Testing the Limits

2

GOD, HE WANTED to touch her. Pull her into his arms and just bury his face in the soft cloud of brown-blond hair. The scent of her, something so sweet and tempting, filled his lungs.

He’d spent the past two years trying to keep some space between them, honor Michael’s memory and control his damn body whenever Quinn got close.

It killed him, trying to pretend he didn’t want his brother’s fiancée and had since long before Michael died.

That realization just added to the pile of guilt he already carried around with him, a permanent weight settled across his shoulders.

He tried to tell himself it was nothing more than a physical response. What man wouldn’t want Quinn Keller? She was gorgeous in an effortless, understated way. She was real, not bothering with the pretense that other women in their late twenties seemed to need—lots of make-up, flashy clothes, jewelry and heels.

She didn’t waste her time at expensive salons. Why would she when her chestnut hair had natural blond highlights, the kind women spent a fortune to get? Most of the time she kept it up in a bun or a ponytail, but he’d seen it down a few times over the years. And those memories...those were the ones that starred in his midnight fantasies.

Hair tangled in a mess down her naked back. His hands buried deep in the thick strands, holding her still as he claimed her mouth and made them both breathless.

The intriguing caramel color of her eyes. The way they flashed with flecks of gold when she was angry, impassioned...or heartbroken.

But it was her skin that really tormented him. So pale. So soft. And covered with freckles that gave her the illusion of being younger than she actually was.

If it weren’t for her large, pouty mouth she’d probably come off innocent as a nun. That mouth...

Jace stared down at her, unable to do anything but watch as her lips moved. The familiar burn seared across his skin. It settled into his gut, caustic and poisonous.

He couldn’t have her. He couldn’t touch her.

She was not his.

But, God, he wanted her.

When she was this close, it was so damn hard to remember why he needed to keep his distance.

He leaned closer. The warmth of her body slipped out to touch him, as surely as any caress. He was cold. Had been for a very long time. And while he knew the torture that awaited him when this moment was over, he couldn’t stop himself from taking and absorbing whatever he could for now.

The numbing pain and guilt would be back soon enough.

The relief Quinn always gave him was bittersweet. Amazing while he had it. But the crash back into darkness seemed to get exponentially more painful with each encounter.

“Jace, are you listening?”

Her soft voice cut through the fog. Jace curled his hands into fists and forced himself to think about something else. The MMA fight that was coming up tomorrow night. The one he’d been training months for.

He flexed his fingers before curling them tight again. Imagined his knuckles split and bleeding. The relief of a pain he could see, feel, understand and combat...unlike the constant ache he’d been unsuccessfully battling for the past two years.

Taking a step backward, Jace put distance between them. Quinn frowned, her eyes flashing with disappointment and hurt, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. He could either do this or something they’d both regret.

Quinn was the last connection he had to Michael, outside of his family, and as much as being around her was personal torture, he couldn’t give that up.

He couldn’t give her up.

“I’m sorry, Quinn. It’s been a long day.”

He’d taken a couple weeks’ leave, not because he particularly cared about time off, but so he could prepare for this fight...and recover when it was over. He’d been at the gym at four this morning and spent ten hours punishing his body in preparation.

He needed these nights, for his sanity. Even if his doctors had warned him about the dangers of participating in such a high-contact sport.

He missed the physical tests and mental challenges of combat. The thrill and adrenaline high he got from pushing his body and mind past their limits. Since he couldn’t go into combat anymore, he’d found a substitute—amateur mixed martial arts.

No one in his life was particularly happy that he was doing it—especially his mother. But he craved this outlet. So most of the time he didn’t bother telling anyone about a fight until it was already done.

What his mom didn’t know about, she didn’t have to obsessively worry over.

Quinn tried to close the gap between them, compassion and concern clouding her beautiful eyes. Jace countered her move by taking another step back.

Her mouth flattened, and a deep sigh slipped through her lush lips.

“Never mind.” She turned away, heading down the hall.

A band tightened across his chest. Before he could stop and think he shot after her. Hand wrapped around her arm, he steered her back around to face him.

“Tell me.”

She shook her head. His grip on her arm tightened.

“Fine. Daniel sent me home because the husband of a woman I placed in a safe house last night came by the office and made some threats.”

Jace growled low in the back of his throat. The sound was out before he contemplated making it.

“What kind of threats?”

Placing her hand on his, Quinn gently pried his fingers loose. Jace glanced down and saw the faint pink marks he’d left on her pale skin. He tried to jerk his hand away, but she refused to let go.

“Nothing concrete. He threatened to pull funding for some of our programs.”

