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

“I'm sorry...” he starts off, and I kick him again, not wanting to hear his lame excuses. He rolls onto his side and starts to cry.
 

“Pussy,” I spit out angrily. “There is no excuse for you.” Nevertheless, I lean down to check him for weapons, and he wails. “Shut the fuck up,” I yell back. He shuts his mouth, complying with low, feeble sounds of distress.
 

As I pat him down, the only thing I find on him is a Swiss knife. When I'm satisfied he's unarmed, I step back and tell Kimber, “If he moves, kill him.” I don't know if she understands or not, but it sounds good. She stands guard, and the guy doesn't move a muscle.

Lexi’s light sobbing pulls me from the fog of tunnel vision I'd been in, and my gut clenches at her whimpering sounds. I spin around and catch her silhouette. In a few strides I'm by her side, and I bend down to gently brush her hair out of her eyes and she frantically bats my hands away and screams. Taken off guard, I flinch back. She’s in a state of shock, not recognizing me. “Lexi, Baby, it’s me, Quinn. I’m here, Honey.”

Dammit, seeing her this way is killing me. I shake her shoulders, trying to snap her out of it, and firmly raise my voice over her cries. “Lexi, stop it. It’s Quinn. You’re safe now.” Her eyes look wild and crazy until she slowly begins to focus on me. I give her one of my rueful grins and reassure her, “I’ve got you, Angel.”

“Quinn?” she mewls.

“It’s gonna be all right.” Of course, I don’t know if anything will be all right at this point, but I have to say something positive. I let her know every move I’m making, just so I don’t startle her in this frame of mind. I’ve got her somewhat calmed now, so I don’t want her freaking out again. “I’m going to pull your pants up now, okay?”
 

As I start to tug on her pants, she whimpers, and I gently shush her. “Let’s get dressed, and then I’m going to get you out of here.” She’s got markings all up and down her legs and on the inside of her thighs. I clench my teeth tightly together, forcing myself to appear calm on the outside. On the inside, I'm vibrating with untold turbulent fury.

 
“Oh, Quinn, I’m so sorry,” she says as she comes around, her voice is shaky and apologetic.

“We’ll talk later, Angel. Right now, let’s just get you dressed and out of here,” I calmly tell her. I buckle her jeans and refasten her belt. Her shirt is in complete disarray, and I pull it down with shaky hands. I want to kill the motherfuckers.
 

“Are they d...dead?” she shakily asks.
 

“No.” I look at her and frown. “They probably wish I had, but lets just say they won't be coming after us.” I don't want her to see the barbaric things I can accomplish and not think twice about it. “Come on, Baby. Sit up.” I help Lexi to a sitting position, and she wraps her shaky arms around my neck, hanging on for dear life. She quietly sobs into the crook of my neck, but I push her back a little, just enough to look at her face. “Lexi, I need to know if they raped you.” I need to know if I was too late, because if I was, I will surely kill the fuckers. Lexi's fragile state be damned.

She shakes her head and relief consumes me. “Are you physically hurt, Baby? Can you walk?”
 

“I...I think I can walk,” she stutters through her cries. Yeah, she's not capable of walking.

“Let me get your backpack, and then I’ll carry you, okay?” She clings to me, not wanting to let go of my shirt, so I have to gently pry her fingers loose. “Hang tight, give me two-seconds, Sweetheart.” I turn around and search for my flashlight. Its light shines a few yards back. Funny, I don't even remember dropping it. Once I retrieve it, I direct it at Kimber’s captive. He holds up his hand, shielding his eyes.

“You’re lucky I don’t end you right now,” I grit out. I pan the area with my flashlight and come across Lexi’s backpack. There are a few articles of hers strewn about, so I grab them and pack them away. Once I think I have everything, I strap it on and go back to Lexi.

“All right, Sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here.” I bend down on one knee as she wraps her arms around my neck once more. She’s still trembling as I hoist her up and into my arms. I let out a grunt and stumble back a step as I get my balance.

“Kimber,” I call out, “let’s roll out. Take us back to camp, girl.” I know these gunshot wounds will render these men useless for damn near two weeks, if not more, and that’s if they get the proper help they need. They’ll probably fade in and out of consciousness to deal with the pain, but that’s their problem. Yes, the coldhearted military Quinn is back in full combat mode.

