“Built?” Now it’s my turn to fight embarrassment. I’m strong, sure. But built? No. Ryker’s built. Me? I’m just a kid from rural Michigan with a really good workout plan. And then I realize what I’m wearing. A tight black tank with the Unicorn Bar’s logo and a pair of cargo pants. I don’tfeellike a badass, but I probably look like one at the moment. Assuming onecanlook like a badass with a pink sparkling unicorn in the center of their chest.
I offer him my hand. “Can we sit down and…I don’t know. Start over?”
“Why?”
The question tears me up inside. He seriously has no idea why I want to get to know him. “Because you’re brave as fuck, Q, and that’s about the sexiest quality a guy can have in my book. Because when I kissed you, you kissed me back, and I haven’t forgotten what that felt like. Do I need to keep going? I can.”
“I’m not brave,” he says with a shake of his head. “Why would you say that?”
This question, I understand. “Because I’m pretty sure you don’t ever leave your house. You told me you didn’t have anyone to call, so obviously you don’t have friends in town. And yet you stopped me last week, in the middle of the night on an empty street. A guy you don’t know, who’s…to use your word…built…and asked for help. And then you did it again tonight. If that’s not brave, I don’t know what is.”
My words sink in, slowly at first, but I can tell when they land hard. Q stands up a little straighter, still staring at my offered hand. And then he grabs on, his fingers cool and not entirely steady. “Okay. We can start over.”
Chapter Eleven
Graham
For several long moments,we stand in silence, Q holding my hand, looking like he’s about to fall over.
“What now?” I ask.
“Don’t you have to go back to work?”
Is the hope in his voice because he wants me to go or wants me to stay? Either way, I need to keep things light. Casual. Friendly. Q’s had enough of the serious and heavy for one night. “Nope.” I try for a smile that’s more friendly than sexy. “My manager’s covering the rest of my shift. It’s only another hour or two anyway.”
The relief on his face—it’s both beautiful and heartbreaking. Leading me to the couch, he sinks down with a groan, and I’m close enough that his scent—fresh laundry soap, sandalwood, and something soft—washes over me. It’s like coming home. Comforting in a way I didn’t know I wanted.
Heneedsme. More importantly, he wants me. I can see it, even though he’s trying to be strong.
Rubbing my palms over my thighs, I make a decision. If I expect Q to trust me, I need to trust him as well. Ryker’s going to kill me when he finds out, but until he rips me into a dozen pieces and buries them somewhere no one will ever find them, I’ll be honest with this man next to me.
“I have to tell you something,” I say, staring at the darkened television across from the couch. “My last name isn’t Tempelton.”
His entire body goes rigid, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
I turn and reach for his hands. “Hear me out? Please? You’re the first guy in years I want to get to know—really know. And I won’t start this off—start over—with anything other than the truth.”
He doesn’t respond, but he hasn’t pulled away either. There’s suspicion in his eyes, and it’s not until he jerks a small nod that I relax a little.
“When I left the Coast Guard, I didn’t know what the hell to do with my life. Then I heard about this former Special Forces badass who was looking for someone to join his team. Someone young, someone with no attachments, someone who didn’t mind taking risks.”
“His team? What kind of team?” Q asks, still tense.
“Well, it’s not a dance troupe.” I chuckle, but it sounds forced. Hell, it is. How do you tell someone you’re a mercenary for hire? That you kill people. Deal with the worst of humanity? And that you have no plans of stopping or giving up this life for anything? “K&R.”
He narrows his gaze. “What’s K&R?”
“Kidnap and ransom.” His eyes widen, and I rush to continue. “No. No. We don’tdothe kidnapping! We save people who get themselves in trouble. All over the world. That’s my job, Q. And why I use a fake name online. Because what we do is dangerous and highly illegal.”
I shouldn’t be telling him any of this. But one thing I learned working with Ryker? How to read people. Quinton is a good guy. Anhonestguy. He’s scared, and he’s hiding a fuckton behind the walls around his heart. But I think he wants the same thing I do. Something real.
His pupils dilate, and his breath catches in his throat. “You…no. Nobodydoesthat. No one but people on TV. In the movies.Realpeople don’tdoshit like that.“ By the time he finishes, his voice is hoarse and he’s shaking.
Pulling him closer, I wrap my arm around his shoulders. “Q, listen to me. You’re not in any danger. Not from me, and not because of me. Breathe, okay? In and out.” He’s close to falling over the edge into a full blown panic attack, and if I had to guess, it’s not his first of the day.
“Do you kill people?” he asks.
“Yes. When I have to. Though I’m the youngest, and the others...I think they still try to protect me from it as much as they can. I’m the only one who didn’t see actual combat in the military. But K&R is dangerous work, and my hands aren’t clean.”
