Mile High with a Vampire by Lynsay Sands

Nine

“I’ll get it,” Mary said quietly, and stood to walk to the door.

Quinn watched her go, her mind in an uproar of confusion as bits and pieces of their conversation looped through her mind. There were a lot of things she wanted to examine more closely, but right now, uppermost in her mind was Mary’s revelation that she’d had to “remove herself” from her children’s lives. Quinn couldn’t imagine it. She had been away from Parker for several months directly after the turn, and was away from him right now, but this was just temporary. She loved her son and couldn’t imagine having to give him up permanently.

Or Pet, she thought with a frown. Aside from being her twin sister, Pet was her best friend. She’d always been there to cheer her up, cheer her on, and to help out with Parker. God, she couldn’t have survived without their girls’ weekends when Patrick had been away at conferences or other work-related trips. The two of them would drink too much wine, get giggly, and then sing and dance around the living room with Parker to the latest dance music.

Actually, Quinn thought, she could do with one of those weekends now. They hadn’t had one since this whole immortal business started four years ago, and she supposed they never would again. At least not with wine. Apparently, wine didn’t have the same effect on immortals.

“What are we watching?”

Quinn glanced around with surprise at that question. She stared wide-eyed as Jet flopped onto the bed next to hers, arranged the pillows behind his back so he could lean against the headboard, and then crossed his legs at the ankles and clasped his hands over his stomach as he surveyed the muted TV.

“Where’d Mary go?” Quinn asked, her gaze sliding toward the entry even as she quickly dashed away any traces of tears on her face. God, she probably had a red nose and—

“She said she had to go out and get something. She’ll be back as quickly as she can,” Jet answered, picking up the remote and hitting a button to turn on the channel guide. “The Shawshank Redemption,” he said. “That’s a hella good movie.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed quietly. “One of my favorites. But it must have just started. Raiders of the Lost Ark was on earlier. Not that we were watching it,” she added wryly.

“Sacrilege!” Jet said with feigned horror. “How could you not watch Raiders? It’s a classic.”

Quinn smiled with amusement at his teasing and shrugged. “You know girls. We like to talk.”

“Hmm. Loudly too,” Jet said solemnly, and when she raised an eyebrow in question, he admitted, “The walls here must be paper-thin. I heard most of your conversation.”

“Oh.” Quinn felt her cheeks heat up, but was too busy going back over the conversation to see what he’d heard. Way too much, she decided with dismay, and then said unhappily, “So, now you know what a mess I am.”

“You aren’t a mess,” he assured her, getting up and moving to sit on her bed so he could slide his arms around her. Pulling her against his chest, he rubbed her back soothingly and added, “At least no more than most people. I mean, come on, child of an alcoholic here, remember? And latchkey kid pretty much raised by the nice neighbor lady.”

Quinn gave a surprised huff of laughter. “So you’re saying we’re both messed up?”

Jet shrugged. “Like Mary said, most people are.”

“Good Lord, you did hear everything,” Quinn muttered, burying her face against his chest in embarrassment.

“Yes. Sorry. I considered turning the television on to give you privacy, but didn’t want to,” he admitted.

That brought another laugh from her and she sat back to eye him dryly. “At least you’re honest about it.”

Jet’s expression turned serious. “I’ll always be honest with you, Quinn.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly aware of how close they were. How good he smelled, the heat from his body, his hand on her back.

She suspected Jet was suddenly aware of their closeness as well because he closed his eyes briefly on a groan and then opened them again and smiled wryly. “In the interest of honesty, I should probably tell you that while I thought you were hot in your dress pants and silk blouse, I find you really, really hot in a T-shirt and jeans.”

“Oh,” Quinn breathed, and was quite sure her nipples had just gone hard.

“I want to make love to you,” he added. “But Mary will come back soon so I don’t dare.”

“No,” she said with disappointment, and then cleared her throat and nodded. “No. We’d better not.”

“But I really, really want to run my hand over you in that T-shirt,” he announced.

“Run your hand over me?” she asked with bewilderment.

“Yes. I want to see if it feels as good as it looks,” he said wryly, and then added, “I wouldn’t take it off. I just want to run my hands over top of the cloth. If that’s all right with you.”

Quinn licked suddenly dry lips and nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, and then leaned back a bit when he urged her to and watched his tanned hand move to her stomach and then glide across it briefly over the white cotton before sliding up over one breast and then to the other.

