Under the Moon (Goddesses Rising)

Chapter Seven

The Society’s annual meeting is not merely a tool of governance. All members are encouraged to take advantage of the opportunities for networking, education, and even socialization with members they may not otherwise have an opportunity to meet due to distance or circumstance. The stronger our relationships individually, the stronger our community.

—The Society for Goddess Education and Defense, Notice of Meeting

…



They found a cheesy motel about an hour down the road, a run-down one-story affair off the highway. Sam registered them, paying cash for two rooms and convincing the not-so-savvy female clerk that she didn’t need their IDs. Then ensued a boredom- and fatigue-induced argument about who would sleep where.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it,” Nick said. “Not letting her out of my sight.”

“You’re not the only one who can protect her,” Sam argued. “We have business to take care of, and it doesn’t make sense for me to be in a different room. Of the three of us, you’ve gotten the least sleep. Since you won’t let either of us drive—”

“Guys.” Quinn leaned forward.

“Dude. I’ve been crisscrossing this country for years. I drive alone all. The. Time.”

“Boys!”

“That’s not relevant. You don’t normally drive this long, this far, in such a short time. Don’t try to tell me you do.”

Quinn gave up. Their rooms were at the end of the building, and there were no cars between here and the office. Their debate hadn’t drawn attention that she could see, and they weren’t listening to her. So she gathered up her stuff, plucked a keycard from Sam’s back pocket, and went into her room.

The voices outside halted abruptly when she kicked her door closed. She surveyed the tiny, dingy room and its double beds. “Damn.” She’d gotten the wrong card. The room next door had the king bed.

Oh well. Served them right for acting like ten-year-olds. She wasn’t in the mood to switch. After she washed up and brushed her teeth, she unlocked her side of the connecting door and cracked it open. That would be good enough for Nick. Without bothering to undress, she collapsed on the multicolored nylon bedspread and fell instantly asleep.

For a while she slept soundly, dreamlessly. But then she emerged into a world of flickering, changing light and colors. Flashes of brilliant white accompanied screams she recognized, screams of other goddesses she knew, people she called friends. She tried to find them, to get to them, a solid, warm presence at her back that she knew was Sam. But every time she thought she was getting close, there was that light, the screaming, and it was too late.

Then she saw a shadow, a lumbering shape ahead of her. It was him. The leech. He paused, turned to his right. She gasped. She recognized his profile. She knew him! She opened her mouth to call out his name, but no sound emerged from her throat. He turned anyway, and she realized she wouldn’t be able to scream if he leeched her. Sam. She reached behind, but he was gone. She was alone now, in the dark, except for the leech. She didn’t fall, but she was suddenly on the ground. Breathing came hard. The leech loomed over her, his face the only thing she could see.

“Good morning,” Nick said.

Quinn startled awake so violently she knocked a cup out of Nick’s hand. It went flying, hit the table near the window, and splashed all over the drapes, chair, and floor.

Nick, sitting on the edge of the bed dressed in jeans and an open button-down over a white T-shirt, nothing like what he’d worn in the dream, stared at the mess. “Bad dream?”

“Very.” She rubbed her face and pushed herself up to lean against the headboard. The brightness of the room disoriented her and failed to banish the lingering terror. She had to fight not to scramble off the bed, away from Nick.

Quinn concentrated on her surroundings, feeling sick at her inability to conquer the dream. She was under the covers now, her clothes twisted and bunched around her body. The sweat drying on the back of her neck chilled her, and she hunched into herself.

The connecting door next to the bed was open wide, and Sam’s keyboard clicked on the other side of the doorway. She grabbed the little electric clock on the nightstand and tilted it toward her to double-check the time, the dream disturbing her so much she didn’t trust her internal clock. Eight thirty. “I’m sorry,” she told Nick, motioning to the mess.

“Better the mocha than me.” He handed her the other to-go cup and stood. “You can have mine. It’s not frou-frou, though. Just black.” He disappeared into the bathroom and came back out with an off-white hand towel.

“I can’t take your coffee.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get some down the road.” He bent to mop the spill off the warped laminate table. “Hey, this splotch look like a bunny to you?”

