Neanderthal Marries Human: A Smarter Romance (Knitting in the City) (35 page)

“I’m here now,” I said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

And t
hat’s when Elizabeth started to cry.

Quinn was running
on the treadmill when I got home. This was unusual as he normally ran outside when the weather permitted it. I gave him a questioning look, and he held up three fingers. This was his sign that he had three minutes left.

I blew him a kiss and was pleased to see the barely-there smile claim his features as a result.

Since we’d gone to the restaurant directly from the airport, I decided I would take advantage of the next three minutes by unpacking my luggage. However, when I moved into the bedroom I found the bustier, panty, and stocking set from the night of the (still-unknown charity) ball laid out on the bed with a note that said
Wear Me.

I
squinted at the note.

Struck by sudden inspiration, I crossed to my side table, withdrew a scrap of paper, wrote
Wear Me
on it, then affixed it to one of his ties. I still wanted to talk to him about his irrational display of manners—always ordering for me, opening doors without fail like I was an invalid, never allowing me to pull out my own seat—and felt like my clever table turning using his tie would be an excellent segue into the discussion.

I was just placing it on the bed next to my prescribed outfit when he walked into the room.

I turned, smiling to myself, but did a double take because he was shirtless and sweating, leaning against the door frame, watching me with his trademark quiet Quinn intensity.

My first thought was that I couldn
’t wait for him to release oxytocin into my system. My second thought was that even the tie was too much clothing.

“
Hey, Kitten,” he said.

I think I also said
hey, but maybe not. I might have purred or grunted…or meowed.

Whatever I did put a small smile on his face
. His eyes moved up and down my outfit, but I got the impression he wasn’t looking at my clothes.

“
Did you have fun with Elizabeth?”

I nodded, the question and the topic a life
preserver, allowing me to climb out of my lust fog. “Yes. I’m trying to be a good friend, and I’m looking forward to getting back to things that matter.”

“
Instead of…?”

“
Instead of planning a wedding neither of us wanted.” I gave him a wry smile. “You were right about that, and it’s important to me that you know that I know that you were right.”

His eyes squinted as he tried to follow the train of my thoughts.
“Thank you…I think.”

“
You’re welcome.” I gathered a breath as I smoothed my hands over my skirt, lifted my chin, and prepared to broach the subject of antiquated manners. “And, while we’re on the topic of things that matter, I want to talk to you about something.”

“
The Parduccis,” he said.

I frowned.
“The Parduccis?”

“
Yeah, the private account I mentioned last night.” Quinn stepped away from the door and moved to where his laptop sat on the table in our room. While he crossed to his computer, he towel-dried sweat from his chest and neck.

I watched him and was mesmerized by his movements. This happened
to me whenever he was shirtless, and also when he was pantsless, or really all the time regardless of the amount of clothing he had on. He mesmerized me witless, every time.

I began to mentally
recite the numbers that followed the decimal point of pi in order to keep my head above Ida’s influence.

He threw the towel into the dirty laundry bin then grabbed the laptop and motioned for me to come to him.
“I have some of the details here, but you can look at the entire file at the office whenever you like.”

I walked to his side and peered over his shoulder.
“So…who are these people?” It felt a little strange, now that I was faced with what I’d requested, like an invasion of privacy.

“
They’re modern day industrialists, very wealthy, huge contributors to Senator Watterson’s campaign, and likely the reason he’s a third-term senator.”

I bit my lip and started reading one of the
surveillance logs he’d pulled up. Distractedly, because I was trying to read and talk, I asked, “You said their son was the one who drugged me?”

He straightened, turned to me, caught and held my gaze.
“Yes. Their son’s name is Damon Parducci, and he is both the secret they tried to keep and the reason my company ceased providing security for them six months ago.”

“
Why? What happened?”

Quinn recited the facts
like he was giving a report to his supervisor—no embellishments, just stark details.

“
We realized Damon was trouble soon after we secured the account, but he wasn’t within the scope of our operations. We were assigned to provide security to just the husband and wife. None of the children—all grown—were within our purview. However, we intercepted several phone calls between Mr. and Mrs. Parducci and their son. He is a drug abuser, and they were attempting to push him into a rehab program. This is what we do. We gather information, store it, flag it as potentially useful. Their son’s drug problems were flagged. We started trailing Damon because he appeared to be the main source of potential leverage over his parents. However….”

Quinn
’s jaw ticked and he glanced away briefly; when he returned his gaze to mine, his face was somehow harder. “However, once we began trailing him, we discovered that he was dealing in a large amount of product—a very large amount. Also, we found that he was drugging young girls and raping them.”

My eyes widened
. “You—you let him…?”