“Your nipples are already hard little pebbles,” he groaned, closing his hand over one breast and kneading lightly.

Quinn bit her lip and watched with fascination as her body responded, her back arching into the caress, her legs shifting restlessly. When he then narrowed his attention on one breast, finding and rolling the nipple through the cloth with his thumb and finger, Quinn gasped and clutched at his shoulders, murmuring his name in a pleading tone.

“I know, love,” he moaned, and kissed her hungrily as he continued to fondle her. But when his knee slid between her legs and rubbed against her through her jeans, Quinn pulled away with a groan and shook her head. “No. Wait. I want—”

“What do you want?” he asked when she hesitated.

She licked her lips again and met his gaze before telling him, “Mary explained about life mates to me. She told me about shared pleasure.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, running his thumb over her nipple and back through the bra and T-shirt. “It’s good.”

“But I haven’t really—I mean, so far you’ve already been caressing me when I touched you and I’ve never really been able to tell what was my pleasure and what was yours. I’d kind of like to touch you without you touching me,” she admitted, blushing and embarrassed but too curious not to ask.

Jet’s thumb stopped moving and he pulled back slightly to peer at her. “Yeah?”

Quinn nodded.

He considered that briefly and then asked, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, a smile pulling at her mouth, and then stopped him when he started to lean down to do just that, and added, “Just not right away. Not till after I start touching you.”

“Oh.” He straightened again. “Okay. Go for it.”

When he squeezed his eyes closed as if in preparation for a punch, Quinn almost laughed. But she restrained herself and then reached out tentatively to press her hand against his groin. She heard him suck in a gust of air and felt his arm stiffen slightly, but she also felt a shaft of pleasure shoot through her own groin as if in response to being caressed. Fascinated, she pressed more firmly, and began to run her hand up and down over the bulge of his erection, her mouth opening slightly in small pants as excitement, need, and pleasure began building inside her in response.

When Jet’s mouth covered her open mouth, she kissed him back eagerly, and then released him to blindly unsnap his jeans and carefully ease the zipper down. She felt his stomach jump in tune with her own as she snaked her hand inside his jeans and boxers to find and clasp him, and then she began to caress him in earnest as her body demanded.

Quinn had barely got three strokes in when Jet broke their kiss to growl, “Oh God, I want to make love to you.”

“Yes,” she groaned, squeezing him a little harder.

“When we get to Toronto,” he promised, pressing feverish kisses across her eyes and cheek.

“I rented a hotel room there,” she panted.

“Then we’ll go there,” he gasped, his hands clutching at her shoulders, and hips bucking into her caress. “I’ll strip every inch of clothing off of you and—” They both froze as a knock sounded at the door, and then Jet leaned his forehead on hers and groaned, “No.”

“Toronto.” She sighed the word like a promise and then released him and eased her hand out of his pants, her body aching in protest at the interruption.

“Toronto,” he agreed on a sigh. “Or the plane if we’re alone. We can join the mile-high club.”

“Like you aren’t a charter member?” she teased lightly, disentangling herself from him.

“How could I? I’m always the pilot,” he pointed out.

Quinn chuckled at that and then looked toward the door and sighed when the knock sounded again. “I’ll get that. You’d better . . .” She gestured to his open jeans and then slid off the bed and walked toward the door, taking her time to be sure he was able to get himself put back together before she opened the door. But he was quicker than she’d expected. When she reached the door and peered back, he was already back together and standing in front of the Keurig, making coffee.

Smiling crookedly when he glanced her way, she turned back to open the door and her eyes widened with surprise when she was confronted with Lucian Argeneau. Once Quinn got over the shock of seeing the man she’d thought was still at the lodge, her eyes immediately shifted to his shoulder. Quinn started to open her mouth, but before she could say anything, Lucian growled, “If you apologize one more time for shooting me, woman, I will be most irritated.”

Quinn snapped her mouth closed, and then muttered, “I suspect that’s a common state for you,” as she turned to walk back to Jet. She’d planned to make herself a coffee, but Jet was already doing that for her.

“Where’s Mary?”

Quinn turned back with surprise at that question to see that Dante had followed Lucian into the room. Several more people were on his heels. She eyed them with curiosity, recognizing Justin Bricker as an immortal she’d met while staying with Marguerite during the first several months after she was turned, and she’d met Anders and of course Dante at the lodge. But she didn’t know the others.

