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Of course he had. Sebastian had left that part out when he’d mentioned their visit. Quinn would have told him to take it. As unsavoury as they were, they were also professionals, and Quinn would feel safer knowing one of them was watching him. Sebastian would have known that; it had to be the reason he hadn’t mentioned it.
“I assume you’ll help us rectify that,” Hunter said.
“Yes,” was all Quinn said. He didn’twantto say yes, wanted to run fast and far from them. Sebastian’s safety being on the line changed everything.
“Jericho will take you to Sebastian. I’ll clean up this mess. And you…” Hunter tilted his head at Grady. “Well, I hope you know how to keep your mouth shut.”
“Give me one good reason why I should.”
“Sebastian is in danger,” Quinn said quietly. His fingers scrunched the paper a little as he stared down at it.
Jericho put his own hand over Quinn’s, carefully sliding the paper out of his grip. His touch lingered before it dropped away. It had been warm, somehow comforting, and a part of Quinn had wanted to hold on and not let go.
“You think that Devlin being in danger is a good enough reason?” Grady asked, scoffing. “I’d push him off a cliff myself.”
“Grady.” Quinn knew he didn’t mean that. He’d helped to keep Sebastian safe the last few weeks and had worked this case just as diligently as any other case. Grady was a cop first, and he would protect, just as Quinn would, regardless of any personal feelings.
Grady sighed. “Fine. Foryou. What am I supposed to tell Riley?”
“Nothing,” Quinn said. “I’ll talk to him.” He had known Riley his entire career. He was one of his oldest friends, and no matter what their hierarchy looked like, he knew that he could count on him when it mattered. Quinn could have killed this man himself, and he knew without a doubt that Riley would help him hide it. He might growl and snarl and throw things, but he knew that Quinn would never do anything without a damn good reason.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Jericho gestured with a flourish of his arm. “After you.”
Jericho’s gaze against his back was like a physical touch, and Quinn struggled to ignore it as he walked out of the house with Grady and headed down the driveway and back through the open gateway.
“I’m going home,” Grady said. “I’m taking your car with me.”
Quinn pulled his keys out of his pocket, took his house key off—he would need it, and Grady already had one—and threw the rest to his partner.
Grady caught them one-handed. He glanced at Jericho, his upper lip curling into a sneer. “You need me, you call me.”
Quinn nodded, grateful for the support that Grady had always given him, even when he didn’t have to. Even when Quinn didn’t give him a good enough reason to. Something that Quinn hadn’t always been good at. He didn’t deserve how lucky he’d been with the calibre of partners he’d worked with during his time on the force. First Riley and now Grady. There weren’t better men than those two, regardless of outward appearances.
“Is he worried I’m going to hurt you?” Jericho whispered in his ear, causing a shiver to run across his shoulder.
Quinn turned his head and promptly forgot what he was going to say. Jericho was too close, their lips a hair’s breadth from each other. All it would take was for him to lift his chin, just a fraction. He could smell a hint of musk and citrus, a tangy lemon that made Quinn’s mouth dry with the urge totasteit.
“Car’s this way,” Jericho said in a husky voice.
Quinn found himself leaning forward before his brain caught up. He turned and walked away, his pounding heart in tempo with his footsteps.What the fuck was wrong with him?He already had three men that he wanted to build something lasting with. That he constantly itched to get his hands on. None of that included anything that was happening here.
Jericho unlocked a black SUV nearby, in the opposite direction from where Quinn had parked. Quinn slid into the passenger seat without a word.
He almost bit his tongue when he looked down and saw the bulge in Jericho’s jeans.Fucking hell, he was hard.
A hint of a soft smirk appeared when Jericho noticed the trajectory of Quinn’s gaze. “Yeah, you’re turning me on, Quinn. You’re sexy as fuck, and I’m not normally into suits, but you—and your boyfriend—sure fill them out just right. The backseat is big enough if you want to fuck.”
Jesus.Quinn twisted away, starting intently out of the window. Why did him mentioning Sebastian make the temperature rise in the small space? “No,” he said shortly.
“Did you know,” Jericho said conversationally as he turned the car on, settled his hand on the gear, and shifted it. “When you lie, your voice has a little waver in it. It’s hard to hear because your voice is smooth as fuck—I bet you have thebestbedroom voice—but I’m pretty good at nuances in tone.”
“Good for you,” Quinn said dully. Jericho might think this was funny, but Quinn didn’t see anything funny about it. There was a difference between thinking someone was attractive—which was something he would never fault anyone for; there were a lot of beautiful people in the world worth admiring—and wanting to drag them into the backseat to shut their mouths with his dick. “Where are we going?”
“They’re all at Sebastian’s beach house,” Jericho said. He did a three-point turn and headed back where they’d come from, passing Grady, who was watching them, one foot braced on the step of Quinn’s car.
“No, Peyton and Will are at Peyton’s parents for dinner,” Quinn said. They’d said something about it the night before after they’d gone to bed. Quinn was aware that the Sinclairs had a lot of family dinners that were open invitation. Theresa—Peyton’s mother—and Simon—Peyton’s father and Quinn’sboss—had an open invitation for anyone to join them for dinner, so long as they gave them notice to put out another plate.
