“Mac?”
Our heads swivel to the door. Jake is standing there shirtless, wearing worn, faded jeans. “Did you just say something about Quinn’s life hanging in the balance? What’s going on?”
Evie’s expression is grim when she answers for me. “Quinn’s been kidnapped.”
“What the hell?” he bursts out angrily. “When?”
She fills him in, starting from the beginning and ending with the now. Her loose lips give him every detail of my involvement.
Jake turns an accusatory glare my way, and I lift my chin, defiant in the face of his anger. “Evie, sweetheart,” he utters softly, never taking his eyes from mine, “I think I hear your phone ringing out in the kitchen.”
She cocks an ear. “No. I don’t think it’s—”
“It must have just stopped.”
“I’ll go check. It might be Jared,” Evie says, hope colouring her words despite the release of a tired sigh. She pushes up off the chair from the other desk in our study. Quinn’s desk. My heart thuds with fear, each beat more powerful with every minute that ticks by without word. I’ve been able to lock it down until now, focused solely on what I can do to help, which keeps me determined and calm, but Jake is here now and that’s all it takes for my control to flounder.
He speaks, his voice gritty like sandpaper. “Every time.”
“Every time?”
He walks over to my desk and leans his backside against the edge. “Every time something like this happens, you just shut me out. I know we’re trying to find our way back to the way we used to be, but it’s not working. We’re not the same people we used to be. You used to be tough, Mac, but you were also sweet. But I don’t know where the sweetness went. You’re harder now. More driven, maybe, and more reckless. Your constant need to get caught up in any dangerous situation that comes your way is relentless. I know your brothers are out there doing what they can for Quinn, but so are the authorities. Let them do their job, Princess,” he pleads softly. “Please?”
I stare hard into Jake’s eyes, my chest burning with anger. Does he not know me at all? “I can’t sit here and do nothing,” I snap. “I’m a Valentine. It’s not in my nature.”
My phone rings. A quick glance shows Tim’s name on the screen.
Jake gives me a look when I go to answer.
“I have to get this.”
He pushes away from the desk. His fists curl and the veins in his arms bulge as he steps away. A few deep breaths later, he turns. “Forget it,” he says over the sound of my ringing phone. “This is not the time for that particular conversation anyway.”
My heart feels heavy. For the first time I begin to question myself and the future I’ve mapped out in my head. Is it going to cost me in the long run? Are marriage and kids really so bad? Sometimes I let myself picture our tiny baby lying naked in Jake’s big, tattooed arms, just to see how it makes me feel. If I’m honest with myself, the image makes me melt faster than butter on toast. So why do I deny myself? Why do I have this need to prove myself all the damn time?
The questions flit through my mind in the span of seconds, and in half that time I push them away without answers. We’re all feeling vulnerable right now, worried sick for Quinn’s safety. Now is not the time to question my life choices.
So instead of going after Jake, I choose the easier option. I pick up my phone and answer Tim’s call.
MAC
The scent of flowers is strong as I drag my feet down the aisle, bouquet in hand. My dress is pale pink with a strapless bodice, but the flowing skirt is made with a shit tonne of layers and ruffles. The weight is the equivalent of an elephant. I’m literally wearing an elephant. At least, that’s how it feels.
I lift my chin and smile at all in attendance. Sweat breaks across my brow with each determined step. Did I mention the dress is also hot? The fires of Hell rage beneath these skirts. I have to give Evie credit for the selection. The contraption is incredibly beautiful, but I can’t wait to get it off. Preferably with scissors.
Gritting my teeth, I shift my gaze to Jared. He’s faring no better. His face is green, and he looks ready to puke. I’m not sure why. Nerves? Cold feet? Either way, if I’m suffering, it’s good to know he is too. Beside him stands Travis and Mitch, both looking more handsome than they have a right to and far more relaxed than their younger sibling.
My mother dashes away a tear as I sweep past her. She’d been with us just moments earlier, rushing to her seat last minute. These past eight months have kept her caught up in wedding preparations. There’s nothing she won’t do and no lengths she won’t go to ensure her baby boy receives the wedding of a lifetime.
Sweeping off to the left, my eyes shift to Quinn. She’s glowing today. It’s definitely a post-sex glow. She thought sharing the details while we were having our makeup applied this morning would be entertaining. She actually thought that. Evie couldn’t be left out, of course, and included comments about Jared in comparison. It was all I could do to keep my breakfast down. Hearing about my brothers’ sexual shenanigans is up there with other such fun activities like setting my goddamn pubes on fire.
I have to remind myself that we’re lucky she’s here at all. Tim’s phone call confirmed what I’d already determined. Quinn had been taken by the Zampetti crime group, a human trafficking operation so slick no one can get near them. These were the people David owed money to, but they hadn’t kidnapped Quinn for the reason we’d all assumed.
The Zampettis had a mole in their midst. A federal agent with the Australian Police. And they knew it. What they’d so brilliantly deduced before any of us could was that the undercover agent had a daughter and her name was Quinn. This was big news, even to Quinn, who’d never known her father.
His name is Seth McKinnon, and it turns out he knows a lot. So much, in fact, that the Zampettis’ plan was to use Quinn to extract all of it.
Tim barely paused for breath during the entire recount. He ended the conversation by informing me that when the Zampettis transferred her and Seth from the house they were stashed in, Quinn had managed to run the car off the road and slam it into a tree, thus making her own escape.
Quinn hadn’t needed my help. She hadn’t needed anyone’s help. She’d saved herself. Travis could’ve done with some help, though. Not trusting that Seth was who he said he was—an undercover agent—my brother had punched him in the face. It wasn’t until after Seth lay unconscious on the ground that Travis found out the family connection. My brother had literally punched his girlfriend’s father. In. The. Face.