Quinn smiled a little. “I dreamed about the leech,” she told him. “It was you.” She watched him carefully, hating herself for it. But he didn’t freeze, or jerk his head around to look at her, or slow his movements.

“Yeah, that sounds very bad.” He swiped at the curtains, then half sat on the table and looked at her. “Is that something you’re afraid of?”

“No.” She didn’t hesitate, and the realization snapped whatever remaining hold the dream had on her.

But Nick continued. “It’s logical. I don’t have alibis for Tanda and Chloe. With the stuff we’re hearing—”

“It’s not logical. Not to me.” Dreams weren’t based on logic, no matter what part of a person’s subconscious fed them. And maybe a dream could have enough emotional power to influence her for a moment, but her conviction that Nick was not a threat, and never would be, came from something beyond influence.

Nick’s eyes had gone golden in the sunlight, and she could see the gratitude in them. Had he been afraid that she’d turn on him since this whole thing started? She wanted to get up and hug him, but it felt too awkward with Sam only feet away.

“So.” She slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom. “How did you and Sam do last night?”

“That wasn’t very nice, you know!” Nick called after her. She left the door cracked a little so she could hear him. “Sam snores!”

“I do not!” came from the other room.

“Do so. Like a hibernating bear with a deviated septum. And he sprawls. I had to sleep on the floor.”

“I’m a big guy!”

Quinn grinned. “You could have come in here,” she called out. “There was an extra bed.”

“Too scared!” came back in stereo, making her laugh.

“What’s the plan for today?” she asked around her toothbrush.

“Sam wants to do that business stuff he was whining about last night.”

Payroll was due, and they needed to upload a file to the bank so the deposits would be in her employees’ accounts on Friday. Plus, Sam was concerned about some of the cancellations for the next full moon. Two of her clients were cancer patients for whom all other treatments had failed before they came to her. She could heal, but cancer was more than just healing. If she skipped a month it might progress again, undoing all the good she’d done in past treatments. She’d suggested trying to hook them up with another goddess, but they had to find one who had the experience and lived close enough to cover for her.

“I’ll be in after I shower,” she told them. “Need to wake up.”

“Don’t take too long,” Nick warned. “I want to get back on the road by noon. And we’ll pay for an extra day if we’re not out by then.”

“No problem.” She took a quick, cool shower and changed clothes before packing the few things she’d used and meeting them in the other room.

“Here are the goddesses we can try.” Sam handed her a sheet of paper covered in his neat handwriting. “I’m almost done prepping payroll.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you want to do about the Society meeting?”

Quinn accepted the paper and picked up the garlic-and-cream-cheese bagel sitting on a paper bag next to his computer. “This mine?”

Sam grimaced. “It is now.”

“She’s a big moocher this morning,” Nick said from the corner. He tapped something out on his cell phone.

“Yep, that’s me. Quinn ‘Moocher’ Caldwell. I guess we should send Alana an e-mail that I won’t make it. I don’t think anyone will be surprised. Assuming they’re still holding the meeting.” Nonprofit laws required them to, but they could reschedule, and with everything going on, it didn’t seem prudent to put all those goddesses in one place. But it wasn’t her call, of course. The sense of estrangement didn’t feel as strong as it had mere days ago. Reconnecting with Tanda had helped, she supposed. Maybe reducing her involvement in Society politics would be good for her in the long run.

She settled onto the bed with the list and her phone to make calls. It took half an hour to find someone to cover for her. But she’d also gained some information.

“File’s almost done uploading,” Sam said when she clapped her phone shut for the last time. “I got a response from Alana.” He looked concerned. “She said it’s for the best that you don’t attend.”

“Great.” Quinn wanted to reassure him that she was okay with it, but it was time to move on. “I got Holly to cover for me.”

“Good. Mrs. Calebas and Mr. Dalini will be relieved. I’ll let them know once we’re on the road.” He glanced at his watch.

“But listen. That’s not all I got.”

Nick, who’d spent a little time watching the NFL Network and a lot of time pacing while they worked, perked up. “You got something from Holly? About what?”

“Jennifer. I asked everyone I talked to. No one’s heard from her and no one saw her e-mail.”

“That’s weird.” Sam frowned. His computer beeped to signal the file was done, and he started shutting it down. “Are you sure it came through on the loop and not privately?”

