Quinn II (Undaunted Men #2) (13 page)

I’m petrified, because I know now he has plans to actually kill Quinn. I see it written all over his face. I may have grown up sheltered, but I didn't grow up stupid. I know what these men are made of, what they've been trained for. They are their own special breed, ruthless, unforgiving, and somehow unfeeling when it comes time to impart their barbarous acts on their enemy. I close my eyes, trying to remain calm, but there is no calm. I’m surprised I have a new found energy for this fight, but we are talking about Quinn after all. My emotions are strung out all over the place, and the amount of anxiety vibrating through me is worthy of an angina attack.

“No, Vince.” I grab onto his button down camouflage shirt and twist the fabric in a death grip, pleading, “I will do anything, just…please. You tell me you love me...” I choke on my words.

He wraps his large hand around my little fist then caresses my hand with his thumb, looking at me sadly. “My love for you has nothing to do with this. Connor and I are after retribution, and we plan on getting it.”

“I have everything to do with this!” I shriek. “You sent me off into the wilderness all alone, risking my safety, and then you had me ambushed!” I’ve lost my cool, and I shove at his chest. “You made me a pawn in a game that started years ago with the intention of murdering an innocent woman if necessary, all so you could break off my relationship with Myles and frame me!”
My voice boils over with rage.
“Who does that shit, Vince?! You’re sick, you and Connor both!”

“Are you done?” he asks, his tone remaining even, almost as if he’s bored.
 

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, but fail. How the fuck am I supposed to think with shrewd and calculated steps when anxiety and tension are raging through me? “Why did you have to play this game? Why couldn’t you have been a big boy and go take him out yourself? You had to use a woman to play the game for you. That's weak, even for you, Vince. If you wanted him so badly, why didn’t you go knock on his front door or something?”
He smirks at my remarks as I read him the riot act. His smugness infuriates me, and I pound into his chest as I rant on, “Why’d you have to drag me into this? You owe me answers, damn you!”

He grabs my wrists with ease, and crosses my hands and forearms over each other, pressing them into my chest so I can't swat at him. “Okay,” he drawls out the word, calmly agreeing. He tilts his head to the side, his voice starting off composed and unflustered. “I was there…on those trails, that is. Connor and I were tracking you both. We were less than a mile away the day you had your surprise attack. The plan was to first have those men secure Quinn, and then have you taken to safety. I was going to deal with Quinn out in the middle of nowhere. He would’ve simply just vanished from the face of the Earth. Those men might have gotten him had it not been for his dog.”

I listen intently, soaking in his every word, and then my eyes go misty over thoughts of Kimber. Just mere hours ago I had watched all those painful events unfold. The back of my orbs sting, and my eyes flutter closed, the pain too intense. My chest aches as the images of her being shot flash through my mind.

There's too much chaos, too many scenarios swirling around in my head to be able to focus on any one thing. So much grief is rolling through me, stabbing at my heart. My breath hitches on a stifled sob, “Why do you men always have to be so ruthless and brutal?” I’m not really asking him the question; I’m voicing my frustration.

“You’re so naive and trusting,” Vince says solemnly. “I should’ve known you’d get attached.” He looks at me with pity while he eases his grip. “We planned on you two only spending a couple days together, but the damn tracker got sketchy in places, and we couldn’t pinpoint you. You didn’t totally follow the trail Connor had mapped out for you, which didn’t help matters.” I can only imagine his frustration and astonishment when we both slipped through his fingers.
 

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, breaking into my thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” He lets go of my arms and strokes the side of my cheek.

“How are you so sure Quinn murdered Bennett? Do you have proof? Were you there?”

“I wasn’t there, no, but I have proof enough.” Before I can wipe away a stray tear, Vince beats me to it. His thumb swipes below my eye, his look somber. “Sweetheart,” he says with impassioned concern. “You’re overthinking all this, worrying yourself sick. Please, stop,” he implores. “Don’t do this. What can I do to make you see it will only ever be you and me? I don’t want to see you suffer.”

“But I am suffering, Vince.” My voice hitches. “You keep taking lives just because you think you can. Do you really think that's rational behavior?”
 