“Does he have that kind of influence?”

She frowned, a tiny pucker pulling at the space between her eyes. “Unfortunately.”

“But why would Daniel send you home over something like that?”

Quinn’s gaze dropped to the floor between them. Heat slowly crept up her skin. She directed her words down, as if she could bury them there. “I may have lost my temper and thrown a coffee mug.”

He made a choked sound, biting back a response that was equal parts shock, exasperation and laughter.

Only Quinn.

“Please tell me it wasn’t aimed at his head.”

“Nope, he was already gone.”

Thank God for small favors. Jace didn’t want to think what the guy’s reaction might have been if she’d hit a man who was clearly comfortable with beating his own wife.

“So he didn’t send you home because he was worried?”

“No, Daniel was plenty worried. Everett Warren is ruthless and cold.”

“Everett Warren?” Jace asked, his voice grim. Everyone in town knew the man, although not everyone realized just how crooked he really was.

The only reason Jace knew was because some of the guys he trained with worked for Warren, and not in his fancy office building.

While he didn’t have details, he knew enough to be wary.

And now Quinn was on the guy’s radar. Not just that, but she was standing between him and his wife.

An uncomfortable knot tightened in his belly.

“I don’t like this, Quinn.”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly thrilled with it myself. Caroline’s told me enough, but until I can convince her to talk to the police there’s not much I can do. Except make sure he can’t get to her.”

That wasn’t what he meant.

“You need to be careful. Warren isn’t the kind of man you mess with.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“Maybe you should be. He obviously hurt his wife so he’s more than capable of hurting you.”

Quinn shrugged, dismissing the threat as if it didn’t even exist. That only made Jace’s teeth clench harder. God, she was stubborn.

“Caroline was a convenient target. I’m not.”

Apparently, they had different definitions for convenient. It wasn’t as if Quinn was hiding. She’d be easy enough to find, especially for someone with Warren’s network of connections.

Over the years, Jace had seen his fair share of just how nasty the world could be. Hell, he had the reminder tattooed on his skin, the image of a burning helicopter crashing behind them as he and a buddy pulled another soldier out. He’d gone to bed plenty of nights with grisly memories invading his brain and dreams. War was hell, and there were a plethora of monsters in the world, not just confined to children’s stories.

Apparently sensing his agitation, Quinn moved closer. Laying a hand on his arm, she tipped her head back and looked up at him. Those pale brown eyes were so sincere. So open and trusting.

Too trusting.

“Warren is too intelligent to come after me. Right now his wife is reluctant to press charges, but I won’t hesitate and he knows that. He has too much to lose.”

He hated to burst her naive little bubble, but someone had to do it. “That’s assuming he leaves you in a condition where charges are an option.”

The dismissive sound through Quinn’s throat did little to dispel his concern.

“He’s mean, not stupid. Coldblooded murder is a far cry from backhanding his wife.”

“Not that far,” Jace muttered.

“Besides, at the moment his public image is safe, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. He strikes me as the kind all wrapped up in appearances. He’s worked hard to project the idea of an affluent, influential, clean business man.”

Something dark crossed her face, a combination of anger and loathing. “He made damn sure to mark Caroline only where no one else would see.” Her soft eyes rose to his, churning and resolute. “The bruises are bad enough. But she has burn scars across her stomach. And faint lines I’m almost sure are from him cutting her.”

Spinning away, Jace shoved a hand through his hair. It was either that or slam it into the wall and he didn’t want to have to repair the drywall. “You aren’t helping me feel better here, Quinn.”

“No, he’s methodical and calculating. Polished and perfect. Yes, he’s angry he lost his toy—”

“You took her and know exactly where he can find her.”

“—but coming after me will only make matters worse. He isn’t going to do that. He was throwing his weight around this afternoon because he could. Bluffing in the hope that I’d cave. That’s all. If anything, I expect him to call in favors from some well-placed friends to put pressure on Daniel.”

“Daniel won’t give in.” It wasn’t a question. He’d been listening to Quinn talk about her job—and her boss—for two years. He’d gleaned several things, including that Daniel was a decent, upstanding guy who cared a great deal about the work they did and the people they helped.

But that didn’t make this any less of a clusterfuck. He’d always worried about Quinn’s job. She dealt with terrible things all day long—the emotionally draining, permanently scarring kind—and he didn’t want that for her.

Unfortunately, she had a soft heart and a will of steel and wouldn’t listen to anyone suggesting she find another way to make a living.

Her parents had fostered kids...at least, until the car accident that had killed them both. She’d grown up dealing with these kinds of horror stories. It was natural that she’d want to continue their work. And she was good at it.

