Elle Kennedy - Her Private Avenger

Yet Morgan managed to break down his walls. Snaked her way right into his heart, until he’d actually started to believe happily ever after didn’t just exist in fairy tales.

Evidently he should’ve stuck to his original viewpoint.

“I think the first item on our agenda should be talking to the medical examiner,” Morgan said, snapping him from his thoughts. “I was in town the day Layla’s body was found, but the M.E. couldn’t meet with me until the next morning. Unfortunately, my car wound up in the river that night, so I never made it to the meeting.”

“Were Layla’s remains buried or cremated?”

“Neither. The M.E. still needed to properly examine them, so we held a memorial service at the church. There might be a burial in a few weeks, if Layla’s parents feel up to it.”

“You need to be careful about who you speak to,” Quinn warned. “We still don’t know who tried to kill you, but there’s a high probability that someone from town caused the accident.”

She swallowed. “What if they try again?”

He could feel those beautiful blue eyes on him, and when he turned, he saw the anxiety in them. It was almost the exact same expression she wore the week before their wedding, when she’d asked him if he minded postponing it until after her father’s reelection campaign.

He’d minded, all right. Minded so much he’d dropped an ultimatum in her lap, one she promptly tossed right back at him.

“Quinn?” she prompted.

He knew she wanted reassurance, a promise, a guarantee that he would stick by her side during this potentially dangerous investigation.

He was tempted to tell her to go to hell.

But when he opened his mouth, what came out was, “As long as you’re with me, you won’t get hurt, Morgan.”

Too bad he couldn’t say the same for himself.

They were about forty minutes from the town of Autumn when Quinn pulled in to the parking lot of a twenty-four-hour gas station. He didn’t need gas. Nature wasn’t calling, either. But the past half hour, which involved long silences broken by Morgan’s tentative attempts at making conversation, had finally gotten to him.

Parking in front of the small, well-lit building, he shut off the engine and grabbed his cell phone from the cup holder he’d shoved it into.

“Are we calling my father?” Morgan asked, that husky voice tinged with—shockingly enough—bitterness.

Well, it was about damn time he heard that tone in relation to the senator. God knew he’d felt that same spark of bitterness hundreds of times over the years. Yet he’d tried to be decent about it, hadn’t revealed precisely how much he loathed the man who’d sired her, all the while wondering how Morgan could be so blind to Senator Kerr’s machinations, why she constantly defended the bastard.

Her father’s constant interference in their lives had been annoying, to say the least. If Quinn made dinner reservations for the three of them, Edward canceled them, forcing them to dine wherever he chose. For Morgan’s birthday, they’d planned a trip to Fiji—only to abandon their plans so Morgan could attend some fancy-pants dinner her father insisted she go to. Quinn, of course, wasn’t on the guest list. Morgan’s father tried hard to keep Quinn’s association with his daughter under wraps. Apparently a soldier for hire wasn’t good enough for a daughter Senator Kerr didn’t even truly care about.

Quinn had put up with it all, while Morgan remained unaware of his feelings toward her father. But then came the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back—the senator’s insistence that they postpone the wedding. Quinn hadn’t held back after that, and all the malicious—and well-deserved—thoughts he’d ever had about Morgan’s father spilled out during that last confrontation.

“ I’m making the call,” he corrected. She opened her mouth to object but he held up a hand. “Don’t argue with me on this. We both know how easily you give in to the man. If you want to go to Autumn, I make the call.”

Without letting her respond, he pulled the door handle and stepped out of the SUV. The late night air immediately chilled him, but he welcomed the cool rush. Anytime he was around Morgan he was liable to get hot. Uncomfortably so.

Pausing near a trash can overflowing with coffee cups and dirty wrappers, he punched in the number for the senator’s private line.

“Did you find her?” came the brisk answer.

As always, he stifled the urge to spit out a nasty reply. “Yes,” he said.

“Thank God. I knew you would. Are you on your way back to the city?” The relief in the senator’s voice was unmistakable. No doubt Kerr considered this another successful triumph.

Tuck Morgan back in the psych ward before she could stir up trouble for dear old dad.

Quinn wished he could see the man’s face when he dropped the next bomb on him, but he could live with hearing the outrage.

“Actually…” He grinned. Couldn’t stop it, couldn’t help it. He’d dreamed of sticking it to the senator for years. “I’m not bringing her back.”

Deafening silence.

Followed by a foul curse, then, “ What? Why the hell not?”

“She doesn’t want to come home,” he said simply. “And I don’t feel inclined to take her.”

“You son of a bitch. That wasn’t our deal.”

“We didn’t make a deal. I told you I’d find her, and I did. I never said I would bring her back.”

He’d planned on it, though. When he found her in the cabin, he had every intention of driving her right back to D.C. and depositing her on Edward’s doorstep. But that was before she told him what really happened on the bridge. No matter how badly he wanted—no, needed —to be away from her, he couldn’t abandon her if she was in danger. If he left, who would protect her?

“I swear to God, Quinn, if you don’t get in the car and drive her back to the hospital where she belongs, I’m going to sic every cop in the city on you.”

“Let me guess, you’ll charge me with kidnapping? Yeah, I expected that threat.” Quinn’s grin widened. “You won’t do it, though.”

“I sure as hell will.”

“No,” he answered coolly. “You won’t. Because if you do, I’m going to unleash a media storm on you. I’ll contact the press, tell them all about how you fabricated Morgan’s mental illness in order to keep her in line. I won’t stop there, either. If it strikes my fancy, maybe I’ll spin a few tales of my own, lob a few accusations your way, like, shoot, I don’t know, illegal campaign funds? Bribery? That’ll get them salivating.”

Senator Kerr sounded absolutely livid. “I have done nothing of the sort.”

“Yeah, but the media doesn’t know that, do they? Either way there’ll be a few black spots on your name, no matter what the truth is.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “Why are you doing this?” Kerr finally asked, sounding wary.

“Because someone tried to kill your daughter last week,” Quinn retorted stiffly. “And unlike you, that actually concerns me.”

“Nobody tried to kill her,” Kerr said in frustration. “She was hallucinating—”

“Save the lies for someone else. I don’t give a damn if you believe her or not. I’m just letting you know the reason I’ve agreed to help her. And I’m also giving you a friendly reminder that if you attempt to have me arrested, the results won’t be pretty.”

“You’re a ruthless bastard, Adam.”

“Takes one to know one, doesn’t it, Edward?” he said glibly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Morgan and I have somewhere we need to be.”

The senator hung up.

A rush of exhilaration swept up Quinn’s spine. Oh, yeah. A long time coming, that’s what this confrontation was. And he knew his threat wouldn’t go unheeded. The senator would not call the police. He’d stew about this latest development in private, of course, but risk a possible scandal? Never.