Quinn's Woman

Fifteen minutes later he was sipping coffee at one of the tables in the mess tent. He’d spread out the morning paper, but instead of reading, he was watching the main entrance, waiting for a tall, shapely brunette to burst inside and demand an explanation…not to mention retribution.

Instead he saw his brother stroll in. Gage looked around him, saw him and started across the dirt floor.

“You made it,” Gage said, and grinned.

Quinn rose and they shook hands, then embraced briefly. After slapping each other on the back and reassuring themselves that each had survived and was well since their last meeting, Quinn glanced at the man who had accompanied Gage.

His brother stepped back. “This is Travis Haynes. He’s the local sheriff here.”

Quinn shook hands with the man, then frowned when he realized there was something familiar about him. He was sure he and Travis Haynes had never met; Quinn didn’t forget faces. Yet there was something that teased at the back of his mind…almost a memory, but not quite.

Travis looked him over, then shook his head. “I’ll be damned,” he said, then motioned to the table. “We should probably sit down and talk this over.”

Curious but not concerned, Quinn settled back in his chair. Gage took a seat across from him with Travis sitting to his right. Gage rested his forearms on the table.

“You’re doing okay?” he asked Quinn.

Quinn sipped his coffee. “You have something to say, so say it.”

Gage nodded. “I just—”

Travis leaned forward. “I should go. After you two talk we can all get together.”

“No.” Gage shook his head. “Stay. This concerns you. Besides, if Quinn has some questions, you’re the best one to answer them.” He returned his attention to Quinn. “Sorry to be so mysterious. I didn’t want to tell you in a phone message or a letter. I appreciate you coming here.”

Quinn shrugged. His work kept him out of touch with his family for months at a time. Their only way to communicate was to leave a message at a special number and wait for him to get back to them. Sometimes he was able to respond in a few days, but most of time it was weeks or months. Gage had left his first message nearly two months ago. His second, requesting Quinn meet him in Glenwood, had been delivered just as Quinn had returned to the States.

“Have you talked to Mom?” Gage asked.

“A couple of days ago. She said everything was fine.” He frowned. Had she been hiding something? Was she sick?

Not surprisingly his brother knew what he was thinking.

“She’s okay,” Gage told him. “I wondered if she’d mentioned anything…” He leaned back in his chair. “This is harder than I thought.”

“Just spit it out.”

“Fair enough.” Gage stared at him. “Ralph Reynolds isn’t our biological father. He and Mom couldn’t have kids together. They both wanted them so she got pregnant by another guy. Someone she met in Dallas. His name is Earl Haynes. Travis here is one of his sons. Which makes him our half brother.” Gage grinned. “Actually, we have several. It seems there are a lot of Earl Haynes’s sons running around the world.”

Quinn heard the words, but at first they didn’t have any meaning. Ralph Reynolds not their biological father?

A half-dozen memories flashed through his mind—none of them pleasant. Of his father walking away, of his father telling him he would never be good enough, of his father making it clear over and over that Quinn could never measure up to Gage. Of his father…Not his father? Was it possible?

“I had a hard time with it, too,” Gage said quietly.

Quinn didn’t doubt that. Gage and the old man had been tight. Always. While Quinn couldn’t wait to get out of Possum Landing, Gage had stayed and made his life there. He’d been proud to be the fifth generation of Reynoldses in town. He’d become the damn sheriff.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

Gage nodded. “Mom told me. Back thirty-plus years ago, it was more difficult for infertile couples to get help. Plus our folks didn’t have money for expensive treatments. Dad was the one with the problem, not her. Dad—Ralph—came up with a plan for Mom to find someone who looked like him and get pregnant.”

Quinn stiffened. “That sounds barbaric, even for the old man.”

“She wasn’t happy,” Gage admitted. “Finally she agreed and headed up to Dallas. She met Earl Haynes. He was in town attending a convention.”

“And nine months later you came along?”

“Yeah.” Gage shook his head. “Ralph was happy with his new son, everyone assumed he was the father and things were fine.”

Until he’d come along, Quinn thought impassively. He’d long since become immune to dealing with the realities of not being wanted by the man he’d always thought of as his father.