“Mary said she had to go get something and she’d be back in an hour,” Jet explained as he mixed sugar and powdered creamer into both coffees.

“Probably food,” Justin Bricker said happily, and when Quinn eyed him with curiosity, he explained, “Dante texted her we were on the way back, and he’s always hungry. She probably went out to pick up something for everyone to eat.”

Quinn nodded, but wished Mary had said something. She would have gone with her to help. She was distracted from that thought when Jet held a coffee out in front of her. Murmuring, “Thank you,” she accepted the cup of steaming liquid and sipped at it cautiously as her gaze slid over the people now filling the room.

Dante, Justin Bricker, and the Enforcer named Anders, who had so enjoyed watching her harass Lucian about his wound. There was also a couple made up of an ice-blonde woman and a fair-haired man who she didn’t know, but it was the last three people who really caught her attention. They were just such an odd trio. They were two women and a man Quinn had never met before. While one of the women was short and curvy, with long blond hair and conservative business clothes, the other had dark hair with fuchsia highlights and was dressed in a scoop-necked T-shirt, tight black jeans, and high-heeled boots. At five-foot-ten she was also at least six inches taller than the blonde, but the dark-haired man between them was even taller, and damned near as wide as he was tall. Most of the male immortals she’d met were big men, but this one was exceptionally large.

“You know Dante, Anders, and Bricker,” Lucian said, and then gestured to the couple and added, “My niece Basha and her husband, Marcus Notte.”

Quinn’s eyes widened slightly at the name. The man was obviously another relative of her brother-in-law, but the woman was all Argeneau. The two families seemed to be well interconnected, she thought. Marguerite had originally been an Argeneau but was now married to a Notte, and so was this woman, Basha.

“The other three that you don’t know are Tiny and Mirabeau MacGraw, and Jackie Argeneau,” Lucian announced. “Jackie is the wife of my nephew Vincent, and Tiny and Mirabeau are family.”

“Who isn’t?” Quinn muttered, bringing startled laughs from everyone but Lucian.

“Justin isn’t,” he announced dryly.

“Hey!” the Enforcer protested. “Why single me out? Anders isn’t an Argeneau either.”

“His wife saved the lives of my wife and children, that makes her—and by connection, him—family,” Lucian said mildly.

Justin scowled at the proclamation and then dropped to sit on the end of the first bed, which acted as a cue for everyone to spread out around the room in search of seats. Several sat on the beds, a few took up positions on the couch, and Dante hefted himself up to sit on the kitchen counter until only Lucian, Quinn, and Jet still stood by the coffeemaker. Lucian Argeneau then positioned himself directly in front of Quinn and Jet and inspected them like they were butterflies pinned to a spreading board.

Quinn eyed him warily back and then her gaze dropped from his face to his chest again. Guilt immediately flickered through her and she opened her mouth.

“I did warn you about apologizing,” Lucian reminded her.

Quinn grimaced at that. “Well, I’m sorry, but I’m sorry. I mean, I thought it was Nika or Marta. I wouldn’t have shot you if I’d realized it was you,” she assured him.

“How could you think Lucian was Nika or Marta?” Justin Bricker asked with disbelief, his amazed gaze moving over the large man.

“Her eyes were closed,” Lucian said dryly.

“What?” Justin squawked with disbelief. “You shot without even looking to see who you were shooting? What if it had been Jet? He’s mortal. He would have died.”

“It couldn’t have been Jet. I’d just finished locking him in the booze box behind me,” Quinn snapped, but could feel the blush rising up her cheeks. It really hadn’t been well done of her to shoot without at least looking first to be sure she was shooting at the right person.

“Well, it could have been another mortal who—Wait, you locked Jet in a booze box?” Justin asked with disbelief. “What the hell is a booze box? Man, I missed a lot while I was stuck at the crash site feeding blood to Annika.”

Quinn scowled at him and then turned to arch an eyebrow at Lucian. “I’m guessing there’s a reason you’re here?”

Lucian was silent for a minute and then asked, “What do you remember about the crash?”

