Page 58 of Playing with Fire

A door banged open, and Quinn leaned out of his office. “Gardener, did you hang up on the head of the CDC?”

“I am not breeding stock!” Maybe I shouldn’t have let my voice turn shrill, but it was his fault I was so tired. If anyone expected calm and collected from me, they had obviously never met me.

“Gardener.”

“I don’t care if he was a prince.”

Quinn sighed. “Gardener.”

“I’d beat him up again.”

“Just come answer the phone, Gardener.”

“Damn it.” Wasn’t hanging up at the end of a screaming fit a sufficient reason to fire me? I’d have to try a little harder. Lifting my chin, I marched into Quinn’s office, picked up the phone, and barked, “What part of ‘fuck off’ didn’t compute? Let’s try this: take my certification and shove it up your ass.”

I hung up.

Quinn leaned in his doorway and smiled at me. “You’re so cranky when you’re tired. Why don’t I give you my credit card? Then you can go shopping all you want without risking the murder of a poor bank teller.”

Bristling, I glared at him. “I have my check.”

“I know you do.” Stepping into his office, he headed for his desk. “You can pay off anything you charge today after you go to the bank. It’ll just cut out a step in your outing. If you take Nilman, I won’t worry. He’s a one-man army and not even a swarm of gorgons would try him.”

“Good to know. What’s his trick?”

“Last time he got petrified, it took over an hour for him to even start stiffening up. He’s not immune, but he’s resistant. He gets really offended when gorgons try to petrify him, too. He’s also one of the best shots in Manhattan and carries the maximum amount of ammunition I’ll let him get away with.”

Quinn’s phone rang, and he sighed, circled to his chair, and answered, “Chief Quinn speaking. Hello again, Mr. Clemmends. Yes, Miss Gardener is still here. No, she hasn’t burned down the station yet. I’m not sure where you got that idea, sir. One moment.” He sighed. “Gardener, he’s really, really sorry he implied you weren’t within your rights to defend yourself from sexual assault. Would you please speak with him?”

“Stop sounding so damned reasonable. I don’t want to talk to him. I just want a half-decent cup of coffee.” I snatched the phone out of his hand. “What?”

“He’s offering you six million dollars if you agree to be the surrogate mother for his children.”

My mouth dropped open. The slimy, disgusting menace was offering me what? I stared at Quinn, lowered the phone, and whispered, “Quinn, he’s offering me six million to help him spawn his whelps.”

“No.” With a scowl so fierce I expected him to flip his desk in a fit of rage, he got up and closed his office door. “No. Absolutely not. No fucking way in fucking hell. No.”

“I was thinking the same.” I returned the phone to my ear. “No, sir. I will not.”

Clemmends sighed. “He wants a tough, beautiful virgin, and he is of the opinion you are the only one even close to acceptable for serving as the surrogate mother of his children. Due to your immunities, you are the ideal candidate.”

I looked up to the ceiling, thanked God my mouth had begged Quinn to spank me, thus evicting me from the pool of eligible virgins forever and ever and ever. “Quinn, the asshole gorgon prince wants a beautiful virgin.”

“Why are you relaying this conversation to Chief Quinn?”

I held the phone out to Quinn. “He wants to know why I’m relaying all this to you. Do you want to tell him?”

With a grin that turned my knees to jelly, Quinn slid onto his chair and propped his feet up on his desk. “And ruin such a wonderful chance for you to run your mouth? I couldn’t. Please, Gardener. Tell him anything you want.”

“Anything I want?”

“Anything you want. My office is soundproofed.”

Hallelujah and amen. Of course, the bastard head of the CDC didn’t need to know Quinn was the reason I was no longer a virgin, but I’d make do. “Sir, while the offer of six million is more than generous, I’m not a virgin.”

Quinn grinned and sipped his coffee.

“Your file—”