He's subdued and reflective as he listens to me. He stares at me with the softest expression, but doesn't respond.
 
He doesn't have to; his mind is already made up. I struggle to get my words out without breaking apart. “So that’s it, then? You’re the one who gets to decide Quinn was culpable, and then hold your dominion over him by taking justice into your own hands?”

“That’s the game he played when he stepped into mafia territory,” he coolly replies, “but don’t worry. I’ll give him a moment to have his say.”

“You’re biased, and what you’re doing doesn’t make your actions right.”
 

“It doesn’t make them wrong either,” he bites back, becoming irritated.
 

“It’s all kinds of wrong,” I sneer. I look at him through glassy eyes and tell him with resolution, “You’re not going to hurt Quinn. It will be over my dead body.”

He's done being entertained by my amusing behavior because he sniggers at me, and his tone is sharp. “I gave you your answers; I didn’t give you a vote.” I feel as if I’ve been bitch-slapped in the face. His words are spoken with finality and arrogance.
 

An intense physical force of anger builds in my chest, and I can no longer try to reason with the man. He's too irrational and illogical to deal with. I’ve exhausted all my reasoning skills in vain, and I can no longer play his games. It’s all come to a head, and it’s game-over. I only wish I had a wider swing as I slap his face with all my strength. The stinging blow resounds through the room, and I almost get another one in before he captures my wrist in a fierce grip.

His nostrils flare with anger as he rolls his body weight on top of mine, pinning me down. I scream out at the top of my lungs with words that make no sense, or maybe they do, but I’m too far out of my mind to know the difference; I’ve lost it. My head thrashes back and forth as I struggle to break free.
 

“Stop it,” Vince thunders. “Settle the fuck down.”

“Fuck you!” I spit out. I try to head-butt him, but he pulls back just in time.

I violently thrash about, my hair sticking to the sweat on the sides of my face like a crazy woman. Vince’s eyes turn dark and swirl with rage. “I knew you fucked him; I just didn’t know you fell so hard for his cock.”
 

“What the fuck?” someone shouts from across the room. “What the hell happened in here?” It's Connor, and he's clearly freaked out.

“Regan from the fucking Exorcist happened,” Vince replies. “This on-again, off-again emotional instability is killing me. I need you to get a sedative,” Vince grinds out. “No...wait.” We’re both breathing heavily as he wrestles to restrain me, but this time, he’s struggling to keep me down. “Go get my blue drug kit instead.”

“What?” he asks me, looking into my eyes, wearing an evil smirk. I realize I've stilled all my movements at the term
blue drug kit.
“I don't want you totally out of it, what would be the fun in that?” he taunts. “Are you worried now?”

“No,” I lie, sneering back at him with utter vehemence. His steely gaze has me more than on edge, I'm panic-stricken on the inside, but I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing I'm totally unraveled.
 

“Fair enough,” he says nonplussed. “The only thing you should be worrying about from here on out anyway is your behavior and how you submit to me.”

“In your dreams,” I hiss.

He chuckles, the deep, threatening tenor of his vocal chords sending a wave of horror through me. Connor catches my attention as he re-enters the room, and he is indeed holding a blue box. In a last ditch effort, I push the limits of my strength, fighting him tooth and nail, and then before I know it, I’m being jabbed in the thigh with a sharp needle.

“You fuckers.” I turn my head and glare daggers at Connor. “I hate you. I hate you both,” I cry out. This is the second time these men have drugged me, and all within the past twelve hours. Connor stands by the side of the bed looking down on me, knowing he’s crossed the last line with me. “I fucking hate you!” I screech. He’s speechless, and by the look on his face, I know I got to him this time. I can see it in his eyes.

“What do you plan on doing with her?” Connor asks Vince carefully.

Vince narrows his eyes on Connor’s, replying, “It's none of your damn business. She's mine now to do with as I please. Since when have you grown a conscious, Connor?” Vince then slides his eyes toward mine, making sure our gazes lock before he speaks. “She only has to be concerned if she resists me.”