Being on an adrenaline high, it’s not until we hit the halfway point back to camp that I start feeling all the weight I’m carrying. It seems to take me four times as long to hike back as I carry Lexi in my arms while wearing her heavy backpack. At least Lexi is functioning enough to shine the light on our path as we follow Kimber. Every now and then, my limbs grow tired and numb, and I have to stop and rest. With only a fourth of the way to go, her quiet sobs of uncontrollable crying have slowly dissipated. At that point she’s finally able to put her own two feet on the ground, and I thank God for it.

 
Neither one of us has said anything to the other the entire way back, which is fine. I’m too pissed off to speak to her, and right now is not a good time for me to come unglued. I need to be calm when we talk about her running off the way she did. Makes me wish I could put a damn tracker on her.

I’m a sweaty mess by the time we make it back to camp, but she’s shivering uncontrollably. I know most of it is from her being in shock. I set her down on our sleeping bags and work at building the fire back up so I can help warm her and gain some light to assess her. When I’m done with the task, I grab some water and sit down beside her, offering her a drink first. She blankly stares at the canteen, so I bring it to her lips and tilt it as I order her to drink. “Take small sips for me, Angel,” I softly murmur.
 

She complies, and when she’s done, I pour some in a bowl for Kimber. My girl is all over that, lapping up every last drop. I take several swigs from the canteen, cooling off my parched throat.
Well, that was some exciting shit,
I think to myself. Not the way I thought I was going to wake up today.

I hold the water out to Lexi again, and ask, “You want some more?” She shakes her head and lies down, curling into a fetal position. I rub the back of my neck. The tension in my muscles is unreal. So many things I want to say and ask, but I know I need to wait. Right now, I want to get her out of her dirty clothes, and I wonder if she’ll let me change her, or if she’ll start to freak out. I guess there’s only one way to find out.

I fish around in her backpack for some fresh clothes and come back to her side. Kimber has snuggled up in front of her, and Lexi has her arms wrapped around her like a life support. “Lexi, I want to get you out of those clothes, okay?” She nods her head and sits up almost robotically. She sits like a rag doll, but she lets me undress her. “We’ll get through this, Baby,” I tell her as I pull a pair of sweatpants up over her hips.

“How did you know?” she asks in a monotone voice. This is the first thing she’s said since I rescued her.

“I heard you grab your backpack, so I gave you some lead time to see what you were up to,” I lie. I don't want to tell her it was Kimber who had been the one to wake me up, alerting me to her disappearance, and then being able to track her down. She's still most likely too shaken up to think about the conundrum and ask how I was able to find her in the dark with ease, especially since she didn't follow any particular trail. I guess she still hasn’t realized that Kimber knows how to track. I’m sure as fuck not going to tell her either, especially if she ever gets the gumption to try it again. Kimber's abilities are still my little secret, and I plan on keeping it that way. I don’t know what I’d do without Kimber. My life would be screwed in more ways than one if Lexi truly got away. Her father would have my balls. The mafia doesn’t accept excuses; they just want the end results, and they want them fast.

By the moon’s light, I can see dark shadows on her arms, which means she’s going to have some serious bruising. She’s pretty battered, but I won’t really know to what extent until morning when I can properly see her in the daylight and assess the damages. Of course, the superficial wounds are the easiest to heal; it’s the internal ones that leave the worst scars. I get pissed off all over again, and I can’t help it; I can’t wait until morning to ask her questions.
 

I work at schooling my tone, keeping the timbre of my voice low. “Do you mind telling me just what the hell you were thinking, trying to sneak off in the middle of the night?”

I’m pulling her clean shirt on over her head when she answers, “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“Well, I kind of do, Sweetheart. I think you owe me an explanation for running a mile deep into the forest in the middle of the night. I had to shoot two men down at point blank range to keep them from raping you.” She flinches from my harsh tone and shivers at the word rape, and I pause. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath through my nose, forcing myself to calm down. She doesn’t need my insensitive remarks.

