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Understanding tightens my chest.
“Your place or mine?” he asks.
We’re mostly quiet until we reach my house, except for the light banter about our workdays. Before he gets out, Quinn puts the phone in the glove compartment.
“You think they’re doing more than tracking you?” I ask as I fish my keys from my bag.
“It’s the FBI,” he says, following me into the living room. “Let’s just say they’re capable of listening to us, and they have no qualms about invading privacy. So, just being careful.”
This should make me uneasy, but I’ve become desensitized to such underhanded methods. Wells and the Alpha make the FBI look like Boy Scouts.
After I program my code into the alarm panel, I set my purse on the table near the couch, my gaze lingering on the bag. “The discovery today should be a relief,” I say. “You don’t look too relieved, however.”
Quinn settles on the edge of the sofa and grasps my hips, bringing me close. “You thought it would make me feel better about what I did.” His gaze penetrates mine.
“You framed a criminal for a crime he did commit, Quinn. Not the same victim, but a victim nonetheless. Are you going to let that eat away at you the rest of your life?”
He cups my face, rough fingers brushing my skin. “As long as nothing happens to you, I’ll deal with it.”
“You’re the most stubborn man.”
A smirk tugs at his mouth. Then he pulls me between his legs, his kiss quieting my roaring thoughts. This is the best moment we’ve had in days, and we’re both clinging to it, desperate to keep our secrets held back a little longer.
The press of the wave is too strong, though. I feel it in his kiss, the urgency to give in to the swelling tide.
I break away. “Tell me,” I say between us, “what else?”
He rests his forehead against mine, dragging in a heavy breath. “Do you have a journal?”
His question is so unexpected, I can only shake my head. “What?”
“Do you have a journal here? A diary?”
I smile. “Yeah, but from, like, college. I haven’t written in it—” I squint at him. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Go get it.” He hooks his thumbs through my belt loops, backing me away.
I take the hint and leave the room, unsure of why I’m digging through the guest bedroom closet, but it’s Quinn. He doesn’t do anything without purpose. When I locate my old journal, I flip through a few pages, cringing at my thoughts from so long ago, the things I thought were so dire, and meet him in the living room.
“Here.” I hand him the black and white marbled notebook. “Should make for interesting reading if you’re really bored one night. Now, tell me what this is about.”
Quinn mimics my actions, flipping through the pages, then pauses. “Did you tear this page out?”
My chest prickles with apprehension. “I don’t think so…” I notice the location then, an entry about my parents’ death, how isolated I felt right after their funeral. “Who? You know, so tell me. Who?”
He slaps the notebook closed. “Wells. He took trophies. Sadie discovered them in his office today.”
My stomach pitches. “I had one place. One, Quinn. My home, and you’re saying that sick bastard…” I close my eyes, attempting to eradicate the conjured image of my abductor entering my home. Riffling through my personal life.
I feel Quinn’s hands on my face, the sure press of his coarse palms. “This is still your place. You’re safe, Aves. He can’t ever take it away from you.”
I release an abrupt breath, letting the tension leak free so the angry tears don’t stream. “So Wells stole personal thoughts from his victims.” I blink my eyes open. “Doesn’t shock me. But what does that have to do with now?”
Crossing his arms, he paces a few steps away, centering his thoughts. “There were more journal entries than just the known victims. Sadie thinks he took other women, and that they could still be alive.” He looks at me, a furrow between his eyes. “The Alpha could know where they are.”
Shit. I have to sit on the couch. “But aren’t trophies taken after a victim dies?” I hate that I know these things.
“In theory, but I won’t pretend to know the innermost workings of Wells’ mind.” He sighs. “Sadie seems to do a good job at getting inside his head. I’ll leave that one to her.”