Tomorrow he was going to pay Daniel a little visit, find out what he was doing to protect her.

Although, he was smart enough to keep that plan to himself. Quinn would just try to talk him out of it and there was no reason to fight her on it...yet.

* * *

“THIS IS ABSURD.” Quinn blew a frustrated breath out of her mouth.

“You’re the only one who thinks so,” Daniel said.

Behind him, Jace had his arms crossed over that damn ripped chest. He tried to hide the smug smile teasing the corners of his mouth, but he couldn’t quite pull it off.

She wanted to be angry with him for interfering, and she was pretty irked, but she knew he was only doing this because he was worried about her.

What pissed her off more was that he’d done an end run around her, going to Daniel behind her back. She could fight Jace, but not him and her boss.

Frustration and irritation buzzed through her brain. She felt the familiar rise of emotions, like a relentless high tide trying to erode her better intentions. Sure, she could let loose and spew anger all over Daniel and Jace, but that would just make her feel like a jerk.

“I don’t have time to deal with this, Daniel, and you know it. My caseload is towering over me as it is.”

“No one is asking you to ignore your work, Quinn. There are enough people in the office that you should be fine. We’re more concerned with you being home alone at night.”

She could see their point. The problem was that their solution was more likely to cause problems than the man they were afraid of.

“I will not be chased out of my own home. Especially not without a creditable threat.”

Jace grunted, calling into question her statement with very little effort. She glared at him. He simply stared back, his clear blue eyes unwavering, until she couldn’t take the direct connection and had to look away.

At least she managed not to blush. Her pale, freckle-ridden skin was a curse.

This was stupid and pointless. But she’d already said that once, and they’d responded with the verbal equivalent of a pat on the head. Frustrating.

“I’ll be staying with Quinn.”

“You’ll be what?” Quinn squeaked. “Don’t you have, I don’t know, a job?” she asked, her voice full of sarcasm.

Jace’s mouth, already austere on a good day, pulled down into a frown. The dark line of his brows slammed together over a glare. No doubt the intimidating look was exactly what he used to keep the soldiers he trained in line.

Quinn had a feeling those men, given that expression, would jump to do whatever Jace Hyland wanted...right after wetting themselves. And it wasn’t like Jace trained wussies. He had the best of the best, the strongest of the strong and the most masculine of the masculine under his command.

“I’ve taken some leave.”

Okay, before she’d been miffed. Now she was royally pissed. “Because of this? Because of me?” God, she was going to hurt Warren—and then possibly Jace. This was getting blown out of proportion. Big time.

“No. I had this time off scheduled already for another reason.”

Well, wasn’t that just great. Why didn’t that make her feel any better?

The man was on vacation—probably the first one he’d taken in two years—and he was sitting here preparing to babysit her as if she was a shaky-legged toddler.

“Why the hell aren’t you on a sandy beach somewhere, then?”

He sucked in a breath. Quinn watched his chest expand and hold. She counted in her head, up to almost ninety before he let the breath go with a quiet rush that she felt deep inside.

“Not much on sand these days,” he said quietly.

And Quinn immediately regretted her outburst. Who was she to tell the man how to relax? Her problem was, she wasn’t sure Jace understood the definition of the word.

And if anyone deserved a chance to unwind and shed responsibilities, it was Jace. But that was a discussion for another time.

What she had to deal with right now was the threat of him moving into her home. It was hard enough to keep her mind where it belonged when he was in the middle of her office. Running into him in the hallway late at night? Quinn wasn’t sure she’d survive the experience.

Not without embarrassing them both.

“There’s nothing more important than this. I made a promise, one I intend to keep. Michael would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

How was she supposed to counter that? Especially when his personal crusade was championed by a ghost. If she refused and, God forbid, something did happen to her, Jace would carry that guilt around with him for the rest of his life. He was weighed down with too much of that as it was.

This situation was spiraling out of control so quickly Quinn couldn’t find a single slippery thread to grab so she could try to hold it all together.

Jace pinned her with his gaze. Her heart fluttered and a pressure settled right in the middle of her chest. He held her eyes for several seconds before saying in a low, fluid voice, “Humor me.”

It wasn’t a request, but he waited for her response anyway. And for some reason, her ability to argue simply fled. She couldn’t deny him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Realizing her mouth had gone dry, Quinn simply nodded.

Aw, hell, what had she just gotten herself into?

3

“I COULD JUST stay here,” Quinn suggested, despite knowing it wasn’t going to happen.

Jace didn’t even bother answering. He flashed her a cutting look and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. Not very patiently.

