Never Surrender Page 8

  “Good driving,” Quinn told her as they pulled onto the Maleny Road. “Follow the signs to Montville.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  Quinn turned in his seat and looked through the windscreen. “I haven’t thought about it.” He heard Maggie’s curse but ignored it. “When I searched the inspector’s office earlier there wasn’t a USB to be found. Not one.” He caught Maggie’s glance. “Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

  “Not if they’d been confiscated after he’d gone missing.”

  “Could be. When we get there, the first thing we have to do is find his computer.”

  She nodded. “How much farther?”

  They were getting close to Montville. Roberts lived between Montville and Flaxton. “Not far, ten kilometers maybe. I’ll recognize it when I see it.”

  “Okay.”

  A few minutes later, Quinn pointed to a large gate with a kangaroo fashioned out of wrought iron in the center. “There’s the entrance.”

  She pulled the car onto the driveway. “Quinn.” She put the car in park, undid her seat belt, and turned to face him. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked, already out of his seat belt and ready to open the door.

  “Risking your reputation to help me. I know it’s everything to you.”

  He stretched over and laid his hand across hers, enjoying the sensation of her long, slim fingers beneath his. “Not everything.”

  “You could have ignored my text or handed over the information to the hierarchy, but you didn’t. When we finish this case, I’ll come with you to the powers that be and tell them I kidnapped you, that I persuaded you.”

  “Maggie, you’re a nut.”

  “I know, but…”

  “But?” he queried.

  “I like the persuading bit.”

  Quinn ran his finger along her lips. They were full and soft and enticing. Her deep, smoky gaze never left his as he leaned across the center console and pressed his mouth against hers. Her flavor kicked his heart rate up a notch. His lips nibbled hers and swallowed her sigh. She was like a sweet treat too long denied.

  He meant it as a friendly, fun sort of kiss. As his lips rubbed against hers, Quinn knew it would be easier to rip out his fingernails one by one than to keep this kiss as friendly. Between them, there had only ever been hot, hot, and hotter.

  It hadn’t changed.

  As his tongue traced her lips, recollections of their taste and texture swamped him as though it was only yesterday he’d last kissed her instead of a lifetime ago.

  He drew her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbled it lightly, and savored her deliciousness. Maggie’s whimpers, combined with the touch of her hands on his nape, inflamed him.

  Leaning in to her, he ignored the solid console nudging his leg. Her sweetness encouraged his explorations to deepen, and his mouth moved over hers, trying to get closer to the core. Her tongue rasped against his. It was touch for touch. Stroke for stroke.

  His heart thudded faster when he realized the passion between them hadn’t abated one iota. There was more than passion now. What was it? Recklessness? As though this might be the last kiss between them? Or was it fear he tasted? Fear of not being able to find her witness? Fear of being caught by that slime in the Armani suit she worked for?

  The same slime she’d screwed to keep herself safe.

  Break away, man. Talk. This isn’t the time.

  He tried, but Maggie held his head firmly. Could she feel him pulling back? Eventually she released his head, only to score his back with her nails. Conscious thought fled when her fingers tunneled pathways through his hair. His body was on a long, slow-burning fuse, and she was the spark that would ignite it. The touch of her lips against his provoked him.

  Quinn loved being provoked.

  Their lips clung. Moved. Loved. Enjoyed the sensation of being together. He groaned as the furnace inside him blazed. The deeper he kissed her, the hotter he grew. Blood, thick and heavy, pulsed through his veins, zinging his body with passion. His hand brushed her breast, and a moan, deep and guttural, erupted from him. Or was it her?

  Her damned mouth tortured him. Her tongue relentlessly encouraged his to spar. He surrendered to the torment and stroked his tongue along hers. She shuddered, and Quinn relished that I’m-so-independent Maggie Sinclair was losing it. She was as hot as he was.

  “Quinn…Quinn…please.”

  He ignored her plea and blazed a trail of hot kisses down her cheek, her neck before licking at the pulse beating madly in the hollow of her throat.