“Yeah, we’ve checked it three times,” Nick confirmed. “Goddess voodoo?”

Quinn ignored his quip. “Holly might be the last one who spoke with Jennifer. It was five days ago, and she said she’d sounded fine. But get this: She had a new boyfriend.”

“So?” said Nick.

But Sam got the implication. “The leech?” He slid his laptop into the case.

“Could be.” She gathered up her own things and slung her bag over her shoulder as Nick hefted her duffel with his. Sam glanced around the room as he followed them out.

“Holly said the guy sounded like the one Chloe had been seeing before she was leeched,” Quinn said when they’d reached the car.

Sam paused while setting his stuff in the trunk. “It can’t be the same person, can it? There wasn’t time between Tanda and Chloe to establish a relationship.”

“No, but remember, Tanda had a live-in boyfriend already. Holly said this guy Chloe dated traveled for work all the time, so he could have been in Oregon when Tanda got leeched. And he could have been prepping for Chloe a lot longer than we thought.”

Nick leaned against the car. “Want to head for Mississippi?”

“I think we should.” Quinn tossed her stuff in the trunk, and Sam dropped it closed. “Did they send a protector down there?” she asked Nick.

“We’re shorthanded. This situation has elevated the threat for everyone. They didn’t have anyone available.”

“Then we should definitely go,” Quinn decided, energized by the idea of action. “I don’t know for sure, but I’m afraid no one at the Society is doing anything, either. If she’s not already leeched, she might be in trouble. I tried calling her again, but she still didn’t answer. If the leech is stealing phones…”

“All right, let’s go, then.” Sam slapped his hand on the roof of the car. “I’ll go check out.”

“We need gas,” Nick told him. “Meet us across the street.”

Sam waved in agreement. Quinn got in the front passenger side and said, “Can I run in and get you coffee?”

“I would kiss you for it.” He rolled down his window and breathed deep. “I was going insane in there. But let me check it out first.” He started the car and pulled out to the road, letting two cars go by before roaring across to the gas station.

“You could have taken a nap,” Quinn pointed out. “Or come over to get another coffee while you waited.”

He gave her a “yeah right” look and peered past her to study the store, like he had before. “Don’t flirt with anyone in there this time, all right? I don’t need to break up a catfight. I’ll be right in.”

Quinn laughed and went inside. This time there were no lines. She filled three cups and pressed them into a cardboard carrier. The bell at the door tinkled. She glanced over her shoulder but saw only the clerk, slouched on a stool behind the counter, engrossed in what she’d bet was a skin mag.

She lifted the coffee carrier but froze when someone gripped her elbow tight enough to make her gasp.

“Set it down,” a deep voice growled.

She started to turn her head, but someone else grabbed her around the neck and squeezed. Before she could even think about fighting back, her vision went black from the edges in.

…



Quinn came to four minutes later, her head pounding and her mouth dry. There was so much pain in her neck she didn’t know how they’d knocked her out—if they’d cut off her air or used some kind of drug. She forced her eyes to stay closed, despite the desperate need to open them. Wherever she was, she wasn’t alone. Not in a vehicle, or at least not one that was moving. She was horizontal on a hard, flat surface. Something low, because the murmurs above her seemed high up. She inhaled slowly to try to calm her racing heart and smelled dryness, like dusty concrete, and motor oil. An impression tried to coalesce…tang like metal, stuffy heat…cars. The convenience store had a repair bay attached. She was probably on the floor in there. That was good. They hadn’t taken her far.

So where the hell was Nick?

“Not until she wakes up,” someone said. Her head had cleared enough to discern the words, though they were said quietly. “We gotta make sure she’s all right. I’m not takin’ her to the boss damaged. She’d have our asses.”

Another voice came from farther away, but louder. “Shit, that guy she’s with is looking around.”

Relief flooded her, but it was short-lived. If he was looking around, he hadn’t seen them take her. Knowing he was near, but not near enough, left her feeling more vulnerable than she’d felt since she came into her power. Even the friend’s abusive boyfriend who broke her arm hadn’t left her feeling like this. He’d been a known threat. Who knew what these guys were planning to do?

“Of course he is,” came yet another voice. “That’s Nick Jarrett. He’s her protector.”