Chills of terror race through my entire body. I look to Connor, my eyes pleading for unspoken help. I watch as Connor's expression masks over, turning to steel. His jaw muscles flex, and then he may as well have just slapped me in the face with his next words.

“Sounds like you better do as the man says then.” My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach, the last thread of hope severed without so much as a second thought.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Ah, there's the worried voice I was missing,” he says, ridiculing me.
 

“What did you give me, Vince?” I ask gritting my teeth.

“Bring me some more water, Conner. She's going to be working up a thirst.”

I gasp aloud, having a pretty good idea of what he’s implying. “You wouldn't,” I hiss.

Vince calmly tells me, “Oh honey, I already did. Those pills I gave you should be kicking in any minute now. You're wound too tight, I just wanted a little something else to relax you.”

“Oh-my-God,” I choke back a cry. The fact I was injected means the effects of the drug are going to slam into me within minutes. Knowing I’m doomed, I save the last of my strength for ferocious words, which are intended to wound even the most damaged of souls.
 

I look Vince straight in the eyes and smile smugly. “He was the best fuck of my life, Vince. You aren’t even on the same playing field as Quinn.” I laugh sardonically. “He was hot, passionate, and all man. You don’t even know how to make love, let alone understand what true love is. You just go around poking your wimpy little dick into holes like a sloppy teenager.”

“That’s enough,” he roars, his eyes turning stormy and dark. Vince leans down into my face with a look of determination and a voice full of vengeance. “Not only will I give you the hardest fuck of your life, but I’m going to video tape it for your lover boy to see, right before I slit his throat.”

I’m so far out of my own head I can barely hear myself scream my obscenities at the top of my lungs. The tears come next, and my voice is hoarse from all the screaming. “Let him go,” I sob. “Let him go.” I’m homicidal at this point, and with the adrenaline pouring through me, I feel as if I could lift a dump trunk, but my body is not on board with that idea. Eventually, I tire out and begin to calm.

Vince had let me rant on, patiently waiting me out until, I assumed, I'd eventually grow tired, but it never came. I wanted to drift off into a deep sleep and wake up to all this being a bad dream, finding myself back in Quinn's arms. Instead, I begin to experience an unusual burst of energy while my mood slowly shifts, evolving into this odd, carefree, and untroubled state of mind. Maybe even a little bit buoyant. It's as if everything is turning brighter, and the perception of my little world has been altered. I can't explain it, but it feels good.

I hear faint music playing in the background.
Am I imaging this?
The effects of the drug seem to infiltrate every last cell of my body all too fast. I can literally feel myself relaxing, and absurdly, I have the most overwhelming urge to dance. The scales have tipped, and I can't even seem to question the insanity of my altering behavior because I'm too caught up in the
feel good
of this drug.

Noticing my obvious shift in mood, Vince looks down on me, fully amused. He relaxes his hold on me then begins to move his hips against mine in a sensual rhythm. Why do I have the compulsion to follow suit? He leans his head down and brushes his lips against my ear, the touch of his skin against mine has become magnified. A massive shiver rolls through me.
 

He relaxes his hold on my wrists and lifts his head to study my face, making sure the drugs are taking effect. The slight movement causes his masculine scent to drift over me, giving me the urge to breathe him in, so I do. His woodsy aroma combined with his virility has been magnified. I must've been obvious about it, because he then chuckles; he lifts his lips in a slight grin, looking seemingly amused.
 

“There's my girl,” Vince breathes over my lips with a broad grin as he dips his head down to softly skim his lips over mine. “I've missed you, Lexi,” he softly breathes.
 

I return his gesture, grinning back over his lips as a calmness overcomes me like a soft wave. “Why do you look so hugely huggable?”

“I do, do I?” The deep tenor of his voice sounding unusually lyrical.
 

I nod my head, agreeing. “Uh-huh.”

“Say it again,” he softly requests.

“You're hugely huggable,” I giggle, totally clueless as to what is happening to me, and to the absurdity of it all.
 

Vince lets out a low, deep, musical laugh before he replies, “I'm going to be hugely something else inside that sweet pussy of yours.”