Run This Town 04 - (Watch Me) Save You Page 10

  That man had been his home, his anchor, his compass.

  And Quinn couldn’t stand to look at him, to see the pity in his eyes, the apologies. He couldn’t stand to see who he was when he stood next to Xavier Storm. The visions of his attack got bolder the longer he spent in Xavier’s presence, the words got louder, the pain got fresher. And the anger...

  God help him, the anger got hotter. Xavier had done nothing but love him, and still Quinn blamed his husband. He blamed himself. He blamed God. He blamed everyone.

  The door behind him opened. “Quinn.”

  He froze at Tek’s voice, quickly wiping his wet eyes. “Go away.”

  “Tell me you’re okay and I will.” Footsteps drew closer. “Look at me and I will.”

  “Go away, Tek,” He bit the words out. “Mind your fucking business.”

  “Is said you and Xavier were married.” Tek was toneless. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Quinn barked a laugh as he jumped to his feet and faced the other man. “Why would I do that? Who are you? Just who the fuck are you that I’d tell you my life story?”

  His face was carefully blank, that Tek. Carefully composed, and Quinn… was not. He was falling apart again, he felt it, felt the frayed edges stretching and stretching. Soon they’d snap and he didn’t know where he’d be, where he’d end up this time.

  “Why would I tell you I have a husband I ran away from?” he spat as he climbed the three steps separating him from Tek. “You want to know that I can’t stand to look at him? That simply being next to him just now had me running away when what I really wanted was to stay, to say—” He let the words fall, but Tek’s nostrils flared.

  “To say what?” he prodded. “What did you want to say to Xavier?”

  Breath shuddered in Quinn’s throat. What did he want to say? Did he have words to express the massive ball of shit sitting in his chest, weighing him down? “I wanted to tell him I miss him,” he whispered. “That I didn’t mean to leave, but that I couldn’t stay. I’d tell him that I love him, that I love him still.” The words were shaking and he was shaking. He grabbed on to the smooth, silver rail when his knees threatened to buckle. Eyes closed, he spoke. “I’d beg him to forgive me, for running away. I’d tell him nothing makes me happier than remembering us, remembering the life we shared. I’d tell him that I want it back. Him. Us. Me. But I’d also tell him I’m a broken man now, too broken to fix. And no one wants broken toys.”

  He brought a hand up, covered his eyes, and Tek was there, yanking him into a rough hug. Quinn held him loosely, mindful of the wound hidden under Tek’s t-shirt.

  “I’m so fucking sorry,” Tek rasped against Quinn’s temple. “Tell me who hurt you, what they did, and I’ll make them pay.” His breath whistled out fast. “Cross my heart, Quinn. I’d make them pay for you.”

  The chill those words brought to Quinn’s skin had him stiffening, and Tek must have felt the reaction because he released Quinn and stepped back. His jaw kept up a steady ticking, hands fisted at his sides. Quinn nodded once, an acknowledgement of Tek’s anger on his behalf.

  “Thank you.” He winced at the rough quality of his voice, but pressed on. “That won’t be necessary though.” He licked his dry lips. “It no longer matters.” He barely held back a snort at that blatant lie.

  Tek didn’t call him on it. He simply watched Quinn in silence, gaze shrewd.

  “You need to stay away from me.” The words tumbled all over themselves, but he made sure he kept his gaze locked on Tek’s. Even though that was the last thing he wanted. “Please don’t call me when you get shot at. Please don’t call me.” Those last few words were straight up pleading, begging, but Quinn couldn’t help it. He wanted to get his request across. He wanted nothing to do with who or what the man opposite him represented.

  “That’s what you want?”

  He wanted more actually, but that would have to stand for now. “Nice meeting you, Tek.” Quinn wiped his palms on his jeans then held it out, waiting to see if Tek would accept it.

  Tek didn’t break their gaze, if anything his gaze got darker, more intense as he grasped Quinn’s hand. They didn’t shake, nope. They just stood there, holding hands, Tek’s thumb brushing Quinn’s skin, tickling.

  “I think you’re braver than you know,” Tek told him softly. “I believe you’re stronger than you allow yourself to be.”

  Quinn opened his mouth to dispute that crazy talk, but Tek didn’t give him the chance.