“Oh, ma-a-n-n-n. This has not gone down right. We’re in big trouble.”

Unless her brain was seriously oxygen-deprived, Quinn had just counted four voices. That was bad odds, even for Nick. Especially if…

“If he comes in here, pop him.”

Especially if they were willing to kill him.

Suddenly, she was less afraid for herself than for Nick. One of the men had said they couldn’t hurt her, so that gave her some control back. Steely calm coated her fear, and strength returned to her body. She was not helpless, and they would not harm Nick.

She opened her eyes. She lay in front of a workbench at the back of the shadowy garage. A massive pickup truck filled one side, a smaller SUV the other. No one stood by her, but figures moved near the windows at the front of the bays.

Quinn moved her legs so they’d rasp across the concrete floor.

“She’s awake,” said the second voice.

“No duh.”

“So let’s go.”

“Not yet.” A big shape, dressed in black and wearing a hat pulled low over his face, hunkered down in front of Quinn. He dangled a huge black pistol in front of his knees. “How you doin’?”

The gun chilled her more than a vague threat to “pop him.” They had the ability to shoot Nick. If she stalled, pretending to be woozy, that would give Nick time to find her, and he’d be ambushed and maybe killed. Better she was clearheaded and ready to be moved. At least she could get off the floor, figure out her situation. She couldn’t see anything from where she was. Taking a chance, she sat up. Nausea swept over her, but she swallowed hard and willed the coffee and bagel to stay down. “I’m okay.”

The guy with the gun nodded to someone and a hood came over her head. Damn it. Someone pulled her arms behind her and wrapped her wrists in a zip tie. So much for strength and steely calm.

“All right, load her up. Jarrett’s gone back inside. We gotta move now.”

Quinn didn’t fight or even scream. Nick would kill her for letting them haul her to her feet and maneuver her into the SUV, but they didn’t want to hurt her, and he couldn’t save her if he was dead.

If the SUV had tinted rear windows, Nick wouldn’t be able to see her. But if he saw the vehicle leave the garage, maybe he’d guess she was in it. If he saw the truck.

The heavy cloth over her head muffled the few words her abductors said to one another and kept her from asking what they wanted with her or who they were. Not that she expected them to answer. They guided her onto the bench seat in the back of the SUV. Someone put on her seat belt, as insufficient as it would be with her arms tied behind her back. Uncomfortable, too. Her shoulders ached already.

An overhead door rumbled in front of them, and the truck rolled forward. They paused outside—Quinn could tell by the sun hitting her body. The door rumbled again, then the truck rocked sideways as someone got into the front and shut the door. Then they were on the road, and no one said a word.

Nick hadn’t seen them. They’d have watched for him, to make sure he didn’t follow. Despair swept over her for an instant before she banished it. It was up to her to get out of this, and she had to pay attention, not stew in her own fear. At least Nick was safe.

They drove without turning for an hour and twelve minutes, stopping in some stretches for what she assumed were stoplights. Then they accelerated and merged onto a highway, judging by their speed and the whoosh of the tires on pavement. They followed the highway for twenty minutes before she spoke.

“Can someone—” The hood muffled her voice so much she started over, louder. “Can someone please tie my hands in front of me? This is really uncomfortable, and I assume we’ve got a ways to go.”

No one answered, but chilled metal touched her wrist before the tie gave way with a snap. She sighed and moved her burning shoulders around for a second, but the men didn’t give her much room or time. They re-zipped her hands in front of her, more tightly than they needed to.

At least her seat belt was on properly now.

They drove for hours. Quinn started out marking time whenever they got off or onto a highway or made a turn, but it didn’t take long for her to lose track. She sensed the sun going down, the moon rising, and wished like hell it wasn’t nearly a new moon but a full one. Adrenaline had kept her alert for a while, but hours passed with nothing happening but the soothing movement of the car, and though she could breathe fine through the fabric of the hood, it was warm and moist inside. Her head still throbbed, her bruised neck was stiff and tender, and thirst gave her a sore throat. Eventually, staying awake became more and more difficult.

The men didn’t talk, and that was eerie. There were at least four of them, maybe more, and in six hours and thirty-three minutes they’d had nothing to say?