Quinn was surprised at the question, but answered readily enough. “I was sleeping and woke up to noise, chaos, and cold,” she began, and quickly ran through what she recalled of the crash. But at the end, she hesitated and then admitted what she hadn’t told Jet at the time because she hadn’t wanted to upset him. “When I got to the cockpit, I saw that we’d hit a cliff face. But at an angle. Miller must have seen the rock face ahead and either tried to turn the plane away to avoid the rock wall, or he deliberately turned the plane so that Jet wouldn’t be hurt. Whatever the case, Jet’s side was clear and only Miller’s side hit the rock wall. It pushed the front of the plane in, crushing him.”

She had felt Jet go stiff beside her as soon as she’d started to talk about that, but she didn’t look at him. She did let her hand drop down to clasp his, though. When she squeezed gently, he squeezed back.

“So, you didn’t hear an explosion before the window was blown out?” Lucian asked abruptly.

“An explosion?” she asked with amazement.

“Kira and her guards all heard two explosions in quick succession just before the plane plummeted,” he announced.

Quinn swallowed, but shook her head. “I was asleep. I suppose that could be what woke me up, but . . .” She shrugged helplessly.

When Lucian turned his gaze to Jet, the pilot said quietly, “I heard a popping sound. But only one before we lost the engines.”

“But you are mortal and were in the cockpit,” Lucian murmured. “The women were in the back by the engines and are immortal with immortal hearing.”

Jet nodded agreement to that. “So, you think both engines blew?”

“We know both engines exploded,” Lucian assured him. “Jackie and Tiny did a preliminary examination and found curled metal everywhere on both sides of the crash site.”

“That’s—” Jet shook his head. “Engines don’t just explode, and two of them blowing at the same time—”

“They found evidence suggesting bombs had been placed in both engines,” Lucian said quietly. “We’ll know more after the special investigator arrives and does a more in-depth examination of the plane, but it would appear that one of the bombs was either placed wrong, or was defective and didn’t do as much damage as the other. That is the only reason Miller was able to get that engine going again, and level out the plane. Otherwise, it would have been a straight plummet to earth and no doubt a fiery ending for you all.”

“Christ,” Jet breathed, paling at the thought, and then he frowned and asked, “But why blow up the plane?”

When Lucian’s gaze slid back to her, Quinn straightened abruptly. “What?”

“Would anyone want you dead?”

The question surprised a startled laugh from her, and she pointed out, “Everyone I know already thinks I’m dead thanks to you and your people. Well, except Pet and my son,” she added dryly. “Are you suggesting Pet hired someone to blow up the plane?”

Lucian shook his head and glanced at Jet. “What about you?”

He shook his head at once. “Not that I know of.”

Lucian nodded as if that was what he’d expected, and then announced to the room at large, “Until we figure out which person on the plane was the target, everyone who was on it will have to be under a protective detail.”

“Kira already has her own guard,” Anders pointed out, and the comment made Quinn frown slightly as she wondered why the woman had bodyguards that traveled with her. She hadn’t realized the women accompanying the blonde Russian were her guard at first. She’d just thought them a group of females traveling together. Now she wondered why Kira would need protection. She was immortal, after all, and able to take care of herself.

She’d have to ask Jet later, Quinn thought as Bricker commented, “Yeah, she does, and I doubt she will be happy to have our people added to it.”

“I am sure you are right, but I want a tail on her, watching for trouble, until this is over anyway,” Lucian said grimly. “Mortimer can assign one of you to partner her until then too. An extra pair of eyes when she’s working cannot hurt.”

“And Jet and Quinn?” Anders asked.

Quinn scowled at the dark-skinned man sharply for dragging Lucian’s attention back to them, and then shifted her gaze to Lucian as he said, “I want full-time protection on both of them. Keep them together. At the Enforcer house is probably best. It will take less manpower. I also want—”

“Wait a minute,” Quinn protested. “I have a room booked at the Four Seasons.”

“And I have flights that I’m scheduled to pilot,” Jet pointed out.

Lucian scowled at Quinn for interrupting and said, “Then Mortimer will unbook your room.” Turning to Jet, he added, “And Bastien shall reschedule your flights to someone else. You two are now under protection.”

“Prisoners again, you mean,” Quinn said resentfully, seeing the possibility of finally making love to Jet in Toronto crumbling before her eyes.

Ignoring her, Lucian turned to the others and said, “Dante and Mary will ride back to Toronto with Jet and Quinn. But I will need someone to fly to Italy to survey the security tapes. Whoever tampered with the plane may have been caught by the security cameras either inside the hangar or out.”

“The bombs could have been placed on the plane in Russia,” Jet pointed out. “That was our first stop before Italy and we were there awhile to refuel.”

