Chapter 1

CHAPTER1

Present Day

Haven Technologies Building

Florida

“They never get enough jelly donuts,” came the sadly mumbled words as the small, plump woman wearing a name tag with “Security” written in bright pink magic marker along with a smiley face stared helplessly down at the box of donuts on her lap as Quinn shifted his focus to the receptionist shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth as she stared down at her iPad before he decided that he’d seen enough.

“I’m here to see Miss Thompson,” Quinn said, taking in the old candy factory that had been turned into the offices for Haven Technologies, from the original bricks to the large freight elevator in the corner and all the modern technology that had been tastefully blended in before shifting his focus back to the receptionist that was still staring down at her iPad.

“Miss Thompson doesn’t see anyone,” she said, not bothering to look up as she shoved another handful of popcorn in her mouth.

“She’s expecting me,” Quinn said, even as he couldn’t help but wonder why he let Tristan talk him into taking this job.

“A woman that doesn’t see anyone is expecting you?” she asked, sounding bored as she shifted to get more comfortable in her chair.

“Yes,” Quinn said before asking, “Are you going to let her know that I’m here?”

“No, but what I will do is call security,” she said as Quinn glanced over his shoulder at the small, plump woman sitting by the door to find her swallowing hard as she whispered, “Please don’t make her call security.”

Sighing heavily, Quinn returned his attention to the woman determined to ignore him and reached over the counter and grabbed her iPad. Ignoring her outraged gasp, Quinn said, “Call Miss Thompson and tell her that Quinn Jackson is here to see her.”

“My iPad…” the secretary mumbled sadly as she watched Quinn turn it off and place it on the counter.

“Call her,” Quinn said more firmly as he stared her down.

Nodding, she kept her glare locked with his as she said, “Pam.”

“Oh, God, no…” came the weakly murmured response from behind him.

“Take care of him,” the receptionist said smugly as Quinn slowly turned his head to find Pam standing behind him, gesturing weakly towards the glass doors as she opened her mouth to say something only to think better of it, close it, swallow, clear her throat, and make a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she finally managed to get out only to immediately follow that up with a mumbled, “Please don’t kill me,” as she looked up at him, her gaze locking on the scar above his eyebrow.

“Is Miss Thompson upstairs?” Quinn asked with a pointed look at the freight elevator to his right.

“No?” Pam mumbled weakly as she began worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she sent a pleading look at the receptionist, who was now gesturing for Pam to get on with it.

“And if I decide to go have a look to find out for myself?” he asked, watching as she began wringing her hands together.

“Please don’t do that,” she mumbled weakly.

Nodding, Quinn gestured towards the elevator as he said, “Let’s go find her.”

“Let’s not,” Pam said, shaking her head frantically.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Quinn said as he made his way to the elevator and pressed the call button as the two women began frantically whispering behind him.

“I really can’t let you do that,” Pam said, sounding panicked as Quinn pushed the gate open and stepped into the elevator.

“Which is why you’re coming with me,” Quinn said, gesturing for her to join him.

“I’d really rather not have to do that either,” Pam mumbled weakly, only to throw a pleading look at the receptionist to find her on the phone and-

“They’re expecting you upstairs,” came the annoyed announcement as she gestured for the small woman that looked even more panicked for some reason, to go with him.

“Thank you,” Quinn murmured absently as he took note of the selection of call buttons in the elevator: Lobby, Test Floor, Offices, and Private: Please Don’t Press.

Curious, Quinn pressed the last button to see where it would take him as Pam reluctantly joined him and-

“Wait. What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Finding out why I was hired,” Quinn said as the elevator slowly began its assent, carrying them past the second floor and the sounds of video games before slowly bringing them past the third floor and the sounds of an Indiana Jones movie playing as he took in the open floorplan, the people walking around, lounging on couches, and playing table tennis until finally, they arrived at their destination.

“She’s not going to like this,” Pam mumbled as the elevator came to a stop.

“Tell me about Miss Thompson,” Quinn said, shoving the elevator gate open and took in the large apartment loft, noting everything from the clothes thrown over the back of the leather couch that sectioned off the living room area to the kitchen counters covered in cereal boxes, cookies, and empty fast-food bags before shifting his attention to the large window overlooking the fire escape that had been left open before he pulled the gate back into place and pressed the button for the third floor.

When he realized that she hadn’t answered him, Quinn looked over to find the small woman standing there with her lips firmly pressed together. “Not going to tell me?”

After a slight hesitation, Pam shook her head.