  “I’d have liked to have met the man you were way back when.” Something dark flickered in his eyes. “But the man you are now, I’m betting he’s way more interesting. I like him, this man.”

  “Tek.” Quinn shook his head.

  “I won’t call you, not if you don’t want me to,” Tek said. “But if you want to, you can call me anytime. And if you need me to, I’ll come.” He touched a finger to his chest. “Cross my heart promise.”

  That would never happen, but Quinn didn’t acknowledge it. He just gave Tek a nod then moved past him toward the door. He had to get back to face his past.

  ****

  Tek watched as Quinn plastered a fake smile on his face, squared his shoulders and walked out next to him to greet the husband he’d neglected to mention. He couldn’t pinpoint why this made his blood boil. Why it pissed him off to see Quinn step into Xavier Storm’s arms, even though Xavier’s lover was right there.

  No one seemed to notice that every word Quinn spoke was forced, every expression on his face was fake. Or maybe they just chose to ignore it. He made a show of it though, greeting and smiling at Xavier’s new lover not even five minutes after telling Tek how much he loved and wanted his former husband back.

  From time to time Tek had to look away, but he felt Israel’s gaze on him, sizing him up, searching for an explanation for why all this shit fucked with Tek’s head so badly. The emotion in Quinn’s face was so plain to see when he gazed up at Xavier. And it broke Tek’s heart because it was beyond obvious that Xavier Storm had moved on with the pierced and tattooed Dima Zhirkhov, the leader of the Russian gang out of Coney Island.

  Did Quinn see that? Did he see the way Xavier asked the Russian for permission with just a look before he pulled Quinn into that tight hug? Did he see the way Xavier immediately reached for the Russian’s hand, linking their fingers when he released Quinn from the hug?

  Did Quinn see it?

  Because Tek did and he wanted to pound his fist into something.

  It wasn’t his business. Quinn wanted to pretend they’d never met, that the shit that went down in the motel room hadn’t happened. He wanted to hide. Tek knew about hiding and denials. That burden wasn’t one he wanted on Quinn, not after all he’d been through.

  He had his own shit to face. He and Israel had a visitor at the motel the night before, a Federal Agent Dane Hutchins, who’d insisted Renzo Vega hadn’t been the one behind the ambush. Which meant Israel had a snitch in his midst. They still had to deal with Renzo Vega though. He’d placed a call to Elias, deliberately calling his business phone and leaving him a message that Israel had been shot. When Elias called back to say he was on his way to Atlanta, Tek had let the call go to voicemail then made himself scarce, hiding out to ensure he and Elias didn’t cross paths. That was how he coped. Wasn’t the best decision, but for the moment it worked.

  His chest hurt, along with his healing gunshot wound, when Quinn’s fake laughter rang in his ears.

  “I have to go, just came off my shift.” Quinn touched Xavier’s arm. “Be good, Xavier.”

  The defeat in his tone straightened Tek’s spine.

  “Be good, Quinn.” Xavier’s smile was small, sad.

  Tek wanted to hate him for letting Quinn go, for allowing him to deal with all the obvious shit he was dealing with alone. He couldn’t though. He knew about stubborn. Knew about burning everyone out of your life when you descended into that pit of self-loathing.

  After a small hesitation, Quinn walked off. Tek pretended not
to watch him.

  Israel looked at him. “Take him home.”

  Shit. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” In fact, it was the worst idea he’d heard in forever.

  “Do it anyway.”

  Tek bristled at that straight order and after searching his friend’s gaze, he jerked a nod and headed to the elevators. Israel was lucky they were friends. While they weren’t boss and employee, Tek had sort of fallen into a comfortable pattern of lending Israel his presence whenever he needed it. He didn’t mind it. He and Israel had a bond, but today as he stepped off the elevator and walked out into the crowded hospital parking lot, he found himself regretting it.

  Quinn was easy to spot, he was in his EMT uniform, striding quickly to the black Dodge Charger Tek knew was his personal vehicle.

  “Quinn.” Tek jogged over to him, smirking at the angry surprise of the other man’s face.

  “What are you doing?”

  Tek waited until he reached him before speaking. “Israel wants me to take you home. I’m taking you home.”