  “Quinn,” she moaned, clutching handfuls of his hair and dragging him up. “Kiss me forever.”

  He gazed into her eyes and, in their depths, saw what he wanted to see. His Maggie. He cascaded kisses as soft as angel dust over her eyes and cheeks before cupping her face. “I’ve missed you, Maggie.”

  Her palms cupped his face. “Me, too, Quinn. Me, too.”

  A car slid past them. They broke apart and watched as it stopped farther up the road before taking off in a rush. They looked at each other. The fire had been banked.

  “Wrong time. Wrong place.” Quinn climbed from the car to open the gate. “We’ve got a job to do. Let’s go.”

  She didn’t bother fastening her seat belt as he climbed back in. Switching on the ignition, she glanced at him. “I’ve really missed kissing you, Quinn.” With that, she put the car into gear and drove through the gate toward the house.

  He had expected the house to be in total darkness. The fact that the veranda light beckoned and the lights inside shone brightly came as a shock to his system. “What the hell?” he muttered as Maggie continued down the drive.

  “Wonder who’s home.”

  “Your guess would be as good as mine. Turn around and park over there.”

  Maggie followed his direction, and they climbed out.

  “Don’t bother locking it. We might need to leave in a hurry. Stay behind me, Maggie.”

  “Like hell I will. You’re not my bodyguard, you’re my partner, remember? We’ll walk side by side.” She slipped her hand into his.

  “Okay.” He squeezed her fingers. It was easier to agree. He didn’t want to do the overprotective bit. She was capable of handling herself under any circumstances. He’d witnessed it on numerous occasions. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to stay glued to her side.

  “How are we going to approach this?” Maggie’s tone was hushed.

  “Knock on the front door.”

  “What?”

  “Whoever’s in there would have heard us pull up. I’m guessing it’s someone in Roberts’s family. Anyone else wouldn’t advertise their presence.”

  He released her hand and cupped her elbow as they walked along the cobbled pathway to the front door. Was it a trap? His fingers itched for his gun, but that would be overkill. His if-you-go-in-there-you’re-dead instinct didn’t rear its head. Trusting this, he drew a steadying breath and rapped against the door.

  After a few moments, the door was yanked open. “Yeah?”

  Quinn looked at the guy on the other side of the threshold. Scruffy-looking, not very tall, early twenties. His relationship to Roberts was obvious. Quinn pulled out his wallet and showed his badge. “I’m Detective Sargent Quinn Keller. This is my partner, Detective Maggie Sinclair.”

  The young man’s glance flicked over Quinn and lingered on Maggie. Who could blame him? Even in jeans and a T-shirt she was a stunner and not at all afraid to use her attributes when the occasion called for it. Is that what she did with Conrad?

  Let it go.

  “You’re Simon. Right?” Maggie said.

  “Have we met?” The kid squared his shoulders and stuck out his chest.

  “No, I recognize you from the photo your dad carries in his wallet. Can we come in?”

  He stepped back and, once they were inside, led them into the family room. “What do you want?”

  “Do you mind if I sit?” At his nod, Maggie settled into a chair at the table. “Simon,
why do you think your dad has gone missing?”

  Quinn smiled. So much for subtlety. He watched the way the kid responded to Maggie as she took the lead. She sounded more like a big sister trying to worm some misdemeanor out of a younger sibling. Although the way the boy feasted his eyes on her, it seemed he wasn’t thinking of her as a sister.

  “I don’t know, but he was acting like he used to years ago.”

  “How was that?” Maggie asked.

  “Secretive. Not talking.” The kid flashed a look at Quinn as if he could help him. “He had this excited look on his face. He spent a lot of time in his office. Once I went in there without knocking, and he snapped my head off.”

  Maggie’s gaze snared Quinn’s for a second, but it was enough for him to see the glimmer of excitement. She believed they were on to something.

  “So, Simon, where do you think he is?”

  The boy’s expression became guarded.

