vacation in Boston, followed by all the fun in New York and Montreal. His work often kept him away for long periods of time, but for some reason it felt extra special this time to be back in his own bed.
When Peter told him the meeting was to take place in Los Angeles, Quinn almost didn’t believe him. He made sure he, Orlando, and Nate were on the next flight west.
He opened his eyes and looked at the only thing that was out of place in his room. Orlando lay on the bed next to him, facing away. It wasn’t that she’d never been here before, but those occurrences were few. Mainly he had either gone to see her in Vietnam or San Francisco, or they had met elsewhere. Hawaii, Bali once, Japan, and a very wonderful week in Switzerland.
But here she was now, her bare shoulder sticking out from under the sheet hinting at more bare skin below. Quinn moved over, spooning into her. He placed his arm over her side and rested his hand on her chest between and just above her breasts. She turned, moving into him, so that they could become as close as possible.
“Don’t even think about it,” she whispered as his hand began to drift south. “We don’t have time.”
“The meeting’s not until noon,” he said.
“That’s only five hours away. We’ve got a lot to do before then.”
“I can be quick.”
“Then you can do it alone.”
There was a second of silence, then they both began to laugh. She turned to him, her face inches away from his. He started to move in for a kiss, but she pulled back.
“Morning breath,” she said.
“I love your morning breath.”
She snorted. “That’s the worst lie I think I’ve ever heard.”
“I don’t care that you have morning breath. Better?”
She stared at him for a moment, then smiled. “Better enough.”
She moved forward, her lips on his lips, her body on his body.
By the time they left the bedroom, there were only four hours left until the meeting.
They arrived at LACMA, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, at 10:00 a.m., parking Quinn’s BMW on Sixth Street.
“We’ll start on Wilshire and do a perimeter search,” Quinn said to Orlando. “You go west and I’ll go east.”
“Okay,” she said.
“And me?” Nate asked from the back seat.
Quinn handed Nate the bag of items he’d picked up at a 7-Eleven on the way. Inside were a couple bottles of water, an energy bar, and a newspaper.
“Find a table in the central court and relax,” Quinn said. “That’s where I’m supposed to meet him, so I want you to keep an eye on things. There’s a chance he’ll show up early to have a look around, too.”
“I can do the walk-around, one of you could sit and wait,” Nate said.
“We’ll do it the way I said,” Quinn told him.
“You worried about my leg again? Jesus, haven’t I shown you that it’s not a problem? I helped you run down that guy in Ireland. I was
“I don’t care about your leg,” Quinn said. “But if you want to walk, fine. Give the bag to Orlando.”
Nate didn’t move. After a moment, he said, “I’ll do the court. Whatever you want. You’re the boss.”
“Yes. I am.”
As soon as they got out of the car, Nate started to walk away.
“Wait,” Orlando said. “You need this.”
Nate turned just in time to catch the small comm gear packet she had tossed at him.
He stuffed it in his pocket, then resumed walking away.
Once he was out of earshot, Orlando said, “It was the leg, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “I guess. Shit.”
“If you’re not going to get past this, then release him. Set him up with someone else. Hell, I’ll take him on. Make him an apprentice researcher. He can sit behind a desk all day, I’m sure he’ll love that.”
“I… I don’t know what to do,” he said, surprised by his own words. “I want him to succeed, I do. But it’s not as easy as that. I need to know he’ll be ready for any kind of situation. I need to know he’ll be able to function at a high level at all times. I need to know he’ll do the job just like someone who still has both legs. Being a cleaner is a dangerous job, and I’m not going to put him out there if I think he’s going to have problems. He could die. I can’t have that.”
“Quinn, seriously.” She touched his arm, stopping him. “Let it go. If he’s not good enough, fine. Let him go. But you have to give him a chance to prove himself.”
Quinn looked at the ground near his feet for a moment, then, with a sigh, he tilted his head up. “Come on.”
He wanted to let it go. He knew Nate would be a good cleaner. His skills continued to improve. But the leg. The leg that had been maimed while he was helping Quinn on that personal mission in Singapore when an LP operative had purposely smashed into it. Would it hold out in the worst of circumstances? Could Quinn take that chance
