Carla Neggers - Breakwater

Quinn sat back in her seat. “You Breakwater guys need more to do if you’re getting all excited about me sneaking in through Crawford’s kitchen.”

“Crawford was exposed,” Huck said. “The Riccardis will regard your little escapade as a major security breach.”

“I should have knocked him on the head with a vase, just to give you all a rush.” She snapped her seat belt into place. “Relax. It all worked out.”

“Not by their standards.”

“Look, go on, go back to work. I’ll drive myself to my cottage. Kowalski’s probably sitting on my front porch waiting for me.”

Huck ignored her and started the engine.

“I did tell him about the rumor of an affair and the SSRIs first.”

“How good of you.”

“I’d have told you, but you were parking cars.”

He shot her a look. “Quinn, this isn’t a damn game.”

“I know that.” She spoke softly, just managing to maintain her composure. “At night-I wake up seeing the gulls at Alicia’s body.”

He gripped the wheel of her Saab. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you have a right to be angry, and concerned. I came out here on impulse.” She looked out the window at the beautiful setting. “This place is a viper pit.”

“That’s where guys like me get sent.”

“Steve Eisenhardt stole notes out of one of my research notebooks. Nothing that would compromise your work.” She continued to stare out the window as Huck backed out of her parking space. “My neighbors think Alicia and Oliver Crawford were having an affair, but he says they weren’t. Their relationship was platonic. He could talk to her. Then there’s the possible SSRI reaction-”

“That’s why you need to step back.”

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

He didn’t respond. They drove to her cottage in silence, and when he pulled into her driveway, he turned off the ignition. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“If one of your guys is coming for you, I don’t see that you have much of a choice.”

“You’ve pissed off too many people this afternoon.”

“I’ve never been thrown out of a party. I’ve never been thrown out of anything.” She opened up her door and smiled over at him. “It’s not as humiliating as I thought it’d be.”

But he didn’t smile back. Instead, he got out of the car and walked behind her to her side door.

“You know, it’s occurred to me-how do I know for sure you’re who you say you are?” She gave him a cool look that was entirely fabricated. “What if this is a case of the wolf guarding the henhouse?”

He stepped in close to her. “If something goes wrong, sweet pea, you’d better hope I’m a wolf.”

Her mouth went dry. As she unlocked the door, Quinn noticed her hands were trembling. And not from fear, she realized, or even embarrassment over her removal from the Crawford party. From awareness. Pure, physical, sexual awareness.

Huck slipped his arms around her middle and turned her to him, gently, any irritation with her gone now. “You and I have unfinished business.” He kissed her deeply, romantically, and whispered with a hint of a smile, “Get your butt back to D.C., Harlowe.”

“Or I’ll have a marshal on my tail?”

“You’re on Diego’s radar screen as it is. Showing up at Breakwater today and getting tossed out just caused you to be a brighter blip.”

“What does kissing you do?”

He gave her a sudden grin. “Let’s hope Diego didn’t see that part.”

“Kowalski-”

“The FBI’s on your case too. Lucky you.”

A black SUV pulled alongside her cottage, Vern Glover in the driver’s seat. Huck winked at her. “See you, sweet pea. Be good.”

But Quinn noticed the seriousness that had returned to his eyes, and by the time the SUV was out of sight, she was still on her doorstep, shivering, and, for the first time, afraid for him.

Gerard paced along the stone patio agitated beyond all reason in the forty-five minutes since Quinn had left. The party was winding down quickly. People seemed reassured, even excited, about Breakwater Security, as if somehow having it in Yorkville made them safer. Perhaps, he thought, it did, but he had always been skeptical about Ollie’s new venture.

A sudden surge of loneliness caught him by surprise. He didn’t like attending social functions alone, but he’d never considered bringing a date to Yorkville. He didn’t know why. Quinn? He shook off the thought, as if temptation’s long reach had struck out and knocked him for a loop. He needed to resist. Quinn Harlowe had nothing to offer him or his career, except a fascinating pedigree and the most beautiful hazel eyes.

He swore under his breath at his own calculated thinking, but he had to do something to cut through his fears.

He finished another glass of champagne. He hadn’t seen Ollie at all, perhaps just as well. In his current mood, Gerard didn’t trust himself not to go over the line and say more than he should, accuse his longtime friend of playing him for a fool, accuse him of going overboard since his kidnapping.

Best to get the hell out of here.

He would let the FBI find Eisenhardt and talk to him.

Getting rid of his champagne glass, Gerard looked around for someone to drive him back to his boat. He’d collapse and sleep late, cleanse his thoughts, then hire himself an attorney, on the slim chance that Steve hadn’t exaggerated or lied altogether. His warning had shaken Gerard more than he’d realized at first. It brushed too close to his life, his ambitions. As callous as that sounded, what else did he have? He would be irresponsible not to protect his interests.

“You look as if you’re about to run screaming back to D.C.”

Gerard turned, smiling, in spite of his mood, at his longtime friend. “Ollie. I was beginning to wonder if you’d given up on your own party and gone for a walk on the beach.”

“What passes for a beach out here.” He gave a short, awkward laugh, then turned to face the bay, glistening in the afternoon sun. “I never should have had this open house. It was a bad idea.”

“Your guests all seemed to enjoy themselves. I got the impression that being able to actually see what you’re doing here won most of them over.”

“That’s good,” Crawford replied, but he didn’t sound pleased. He sighed, keeping his gaze on the water. “There was a scene earlier with Quinn Harlowe.”

“I heard,” Gerard said, surprised that Ollie didn’t seem irritated with her. “I didn’t get any details. What did she do?”

“She slipped into the house and found me in the library. No one noticed. Then she…” Pausing, Oliver turned to his old friend. “She’s suspicious, Gerry. She’s spinning conspiracies and fantasies where there are none. I’m afraid she’s going to get burned.”

“She’s still upset over her friend’s death.”

“Gerry, perhaps you should remember that Quinn Harlowe isn’t just a pretty face. She’s a well respected, very sharp expert in transnational criminal networks.”

Gerard tried to smile. “Yes, but unless you’re operating a criminal network out of your dining room, you have nothing to worry about.”

“ Sharon was very angry with her. One of the new guys, Huck Boone, escorted Quinn out of there. Joe Riccardi went pale. I think he was worried about what his wife would do, actually.”

“From what I’ve seen of her, she’s one tough cookie.” Gerard frowned at his friend, who suddenly looked as if he wanted to cry. “Ollie? Are you okay?”

“Alicia’s death has affected me more than I realized.” He cleared his throat, rallying. “I don’t mind saying so.”

“But you hardly knew her…”

“I got to know her over the last month. We became close-not romantically. I’ve never met anyone I could talk to the way I could her.”