10. Chapter 10

10

" M ackie's going to be devastated," Cleo whispered.

Quinn shifted in his seat and picked obsessively at his nails. They sat at the table, waiting for Mackie to arrive. He had spent the weekend going back and forth over his decision, and each time he remembered the look in Zane's eyes.

The worry, the pleading, the promise to hurt Mackie if Quinn didn't remove him.

He thought about how Zane had held his face and how he'd leaned into the touch.

"He just didn't fit the criteria."

It was a lie, one that tasted particularly bitter.

Cleo eyed him. "You sure?"

"Yeah…"

Mackie bounded into the room, all smiles again, then froze at the sight of Cleo sat at the table beside Quinn.

"Take a seat," Quinn said.

Mackie didn't move his eyes from Cleo as he sat opposite Quinn. "Am I in some sort of trouble?"

"No, no trouble." Quinn curled his toes. "There's no easy way of saying it, but I'm removing you from the study."

Mackie blinked, and Quinn readied himself in case he launched across the table. Instead, Mackie shrank in his chair and frowned. A few tense seconds passed, and Quinn waited patiently for Mackie's response, heart creeping its way into his throat.

"What did I do wrong?" Mackie whispered.

His voice was small. Quinn hated himself.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Quinn winced. "It's my fault. You didn't fit the criteria to continue."

"You said I was doing well."

"You did great. It's just one of those things," Quinn said. "But I really enjoyed our time together. You were, by far, the most enthusiastic participant I've ever had."

Mackie lifted his head, and Quinn's stomach tightened when he saw tears in his eyes. He braced himself for a barrage of abuse or for Mackie to throw a fist, but he grinned and held out his hand.

Quinn stared, unsure whether to shake it, but Cleo elbowed him in the ribs, and he responded, grasping a tight hold of Mackie.

"Thanks so much for the talks, Quinn." Mackie beamed. "And thanks for putting me first. I'm going to miss these sessions, but I always knew they would come to an end one day."

Quinn swallowed and nodded. "I'm going to miss them too."

"If you ever need a participant for something else. I'm your man."

Quinn nodded. "You'll be the first man I turn to."

Mackie shot a watery-eyed smile to Cleo, then left the room. His slow steps echoed in the corridor, and then the gate at the end clunked.

"That went better than I was expecting," Cleo muttered.

"Me too. What did you think would happen?"

"Crying, lots of it. I thought that's why you asked me along, so I could hug him."

"No, I asked you in case he got nasty."

Cleo lifted her eyebrow. "Mackie? He's a sweetheart."

"Apart from burning his dad's face off…"

"Well yeah, but that was outside of here. He's been the perfect prisoner, polite, helpful. He wouldn't hurt a fly. In fact, he got quite distressed when a moth flew into the fly zapper…"

Quinn sank back down on his chair and closed his eyes. He had been expecting Mackie to yell, to demand more sessions, or threaten him. He had his hand ready on the table to thump the big red button, but he hadn't needed it.

Mackie had thanked him and smiled warmly as they shook hands.

"So who have you got later?"

"Harris."

Cleo shivered. "I'd rather spend an hour with Mackie than Harris any day. Harris gives me the creeps."

Quinn dropped his head into his hands. He couldn't help feeling like he had made a mistake.

Friday arrived, and Zane strolled into the office wearing his tight T-shirt that showed off his ripped body. His hair was styled to perfection, and he smiled as he slid into the chair opposite.

The grin on his face crinkled his eyes and reminded Quinn of a cunning fox.

He looked pleased, too pleased.

"I'm glad you trusted me and got rid of Mackie."

Quinn's gut twisted into knots.

"How did he take it?" Zane asked.

"Better than I thought he would."

Zane shrugged. "Looks like I'm number one now."

The words hung between them.

And for the second time during one of the sessions, Quinn's blood ran cold.

"What are we talking about today?" Zane asked.

"Huh?"

"Today. The study."

"Oh." Quinn looked down at his papers to remind himself. "I want to ask you about work relationships, business."

"Okay, fire away."

"You took over one of your dad's companies at a young age?"

"Yeah."

"Did you feel pressured to do well?"

Zane flexed his face and turned away. "Not really. My colleagues saw me as a weak link, but I soon proved them wrong."

"How?"

"I lured them in with a na?ve fa?ade, then stabbed them in the back."

"You sound almost proud."

"It's business. It's all about confidence, forging relationships, then tearing them down at your convenience. It's a ladder, and we're all trying to get to the top of it, but there isn't room for everyone."

"Your work colleagues described you as two-faced."

Zane laughed lightly and tipped his head back. "I'm sure they used stronger words than that, but yeah. Not just two faces, but many more. You have to use the right face for the right moment to get what you want."

"Would you describe yourself as untrustworthy?"

"Yes."

"Manipulative?"

"I can be if the need arises."

"You do what you've got to do to get to the top of the ladder and kick everyone else down on your way up there?"

Zane held up his hands. "That's business."

"What was the end goal?"

"Make my dad proud, prove I could be who he wanted me to be, and I achieved that."