“
No.” Quinn’s hands reached for my arms as though to stay any potential retreat. “No. Pete was trailing him that night and stopped Damon before he could do anything more harmful than filling the girl’s system with benzodiazepines. But we believe that she was not the first.”

“
God…what happened?”

His voice turned monotone once more, his expression grim, but he didn
’t release me. “I confronted his parents with the information we found, showed them the evidence of their son’s misdeeds, and told them that I would have to turn him over to the police.”

I waited for him to continue. He didn
’t, so I asked. “Unless…?”

He shook his head.
“No. No unless. It wasn’t about leverage. I told them it was going to happen and explained why I had to end our professional relationship.”

“
But…weren’t they upset? What did they do?”

“
Yes, they were very mad, and they tried to bribe me, to bury it. Then, they threatened me.”

“
What did you do?”

He shrugged.
“I told them that I was also aware of their off-shore holdings and eleven prior years of tax evasion.”

“
And…they chose their offshore holdings over their son?”

“
Yes.”

“
Why didn’t you turn the parents in? If you were already exposing the son, why not the parents as well?”

“
When we discover something like exploitation, rape, drug distribution, we don’t hold on to it, we pass it on to the police through an anonymous tip. Sometimes we provide tangible evidence, like video, audio, or pictures. In this case, Damon was arrested possessing a very large amount of cocaine with intent to distribute, which is a felony and an automatic fifteen-year sentence.”

“
And the parents?”

“
Their tax evasion is insurance against retaliation.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. “Honestly, though, I think they were relieved. Their son had been a pain in the ass for a long time.”

“
But…what about the girls?”

“
Since we stopped him before he violated the girl, the drug charge carried the heavier sentence. I passed on as much of the rape evidence I had; that way, if any women come forward, their stories can be corroborated. I stepped up the timeline for his arrest after I found you in the Canopy room.”

I nodded, thought about this, then asked for additional clarification just in case.
“You always pass this kind of stuff through to the police? Always?”

“
Yes. Always. In fact, I’ve pulled a few other files for you to see—they’re at the office waiting for you. Nothing as bad as Damon Parducci, but similar issues where we’ve turned the bad guys over to the cops.”

“
Who makes the determination? Who decides if the misdeed is bad enough to turn over or…not bad enough to use as leverage?”

Quinn inhaled, his gaze steady, but his jaw tight. Finally
, he said, “I do.”

I studied him. This wasn
’t a revelation so much as verification of my educated guess. I analyzed his confirmation from several angles. The responsibility he’d saddled himself with was a terrible burden, especially since it wasn’t his to begin with. Laws, courts, judges, and juries existed to administer justice.

He was a superhot vigilante.

“Oh, Quinn….” I gave him a sympathetic smile. “You really are Batman.”

He breathed a small laugh and closed his eyes.
“Something like that. But, you were right, I’ve benefited from the information I’ve gathered.” His lids lifted and his gaze felt somehow determined, sharp. “It was all about revenge at first, gathering as much information as I could so that I would be able to destroy the people who killed my brother. After that….”

I wanted to prod him for more, but waited.

Quinn’s hands dropped from my arms and he glanced over my head. “Let’s just say I’m talented at using people.”

I watched him for a long moment.
It was too much to absorb. All this detail sharing led to more questions. I needed to get my head out of the weeds and think about the big picture, what he’d ultimately done with information he’d gathered, what information he still possessed that should be turned over, what would happen if he did pass it to the police.

What
were the broader ramifications—not just for us, but for the victims of these bad guys?

I couldn
’t ignore the fact that Quinn used secrets to persuade people to do what he wanted. I called it blackmail when he first told me that night in London. The line between persuasion and blackmail was a thin one; it might not have been technically illegal.

Technical honesty and technical legality were concepts that
were dissonant with right and wrong. I liked my labels, which meant I didn’t like relativistic morality.

Eventually he brought his gaze back to mine, his head tilted to the side
, one of his eyebrows raised. “You wanted to talk about something else.”

I was still deep in my hamster wheel of analysis
. “What?”

“
When I came in, you said you wanted to talk about things that matter, but it wasn’t the private clients.”

I shook my head slowly.
“No. It wasn’t the private clients. Although, admittedly and in retrospect, what I wanted to talk about feels a bit ridiculous.”

“
What was it?” He asked this question gently, like nothing about me was ridiculous.

“
I’m only going to tell you because I need some time to think about what you’ve just shared with me, and this other topic—it is ridiculous. But it will provide a distraction.” I paused, took a quick survey of my thoughts on the subject, then added, “I think I’m going to need a lot of time to think about what you’ve just shared.”

“
Take all the time you need.” Quinn brushed the hair from my shoulder.

“
I’ll have more questions.”

“
I expected you would.”

“
But you trusted that I wouldn’t overreact?”