“Bladders of camels, too,” she muttered, squirming. She thanked god she hadn’t had time to drink the second coffee and had used the bathroom right before they left. Still, six hours was a long time not to pee. She’d tried to wait them out but was getting desperate.

“When are we going to take a bathroom break?” she called out. No one answered, but a few minutes later the truck slowed. Gravel crunched under the tires, and they stopped. The guy on her right stood, cut her hands free, unbuckled her seat belt, and pulled her over to the right side of the seat. Then he wrapped her hands again as the door opened, and he guided her out.

Her stiff legs protested her weight, and her knees buckled when she stepped down to the ground. The man caught her and steadied her until she could take a step. He led her across a wide expanse of gravel, then stopped her. A spring creaked, like on an old-fashioned screen door. He urged her forward. Her toe thudded against thick plastic. She lifted her foot and found a step up. And caught a whiff of a urinal cake.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, ma’am.”

What kind of kidnapper called his victim ma’am? This one had a New England accent. The others didn’t, though, so it was a meaningless detail. His manners calmed her and she reached for the hood, but he stopped her. “Not until you’re inside.”

Quinn held out her wrists. “Can you at least cut my hands free?”

“No.”

“Come on. My fingers are numb! How am I supposed to—”

“You just are.”

She would have stared at him incredulously if he could see her face. Manners apparently only went so far. She heaved a put-upon sigh. “If I get anything on my hands, I’m using you as a towel.” She stepped up into the Porta-Potty and waited while the door slammed closed. Then she pulled off her hood and looked around. The dim light from the rest area lamp poles showed that the conditions weren’t too bad. It was a larger unit with an indoor sink and a small pump for water. She draped the hood over the spring and locked the door, then struggled to get her jeans down with her tightly bound hands. It took forever and she didn’t think she’d make it. But her distended bladder held, and she suppressed a moan of relief as she emptied it. Then more struggles to fix her clothes while the guy outside pounded on the door.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t undo my hands!” she yelled. “Go find a tree!”

He grunted and then, incredibly, his footsteps crunched away across the gravel. She rushed to get her jeans fastened, then slowly, quietly, unlatched the door and eased it open.

The unit was positioned sideways to the parking area, with the door opening on the left. When she cracked it, it blocked her from where the truck was parked. No one stood nearby. She slipped out and toward the left side, closest to the woods, and held the door so it didn’t bang closed. Plastic slapped softly on plastic, and then she was behind the john.

She pressed her back to the wall for a second, well hidden in the shadows, and struggled to keep her breathing steady and silent. She checked to her left and right. No sign of her tree-seeking friend. About fifteen feet of lit, open space lay between her and the woods, but if she could get in there, she might be able to get away. She had to act fast before they realized she was done going to the bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, she tensed, then took off as fast and as lightly as she could, trying not to make any sound on the stones. That was impossible, and halfway to the woods someone cursed, then shouted. Footsteps pounded behind her. She dashed full-tilt into the woods, her bound hands slowing her down, but she made it into the darkness before they closed on her.

She darted to the right, hoping they’d think she charged ahead. She needed to get some distance and find a place to hide, then somehow dig her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and call Nick.

She couldn’t hear them behind her anymore, but she made a racket of her own that would cover up their noise. She could barely see and was moving so fast—relatively speaking—that she had several near-misses with trees, only dodging at the last second.

Then her foot landed in a hole below the leaves. Her right ankle snapped sideways. She cried out as she went down hard on her side, the nausea welling much more strongly this time. Pain flowed up her leg and dispersed through her entire body. She lay on the ground, holding her breath against the sharp agony in her ankle for way too long before it subsided.

Now she could hear her abductors crashing through the woods. Farther away than she thought, but still too close. She couldn’t just lie here. Panting slightly, she rolled up to her knees, then pushed to her feet on the left side, slowly putting her weight on her right. To her relief, the ankle felt okay. When she rotated it, the ligaments and tendons shrieked, but it wasn’t so bad she couldn’t walk.

She worked her way up to a trot again, relieved when the ankle continued to hold, but moving much slower now so she didn’t injure it again. A beam flashed ahead—headlights on the highway. She was almost out of the woods.