“I was overwhelmed,” she whispers. As if she’s mesmerized, she stares off into the fire’s flames with a sad face. I don’t want her going down memory lane, thinking of what those men were about to do, so I gently guide her face to meet my gaze. Her lips are turned down, she looks so lost and forlorn, it grips at my heart.

“Sweetheart,” I carefully begin, “what had you so overwhelmed you felt the need to run away from me?”
 

She thinks for a moment, biting her lower lip in thought before she speaks. “I’ve only known you for a week, and suddenly you’re wanting to protect me, give me family jewelry, and take me home. That is not normal.”

Cupping the side of her face, I caress her cheek with my thumb. “Your life is not normal, and neither is mine,” I gently reply, “but those are excuses you’re giving me. There’s more you’re not telling me, because those reasons alone are not enough to warrant sneaking off in the middle of the night, leaving me behind for good.”

She tries to pull away from my hand, but I won’t let her. “Let me go, Quinn,” her calm tone, belying the turbulent undercurrent that’s beginning to radiate off her.

“No. We’re going to talk about this.”

Her forehead wrinkles, and I can feel her coming back to life with a spark. She’s feeling anger. Anger is good. I can deal with a mad Lexi. “Fine, you want to push me, then I’ll tell you. Earlier today,” she pauses shaking her head, “no, that would be yesterday now…I overheard your phone conversation, and it wasn’t pretty.” My brows rise in surprise. “Yeah, that’s right,” she accuses. “Apparently, you have me in your back pocket as I eat out of your hands, because you need to keep me in check?”

“Angel…”

“Don’t you Angel me. In fact…” as if saying the word Angel had reminded her, she reaches her hands behind her neck to unclasp the pendant I gave her. “Some women don’t happen to love getting
shit
like this so don’t flatter yourself.” I’m fucking speechless as she holds my mother’s pendant in front of me, but Lexi sure as hell isn’t at a loss for words. “You may be a smooth operator and all that; after all, you are a playboy, but what ever game it was you were playing with me, it’s over.”
 

I run my fingers through my hair in frustration, ignoring the pendant she wants to give back to me. She’s hurt; both mentally and physically. I don’t even know where to begin as I digest her words, but apparently she’s not done getting everything off her chest.

“You do understand the fact you took my cell phone and refused to give it back has
control freak
written all over you, right? I’m not talking about a regular control freak. I’m talking about the scary stalker relationship kind. You’ve been sending me all the right signs and signals that you’re one of those men who’d like to control my every move, down to the friends I have, what I do for a hobby, and how much time I spend doing each of those things.”

“Angel,” I start off, but she holds up her hand, cutting me off. Shit, she's still not done chewing me out.
 

“I’ve been in one of those relationships before, one full of secrets lined with obscure motives, and the same man who put me through those hoops is the very one I’m running away from. I don’t want anything to do with your mind games, and quite frankly, you scare the shit out of me. At least with the first man, I knew what I was dealing with. With you, it’s a crapshoot.” Having said all that in one breath, she takes a deep breath, filling her lungs back up.

“You’ve got it all turned around, Lexi, I swear.”

“Do I, Quinn,” she argues back. “We know everything about each other, and yet we know nothing about each other. You know…the things that really count.” I still my movements and recognize what she just said was true. I didn’t even think about that.

“What we’ve started counts for something,” I argue back.
 

“Not really,” she says, exasperated. “I don’t even know what it is you do for a living. Your life is one big secret, including your last name. All I know is you’ve lived your life as a playboy; yet, you say you want to take me home and make something of this relationship, but you talk about me behind my back as if our relationship is a ruse.”
 

“Whoa now, hold up,” I say with indignation. I’m taken aback a little from her insightfulness, and I’m hard pressed for retorts because she’s right on all accounts. I'd be a real gamble for her, but she misheard everything Stryker and I were talking about on the phone. “You are anything but a ruse. You’re not a scheme, a strategy, or something to conquer.” She tilts her head back and narrows her eyes, studying me. “What you overheard was two best friends of two decades, ribbing each other and talking the ways guys talk, which can sound crass at times.”

“Fine, I’ll give you that one. In fact I’ll let you off the hook about all those things I’d overheard, except for one.”