  Maggie smiled. “Please tell us. Your dad is my mentor, my friend. I worked as part of a task force with him, and his disappearance is causing me a lot of grief.”

  “My dad’s done nothing wrong.”

  “I believe that your dad’s a great cop, but we need to find him so we can close this case. If you can share your thoughts on where he is, it will really help us.”

  “I haven’t seen him since last week. Anyway, why should I tell you anything?” the kid blustered on, his gaze shifting between Maggie and Quinn as though he were a cornered animal.

  “We believe someone in the task force may be setting him up,” Quinn said.

  Sounds of an inane television commercial and fractured breathing filled the room.

  “Simon, I have no idea where your father is,” Maggie said. “But I need to find him to set the record straight.”

  “I reckon he’s gone under.” The words escaped as if the boy had kept them inside forever, and now that they were out, he couldn’t hold anything back. “It was like when we were kids. Dad was always away for weeks at a time. I hated him then. He’d arrive home, pack a bag, and throw it in the boot of the car. He’d have dinner, tell us how much he loved us, and then he’d be gone. This was exactly the same.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “A couple of days before those other cops showed up to tell us Dad was regarded as officially missing.”

  “And did you share your theory with the officers who came here?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Simon wiped his hands down the side of his pants. “I didn’t trust them.”

  Silence.

  Quinn believed the kid. But why would Roberts’s son not trust the police? It’s not as if he was a typical kid with a natural distrust for cops. “Why not?”

  “Just a hunch.” He scuffed his feet against the doormat.

  Quinn smiled. “Your dad trusted his hunches, too. Tell me, did they take anything?”

  “His computer. And all his backup.”

  Quinn looked at Maggie and saw her eyes dim. He grimaced.

  “But I didn’t give them the laptop. That was the one he was working on the night he snapped my head off.”

  Maggie burst out laughing. “Would you let Quinn and I look at it?”

  “Yeah. I reckon I can trust you.”

  Maggie smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Dad’s study’s this way.” He led them through the open-plan living area and up the stairs. At the top, he turned right and opened a door. “This is it. The laptop’s here.” He opened a drawer and pulled it out.

  Quinn took it from him. “We’re not going to take it away. We’ll look at it here. Maggie sent your dad information that seems to have vanished. If we find anything, Maggie will download it onto her USB.”

  He nodded and moved to the door. “There’s another box of CDs in the second drawer. If you need anything, call.”

  “Okay.”

  Quinn met Maggie’s eyes. “There could be something here to clear your name.”

  Maggie placed the computer on the table, opened it, and clicked keys. “It’s password protected.” She clicked more keys and frowned. “I’ll crack it.” She tapped a few more times. “Might take a while.”

  Quinn walked to the window, pushed the blinds aside, and looked out over the property. There was a fair bit of land attached, and a huge double garage was barely visible in the darkness. Was that a light flickering? Was someone out there?

  “I’m going outside to look around.”

  “Okay.” She raised her brow. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Way too observant. “Following a hunch. Won’t be long.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Quinn headed downstairs and slipped out the back door. He hadn’t bothered to ask for a torch but now wished he had. A blackness hung over the property like a veil. Imagination? Maybe. But he couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched.

  Time had blurred since Maggie had contacted him just over twenty-four hours ago. But in order to finish this, he had to focus. That meant pushing the memory of that kiss in the car from his head and ignoring her scent that lingered on his skin.

  Ignoring her as his.

  But that was impossible. From the night they first met, he saw her as his other half, his life partner, and believed she felt the same. How did that turn out for you? Even so, he couldn’t deny the connection that pulsed between them. Twelve months apart and he still burned for her. He frowned. Did they have a chance at a relationship? Or had her time undercover permanently ruptured her essence? Would he be man enough to choose to put the past behind them? Could he banish the fact she’d screwed the head of the De’lisle for protection when she could have easily called him? He knew there had to be more to it than she’d told him. Get over it.