“Yes,” Lucian agreed with a frown. “I’ll contact Kira’s father. He can have his people check the security footage there.”

“He might refuse the suggestion purely because you made it,” Anders pointed out.

Lucian shook his head at once. “Not when this might have something to do with an assassination attempt on Kira. The man is an asshole, but he does care for his daughter.”

Anders nodded, and then all conversation paused and everyone glanced to the door when it opened and Mary bustled in carrying half a dozen bags with KFC on the side.

“Food!” Bricker said gleefully, bounding off the bed and rushing forward to help Mary.

But she turned sideways and scooted around him, saying, “There are pizzas out in the SUV. I couldn’t carry everything.”

“On it,” Bricker said, heading for the door.

“Thank you for seeing to food for us, Mary,” Lucian said, stepping aside so that she could set the bags on the kitchenette counter. “You’ll have to take yours to go. The plane is here and I’d like you and Dante to escort Jet and Quinn back to Toronto. Immediately.”

“Okeydokey,” she said easily, starting to go through the bags and selecting various items from them to make a meal for the four of them.

“Where is your suitcase, tresoro?” Dante asked, stepping up behind his wife and clasping her hips as he bent to press a kiss to the top of her head. “I will put it in the SUV.”

“It’s already there,” she assured him, and then turned to hand him the bag she’d packed with food. “So is yours. The only thing we need now are Jet, Quinn, and their things.”

Quinn set her coffee cup on the counter and moved over to the head of the bed to collect the bag that held her dirty clothes and the items Mary had supplied for her. She’d set it on the floor next to the bed she’d been sitting on. When she straightened, Jet was there taking it from her, his jacket already in hand.

“I’ll take this and go grab my bag and put them both in the SUV while you put your shoes on,” he said, and then seemed to hesitate, as if he wanted to kiss her or something, but in the end he merely smiled and turned to hurry out of the room.

She watched him go, then bent to pick up her shoes and sat on the bed to put them on.

“Does she need blood before you go?” Lucian asked suddenly.

Quinn glanced up with annoyance over his asking Mary rather than her. She wasn’t a child, and detested being treated like one.

“She should be fine,” Mary told him. “I gave her four bags when she got here and there’s blood on the plane.”

Lucian grunted at that and turned to the food on the counter.

Shaking her head, Quinn stood and headed out of the room, more than happy to escape the bossy man who seemed to like to interfere in her life. She’d been furious when she’d come out of the turn and found out that he’d arranged it so that everyone thought she was dead. Now she was pissed at him again for this business of her and Jet having to stay at the Enforcer house indefinitely. Aside from disliking being treated like a child, his decision put a spanner in the plans she and Jet had had for getting together once they reached Toronto. On top of that, she’d had other plans for her stay in the Canadian city that she now couldn’t pursue. Chief among them was seeing Dr. Gregory Hewitt so she could get her life back in order. Unless he made house calls, she would have to wait on that.

Originally, Quinn had only made the appointment and arranged to fly back to Toronto to please Pet. Distracted with “new life mate brain,” her twin sister hadn’t really seemed to notice the state Quinn was in the first two years. Pet had only started to pick up on it the last two years as she’d begun to regain a little control of her hormones and her brain cells. At least Quinn presumed that was the case, because that was when Pet had started trying to gently broach the subject of her state of mind, how she was living in isolation, and really pushing for her to attend family gatherings with her, Santo, and Parker. But Quinn hadn’t been ready to go anywhere, and had ignored her fretful lectures until Pet had finally lost it on her and told her flat out that she was messed up and likely to mess up Parker if she didn’t get her shit together and get help.

That had upset Quinn. She loved Parker, and while she didn’t understand why her not wanting to go out would mess up her son, she had caved in under the fear of it happening. Basically, she’d made the appointment with Gregory Hewitt under duress at first, but she’d quickly come to realize that it was a good idea. Aside from not wanting to damage her son . . . well, quite frankly, Quinn didn’t want to continue to live the way she was. But she knew she couldn’t fix things alone. She needed counseling, and Lucian was putting a spanner in her efforts to get it.

The bastard, she thought resentfully as she crossed the parking lot to the SUV where Jet was loading their bags into the back. Well, she wasn’t going to let that happen. She’d have to find some way to get the help she needed despite Lucian Argeneau’s dictates.