“Decent, huh?” He gave her a mock shudder. “I’ll have to work on that.”
She smiled a little. “You have a sense of humor. It must help in your work.”
Huck pulled the Rover onto the paved driveway, waving at Travis Lubec, looking as mean as ever in front of an azalea not quite in bloom.
When they reached the narrow road that led back to the village, Quinn wasn’t looking as frozen. She had her hands up inside the fleece’s sleeves. Its dark sage green seem to bring out the mix of colors in her pretty, hazel eyes.
But she wasn’t ready to stand down. “Did you have anything to do with Oliver Crawford’s rescue last year?”
“No.”
“Have you done anything like that yourself? Rescued people?”
He remembered what was on his Breakwater résumé. “Vern and I did a few things in Venezuela.”
“Really? When?”
“Over the winter.”
“I was at Justice until January. I know a bit about Latin American kidnappings.”
That would figure, Huck thought. “Sweet pea, the people Vern and I rescued didn’t want the U.S. Department of Justice knowing what had gone down. It’s over. The way I live, last winter’s ancient history.”
“What have you been doing since?”
“Looking for work.”
“So,” she said, “basically you’re a mercenary.”
Suddenly, Huck didn’t want to lie to her. He’d been lying to everyone for months, for good reason, but the constant deception took its toll.
Yet, he couldn’t tell her the truth.
“Yeah. Basically I am.”
He parked behind her Saab. The temperature had dropped farther, with just a few rays of sunlight breaking through the gray clouds pushing in from the west. Quinn started to take off the fleece, but Huck touched her upper arm. “Keep it. You can return it another time.”
“Thank you for your help.”
“Anytime.”
He got out of the Rover and followed her to her side door. Yesterday, he’d paid very little attention to the cottage. She’d obviously worked hard on it, kept it fun-nothing about the place was uptight, especially for a woman whose job it was to assess and analyze international criminal networks and the threats they presented.
“How long have you owned your cottage?” he asked her.
“About two years. I love it.” She turned into the wind, looking out at the cove, the water gray now under the clouds. “Even after yesterday.”
“That’s good.”
“Breakwater-it’s the most beautiful spot, isn’t it? And yet now…” She kept her gaze on the water, not looking at him directly. “It was strange seeing all you bodyguard types among the lilacs and azaleas.”
“Wait’ll they’re in bloom. We’ll look even more out of place.”
She lifted her eyes to him. “Yesterday couldn’t have been easy for you, either. I hope you get a chance to catch your breath.”
“Rescuing women with borderline hypothermia is kind of relaxing.”
“I wasn’t even close-”
“You were close.”
She held her ground. “And you didn’t rescue me.”
No, he probably hadn’t rescued her. Huck wondered if she knew just how much of a risk she’d taken in coming to Breakwater-and never mind the hypothermia.
“Not that I’m not grateful for the ride,” she added quickly.
When she pushed her door open, he saw that she’d left it unlocked. “Quinn-”
She turned to him. “It’s okay. I forgot. I’ll lock up when I leave.” She smiled, a hint of real amusement in her eyes. “You can relax, Mr. Bodyguard. I’m used to being on my own.”
Her smile, bright against her pale skin, and that spark of humor rocked Huck right to his toes. He’d have to steel himself next time he saw a smile coming his way. “Listen…” He paused, getting his feet back under him. “Oliver Crawford is a charismatic guy and richer than most, but he’s been through his own hell. I don’t know what kind of people he’s bringing into Breakwater Security.”
“Then why are you there?”
“I can handle myself and get out if I need to.”
“If you’re suggesting Crawford is overcorrecting, in a way, after what happened to him, and hiring thugs instead of professionals-okay, point well taken. I’ll be careful.” She smiled again. “I come from a family of reckless people. I’m always careful.”
“Why do I have a feeling your idea of ‘careful’ is different from most people’s?”
“Because I’m standing in my open kitchen door with you right here?”
He tucked a finger under her chin, her skin soft and not quite warm. When she didn’t tell him to go to hell, he let his fingers drift up to her mouth. Her lips were still cold. “Be sure to warm up before you go back to Washington.”
“I will.” Her voice seemed to catch. “Huck-you be careful, too.” She smiled again. “I have a feeling caution isn’t one of your top traits, either.”
“Quinn…”