  Tramping through the garden toward the work shed at the back, he glimpsed a movement in his peripheral vision and whipped around to look. Nothing materialized. Damn, his imagination was working overtime. Still, he’d trusted his gut instinct too long to start doubting it now. He turned and kept walking, hoping whoever watched him would become complacent and give themselves away.

  There it was again. Quinn kept the same pace, but his body tensed, his heart beat faster, and his breathing became shallow. Fight reared in him. He’d be ready for whatever came. The bastard toying with him would get his.

  The moon had risen higher, almost completely obscured by heavy clouds. Misty rain fell, yet in spite of the scarce light, Quinn could still see the form that mimicked his movements.

  He kept his gaze straight ahead and pushed aside branches from the Bush Lemon tree snatching at his shirt, his radar on high alert. Again the specter moved, not drawing closer but staying level. Quinn stopped and looked over his shoulder with what he hoped was apparent indifference. Adrenaline spiked his system with every breath he drew. He bent and pretended to tie his lace as he scanned the immediate vicinity. Standing, he stretched his back and clenched his fists as he picked up the pace.

  The form appeared near the veggie patch. Ten maybe fifteen meters? He could cover that in a heartbeat.

  Shadow obviously believed he hadn’t been seen. That suited Quinn, because he wanted the situation under his control. All he had to do was keep his cool when he finally caught the jerk and not smash the creep’s face to pulp. He’d never physically threatened criminals for information, but it wouldn’t take much for him to go over the edge. He was halfway there already.

  He’d compromised his ethics more in the last twenty-four hours than he had in the rest of his professional life put together.

  When Maggie contacted him, he should have notified his superiors, but he hadn’t. He’d bear the brunt of that later. Still, he regarded himself as a good cop. He’d catch the creep sneaking around after him and get the information required. Then if he felt like it, Quinn would beat him to a pulp.

  Quinn walked a few more paces then, on his next breath, turned and bolted toward his quarry. Blood stampeded through his veins as his legs
carried him across the yard. The tension of the past day boiling in Quinn’s gut pushed him faster. Quinn headed toward the form struggling to gain balance and get out of the bushes. He’d scrambled to full height and started running when Quinn crash tackled him to the ground.

  The grunt from his quarry sent a bolt of basic instinct through Quinn. He had the bastard. Quinn evaded the boot aimed at his face, rolled over, and pinned the man beneath him. Quinn rose onto one elbow, grabbed the shirtfront, and clenched his fist. As he pulled back to launch his attack he looked down. He unclenched his fist, rolled away, then leapt to his feet “I knew you weren’t missing.”

  “And I knew you’d know.”

  Quinn leaned forward, gripped Roberts’s arm, and hauled the inspector to his feet.

  Roberts stood, arms akimbo, drawing huge, heaving gulps of air. “We need to talk,” he wheezed.

  “Come up to the house. Maggie’s there,” Quinn urged.

  “I will. But first, we have to talk. Alone.”

  Quinn looked at the man he’d admired for years. His trousers were creased as though they’d been slept in them. The buttons of his shirt screamed for release as they stretched across his protruding stomach. This man’s mind was as sharp as the proverbial tack. Roberts used his slovenly appearance as a ploy to throw people off-kilter. It wouldn’t work with Quinn.

  Roberts indicated the work shed.

  Quinn stood motionless, struggling for calm.

  Roberts said over his shoulder, “If you’re not interested, I’m out of here.”

  Ignoring the fact Roberts was his superior officer, Quinn grabbed his arm in a vise grip.

  “Do you want to know what I know or not?”

  Quinn wanted to tell him to shove it. He’d figure it out on his own. But there were so many dead ends. It could take forever, and he didn’t want that. He wanted this case closed so he could look to the future. He took a deep breath. “Lead the way.” He pushed Roberts before him and followed him across the yard and into the shed.

  Inside, Quinn heard the hiss of gas and the scratch of a match. A low light shone from the lantern on top of the camp table. “How long have you been here?”

  “Couple of hours.”