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“I needed to get her away from you,” she said. “I needed you alone and without interruptions, and it didn’t look like she was willing to give you up that easily. I didn’t have time nor the patience to craft something to break you up.”
“I don’t know if we would have…” I said, letting my voice trail. As unhappy as I was, I hated the idea of hurting her worse. Hated the idea of breaking her heart. I was much more willing to let myself suffer in an unhappy relationship than to have the hard conversation we needed to have.
“Exactly my point,” she said, her hands rubbing patterns in my hips. “It was just part of the job. She and the senator were both issues.”
“The senator?” I asked, turning to look at her face.
“There’s just so many people around you, watching you,” she said. “Before I knew about the witness protection, I thought many of the men were because the senator. But it looks like it was more of a mix. I thought getting rid of him would help, but I was… unsuccessful.”
“You tried to get rid of him?” I asked. “How would you even—the arrest!”
I couldn’t hold in my gasp. A small, feral smile spread across her face.
“Yes, the arrest, baby,” she said with a chuckle. “Though it didn’t stick. I should have known given how much fucking money the guy has.”
“And influence,” I said and turned back toward the eyes.
I probably should have just left it… but I couldn’t. There were so many questions flying through my head.
“Did she suffer?” I asked. My imagination was going wild, trying to piece together how Quinn had gotten to her alone. What did she say to her? What had Bailey told her? I wanted to know it all, but at the same time I knew it was a boundary I should cross.
“No,” she answered quickly. “Well, not more than any usual death. I didn’t exactly have much on hand during. Most of the time I don’t try to make them suffer…”
“Unless?” I asked, turning around in her hold so we were facing each other.
“Unless the client asks for it,” she said. “Or I’m… angry.”
I reached her face, looking for any indication of guilt or self-loathing… but I couldn’t find any.
Does this bother me?
No.
I couldn’t bring myself to get all that upset about this.
This is what Quinn did. She had grown up this way, groomed to become a killer. This was in her nature and made her the person she was. How could I hate someone who had no choice but to become the person she is now?
“Why?” I asked in a whisper. “Why eyeballs?”
She stiffened and pulled away just slightly before running her fingers across my cheekbone. No, she was tracing just below my eyes. How many times have I seen that done before?
“You can tell so much about what a person is feeling from them,” she whispered. “Their fear, their arousal, their hatred. You can see it all. It fascinates me.”
I looked around the room before spotting the window on the opposite side of the room. I pulled her to it, making her face it.
“What are you—”
“Look at yourself,” I said. “Why do you see in your eyes? Is it the same as the others?”
Her gaze locked onto the window, her reflection just visible in the glass. Her eyes narrowed at herself, and it took me only a few seconds to realize that she couldn’t make out the emotions deep in her eyes like she could her victims.
Just like what her barren house had told me, Quinn never much cared for herself or took care of how she was feeling or how her life was. Quinn was walking through life, acting like a machine for an organization that cared nothing for her. There had been no one to pull her back to herself and make her critically look at what she was doing.
“I see confidence,” I said. “I see strength. I see a woman who has been through hell and back but still manages to find something to live for.”
“You can’t see that in my eyes,” she muttered, a bit of bitterness lacing her tone.
“I can,” I said with a smile. “Because I’ve had the pleasure of watching you, just like you’ve been watching me.”