“The following year she went back,” Gage continued. “She got pregnant with you. So we’re still brothers.”

None of this was sinking in, Quinn thought. Nor did it have to. He would deal with it all later. For now, he relaxed in his seat and grinned at Gage.

“Damn, and here I thought I was finally getting rid of you.”

His brother punched him in the arm. “No way. I’m still older, better looking and capable of kicking your butt anytime I want.”

The latter made Quinn laugh. “Yeah, right.” He turned his attention to Travis Haynes. “So you’re a sheriff, too?”

“Law enforcement runs in the family. I’m a sheriff. My brother Kyle is a deputy. Craig, the oldest of us four, works for the Fern Hill Police Department, and my half sister, Hannah, is a dispatcher. Jordan is the black sheep—he’s a firefighter.”

Gage looked at Quinn. “I’m a sheriff and you do your own personal version of keeping the world in line. How much of that was because of the gene pool?”

Quinn had his doubts. “I’m not a fan of destiny.”

“That’s because there are a few things you still don’t know.” Gage pushed Quinn’s coffee toward him. “Drink up. You’re going to need it.”

“Why?”

“It seems that Earl didn’t just stop at sleeping with our mother. He also—”

Gage was interrupted by a commotion at the door. Quinn turned around and saw D.J. burst into the tent. She glanced around until she saw him. When she did, her brown eyes narrowed and she stalked toward the table.

She was walking, breathing outrage. With her olive-and-khaki clothes, her long dark hair, and a rifle in one hand, she was a female warrior at her most appealing.

A young officer started to cross her path, took one look at her set expression and carefully backed out of the way. Quinn doubted that D.J. even noticed. When she reached the table, she tossed the cut ropes in front of him.

“How the hell did you do it?” she demanded.

Fury spilled from her. Quinn didn’t doubt that if she thought she could take him, she would be on him in a heartbeat.

Instead of reacting to her question or her temper, he casually sipped his coffee before pushing out a chair with his foot.

“Have a seat,” he said calmly.

She ignored the offer. “I asked you a question.”

“I know.”

He met her gaze, prepared to wait her out. He wanted to smile but didn’t let himself. He wanted to grab her by her hair, haul her close and kiss her until they were both panting. He didn’t do that, either. Instead he waited.

He wasn’t sure how long they would have played “you blink first.” Travis stood and moved between them, ending the contest. He put his hands on D.J.’s shoulders and not too gently pushed her into the chair.

“Take a load off,” he said. “I’ll get you coffee.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Thanks,” she said, not sounding all that gracious.

When Travis returned, he set the mug in front of her and sat back into his seat. “I see you’ve met Quinn, here. This is his brother, Gage.”

D.J. glanced at Gage, nodded and returned her attention to Quinn. “I want answers.”

He made a show of checking his watch. “I thought you’d be back sooner. You must have slept in. But after the night we had, I’m not surprised you were tired.”

She half rose from her seat. Quinn expected the rifle to swing in his direction. But before she could get physical, Travis started to laugh.

“I don’t think so,” he said easily. “D.J. would have chewed you up and spit you out.”

Quinn met her gaze and raised his eyebrows. “I’m not so sure.”

If he smirked, she was going to kill him, D.J. decided. Right there in front of witnesses. Although she wasn’t usually one for reckless behavior, Quinn had really pissed her off.

She watched him drink his coffee, as if he had all the time in the world. Which he probably did. He looked rested, showered and utterly relaxed. She was tired, dirty and had leaves in her hair. Worse—he’d escaped. She wanted to know how and she wanted payback.

She refused to acknowledge that some of her temper came from the memory of the brief kiss they’d shared. She still couldn’t believe she’d given in and actually kissed him…and liked it. Not that she would ever let him know.

“How did you two meet?” Gage asked.

“D.J. got the drop on me during the war games,” Quinn told his brother.

Gage, about the same age as Quinn, with the same dark coloring and strong, good-looking features, straightened in surprise. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

Gage’s expression turned doubtful, and D.J. didn’t blame him. As much as she’d wanted to be the one in charge, Quinn had been in control the entire evening. He’d only let her hold him prisoner for as long as it suited him. She wanted to know why. Even more, she wanted to find out all the things he knew that she didn’t.