A body stepped in front of her and caught her upper arms as she slammed into him. A scream gathered in her throat, but she managed to hold it in. She balled her hands into fists as best she could and swung them right, then with all her force spun into a two-fisted punch that connected with the side of the guy’s head. He cursed and lost his grip. She’d run half a dozen more steps before she realized she recognized his voice.

“Nick?” she whispered, peering back at him. He leaned against a tree, his hand to the side of his head.

“Yeah. Jesus Christ, Quinn, I’m trying to save you.”

Oh, thank god.

“Then save me.” She held out her hands. He stepped toward her, his hand in his pocket. With the snick of his switchblade and a quick tug, she was free.

“Thank you,” she breathed, rubbing her wrists. She’d never felt anything so good. Except maybe a few minutes ago in the Porta-Potty.

“Keep running. Charger’s on the road a couple hundred feet back.”

Quinn didn’t need further urging. Her pursuers had gained on her since she fell. But with her hands free she could at least push obstacles out of the way before they hit her in the face. In minutes they burst onto the shoulder of a four-lane highway. She hobbled to the Charger, parked in a small emergency pull-off. Nick slid across the hood and got inside at the same time she did. She looked back toward the woods that lined the road as he started the car. No movement, no light, but she still sensed them pursuing her. Her foot pressed on an invisible accelerator, and she braced against the dash, willing the car to start moving.

“They might have run back to the truck,” she said. If Nick drove ahead, they’d pass the kidnappers, and as fast as the Charger was, the SUV had a powerful engine.

“Don’t worry.” Nick pulled onto the road but did an immediate U-turn across the grassy median. His tires spun once in the soft earth, then caught and flung them onto the far side of the highway. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, and they flew.

Quinn wondered where Sam was, but every fiber concentrated on watching through the rear window for pursuit. She saw no headlights and no flashes of streetlamps off a vehicle running dark. Slowly, her body relaxed.

After a few minutes, she said, “I think we’re clear.” She turned back, grinning with the euphoria of freedom, and saw Nick’s face. His jaw was clenched so tight it pulsed. His hands and arms were stiff enough to rip the steering wheel off its column if he turned it, and his eyes bore so hard into the road in front of them, Quinn was amazed it didn’t explode.

“Thank you, Nick,” she said softly, hoping to defuse him. He was furious with her. Even though he’d cleared her to go into the store, she’d been too complacent and let them sneak up on her. Nick never had a chance to stop them from taking her.

“Don’t,” he bit out, and she knew he meant more than don’t thank him. She didn’t talk the rest of the short drive. Nick got off the dark highway at the next exit and followed even darker, more deserted back roads to the edge of what appeared to be a small lake. He skidded to a stop outside a tiny cabin, one of a few dotting the shoreline, and pushed his door open, leaving the headlights on to illuminate the pitch black.

Quinn climbed out slowly, wary. Nick stalked toward the cabin, spun around halfway there, and stalked back to her. He met Quinn at the front of the car, yanked her into his arms, and slammed his mouth down on hers. Fury burned into instant passion, and instead of bruising her, Nick plundered.

Heat swept over Quinn, chased by his desperation and the power of something that had been bottled up far too long. She shuddered and arched into him, her hands clenched hard on his shoulders, her body burning and aching. Part of her protested, This is Nick! But the rest of her sighed, This is Nick. He drove one hand up under her hair to hold her head and bent her backward over his other arm while his mouth devoured hers and his tongue plunged, over and over.

Quinn hadn’t been kissed, or kissed anyone else, in years. Not even Sam. Not since the first time she’d kissed Nick, and that had ended in disaster. Part of her despaired that this would end the same way, but before she had time to really react, he broke away and stared down at her, panting. “We’ve got to get inside.”

“Okay,” she whispered, pushing away from him. But he didn’t let go. He held her and crossed the dozen feet to the door of the cabin, up the steps, and inside. The door closed, and he shoved her backward with his body to press her against the hard wood. This time, the kiss was all hunger. He laced the fingers of his left hand through her right and held it over her head, against the door. His other hand found her waist, under her coat and shirt, and stroked her skin in time to the rhythm of his tongue.

