Quinn's Woman (6 page)

“About me not getting back,” he began.

D.J. cut him off with a stern look. “Let it go, kid,” she told him. “My streak was bound to run out sooner or later.”

“Too bad she wasn’t able to capture a prisoner all on her own,” Quinn drawled. “No, wait. You did have someone, didn’t you?”

D.J. ignored him.

Ronnie’s eyes widened. “You lost a prisoner?”

Travis chuckled. “Don’t go there, son. D.J.’ll take your head off.”

Ronnie returned his attention to his breakfast.

D.J. couldn’t help glancing at Quinn, who had the nerve to smile at her. Just smile. As if he was happy or something.

Nash Harmon, a six-foot, one-inch testament to Haynes family genes, rose. “I hate to break this up, but I have things to see to this morning.”

Kevin, his twin, hooted. “Things? Don’t you mean Stephanie?”

Nash smiled. “That’s exactly what I mean.” He looked over at Quinn. “You probably haven’t heard. I recently got engaged. Of course, I’m not the only one. Kevin’s planning a wedding for early October, and you already know about Gage.”

D.J. noticed that Quinn’s gaze settled on his brother. Gage shrugged.

“We haven’t had time to go into that. I’m getting married, too.”

“Congratulations,” Quinn said.

“All three of you just recently got engaged?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Is it something in the water?”

Travis rose. “Could be. That’ll make you switch to bottled, huh?”

“In a heartbeat.” D.J. shook her head. “Married.”

She held back saying “yuck” even though it was what she was thinking. In her experience, marriage was all bad for the woman and all good for the man. Okay, the Haynes brothers seemed to have decent relationships. And her friend Rebecca had married a pretty okay guy, but they were exceptions.

It seemed that everyone had a place to be. In a matter of a couple of minutes, the table had cleared, except for D.J. and Quinn. She expected him to stand up, as well, but he didn’t. Instead he sipped his coffee and looked at her.

She told herself this was great. Now she could get her questions answered. The only problem was his steady gaze made her want to shift in her seat. She wouldn’t, of course. She would never let him know he could make her feel uncomfortable. Nor would she admit to wanting to know what he was thinking as he watched her.

She resisted the incredibly stupid impulse to touch her hair to make sure it was in place, as if that mattered, then turned toward him and decided to just go for it.

“How did you get away?” she asked. “The ropes were cut, but I’d checked you for knives. I’d put yours in the pack, which was out of reach. I checked it this morning and you hadn’t opened it. So you had a knife on you somewhere. One that I missed.”

She had the sudden thought that someone could have crept into camp and released him, but she dismissed the idea. She knew in her gut Quinn had gotten away all by himself. He’d managed to outsmart her and to do it all while she was sleeping.

Even more annoying, he’d left his jacket draped over her, as if she needed protection from the elements.

“How could you have missed a knife?” he asked, his eyes bright with humor. “You gave me a very thorough and very enjoyable search. If you’d like to check me again...” His voice trailed off.

She ignored the suggestion and the teasing tone of his voice. “Where’s the knife?”

She half expected him to insist she come find it. Instead he flipped up the collar of his heavy military-issue shirt, and pulled out a short blade. Not a knife...just the blade.

Of course, she thought, impressed by the ingenuity. No one paid attention to stiff collars. The points were supposed to be that way. All Quinn would need to do was a little shift and shimmy to get his hands in front of his body, then the blade would be within easy reach.

The possibilities intrigued the hell out of her. “What else do you know that I don’t?”

Instead of making a smart-ass response, Quinn stood. “This has been great,” he said.

She rose and walked toward him. “Wait. I really want to know.”

His gaze never left her face, yet everything changed. The teasing was gone, as was the humor. Instead, bone-deep weariness invaded his expression. He knew things, she thought as she involuntarily took a step back. He’d seen and done things no man should experience. His life was

about a whole lot more than simply getting people out of places they shouldn’t be.

“I’m not playing,” she said. “I want to learn what you know. I’m a quick study.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Your skills would help me with my work. I want to be better.”

“Aren’t you good enough to get the job done?”

“Yes, but I want to be better than good enough. I want to be the best.”

“There is no best.”

Of course there was, she thought. There always was. She worked her butt off to make sure it was her most of the time.

“I’ll pay you,” she said.

He smiled then. “Thanks, but I’m not interested. Take care, D.J.”

And then he was gone. He simply walked out of the tent without looking back.

She watched him go and decided right then she was going to get him to change his mind. She didn’t know how, but she would convince Quinn Reynolds to teach her what he knew. She would be stronger, faster, smarter, and finally the ghosts would be laid to rest.

Two days later D.J. still hadn’t come up with a plan. What on earth would a man like Quinn want that she could give him? She’d paced most of the night, and when that hadn’t cleared her mind, she’d awakened early for a three-mile run. Now she prowled her back room, pausing occasionally to jab at the punching bag in the corner.

“I can see you’re in a temper this morning. Want to talk about it?”

D.J. turned toward the voice and saw Rebecca Lucas standing in the doorway of her workout room. She held a thermos in one hand and a pink bakery box in the other. D.J.’s spirits lightened immediately.

“Danish?” she asked, heading toward her friend.

“Of course. Don’t I always bring Danish?”

“You’re a good woman.”

“I know.”

Rebecca led the way to the main office, where she set the box on the front desk and opened the thermos.

“So what has you all crabby this morning?” she asked as she poured coffee into two mugs. “If you were anyone else, I would swear it was man trouble.”

“It is, but not the romantic kind.”

Rebecca handed her the coffee. “Too bad. You need a man in your life.”