"Power can be addicting."

"It can."

"Do you think you were addicted to it?"

Zane shrugged. "I like being in control. Of business, money, fast cars, conversation, sex. It's always more fulfilling to be the one in charge."

Quinn noted down Zane's words, then looked up.

"It must be hard being in here then, the lack of control."

"I'm more in control than you think," Zane murmured.

Zane's eyes were dark and froze Quinn in his seat.

"Z—Zane?"

"How did Mackie react, really?"

Quinn frowned. "I told you, better than I'd thought he would."

"But how?"

"He got quiet, upset, then he smiled at me. He shook my hand and thanked me for my time."

Zane shook his head. "It doesn't make sense."

"Are you disappointed he didn't smash my face in all over the desk?"

"Of course not, but I expected some kind of protest from him." He shuddered. "It's got me edgy."

"That you couldn't perfectly predict someone else's behaviour?"

"Well…yeah."

Quinn gripped the back of his neck, squeezing the tense muscles, "Well, Mackie wasn't angry, and he didn't hurt me, and I can't help feeling…"

"Feeling?"

"That I've made a mistake. I've let you kick Mackie down the ladder."

Zane narrowed his eyes. "It's not the same, and you know it."

"Who is the real Zane? Which one of his faces am I talking to?"

"Would you believe me if I said I didn't know anymore?"

"You know what, I probably would."

Zane rubbed his chin and grinned. "There's been many different versions. The university high-flyer, the perfect son, the spoilt brat, the sex addict, the drunkard, the murderer. Question is, who are you hoping I'll be? Or should I say, what are you hoping I'll be?"

A psychopath.

Quinn breathed deep and stared at his notes. The sessions, the tests, and the studies had all been used by him to fill out a checklist, a checklist used to assess prisoners and their personality traits. Quinn needed psychopaths for his study.

"Quinn?"

"I want you to be yourself. That's all I want."

"No one ever wanted me to be myself."

"Well, I do." Quinn gathered his papers together. "You confuse me so much." He stopped his rushed tidying and looked up. "Mackie was an ideal participant, and I kicked him off the study because you told me to. Because I believed you, and now I've got to go grovelling—"

Zane's fist came down hard on the table, and Quinn jumped back in surprise. "Don't!"

"Cleo's been guilt-tripping me every day since. He's not eating; he's barely speaking to anyone. There was no reason to do it—"

"He scared you."

"So do you."

Zane shook his head. "You know the fear you feel for me is different. He was going to hurt you. I know he was."

"Or maybe you just wanted to see how under your thumb I was. You made me think you gave a shit about me, and I stupidly trusted you. I could've jeopardised this study, and for what?"

"Wait. I do give a shit—"

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to set this up? How vital participants are?"

"I know that you valuing this study more than your own life is stupid."

"It's all I've got right now. I need it to be a success, and I…" Quinn growled at himself.

"What?"

"This," Quinn spat, gesturing to himself, then Zane. "I don't know what it is, but it stops now. It's unprofessional."

Zane's eyes darted away. "Where is this even coming from?"

"You."

"What did I do?"

"Looks like I'm number one now," Quinn echoed.

This time, the words didn't make his blood cold, they made it hot with anger.

Zane's breath hitched. "It was a stupid comment—"

"Or maybe your mask slipped a little too far this time, and I actually saw you."

"Quinn."

Quinn stood up. "I'm done for today."

"Well, I'm not," Zane growled.

A shadow moved by the door, and Quinn rushed out with Zane hot on his heels.

"Quinn!"

"Can you escort Zane back to the wing?" Quinn asked the officer he'd bumped into.

The officer eyed him slowly, then Zane, red-faced and heaving behind him. "I can open the gate for him."

"That'll be fine."

"Don't reinstate Mackie," Zane growled. He took Quinn by the elbow, but Quinn shrugged him off.

"Please, Quinn."

Quinn pressed his lips firmly together and snorted. He didn't owe Zane Black anything and strolled to the opposite gate without glancing back.

Instead of moping around the house thinking of Damon, Quinn paced and growled with Zane on his mind. All he knew about psychopaths, and he had been deceived by one.

Looks like I'm number one now.

On their second meeting together, Zane had even told him his intentions.

He's number one at the moment, but I'm certain I can change that, just give it time.

Suddenly, begging for crumbs of answers from Harris didn't seem so bad. Harris's toying was obvious, but Zane, with his attractive face, muscular frame and concerned gaze, had completely fooled Quinn, and the humiliation stung.

He'd been drawn in when he was supposed to stay completely impartial.

Zane was a killer, for God's sake.

"I'm such an idiot," Quinn told Mars, who appeared to nod from his vigil on the sofa.

His tail swayed behind him, snake-like and slow.

"You," Quinn said, pointing, "I choose to spend my weekends with you..."

Quinn sat down beside him with a huff. His phone burned a hole in his pocket. He pulled it out and brought up Ben's number.

He shook his head.

It wasn't the time to pursue anything new.

He was still on the rebound.

Quinn dropped his phone on the sofa.