A black bag sat on the floor beside him. His foot tapped, a staccato against the cool tile.

She’d discovered the reason he’d had leave scheduled. And she didn’t like it. And really didn’t want to go. Attending an MMA fight was more her idea of torture than entertainment. She’d never understood the draw, for men or women.

Brutality was something she fought against. And these men—Jace included—were embracing it. Training for it. Seeking it out.

She didn’t understand and really didn’t want to.

They’d been arguing for the past twenty minutes, though. It had taken her under five to realize Jace wasn’t budging. She’d continued in the hope that eventually she’d make him late enough that he’d either leave her behind or, preferably, skip the thing entirely.

“In about thirty seconds I’m going to put you in the car myself. Stop stalling.”

Or not.

With a resigned sigh, Quinn grabbed her purse and slung it diagonally across her chest.

The drive out was silent. A part of her was grateful for the residual irritation oozing between them and the distraction it provided. Inside her own head, she continued the argument, knowing it was about as productive as actually speaking the words out loud. But maybe her mental rant would drain the emotion away.

They pulled into a dark parking lot filled with cars and trucks of every make, model and price point. Jace’s fingers brushed against her hip as he reached down and clicked open her seat belt.

Smacking his hands away, she snapped, “I can take care of myself, Jace.”

Or maybe the brooding was just feeding into her already crappy mood.

He blew out a grim breath. Exiting, he went to stand at the hood of the car. Bag slung over one shoulder, his wide, hard back to her, he waited. Even in the early summer, it was already late enough to be full dark. Harsh light from a car in the spot three spaces over slashed across his forbidding body.

His silence said more than any words could have. And for some reason, Quinn had the urge to reach out and run a soothing hand over his tense shoulders.

Grinding her teeth, she fought back the instinct. Touching him always seemed to backfire on her, sending an unwanted tingle of awareness rushing through her body. Better to keep her hands to herself.

So, instead, she walked past him toward the rectangle of light spilling out into the night from the two huge doors propped wide open. Noise poured out, along with shouting, laughter and music. Apparently the fighting had started and there was already a match going.

She’d barely gotten through the doors when Jace’s hand wrapped around her upper arm. Urging her forward, he directed her through the crowd, oblivious to the dirty stares that followed in their wake.

The dull roar of noise was a constant assault on her eardrums. Pulling her to a halt off to the left of the huge circular cage sitting in the middle of the room, Jace leaned down to speak into a guy’s ear. The man, several inches shorter than Jace, flicked a quick gaze over his shoulder at her and nodded.

The man’s eyes roamed up and down her body, not in a sexual way, but assessing. As if he was finally getting a look at a piece of artwork he’d been hearing about for years and was trying to decide if the hype was warranted.

Stepping away from the other man, Jace bent down to yell into her ear. She tried to ignore the soft puff of air against her skin and the tingle that chased behind it.

“Stay here. If you need anything tell Axe.” He threw a glance over his shoulder at the guy still watching them. What kind of name was Axe? “Do not wander off, Quinn.”

She huffed out a breath. Where the hell was she going to go?

“I’m serious.”

Oh, she had no doubt he was. Having had just about enough of his overbearing, big-brother act, Quinn reached up, snagged the delicate edge of his ear and twisted until he brought it close to her mouth.

She didn’t miss the way his lips twitched with suppressed humor. Or the wide grin stretching Axe’s face. That did not help her mood. Okay, so maybe she pinched a little harder than she needed to. Part of her relished Jace’s sudden intake of breath. The rest of her just regretted losing her patience and letting her emotions rule her actions.

“I doubt Warren decided to attend a local MMA fight on the off chance my self-appointed bodyguard—who he knows nothing about—was on the ticket tonight. I’ll be fine.”

She just wanted this to be over.

“Warren isn’t the only threat, not here. There are plenty of dangerous men walking around tonight.”

As if to punctuate his point, the heavy thud of bodies bounced against the metal of the cage a few feet away.

Quinn winced, recoiling out of instinct. Jace stood his ground, his only reaction a puckered frown.

The sickening sound of flesh connecting with flesh rang out, along with low male grunts. Quinn’s gaze found the two men, tied together in a pretzel of arms and legs against the matted floor, as they tried to rip each other apart and force a submission.

Her stomach roiled. Blood trickled down the left side of one man’s face. One guy squirmed uselessly against the hold of the other, his expression contorted with a combination of pain and resolve.

She had to look away from the spectacle, and was just in time to see Jace slip through a door several feet away. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized he’d walked away. For some reason, it bothered her that he hadn’t said anything before leaving her here, in the middle of all the bloodlust.