But how to ask?

As she considered the question, she picked up her coffee and turned to thank Travis for bringing her the mug. It was only then she noticed how much her friend looked like Quinn and Gage. The same general build, the same coloring. Even the shapes of their dark eyes were similar.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Is there some kind of Haynes family look-alike contest going on?”

Travis turned to her and smiled. “Funny you should say that.”

Over breakfast in the mess tent, D.J. listened as Travis and Gage explained their surprising family connection. D.J. was more interested in Quinn’s early years than in his being a half brother to the Haynes family. Somehow she couldn’t picture a kid from Possum Landing, Texas, growing up to be a dangerous operative, but it had obviously happened.

She picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite just as a tall, thin, very damp young man with flaming red hair walked over to the table.

D.J. looked Ronnie over and sighed. “Did you get lost or captured?” she asked.

He flushed. “Um, both, ma’am.”

“I’m assuming you got lost first.”

He hung his head. “Yes, ma’am. I apologize for not finding you again.”

The men at the table had stopped talking to listen to her conversation. She eyed the eighteen-year-old. He already felt bad about what had happened. There was no point in chewing him out publicly. She’d never been into that sort of thing for sport.

“Mistakes happen,” she said. “Go grab some food and coffee.”

Ronnie stared at her with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “Ma’am?”

She allowed herself a slight smile. “I’m not cutting off your ears, Private. Go get some breakfast.”

He beamed at her. “Yes, ma’am. Right away.”

When he was gone, she looked at Travis who sat across from her, then at his brother Kyle. They were both grinning.

“Don’t start with me,” she warned.

“It’s not like you to be a soft touch,” Travis said.

“I’m not. The kid tried hard and he screwed up. It happens.”

Kyle leaned toward her. “He thinks you’re hot.”

D.J. rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. I’m sure I’m going to star in all his dreams for the next fifteen or twenty minutes.”

Kyle chuckled.

D.J. ignored him. She scooped up some eggs. After a few seconds, conversation resumed and she was once again listening rather than participating.

Quinn sat at the end of the table. She never directly looked at him, but she was aware of him. Of how he and all the other men seated here were physically so similar.

Craig and Jordan Haynes had arrived and pulled up chairs. Craig was the oldest of the Haynes brothers, Jordan the second youngest. Two fraternal twins, Kevin and Nash Harmon were also a part of their group. D.J. hadn’t quite figured out their relationship to the other men. Apparently, when Earl had been in Dallas getting Quinn’s mother pregnant, he’d also had his way with the twins’ mother. Quinn and Gage had grown up with them as close friends, only recently learning they were in fact half brothers. Everyone at the table but her was part of the Haynes extended family.

She supposed there were some people who would have felt left out, under the circumstances. Not her. She’d been part of a family once, and now lived her life blissfully free of familial obligations.

Keeping her head turned toward Travis as he spoke, D.J. casually glanced to her left. Quinn had finished his breakfast. Now he sat listening, nodding occasionally and not saying much. While he’d been two parts annoying, one part charming and very talkative the previous evening and when she’d first arrived this morning, he’d gotten more quiet as the group had expanded. Didn’t he do crowds?

She was about to turn away when Quinn moved slightly and met her gaze. His dark eyes didn’t give away what he was thinking, nor did the neutral expression on his face. He could have been trying to decide if he wanted more coffee. Yet she felt something crackle between them. A tension. Awareness tightened her skin and made her shiver.

Unfamiliar and too powerful for comfort, the sensations unnerved her. Distraction came in the form of Ronnie returning with his breakfast.

By the time she’d introduced him to everyone and had slid her chair over to make more room, she had convinced herself that she’d only imagined the weird reaction to Quinn.

Travis waited until Ronnie had his mouth full, then grinned at D.J. “So, you didn’t win this year.”

The kid started to choke.

D.J. scowled at Travis, then pounded Ronnie on the back. When he’d swallowed, he gulped down half his glass of milk and shrank in his seat.

“About me not getting back,” he began.

D.J. cut him off with a stern look. “Let it go, kid,” she told him. “My streak was bound to run out sooner or later.”

