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Grady had his own service weapon aimed at Jericho, unwavering. In turn, Hunter had a weapon trained on Grady. He either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because his focus was on Quinn.
Quinn wished that he hadn’t brought Grady along. He didn’t deserve to be caught up in any of this.
“Might want to ask your boyfriend what he chose to do when someone surrendered to him,” Jericho said. “Then you can come at me about what ‘we do.’”
Quinn gritted his teeth, not giving weight to the statement. Whatever choices Peyton had made, Quinn would stand by them, no matter what. He knew that at the end of the day, Peyton had a good heart. That didn’t extend to these men.
“That was nothing like this.”
“Wasn’t it?” Jericho asked. His eyebrow arched as though it had a mind of its own. Not many people could pull that look off quite like that. Sebastian could; he’d made it an art form. Now Quinn could add Jericho to that short list.
“We’re here to help,” Jericho said. “Tell your partner to put his gun down before I’m forced to do something you won’t like.”
As if anything he’d done thus far had been anything Quinn had liked.
He swallowed and then nodded to Grady, silently urging him to stand down. Grady hesitated, his arms faltering before sighing and putting his weapon back in its holster.
“And what price do you put onthishelp?” Quinn asked. The answer didn’t matter. Quinn wasn’t willing to pay any price for the kind of help they were offering.
“We have a mutual interest,” Hunter said. He smiled, and it set Quinn’s teeth on edge. There was nothingniceabout it. “Consider this one pro bono.”
“How magnanimous of you,” Grady said.
“We can be generous.”
Quinn knew that Jericho was looking at him again, and he told himself not to give him the attention that he was looking for.
It was no use. The blue was in his sight before he could control it. He wished he knew what colour was underneath. Sebastian and Peyton both had blue eyes, but theirs were darker, like midnight. Will had gorgeous brown, like glass. Quinn’s own were grey.
Jericho had been parading around as a man named Warren Boiler. His eyes were fake. Were any parts real, or was all of him fake?
“Hunter will clean up this mess,” Jericho said.
“And you?” Quinn couldn’t help but ask.
“I’ll be your escort this evening.”
“Piss off,” Grady said. “We don’t need a fucking—”
“Not you,” Jericho interrupted. “Him.”
“Me?” Quinn asked. “Why?” Thewhyencompassed so many questions. Quinn wanted to know what the fuck was going on and how this group of black operatives were involved. He wanted to know who wanted to hurt Sebastian. What David had been looking for. Why he responded so viscerally to Jericho.
Too many questions and no answers.
“Check my front pocket.”
Quinn glanced down before he could stop himself. “What? Why?”
“So suspicious.” Jericho stepped closer, trailing his fingers up Quinn’s jacket before curling around his tie. “You know you’re curious, Quinn. Go on, put your hand in and look.”
Quinn’s heart thumped so loudly in his chest he was sure they could all hear it. Jericho’s hair was flirting with his shoulder. It was roughly the same length as Peyton’s, and Quinn knew from experience just how much leverage it could give during sex. Images flashed through his mind.
Peyton on his knees in front of Quinn while he had a firm hold on his hair, forcing his head back as he pounded into him.
Peyton on his knees in front of Sebastian. his fingers tangled in Peyton’s hair as he forced himself down his throat.
Peyton loved everything they could do to him while using his hair to put him where they wanted him.