  Quinn frowned. “You always do what Israel tells you? Is he your boss?”

  “If it’s something I also want to do then yes, I’ll do it.” Tek leaned a hip against the car and held out a hand. “I’m driving.”

  “What?” The word exploded from Quinn. “The hell you are. You can tell Israel—”

  Tek snatched the keys dangling from his fingers. “Tell him yourself. Another time.”

  “Tek!”

  He walked away, around to the driver’s side and got in, starting the car as Quinn remained outside. “Get in the car, Quinn.”

  “I asked you to leave me alone, didn’t I?” Quinn bent and peered through the open passenger side window. “I’m asking again.”

  “I’m going to take you home, Quinn. And if after that you want me to disappear from your life—” Tek didn’t look at him. “Then I’ll honor that.”

  Quinn remained bent over staring at him. Tek refused to look at him. He had no intention of staying away from Quinn, not after today. He didn’t see his presence being welcomed, but Tek didn’t care.

  “Fine.” Quinn huffed and yanked open the door, sliding into the seat next to Tek. “Take me home. Then you leave. I mean that shit.”

  “Never doubted that you meant it.” Tek drove off.

  They rode in silence. Next to him, Quinn’s quiet displeasure was loud as he sat slouched, arms folded. Something about him. Tek would drive himself crazier than he already was trying to figure it out, but something about Quinn roused every instinct in him. To protect, to help, to comfort.

  “Someone tried to kill you and Israel, didn’t they?”

  Tek hadn’t expected that question, but he should have. “Israel has enemies.”

  “I don’t have enemies,” Quinn retorted. “Must be because I’m not a criminal. The two of you are criminals, aren’t you?”

  “Dunno.” Tek bit the inside of his cheek. “Depends on what your definition of criminal is, Quinn.”

  The man next to him snorted. “Semantics. But it’s cool. I don’t have to be anywhere near you.”

  He didn’t sound happy about it, though, so Tek kept his words to himself.

  After they’d been driving for a while, Tek reached over and turned down the volume on the loud hip-hop blaring from the radio. “It was torture, wasn’t it?”

  “What?” Quinn responded to his soft question with one of his own. “What was torture?”

  “Seeing him.” Tek kept his attention on the road, but his senses tuned to Quinn. “Speaking to him, hugging him. Watching them together.” He didn’t give names, because Quinn wasn’t an imbecile. He’d know who Tek was talking about.

  The arctic chill that blasted him from Quinn’s side of the car proved his point.

  “Quinn.”

  “Don’t fucking talk to me,” Quinn yelled. “You know you’re the most in infuriating man I’ve ever— what do you know about what I do and don’t feel? What do you even care?”

  “I care.” Anything more was too heavy to contemplate.

  “You want to know about torture?” Quinn shifted in his seat, as much as he could, to face Tek. “Torture is waking up in your bed to the realization that your safe haven has been shattered. Torture is being assaulted in your home.” His voice got higher and higher. “Torture is waiting for your husband to rescue you from what you know is coming, only he never does because he’s hundreds of miles away. Torture is knowing that your in-laws hate your relationship so fucking much that they’ll rape you, violate you under the justification that if you like getting fucked you wouldn’t mind a Mag-Lite inside you.”

  Oh Christ. Oh fuck. “Quinn, I’m so sorry.” He clenched the steering wheel, gritting his teeth against the obvious pain in Quinn’s voice. He shot a glance at the other man. “Quinn.”

  “Torture…” Quinn voice turned rusty. ‘Torture is putting the gun they gave you to your temple, wanting—needing—to end the pain, only to find they’d removed all the bullets.”

  Tek wanted to pull over, grab up Quinn into his arms, but he had no way to do it, not when they were on the highway. “Quinn, stop.”

  “I know torture, Tek. It’s hating the sight and touch of the man you love so much that you leave when the only thing you want is to stay.” He paused. “I didn’t let myself think of him with anybody else, but that was selfish of me.” He snorted. “He’s happy,” he whispered. “He’s content. And I actually hate how much I want to be okay with that. With him loving someone else.”

  Tek cleared his throat. “Those people who hurt you, were they arrested?”