Nodding, he absently noted that Miss Thompson’s employees were loyal. That was something at least, Quinn thought as he shoved the gate open and found himself watching as a meticulously dressed man in his late twenties headed their way with a warm smile. “You must be Mr. Jackson.”

“And you are…” Quinn drawled as he stepped off the elevator and took in the busy floor, noting that no one else seemed to have noticed him yet.

“Sorry. I’m Nathan. I’m the one that called Tristan for help,” the man with the warm smile said as his gaze flickered to Pam, who was still cowering in the elevator.

“I-I don’t know how he got past me,” she mumbled even as she reached over and frantically hit the button for the lobby.

“Luck,” Quinn said dryly as he took in the large room, his gaze moving from the only sectioned-off office on the far side of the room to the open kitchen to his left and found himself looking for the mystery woman that had his best friend calling him at two in the morning and calling in every favor he owed him. “You want to tell me why I’m here?”

“Tristan didn’t tell you?”

“He didn’t get a chance,” Quinn said, still wondering what was so special about this job that had Tristan breaking his own rules by having him take this job without any information. The only thing that he knew was that Miss Thompson was the CEO and founder of Haven Technologies, wealthy, and needed protection.

It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start.

“We should talk in my-” Nathan began to say, only to sigh when his name was called over the intercom. “I’m sorry. I have to take this call. Why don’t you help yourself to a cup of coffee while you wait?” Nathan said, gesturing to the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Quinn murmured, deciding that this was a good time to learn everything that he could about Miss Thompson.

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” Nathan said with a nod of thanks as he quickly made his way across the large room.

Nodding absently, Quinn walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and-

“Is that coffee?” came the hopeful question that had Quinn looking up only to find himself nodding dumbly as he took in the woman that had completely fucked him over once upon a time, licking her lips nervously as she glanced from the cup in his hands to send a nervous glance over her shoulder before focusing back on the coffee with an unholy gleam in her eye.

“Do you want some?” Quinn asked, waiting for the moment when she realized that he’d finally found her.

“Can, ummm, can I have sugar?” Bailey Smith, the woman that he’d waited fifteen years to make pay for what she did, asked as she shot another nervous glance over her shoulder as he stood there, running his eyes over her, taking in all the changes that the years had brought. She was taller than he remembered, but not by much. Her hair was still the same beautiful caramel color that he remembered, her blue eyes were somehow brighter, she’d filled out in all the right places, and she was still unbelievably fucking adorable, he thought as his gaze dropped to the light scars marring her wrist to make sure that it was really her and when he saw them...

“Anything else?” Quinn asked as his gaze shifted to the small sugar bowl on the counter and added a spoonful of sugar.

“Two scoops. No, make that three,” Bailey whispered as he added two more scoops while he stood there, thinking of all those things that he’d planned to say to her if he ever saw her again.

Because of her, he’d missed his flight and got his ass chewed out by his recruiter, and once he finally made it to boot camp two days later because he’d stupidly gone looking for her to make sure that she was safe, his drill sergeant decided to make an example of him. For the next three months, he’d thought about her during all those extra miles that he’d been forced to run with a full pack on in ninety-degree weather, the pushups that he did morning, noon, and night when he wasn’t peeling potatoes, scrubbing toilets, or wishing that he’d never helped the little brat in the first place.

“Thanks!” the woman that still hadn’t looked at him said with a grateful smile as she took the coffee from him and-

“Oh, God, no…” came the horrified murmur that had Quinn turning his head to see who’d spoken, only to frown when Bailey wrapped her hands tightly around the coffee cup and tilted it back, gulping down the hot liquid as fast as she could when a woman was suddenly there, trying to wrestle the cup away from the little brat.

“It’s mine!” Bailey cried, hugging the cup against her chest as she tried to make a run for it, but unfortunately for her, the other woman was faster.

“What’s going on?” someone asked.

“He gave her caffeine!” the woman currently trying to wrestle the cup of coffee away from Bailey snapped.

“Shit!”

“How much did she drink?” came the frantic question that had Quinn frowning while he watched as several people suddenly flooded the kitchen and grabbed hold of Bailey, who was really fucking determined to finish off the rest of that coffee, and took her to the floor where she squirmed, grumbled, and wiggled all while trying to get her hands back on that cup of coffee.

“Enough!” came the answer that elicited more groans while Quinn stood there, shaking his head in wonder as several more people joined them and-

“Ow! She bit me!”

-had him deciding that he’d had enough as he reached down and pulled the little brat free, deciding that it was time that they finally had that talk.