“Right. That would be as useful to me as inheriting a toxic waste dump.”

Rebecca tsked softly as she poured more coffee for herself, opened the bakery box and pushed it toward D.J.

D.J. grabbed a napkin, then a cheese Danish. The first bite was heaven. The second, even better. She slowly chewed the flaky, sticky, sweet pastry.

Rebecca took one for herself and nibbled daintily. As usual, all conversation ceased until they’d each downed at least one Danish and felt the kick-start, blood-sugar rush of refined carbohydrates and frosting.

D.J. finished first and licked her fingers. Rebecca dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

They couldn’t be more different, D.J. thought affectionately. Rebecca was all girl, from her long, curly hair to her wardrobe of soft, flowing, floral-print dresses. She wore foolish shoes, delicate jewelry and wouldn’t be caught dead in town without makeup.

“You’re looking at my dress,” Rebecca said when she’d finished her Danish. “You hate it.”

“No. It’s great.”

D.J. studied the light-blue flowers scattered on a white background, the lace at the edge of the collar and the tight, puffy sleeves, while trying desperately not to wince.

“I just don’t understand why you have to dress so...girly.”

Rebecca took another Danish. “We don’t all need to look as if we’d just come from a sale at the army surplus store. Olive green isn’t my color. Besides, Austin likes how I dress.”

End of argument, D J. told herself. If Austin mentioned he would like the rotation of the earth changed, Rebecca would set out to see what she could do to make that happen. She adored her husband past the point of reason. D.J. found the situation palatable only because Austin was a good man – weren’t those few and far between? – and he loved his wife just as completely. D.J. believed down to her bones that if someone tried to hurt Rebecca, Austin would rip that person into stamp-size pieces.

Rebecca looked her over, making D.J. aware of her camouflage pants and heavy boots.

“You’re expecting a war later?”

“Real funny.” D.J. grabbed a second pastry. “So what’s going on?”

Rebecca filled her in on the latest escapades of her four children, including David’s increasing fascination with cars. “He’s going to be a holy terror on the road,” Rebecca said, her voice mixed with worry and pride. “He’s already poring through Austin’s car magazines and giving us suggestions for his sixteenth birthday.”

The conversation continued. Rebecca made it a habit to drop in two or three mornings a week. D.J. enjoyed hearing about her family. As she didn’t plan to get married, and doubted she would be a very good single mom, Rebecca’s kids were as close to her own as she was going to get.

“I’m having a party next week,” Rebecca announced as she poured them each more coffee.

D.J. held up her hands in protest. “No, thanks.”

“How can you say that?”

“You have two kinds of parties. One is for couples, which means you’re going to set me up with some guy I don’t want to meet. The other is a girls-only deal where someone will be trying to sell something I’ll find completely useless.”

“Cosmetics,” Rebecca confirmed. “And they’re not useless. I know you’re not a big fan of makeup, but you take good care of your skin. This line of skin care is really amazing. Besides, it would be good for you to get out.”

“I get out.”

“I’m talking about spending some time with normal women.”

“I spend time with you.”

Rebecca sighed. “Why can’t you be more social?”

“It’s not my thing.”

“So what is your thing?”

D.J. thought of Quinn. He intrigued her. “There was this guy I met during the war games,” she said.

Rebecca instantly brightened. “Did he ask you out?”

“It wasn’t like that. I captured him, but only because I got lucky. I want him to teach me what he knows.”

“Which is what?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve asked around a little and found out that he works for a secret branch of the military. I’ll bet he knows more about killing people than anyone I’ve met.”

Rebecca shuddered. “Not exactly someone you want to have over for dinner. What’s the guy’s appeal? You don’t kill people. You keep them alive.”

“The more I know, the better.”

Her friend studied her. “You seem very determined. Are you sure this is only about the exchange of knowledge?”

D.J. didn’t bother answering. It was a stupid question. Well, maybe not stupid. There had been that kiss.

She instantly shoved the memory away. The kiss had been nothing, she told herself. Any reaction she’d felt had been brought on by exhaustion or adrenaline or a spider bite.

“Why does your silence sound so guilty?” Rebecca asked.

D.J. did her best not to squirm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I believe that.” She flicked her long hair over her shoulder and shook her head. “If he’s so special, can’t you just date him? Does every encounter have to be a battle?”

“I asked him to teach me some things, but he wasn’t interested. I even offered to pay him.”

“Not exactly the best way to win him over.”

“I don’t want him to like me.”

“Why not?”

It was an old conversation and one D.J. wasn’t about to start up again. Rebecca had never understood her reluctance to get involved with a man. She didn’t get that caring meant vulnerability. Danger lurked in most relationships. Men were bigger, stronger and, for the most part, meaner. Not all of them, of course, but D.J. wasn’t taking any chances.

“I don’t want a boyfriend, just an instructor,” she said. “Don’t try to change my mind. Just tell me how to convince him to help me out.”

“I will, but under protest. You need a good man in your life.”

D.J. rotated her wrist, motioning for Rebecca to get on with it. Her friend smiled impishly.

“There’s only one way to get a man to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

Finally, D.J. thought. Information she could use. “What’s that?”

“Give him the one thing he really wants and can’t get any other way.”

D.J. hovered in front of the hotel room door. She hated to think of herself as someone who hovered, but there was no other way to describe her actions. She reached up to knock once, then took two steps back and shoved her hands into her jeans pockets.

This was crazy, she told herself. She shouldn’t even bother. She wouldn’t, either, except she really wanted Quinn to teach her a few tricks. But would he agree?