  “No,” Quinn said. “They were never found, but I have my suspicions.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tek said again. He didn’t need much more details to know the assault was the reason for Quinn’s nightmares, for the gun he’d kept on his nightstand before Tek stole it. His aversion to touch made sense now.

  “It hurts,” Quinn said. From the corner of his eyes, Tek saw him touch his chest gently. “In my chest, I felt it when I saw them together. When I saw them holding hands. It hurts, because I still thought of him as mine, you know?”

  Tek nodded without speaking.

  “But I’m glad he has someone. I’m glad he’s not alone. I’m glad—”

  “What about you?” Tek interrupted. “When will you let them stop owning you, the memories? When will you move on?”

  “Don’t.”

  “I’m saying, you’re happy for your ex. But what about you, Quinn?” The anger lifted Tek’s voice a few octaves. “What about your happiness?”

  “Stay out of my life.”

  “Quinn, listen to me.”

  “No, you listen,” Quinn said as Tek drove into his subdivision. “You wanted to know why I’m as fucked up as I am. Now you know. So you can leave with that knowledge.”

  Tek bit his tongue, stilling all the words he wanted to say. Quinn wasn’t listening, and he didn’t know how to make him get it. He parked in Quinn’s driveway, and the other man rushed out the vehicle, slamming the door behind him, Tek followed him up the stairs to the front door where Quinn stopped and faced Tek with a hand out, palm up.

  “Keys.”

  Tek shook his head. “Not until you’re inside.” He ignored the dagger Quinn threw at him with his eyes and used the keys on the chain, opening the front door and pushing it open. “After you.”

  Quinn stepped in and Tek followed him inside, kicking the door closed as Quinn flicked the lights on.

  “There.” He spun to face Tek. “Happy now?”

  Tek wanted to ask if he was happy, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to piss the other man off right then. Didn’t want to devolve into another argument. He leaned back against the door, Quinn’s keys dangling from a finger.

  “You can go.” Quinn made a shooing motion. ‘Thanks for the ride and the escort.”

  The last thing Tek wanted was to turn around and walk out that door. The last thing he wanted was to give Quinn his
back.

  “Tek,” Quinn snapped.

  Tek looked at him, really looked at him. The shadows in his dark eyes, his skin so smooth and gorgeous, his face. Tek took a breath, finally, fully, embracing the tight heat that had been coiled in his lower belly for so damn long.

  For Quinn.

  He settled his gaze on Quinn’s mouth, on his lips, the top one full, yes, but not as plump as the bottom. He’d shaved, trimming the hair on his face to a tight goatee that had framed those lips, making them enticing in a way Tek had tried not to see.

  “Hey.” Fingers snapped in front of his face, and Tek blinked at Quinn. “You need to leave.”

  “I can’t.” Tek shook his head. “Not without kissing you first.”

  Quinn’s eyes widened at the words Tek hadn’t bothered to censor. He stumbled back, confusion on his face. “What? What did you say?”

  What did he say? What should he say to explain the urge clawing at his insides? Tek took a step forward. Quinn took two back. Tek expected to see fear in the other man’s eyes.

  That wasn’t there.

  He couldn’t decipher what it was that truly lit in Quinn’s gaze. Not out and out lust, but curiosity tempered by interest and want. Tek licked his lips.

  “This isn’t curiosity,” he said softly. “Not for me. It’s not pity or any of that.” He inhaled. Exhaled. The need to touch Quinn, smell him, taste him was overwhelming, making his hands shake and his mouth dry. “I want to know,” he said. “The taste of you, it’s a mystery I need to solve.”

  Quinn’s mouth opened and closed. “Tek—” He shook his head, but it was there, slowly creeping up to smother his gaze, the answering awareness. That hunger of his on slow simmer, when Tek’s was already boiling out of control.

  “I need to kiss you. Taste you, just once.” He held up a finger as he walked over slowly. “Just one time. I need to put my lips on yours, feel them part for me. I think you'll taste like everything I've forbidden myself to want. I think it'll devastate me, the feel, the taste of you, when your tongue touches mine. But I want that. Just once. Let me taste you, Quinn.” He didn't usually beg. At least not for this, not for a kiss. “Devastate me.”