She sipped her wine. “Think Joe Riccardi’s the one who put Steve up to searching my office?”
“Uh-uh, Quinn. I’m not going there.” Huck kept his voice low and calm, not because she’d care if he shook his finger in her face and yelled, but because he didn’t want the few stragglers around them to notice he was on his last nerve. “You’re done. You have a nice dinner. Then I take you back to your cottage, and you lock all your doors and windows, and I get my friend Diego to watch you. And in the morning, you get a coffee-to-go at the local gas station and you drive back to Washington.”
She drank more of her wine. “Now that I think about it, I have no idea what you did after you left me at my office.”
“Quinn-”
“Did your guys put Steve up to sneaking into my office?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I told Special Agent Kowalski about him. Do you suppose he’d tell me if Steve turned up?”
“I wouldn’t,” Huck said.
She smiled. “Relax. Quit worrying about me. I promise-” She leaned over the table, her eyes shining. “I’ll do up my hair and wear makeup and underwear and everything tomorrow. I’ll blend in. I’ll behave. I’ll dazzle. I’ll do whatever one does at an Oliver Crawford party, but I’ll definitely stay out of your way.”
Their meals arrived, and she dug into her crab cakes as if she hadn’t eaten in days-or just needed something to do besides argue with him. “Do you think Riccardi is in over his head at Breakwater?” she asked.
“No. I think you’re in over your head.”
She waved her fork. “By Harlowe standards, I’m not even close.”
“Keep it up, Quinn. Diego’s out there.” He nodded toward the water out their window. “He’s not as patient as I am. He doesn’t have a sense of humor.”
“He’s also very protective of you.”
“That’s his job.”
“I’m glad.” She sat back in her chair. “It must be good to know someone you trust is out there.”
“You can trust him, too, Quinn. And you can trust me. Stop, okay? Take a step back. Let us do our jobs.”
She didn’t respond. Her mood had darkened. Huck studied her, realized that she wasn’t easily pegged. He remembered the feel of her mouth, her soft skin, her hand on him, exploring, tempting. He wondered how far they’d have gotten if she hadn’t brought up that bit about nerves. Would he have made love to her?
In a heartbeat, he thought, not feeling any better.
Suddenly, everything about his assignment seemed crazy and so unorthodox that he was tempted to drive back to Nate Winter’s house and give it up. Help the Winters move. Talk to the ghosts.
But he was hungry, and he wasn’t about to walk out and leave her to Gerard Lattimore.
31
Quinn figured she had two choices. Either she had to get back into the Rover with Huck, in the dark, and let him drive her back to her cottage, or she had to walk the two miles by herself-also in the dark.
“I can call you a cab,” he said, as if he’d been reading her thoughts.
“All the cabs in this town smell like dead fish.”
He didn’t answer right away. “Hell, Quinn.” He spoke almost in a growl, slipping both arms around her waist, kissing her softly, gently. “I keep thinking I’ll come to my senses, but I’m not even close. Must be this East Coast climate. It’s not nerves. That’s for damn sure.”
“That’s why you can do the work you do.” She smiled. “Nerves of steel.”
He pulled back, ripping open the passenger door. “Nothing about kissing you makes me nervous.”
Quinn stepped past him and climbed into the Rover, and when Huck sat next to her in the driver’s seat, he kept his eyes forward. He drove out the loop road, along the waterfront. Quinn rolled down her window and let in the night air, the smells of low tide.
By the time they reached her cottage, she was in a pensive mood. “There’s a difference between strong emotions and recklessness,” she said, almost to herself.
He leaned toward her, touched her hair, her mouth. “You lost a friend. You don’t know what’s happening on the other side of the marsh. You don’t like sitting on the sidelines.” His gentle tone took her by surprise, but with an abrupt sigh, he sat back. “And you know you’re out of your mind to have spent so much time with me today.”
“Who’s the one who keeps popping up? Are you keeping an eye on me for the Breakwater guys-or for the marshals?”
“Does it matter? Maybe a certain amount of recklessness goes with strong emotions.”
“All the more reason to beware.”
His eyes seemed almost black. “Yes. All the more reason. Stop asking questions. Stop sticking your thumb in people’s eyes.” He didn’t smile. “Quinn, you didn’t fail Alicia. She’s not dead because of you.”
Feeling the sudden sting of tears, Quinn fumbled for the door latch. “She came to me for help.”
“Help her by standing back. No more calling up sources in Venezuela, okay?”