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“Answer me, Roxie,” Quinn said, interrupting her thoughts. “Who the fuck laid their hands on you?”
She closed her eyes. “Quinn...”
“Dammit, Roxie,” he hissed, slamming his hands down on the counter that separated them.
Her eyes flew open. Quinn didn’t lose his temper. He was steady. Always.
Well... unless you messed with his family. She internally winced because she knew he considered her to be his sister. So the frustration, concern, and rage blazing on his face made sense. And worried her.
“Tell me who this son of a bitch is, and I swear I will lock that fucker—”
“It’s not what you think, Quinn.” She placed her hand over his. As his eyes narrowed, she hurried on. “Really, I swear. It was just a misunderstand—”
“Amisunderstanding? Roxie, dammit—” He took a deep breath and scanned the crowded café. Everyone’s stares were glued to them. Without another word, he rounded the counter. Gently taking her by the elbow, he guided her to the back office.
Once inside the cramped room, his voice dropped to a harsh timbre. “The side of your face is black and blue. This is not a misunderstanding. This is assault. Now tell me who did this. I’ll find out either way. You know that. The bastard’s going to regret ever laying a hand on you. I swear it.”
“Ease up, O’Conner.”
They turned.
Joe stood in the doorway. His grim gaze met Quinn’s furious one. “Believe me, I regret hitting her more than you’ll ever know.”
“You son of a bitch,” Quinn roared as he pounced.
Roxie yelped and scrambled out of the way. Before she could blink, Quinn’s fist smashed into Joe’s jaw. Joe’s head whipped backward, and he did nothing to defend himself. When Quinn’s fist came flying his way again, he took it.
“Quinn! Stop it!” she shouted. When he wound up for another punch, she did the only thing she could think of—she jumped on his back. “Stop it right now!”
The room went quiet except for the sound of their uneven breathing.
“Jesus, Quinn,” she said, climbing off his back. Every muscle in her body protested the movement. “I told you it was a misunderstanding, all right?”
The men continued to glare, and she knew that the moment she moved away, they would beat the shit out of each other. So, she shifted to stand between them.
“Those were your two shots, O’Conner,” Joe said. His voice was calm, though his eyes blazed. “Hit me again and I will tear you apart.”
She slapped both palms on Quinn’s chest when he looked ready to lunge.
“Holy shit, Joe. Shut the hell up already!” Her gaze ping-ponged between them. “Both of you need to back off. I swear to god, you two are the biggest idiots.” She pointed at the chair behind her desk, then at the futon on the opposite side of her office. “Sit. Both of you. Neither one of you says one damn word until I’m done talking. Got it?”
Quinn sank into the chair. Joe sat on the futon. All the while, they scowled at each other.
“Roxanne,” Joe began, patting the futon, his tone suddenly casual, his expression relaxed, as if she hadn’t just pulled the dumbasses off of each other, “why the hell do you have this in your office?”
“Shut. Up. Joe.” She seethed, turning her attention to Quinn, who was still glaring at Joe. “Look at me, Quinn.”
Long seconds ticked by before her friend met her eyes.
“I swear, Quinn, it’s nothing nefarious. Joe came home in the middle of the night. The power was out. I didn’t know he was coming. He didn’t know I was there. We both thought the other was an intruder. I tried to take his head off with a baseball bat, but unfortunately, I missed.” She glanced at Joe, mustering as much of a smirk as she could with her bruised jaw. “No offense, of course.”
“None taken,” he said dryly.
“Apparently,” she continued, “the idiot’s FBI training and all that jiu-jitsu and Krav crap—”
“Krav Maga,” Joe cut in.
“Yeah, whatever it’s called. Apparently, he’s really good at it—”
