“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.”

We 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

“When 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.

“No 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.