“Too bad she wasn’t able to capture a prisoner all on her own,” Quinn drawled. “No, wait. You did have someone, didn’t you?”

D.J. ignored him.

Ronnie’s eyes widened. “You lost a prisoner?”

Travis chuckled. “Don’t go there, son. D.J.’ll take your head off.”

Ronnie returned his attention to his breakfast.

D.J. couldn’t help glancing at Quinn, who had the nerve to smile at her. Just smile. As if he was happy or something.

Nash Harmon, a six-foot, one-inch testament to Haynes family genes, rose. “I hate to break this up, but I have things to see to this morning.”

Kevin, his twin, hooted. “Things? Don’t you mean Stephanie?”

Nash smiled. “That’s exactly what I mean.” He looked over at Quinn. “You probably haven’t heard. I recently got engaged. Of course, I’m not the only one. Kevin’s planning a wedding for early October, and you already know about Gage.”

D.J. noticed that Quinn’s gaze settled on his brother. Gage shrugged. “We haven’t had time to go into that. I’m getting married, too.”

“Congratulations,” Quinn said.

“All three of you just recently got engaged?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Is it something in the water?”

Travis rose. “Could be. That’ll make you switch to bottled, huh?”

“In a heartbeat.” D.J. shook her head. “Married.”

She held back saying “yuck” even though it was what she was thinking. In her experience, marriage was all bad for the woman and all good for the man. Okay, the Haynes brothers seemed to have decent relationships. And her friend Rebecca had married a pretty okay guy, but they were exceptions.

It seemed that everyone had a place to be. In a matter of a couple of minutes, the table had cleared, except for D.J. and Quinn. She expected him to stand up, as well, but he didn’t. Instead he sipped his coffee and looked at her.

She told herself this was great. Now she could get her questions answered. The only problem was his steady gaze made her want to shift in her seat. She wouldn’t, of course. She would never let him know he could make her feel uncomfortable. Nor would she admit to wanting to know what he was thinking as he watched her.

She resisted the incredibly stupid impulse to touch her hair to make sure it was in place, as if that mattered, then turned toward him and decided to just go for it.

“How did you get away?” she asked. “The ropes were cut, but I’d checked you for knives. I’d put yours in the pack, which was out of reach. I checked it this morning and you hadn’t opened it. So you had a knife on you somewhere. One that I missed.”

She had the sudden thought that someone could have crept into camp and released him, but she dismissed the idea. She knew in her gut Quinn had gotten away all by himself. He’d managed to outsmart her and to do it all while she was sleeping.

Even more annoying, he’d left his jacket draped over her, as if she needed protection from the elements.

“How could you have missed a knife?” he asked, his eyes bright with humor. “You gave me a very thorough and very enjoyable search. If you’d like to check me again…” His voice trailed off.

She ignored the suggestion and the teasing tone of his voice. “Where’s the knife?”

She half expected him to insist she come find it. Instead he flipped up the collar of his heavy military-issue shirt, and pulled out a short blade. Not a knife…just the blade.

Of course, she thought, impressed by the ingenuity. No one paid attention to stiff collars. The points were supposed to be that way. All Quinn would need to do was a little shift and shimmy to get his hands in front of his body, then the blade would be within easy reach.

The possibilities intrigued the hell out of her. “What else do you know that I don’t?”

Instead of making a smart-ass response, Quinn stood. “This has been great,” he said.

She rose and walked toward him. “Wait. I really want to know.”

His gaze never left her face, yet everything changed. The teasing was gone, as was the humor. Instead, bone-deep weariness invaded his expression. He knew things, she thought as she involuntarily took a step back. He’d seen and done things no man should experience. His life was about a whole lot more than simply getting people out of places they shouldn’t be.

“I’m not playing,” she said. “I want to learn what you know. I’m a quick study.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Your skills would help me with my work. I want to be better.”

“Aren’t you good enough to get the job done?”

“Yes, but I want to be better than good enough. I want to be the best.”

“There is no best.”

Of course there was, she thought. There always was. She worked her butt off to make sure it was her most of the time.

“I’ll pay you,” she said.

He smiled then. “Thanks, but I’m not interested. Take care, D.J.”

And then he was gone. He simply walked out of the tent without looking back.

