Her Private Avenger

The sudden bite of hostility stung like hell, but she wasn’t sure she blamed him. She’d hurt him when she’d canceled their wedding. Scratch that—he’d canceled their wedding. She’d simply asked to postpone it. But with Quinn, there was no such thing as a gray area. It was black and white, get married or don’t. He’d chosen the latter.

Quinn moved to the door. “Get your coat. It’s cold out there.”

“I don’t have a coat.”

His eyes flashed. “You walked all the way here without a coat?”

She offered a stony look. “I was a little too focused on sneaking out of the psychiatric ward to worry about the weather.”

He muttered something under his breath, then opened the door. They walked out to the rickety porch.

Quinn’s back was to her as he locked up the cabin, and she took the opportunity to draw in a steady breath and examine the porch. Her heart skipped when she noticed a white ceramic flowerpot sitting on the wooden railing. About twice the size of a snow globe, but it would do the trick.

She had no intention of going back to D.C. tonight. She didn’t think she could lose him during the hike to the car, but if she got a head start now…

“Don’t forget to put this back,” she said when he turned around. She stuck out her palm, and the silver spare key sparkled under the thin shaft of moonlight illuminating the front yard.

Without a word, he took the key and headed down the steps. Morgan followed him, casually picking up the empty flowerpot and tucking it behind her back. She waited until Quinn was on his knees, big body bent down to slip the key under the rock she’d liberated it from.

Another breath. Now or never.

Fighting the jolt of guilt that streaked through her, she lifted her arm and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Quinn’s head swiveled sharply, but he had no time to react as the ceramic pot came crashing down on his head.

Chapter 3

Morgan took off running.

She didn’t dare turn back to see if Quinn was following her but she knew she hadn’t knocked him unconscious, as she’d hoped. No surprise. He’d always had a pretty thick skull. She’d heard his grunt of pain as the flowerpot connected with its target, the sound of ceramic splintering against his head, but he hadn’t passed out. Still, she’d stunned him, and she suffered a tug of guilt as she tore through the woods.

She tried to ignore the image of Quinn’s body falling backward from the impact. God, she hoped she hadn’t hurt him. She wasn’t a violent person, not usually anyway.

But she wasn’t crazy, either, and she’d be damned if she was going to be forced back into that psych ward.

Twigs snapped under her sneakers as she ran, trees whipping by her face. Her cheeks grew flushed from the cold. She came dangerously close to slamming into a branch, but kept moving, slipping several times on the layer of slush beneath her feet.

Sucking in oxygen, she tried to pay attention to her surround ings, but she had no freaking clue where she was going. If she stopped for a minute and looked for her previous tracks, she’d be able to find her way back to the main road, but she couldn’t risk it. No doubt Quinn was right behind her.

Keep going, she ordered herself. Keep going. Keep go—

She was suddenly jerked backward as a big hand yanked at her sweater from behind.

“Damn you!” came Quinn’s infuriated voice.

He grabbed her shoulders and twisted her around, and the look in his eyes caused a lump of fear to lodge in her throat. She’d never seen him like this, his green eyes glittered with menace, his lips an angry slash across his face. She swallowed when she noticed the scrape on his left temple, the thin trail of blood on his cheek. He’d been cut when the pot had shattered. There were even little white pieces of ceramic caught in his dark hair. No wonder he looked like he wanted to throttle her.

His fury seemed to escalate when he caught sight of her face. “Don’t!” he snapped. “Don’t you dare be afraid of me.”

“I—”

“A lot of things might have changed in two years, but not that. I would never hurt you. Never.”

Her heart thudded against her rib cage, making each individual rib tremble. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“For what?” he shot back. “Using my head like a piñata or thinking I was going to hit you just now?”

She cringed. “Both.”

Quinn shook his head angrily. He looked like he was struggling to rein in his temper. “Damn it, Morgan. Do you think I want to be here right now? Do you think I enjoy chasing after you in the woods at midnight?”

“Then let me go,” she begged him.

“I can’t.”

She heard the pain lining those two words, and when she lifted her head to meet his gaze, her breath lodged in her throat. A kaleidoscope of emotions reflected back at her, the most prominent being sorrow. And then his eyes dropped to her mouth, and desire joined the mix.

She stared at him, transfixed, while a rush of pleasure poured into her body. He still wanted her. Oh, God, he still wanted her. The happiness she received from the realization was so strong she nearly keeled over backward. For two years she’d longed for this man, woken up in the middle of the night searching for his big, warm body. And in those two years, he hadn’t contacted her. Not even once. She thought he’d gotten over her. That he’d somehow managed to exorcise the powerful attraction bonding them together.

It was unbelievably satisfying knowing he hadn’t, that she wasn’t alone in the longing department.

“Damn you,” he said again, his voice thick.

“Quinn…” she began.

But he didn’t let her finish. Even as her lips formed his name, his lips were swallowing up the sound. He captured her mouth, kissing her so deeply that all thoughts drained from her head. Common sense left her, too, as she kissed him back frantically. His lips were firm, his tongue hot and insistent as it slid into her mouth as if it belonged there. No, because it belonged there.

Morgan leaned into his hard body, angling her head for better access, drowning in his familiar kiss. As their mouths meshed and tongues tangled, she realized there would never be anyone else for her. She was his.

I missed you.

The words bit at her lips, so she kissed him back with more fervor, before those silly words could find a way out. But God, how she’d missed him. Missed this—his hot spicy taste, the way his five o’clock shadow deliciously scraped her cheek.

“Damn it.”

His sudden curse jolted her from the haze of passion. She gasped as he pulled back, the sensual contact snapping like a bungee cord.

Morgan looked up at him with wide eyes, her brain working so fast she feared it might shut down like an overloaded computer.

And Quinn…he was looking at her in horror, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d done and with whom.

“Jesus,” he muttered, dropping his hands from her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She struggled to steady her breathing. Hard to do when her entire body still felt winded from that explosive kiss. “Then why did you?” she whispered.

He went silent, his brows drawn together in a frown. But instead of answering the question, he simply cleared his throat and said, “I can’t let you go back to Autumn alone. You could be in danger. You need to be home, where your father can protect you.”

“My father only wants to protect himself.” She rubbed her temples in frustration. “He had me committed, even after I told him I didn’t drive my car off a bridge.”