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“It’s no different from what the police do, Quinn. They’re following leads to find a criminal. That’s all.”
“It’s vigilantism and you know it.”
“Only if they harm him.” Mara shifted to face her. “Honestly, I’m surprised you feel this way, Quinn.” Mara covered Quinn’s hand with hers. “I would think you’d want him gone for good. I’ve known my husband a long time, known what he does for almost as long… these guys, they don’t take the job lightly and they aren’t bad men. They do only what has to be done— no more, no less.”
Her heart ached from the opposing feelings inside her. One side wanted him dead and buried six feet under so he could never hurt her again. The other side couldn’t imagine hunting a person down and killing him like an animal. “To want that would make me no better than Travis, Mara. That’s not me. I can’t explain it. I hate him— so much.” She swiped at a single tear that escaped from her tired eyes. “But I couldn’t live with myself, with the guilt, of killing someone or knowing I was turning the other way while someone is murdered.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “If there’s one thing I learned while I was with Travis, it’s that I’ll never make that mistake again. I won’t be with a man who will hurt others or kill in cold blood.”
“Quinn,” Mara said in a kind voice, “you know what Rick does. You know what they do here. Clint, Dane, Ben—”
She shook her head. “I had this same conversation with Rick. Flying into a war zone, taking out an enemy or rescuing hostages… it’s not the same and you know it.”
Mara sighed, releasing her hand so he could sit back on the couch. “I can understand that. Let me assure you that Rick is not a bad man. He is not Travis. No matter what happens today, you’re the only person I’ve ever seen him care about. Don’t let this…” she gestured frantically with her hands, “this thing ruin what you have with him.”
Quinn copied her friend’s posture, leaning back into the cushions. She closed her eyes, desperate to put all of this behind her.
Am I wrong? Should I want Travis dead?
The thing was, as guilty as it made her feel, part of her did want Travis dead. Just not by Rick’s hand. Not murder. Maybe Travis would drive off the road and his car would burst into flames. That would make this entire thing go away painlessly. Well, for her anyway, not Travis.
Smiling, Quinn wished for exactly that.
Chapter 7
Hours later, after Mara had gone home, Quinn was curled up on a chair in Mack’s office, reading a book while Mack sat in front of his laptop. She had started to doze off when Tucker poked his head in.
“Mack—”
He stopped short when he noticed Quinn. “Oh, hi Quinn.”
“It’s okay Tucker, go ahead.” Mack gestured for him to keep speaking.
Quinn put her book down and straightened up, her eyes darting back and forth between the two men. Unintentionally, she put a hand up to her chest, a sad attempt to calm her racing heart.
This is it.
“They’re on their way back. He— uh, he got away.”
Mack nodded and Tucker disappeared without another word. Quinn didn’t know what to think. She swallowed down the thick lump that had formed in her throat. How could she be both disappointed that Travis was still alive, yet thoroughly relieved that he wasn’t killed? It made no sense and these warring feelings were turning her into a wreck.
“Can I go home now?” she asked, her stomach churning nervously.
“Why don’t you wait for everyone to—”
Mack was cut off by a loud crashing noise in the gym, followed by shouting. Without thinking, she raced down the hall, recognizing Rick’s voice.
“Fuck! Fuuuuck!” Rick was standing in front of the heavy bag, hitting it over and over again, letting out a constant stream of obscenities as his fists flew violently.
Quinn came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the padded mats. Ben was righting a weight rack that she could only assume Rick had knocked over in a fit of rage. For the first time ever, she was honestly afraid to approach Rick. His fury was so palpable Quinn could feel it all the way down to her bones. It was so potent— it literally sent chills across her skin. She was at a total loss as to what to do.
Thankfully, Clint walked over to Rick, unafraid to get within striking distance of a very hostile former Recon Marine. She couldn’t hear what Clint murmured in Rick’s ear, but whatever it was, it didn’t help. Rick lashed out, shoving the large man out of his way and yelling in his face. “Fuck off!” He thundered past Quinn without glancing her way and disappeared into the locker room, leaving everyone stunned.
Quinn winced at the loud banging of metal on metal that came from behind the closed door, looking to Clint for help. He shrugged and averted his eyes. “It didn’t go down well, Quinn.”
That much was obvious, but it didn’t explain Rick’s behavior. Or why he wouldn’t so much as look at her. Less than a minute later, Rick stormed back out of the locker room, once again passing Quinn without acknowledging her presence.
“Rick!” Quinn couldn’t let him leave like this. Not without an explanation as to why he was so angry and why it felt like that anger was directed at her specifically. She took a few steps with the intention of following him.
Without warning, Rick whirled around. Quinn flinched when she caught sight of the hostile expression he wore. “Don’t!” He stabbed a finger in her