She watched him go and decided right then she was going to get him to change his mind. She didn’t know how, but she would convince Quinn Reynolds to teach her what he knew. She would be stronger, faster, smarter, and finally the ghosts would be laid to rest.

Two days later D.J. still hadn’t come up with a plan. What on earth would a man like Quinn want that she could give him? She’d paced most of the night, and when that hadn’t cleared her mind, she’d awakened early for a three-mile run. Now she prowled her back room, pausing occasionally to jab at the punching bag in the corner.

“I can see you’re in a temper this morning. Want to talk about it?”

D.J. turned toward the voice and saw Rebecca Lucas standing in the doorway of her workout room. She held a thermos in one hand and a pink bakery box in the other. D.J.’s spirits lightened immediately.

“Danish?” she asked, heading toward her friend.

“Of course. Don’t I always bring Danish?”

“You’re a good woman.”

“I know.”

Rebecca led the way to the main office, where she set the box on the front desk and opened the thermos.

“So what has you all crabby this morning?” she asked as she poured coffee into two mugs. “If you were anyone else, I would swear it was man trouble.”

“It is, but not the romantic kind.”

Rebecca handed her the coffee. “Too bad. You need a man in your life.”

“Right. That would be as useful to me as inheriting a toxic waste dump.”

Rebecca tisked softly as she poured more coffee for herself, opened the bakery box and pushed it toward D.J.

D.J. grabbed a napkin, then a cheese Danish. The first bite was heaven. The second, even better. She slowly chewed the flaky, sticky, sweet pastry.

Rebecca took one for herself and nibbled daintily. As usual, all conversation ceased until they’d each downed at least one Danish and felt the kick-start, blood-sugar rush of refined carbohydrates and frosting.

D.J. finished first and licked her fingers. Rebecca dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

They couldn’t be more different, D.J. thought affectionately. Rebecca was all girl, from her long, curly hair to her wardrobe of soft, flowing, floral-print dresses. She wore foolish shoes, delicate jewelry and wouldn’t be caught dead in town without makeup.

“You’re looking at my dress,” Rebecca said when she’d finished her Danish. “You hate it.”

“No. It’s great.”

D.J. studied the light-blue flowers scattered on a white background, the lace at the edge of the collar and the tight, puffy sleeves, while trying desperately not to wince.

“I just don’t understand why you have to dress so…girly.”

Rebecca took another Danish. “We don’t all need to look as if we’d just come from a sale at the army surplus store. Olive green isn’t my color. Besides, Austin likes how I dress.”

End of argument, D.J. told herself. If Austin mentioned he would like the rotation of the earth changed, Rebecca would set out to see what she could do to make that happen. She adored her husband past the point of reason. D.J. found the situation palatable only because Austin was a good man—weren’t those few and far between?—and he loved his wife just as completely. D.J. believed down to her bones that if someone tried to hurt Rebecca, Austin would rip that person into stamp-size pieces.

Rebecca looked her over, making D.J. aware of her camouflage pants and heavy boots.

“You’re expecting a war later?”

“Real funny.” D.J. grabbed a second pastry. “So what’s going on?”

Rebecca filled her in on the latest escapades of her four children, including David’s increasing fascination with cars. “He’s going to be a holy terror on the road,” Rebecca said, her voice mixed with worry and pride. “He’s already poring through Austin’s car magazines and giving us suggestions for his sixteenth birthday.”

The conversation continued. Rebecca made it a habit to drop in two or three mornings a week. D.J. enjoyed hearing about her family. As she didn’t plan to get married, and doubted she would be a very good single mom, Rebecca’s kids were as close to her own as she was going to get.

“I’m having a party next week,” Rebecca announced as she poured them each more coffee.

D.J. held up her hands in protest. “No, thanks.”

“How can you say that?”

“You have two kinds of parties. One is for couples, which means you’re going to set me up with some guy I don’t want to meet. The other is a girls-only deal where someone will be trying to sell something I’ll find completely useless.”

“Cosmetics,” Rebecca confirmed. “And they’re not useless. I know you’re not a big fan of makeup, but you take good care of your skin. This line of skin care is really amazing. Besides, it would be good for you to get out.”