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He’d never worked as a bodyguard with the intent of staying as far away as possible from the client before, but Quinn was up to the challenge this time.
Whenever his traitorous thoughts had started to conjure up Abby Porter’s smile or her laugh, all Quinn had to do was squelch them by recalling the phone conversation he’d overheard through the cabin window. A glimpse into the woman’s true nature. She was like so many of the people who’d hired him when he was with Hamlin. Sweet and personable as long as everything went their way. Ready to use the weight of their name and bank account number when it didn’t. Like Serena Raynes.
Quinn’s stomach rumbled suddenly, chiding him for turning down Abby’s offer to cook for him. He ignored it. There was nothing wrong with a good old-fashioned can of sodium-saturated broth with pieces of mystery meat floating in it.
He stopped short as he entered the kitchen. And then looked around to make sure he hadn’t walked into the wrong cabin by mistake. Nope. The canvas duffel bag containing his clothes was on the floor where he’d left it; flannel shirt tossed over the back of the sofa.
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