by one, he fastened the buttons. He wanted to do it slowly, really slowly, but this wasn’t the time. Damn it. “It could be anyone on the task force.” He tucked the shirt into his pants and tried to ignore the way she looked at his zipper.

  She finally looked up and asked, “Would you grab the carryall for me, please? I’d like some clean clothes.”

  “Sure.” He walked to the archway that separated the bedroom from the living area and turned to face her. “Maggie, don’t look for trouble. You’re a damned good cop. You’ve survived twelve months undercover. Your witness is safe. It’s almost over. Look for the light at the end of the tunnel. It’s starting to glow. Just stay strong, and do your job, and remember, I’ve got your back.” He smiled and walked away.

  “We’re here.”

  Maggie stared out through the tinted glass and said nothing.

  When she didn’t move, Quinn touched her shoulder. “What do you want to do, Maggie? Go in, or am I driving straight back out?”

  She squared her shoulders and pushed on the car door. “Let’s go.”

  Apprehension crawled down his spine as they climbed out and surveyed the desolate surroundings.

  “You sure this is the right address?” Maggie asked.

  “Positive.” Quinn shut the car door.

  Maggie did the same and crept down the darkened driveway behind Quinn, with not even a glow from the streetlight to lend a bit of light. “I don’t like this,” she whispered. “Can’t you feel it?”

  “What?”

  “That skin-crawling sensation, like you’re being watched?”

  “No.” Quinn’s instinct clicked up a notch, and he grasped Maggie’s hand.

  At the top of the driveway, they could see the modest, one-story, timber house with all the blinds drawn. A splinter of light seeped through a tiny gap at the bottom of one of the windows. To welcome or warn? He looked around seeing nothing but silhouettes of trees and a shed.

  “I still don’t like this,” she whispered. “I thought James would have security.”

  Quinn fastened his grip on her elbow. “Keep walking.”

  Leaves and mud littered the path. The rain that had fallen again on the trip back had left its mark. Normally Quinn loved rain, enjoyed its freshness, its cleansing. Now he wished it would just stop. Sick of sliding on mud and stepping in puddles, he wanted dry earth beneath his feet, because he knew they would be running. He didn’t know why, just sensed this wasn’t going to end well. Roberts had always told him to trust his instincts. Now they were screaming at him to get the fuck out, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

  Inside that house was a girl Maggie had made a promise to and the man who had found her. He’d get them out, and they’d all run.

  Quinn rapped against the door. Silence. He rapped again, harder this time.

  The door opened, and James filled the entry. Quinn felt Maggie sag with relief as they were ushered inside.

  “Are you on your own?” Maggie asked.

  “Yeah. But you’ve been monitored since you arrived.”

  “I didn’t see anything.”

  “Good, aren’t I?”

  Maggie shook her head, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Modest, too.”

  James grinned, raised his palms, and gave a big-shouldered shrug. “What can I say?”

  “Where is sh
e?”

  “Through there.” James pointed toward the hallway.

  “I’ll go see how she is.” Maggie moved in the direction James had pointed.

  “I checked two minutes ago when I saw you two slinking up the driveway. She’s sound asleep.”

  “I’ll check anyway. Hey, Quinn, I’d love a coffee.”

  When Quinn’s eyes met hers, his heart jolted. I’d love more than a coffee. He shot her a grin before she headed up the hall.

  Quinn pushed a mug of coffee in front of her when she joined him at the table a few minutes later. “Happier now?”

  Maggie sipped the strong brew and smiled. “I’m feeling relieved. Angel looked so peaceful, her hand curled under her chin, legs drawn to her chest. She’s barely a bump in the center of the bed.”

  “That’s good.”

  Maggie took another sip. “I wish things could have been different for her. Beth’s death…” Maggie shook her head.

  “Hopefully, her parents can get her some help when we get her home,” Quinn said.

  Maggie sighed. “Won’t be enough. My parents did everything they could to help me, but even though I know Tara’s death wasn’t my fault, it doesn’t stop the pain of not being able to have helped her.” Maggie turned away.

  Quinn watched her. Her shoulders shook, and he reached out and squeezed her hand, hoping the connection would ease her distress.

  James entered the room, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat at the table with them. “I watched the monitors for a few more minutes, and I don’t think you were followed.” He took a sip. “What now?”

  Silence hung in the air for long seconds before Quinn replied, “I contacted Zyker and reported Maggie is with me. I decided not to keep Roberts’s reappearance out of the conversation.”

  James leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “How did that go down?”

  “Not well.” Quinn sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Some understatement,” Maggie injected.

  Quinn’s lips curved. “It’s not important.”

  “He threatened to suspend you. No.” She scowled at him when he tried to interrupt. “I should never have dragged you into this mess.”