Page 55 of Long Past Deadly

Quaid laughed, quietly. “I wouldn’t have put it that way, but we can do whatever you want.”

“That’s the point, right? It shouldn’t only be about me.”

“Lani, I’ve been all over the world as a billionaire’s grandson, as a Marine, as a CIA asset. I’ve been tabloid fodder, a smart-ass playboy, and a serious operator – a target for bad guys and a threat to bad guys. I’ve been shot, lost friends, made a few more. You know what I want now?”

She slid closer to him. “Tell me.”

“I want this team, this family at QM going forward. I want my comfortable house to be a refuge. And I really liked sleeping with you last night. Can we start there?”

She gave him the courtesy of thinking it through. His eyes stayed on her, the deep brown a window to the soul of the real Quaid Daniels.

His expression was closing, and she wouldn’t have that. “Yes. Let’s.”

She leaned close. Don’t think, Lani. Just do.

He read her. He got her. He met her halfway.

Her lips settled on his, and the warmth as he gathered her close and kissed her back came in a gentle caress that blew through her every vulnerability and left her standing in naked need.

He groaned, and she knew she’d done the same thing to him, wiped away any reticence.

He raised a hand and cupped her cheek, shifting to kiss her deeper, and she gave in to the need to touch, too. She slid her hands up his chest, enjoying the cotton of his shirt and the heat of him. He broke away, letting her breathe, but she didn’t want that. She eased her hands around his neck and coaxed him back to her mouth. He cooperated, but the thrill of victory when he responded by fusing his mouth to hers was incomparable to any experience she’d had. Too vulnerable for this? She must have been out of her mind to turn away from the experience. Maybe she’d only been waiting for Quaid.

He broke away to nip at her lips before setting her away from him.

The knock on the door brought her back to reality. She’d been so lost in the moment, nothing could break through her concentration on Quaid.

“Later, at home, with no interruptions.” He stepped behind his desk. “Come in.”

Breath erratic, she moved to the credenza and sat. Emotions tumbling, she focused on the large painting on the wall, the only art in the office. The dark, jagged rock cliffs were battered by a relentless, splashing surf while a sliver of sunlight pushed through tumbling, angry clouds in the stormy sky. The blues, grays, and greens of the work sparked against the turbulence, leaving it calm yet stormy.

Control started with shutting off her emotions – a practice she’d used frequently in school, in FBI training, in work. It didn’t succeed this time. Whether it was the nightmare come to life in Mercer or that Quaid had delivered safety and pleasure, she wasn’t going to dissect. Her body was telling her to find another way. To not check out. To not shut down.

Harrison stepped into the room. “Mackey took Delaney. They’re hitting the streets again.”

“Do they have a plan?”

“Not one they discussed with me, and you know Mackey. He flows with the moment and innovates, not plans. What’s yours?”

Quaid looked to Alanna.

“I need a whiteboard. A couple would be better. And some markers. I need to dump what’s in my head into tangible notes, something I can deal with.”

“Bring them in here. We’ll do it together.”

“Two sets of eyes better than one?”

He raised a brow. “I wouldn’t say I’m on par with you, but my tactical and your knowledge might let us figure out his operating field and his weaknesses.”

She stayed silent, but nodded agreement.

Harrison glanced from one to the other. “Anything else?”

Alanna grimaced. “Kerry is still checking morgues for Esme. What next?”

Quaid hesitated to answer, telling her the truth of where they were. “We could check hospital records during the time frame, but there’s so many medical sources, the answer might not be conclusive. Frankly, it’s a waste of time. Nowhere else to search.”

Harrison waited, but neither of them came up with anything else.