Quinn didn’t care what this meant. She wanted to scream, to laugh. Her body acknowledged how right this was, how necessary. Not because of channeling power or moon lust, but because this was Nick, and she wanted him. She tugged at his leather coat, trying to get it off. He barely let go long enough for it to drop to the floor. When she pushed his T-shirt up his body, he grabbed the back of it with one hand and yanked it over his head, then threw it aside and pulled Quinn against him again. A sob escaped her throat when her mouth met his skin for the first time. It was silk to her fingertips, his back and shoulders hard beneath her hands. Need thundered through her, and she welcomed it, even embraced it.

But then he stopped. He buried his face in her neck, his heaving chest crushing her against the rough wood. He brought one hand back and slammed it against the door but didn’t release her where his other arm wrapped around her waist. Then he didn’t move for long minutes.

Quinn’s passion subsided along with Nick’s tension. She stroked her hands through his short, almost prickly hair and then across his shoulders, soothing. He still didn’t move, wouldn’t look at her, even when she tried to tug him back so she could see his face.

“When I couldn’t find you”—his voice rumbled in her ear—“it was pure terror. I saw that truck leave the garage, and I knew you had to be in it, and if I lost it for a second, you’d be gone forever.”

“It’s all right,” Quinn murmured. “You didn’t lose me.”

He leaned away from her now, far enough to brace his forehead against hers. “Never out of my sight, Quinn.” His voice cracked. “How many—”

“Times do you have to say it, I know.” She traced her fingertips along his jaw and didn’t remind him that he’d okayed the short distance. It wasn’t his fault. “Thank you for saving me.”

“You saved yourself. I couldn’t get close enough to the damned truck to stop it, and even if I could have, I had no idea how many were in there, what I was up against.” His voice was rough, anguished, and Quinn’s chest hurt with the pain of it. “In all my years as a protector, I’ve never lost a goddess. And then you—” His voice cracked again, and Quinn shushed him.

“It’s okay, Nick. I’m safe. You got me.”

“Only because you were smart enough to stall until I got in position.”

She had to chuckle. “That wasn’t intentional. They didn’t untie my hands. I had no choice but to be slow.”

“Thank god for that.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, then eased away until her feet touched the ground. Everything shifted when he let go of her, and they became separate entities again.

The air thickened with the apology on its way. This was the part where he regretted what he’d let happen. He’d compromised his integrity as a protector, had forced himself on her, had jeopardized her safety because he was focused on what they were doing instead of on whether or not they’d been found.

She didn’t want to hear any of it.

“Where’s Sam?” she asked.

Nick backed away and bent to get his shirt.

“I left him at the hotel.” He sounded normal now, less tormented. “Called him a few times. He found this place when the truck first slowed down, like they were looking for something, and I thought I might be able to get you out.”

“We’d better let him know you did.” She smoothed her hair and clothes, then turned away rather than watch Nick put himself to rights. He was way too sexy with rumpled hair, half dressed, his mouth heavy from their kisses. If she looked too long she’d want him again, and he wouldn’t be able to pass it off as simple relief.

Which she had to let him do, if he was going to remain in her life. He’d leave her with another protector rather than let this compromise everything he stood for. He had a job to do, a job that was more important to him, and to the Society, than any personal needs. He couldn’t have a normal life, so he wouldn’t prevent her from having one, too. Grief swelled her throat and rose up, making her eyes sting.

She pulled out her cell phone and hit the button for Sam’s. He answered immediately, and hearing his voice was like reconnecting with the mother ship. The urge to cry receded.

“Quinn.”

“Yeah, Sam. I’m safe.”

“Thank god. Where are you?”

“The camp you told Nick about. No one’s found us. We’ll wait another half hour or so, then head back to get you.”

“No, go straight on to your place, if you’re sure you’ve lost them. You’d be backtracking too much to come get me, so I called for a rental car. I’ll meet you at the cabin. Are you okay?” he added. “You sound okay, but—”

“I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat.

“We’ll meet you soon.”

“Wait, Quinn.” She waited, hearing the rustle of papers. “I did some more digging on your birth family while I was waiting. It shouldn’t have taken so long, but Nick had the f*cking last name wrong.”

She didn’t want to hear about Nick’s shortcomings right now. “You found something?” Her heart pounded in escalating rhythm.

“I sure as hell did.” He paused. “Quinn, you have a sister.”