Her Private Avenger

Quinn didn’t respond, simply frowned.

“I need to find the truth,” she murmured. “I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to Layla for ten years. I can’t stop now.”

“Layla is dead,” Quinn said emphatically.

“Yeah, and someone tried to kill me after her body was found.” Tears pricked her eyelids. “When she disappeared, I knew she was dead. And I was right.”

“Yes, you were. So why can’t you let it go now?” He suddenly groaned. “Forget it. I know why you can’t. Because you’re Morgan Kerr.”

She shot him a faint smile. “That’s me, always the troublemaker…”

Quinn didn’t return the smile. “Please, Morgan, let me take you home.”

“No.”

He let out a sigh, but before he could open his mouth to object, she hurried on. “Look, I know you don’t owe me any favors. If anything, I’m the one who ought to be making amends.” Her voice wavered. “But please, Quinn, do me this favor. Come back to Autumn with me.”

He muttered a hasty expletive. “I already said no.”

“And I’m trying to change your mind. I think the smartest move would be having you with me.” She forced herself not to think about that crazy kiss or their turbulent history as she continued. “You’re a mercenary. You could keep me safe, and since we both agree there was foul play out on that bridge, then my safety is definitely an issue.”

He stayed silent. A gust of icy wind swept through the woods, lifting Quinn’s dark hair, and Morgan noticed the blood on his temple had dried. She was tempted to reach out and touch the wound, but kept her hands to her side. She could clean the cut later. After he agreed to come with her. Which he would. She could see the resolve in his eyes crumbling.

She decided to give him one last push.

“You once told me you’d always protect me.” She tilted her head. “What if I go alone and get hurt? Could you live with that, knowing I’d asked for your protection and you denied me?”

He gave a short bark of a laugh. “That’s low, sweetheart, even for you.”

She shrugged. “Did it work?”

Quinn released a heavy sigh. “What the hell do you think?”

Of all the stupid, moronic, asinine things Quinn had ever done in his thirty-two years of life, this one took the prize. What was he thinking, agreeing to take Morgan to Autumn? During the entire hike back to the main road, where he’d left his car, he’d been asking himself that question. And now, as he unlocked the doors of the black SUV, the answer still eluded him.

The best he could come up with? That flowerpot to the head had knocked a few screws loose.

“Thank you for doing this,” Morgan said as she slid into the passenger seat.

He started the engine, then turned on the heat full-blast, hoping it might thaw the useless block of ice his brain had become. He couldn’t do this. Just being near this woman was pure torture. He was aching for her, angry at her, torn between pulling her into his arms and pushing her far, far away.

Setting his jaw, he spared her a glance and said, “Buckle your seat belt.”

He was about to move the gearshift when she reached out to stop him. Her hand was cold, but feeling her slender fingers on his hand sent a shot of pure heat to his groin. Unable to stop himself, he thought about the kiss they’d shared in the woods.

Again, what was he thinking? Kissing her had been foolish on so many levels. It had been wrong, and pointless, and … unbelievable. The second their lips met, he was transported back in time. The jolt of arousal, the sense of belonging, the sheer rightness of having Morgan’s mouth pressed against his own. It was almost as if they’d never parted.

He abruptly shrugged off her hand, angry at his train of thought. No matter how mind-blowing that kiss had been, it didn’t change a damn thing. He and Morgan had parted. She’d cast aside the man she supposedly loved so her dear old daddy’s reputation wouldn’t be tainted.

“Let me clean you up first,” she said softly, completely oblivious to the turmoil riddling his body.

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly.

“Humor me.”

Gritting his teeth, he watched as she rummaged around in her purse, finally pulling out a small pack of tissues and a travel tube of hand sanitizer. “This will do the trick,” she said with a nod. She squirted some hand sanitizer on a tissue. “Lean forward.”

He didn’t move. No way was he leaning closer to her. Last time he got too close, he’d ended up with his tongue down her throat.

Morgan rolled her blue eyes. “Why is it that when it comes to injuries, men are either big babies or irritating tough guys?” Without waiting for an answer, she slid toward him and swiftly pressed the tissue to his temple.

He flinched, ignoring the tiny sting of pain, and patiently sat there as she wiped up the dried blood on his cheek. When her scent wafted up to his nose, that intoxicating dose of flowers, honey and woman, he held his breath, determined not to let it affect him. Damn it, she was too close. Way too close, and … why was she running her fingers through his hair?

He hissed out a breath, and her hand froze. “You have … ceramic in your hair,” she said, her husky voice coming out shaky.

Quinn curled his fingers around her slender wrist and moved her arm away. “I can do it,” he muttered. Avoiding her eyes, he raked the tiny shards from his hair, then repeated his earlier request. “Will you buckle up now?”

When she was strapped in, he shifted gears, drove off the gravel shoulder and pulled onto the dark two-lane road.

“So…I guess I should call my father,” Morgan said. “Do you have a cell phone?”

His voice came out brusque. “There’s no service out here. We’ll call him when we get closer to civilization.”

That was one call Quinn wasn’t looking forward to. No doubt the senator would be furious when he found out where they were headed, nor would he be pleased that Quinn had decided to stick around and help her.

“Tony will be worried, too,” Morgan said absently. “Remind me to call him after I speak to Dad.”

“How’s your brother these days?” Quinn found himself asking. He’d always been fond of Morgan’s older brother. The guy had a lust for life, a perpetual lopsided grin and a contagious live-in-the-moment attitude that Quinn had always found oddly refreshing.

“He’s doing well,” Morgan replied, smiling. “He’s happily working at that advertising firm. And he actually has a girlfriend. Finally got over his commitment issues.”

Ah, commitment issues. Quinn knew all about those. In fact, when he’d first met Morgan, the last thing he wanted to do was enter into a relationship with her. For a former foster kid who’d pretty much been abandoned by everyone he’d ever cared about, getting close to someone had been as appealing as having his legs waxed.

Yet Morgan managed to break down his walls. Snaked her way right into his heart, until he’d actually started to believe happily ever after didn’t just exist in fairy tales.

Evidently he should’ve stuck to his original viewpoint.

“I think the first item on our agenda should be talking to the medical examiner,” Morgan said, snapping him from his thoughts. “I was in town the day Layla’s body was found, but the M.E. couldn’t meet with me until the next morning. Unfortunately, my car wound up in the river that night, so I never made it to the meeting.”

“Were Layla’s remains buried or cremated?”

“Neither. The M.E. still needed to properly examine them, so we held a memorial service at the church. There might be a burial in a few weeks, if Layla’s parents feel up to it.”

“You need to be careful about who you speak to,” Quinn warned. “We still don’t know who tried to kill you, but there’s a high probability that someone from town caused the accident.”

She swallowed. “What if they try again?”

He could feel those beautiful blue eyes on him, and when he turned, he saw the anxiety in them. It was almost the exact same expression she wore the week before their wedding, when she’d asked him if he minded postponing it until after her father’s reelection campaign.