He’d taken a couple weeks’ leave, not because he particularly cared about time off, but so he could prepare for this fight...and recover when it was over. He’d been at the gym at four this morning and spent ten hours punishing his body in preparation.
He needed these nights, for his sanity. Even if his doctors had warned him about the dangers of participating in such a high-contact sport.
He missed the physical tests and mental challenges of combat. The thrill and adrenaline high he got from pushing his body and mind past their limits. Since he couldn’t go into combat anymore, he’d found a substitute—amateur mixed martial arts.
No one in his life was particularly happy that he was doing it—especially his mother. But he craved this outlet. So most of the time he didn’t bother telling anyone about a fight until it was already done.
What his mom didn’t know about, she didn’t have to obsessively worry over.
Quinn tried to close the gap between them, compassion and concern clouding her beautiful eyes. Jace countered her move by taking another step back.
Her mouth flattened, and a deep sigh slipped through her lush lips.
“Never mind.” She turned away, heading down the hall.
A band tightened across his chest. Before he could stop and think he shot after her. Hand wrapped around her arm, he steered her back around to face him.
“Tell me.”
She shook her head. His grip on her arm tightened.
“Fine. Daniel sent me home because the husband of a woman I placed in a safe house last night came by the office and made some threats.”
Jace growled low in the back of his throat. The sound was out before he contemplated making it.
“What kind of threats?”
Placing her hand on his, Quinn gently pried his fingers loose. Jace glanced down and saw the faint pink marks he’d left on her pale skin. He tried to jerk his hand away, but she refused to let go.
“Nothing concrete. He threatened to pull funding for some of our programs.”
“Does he have that kind of influence?”
She frowned, a tiny pucker pulling at the space between her eyes. “Unfortunately.”
“But why would Daniel send you home over something like that?”
Quinn’s gaze dropped to the floor between them. Heat slowly crept up her skin. She directed her words down, as if she could bury them there. “I may have lost my temper and thrown a coffee mug.”
He made a choked sound, biting back a response that was equal parts shock, exasperation and laughter.
Only Quinn.
“Please tell me it wasn’t aimed at his head.”
“Nope, he was already gone.”
Thank God for small favors. Jace didn’t want to think what the guy’s reaction might have been if she’d hit a man who was clearly comfortable with beating his own wife.
“So he didn’t send you home because he was worried?”
“No, Daniel was plenty worried. Everett Warren is ruthless and cold.”
“Everett Warren?” Jace asked, his voice grim. Everyone in town knew the man, although not everyone realized just how crooked he really was.
The only reason Jace knew was because some of the guys he trained with worked for Warren, and not in his fancy office building.
While he didn’t have details, he knew enough to be wary.
And now Quinn was on the guy’s radar. Not just that, but she was standing between him and his wife.
An uncomfortable knot tightened in his belly.
“I don’t like this, Quinn.”
“Yeah, I’m not exactly thrilled with it myself. Caroline’s told me enough, but until I can convince her to talk to the police there’s not much I can do. Except make sure he can’t get to her.”
That wasn’t what he meant.
“You need to be careful. Warren isn’t the kind of man you mess with.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“Maybe you should be. He obviously hurt his wife so he’s more than capable of hurting you.”
Quinn shrugged, dismissing the threat as if it didn’t even exist. That only made Jace’s teeth clench harder. God, she was stubborn.
“Caroline was a convenient target. I’m not.”
Apparently, they had different definitions for convenient. It wasn’t as if Quinn was hiding. She’d be easy enough to find, especially for someone with Warren’s network of connections.
Over the years, Jace had seen his fair share of just how nasty the world could be. Hell, he had the reminder tattooed on his skin, the image of a burning helicopter crashing behind them as he and a buddy pulled another soldier out. He’d gone to bed plenty of nights with grisly memories invading his brain and dreams. War was hell, and there were a plethora of monsters in the world, not just confined to children’s stories.
Apparently sensing his agitation, Quinn moved closer. Laying a hand on his arm, she tipped her head back and looked up at him. Those pale brown eyes were so sincere. So open and trusting.
Too trusting.
“Warren is too intelligent to come after me. Right now his wife is reluctant to press charges, but I won’t hesitate and he knows that. He has too much to lose.”
He hated to burst her naive little bubble, but someone had to do it. “That’s assuming he leaves you in a condition where charges are an option.”
The dismissive sound through Quinn’s throat did little to dispel his concern.
“He’s mean, not stupid. Coldblooded murder is a far cry from backhanding his wife.”
“Not that far,” Jace muttered.
“Besides, at the moment his public image is safe, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. He strikes me as the kind all wrapped up in appearances. He’s worked hard to project the idea of an affluent, influential, clean business man.”
Something dark crossed her face, a combination of anger and loathing. “He made damn sure to mark Caroline only where no one else would see.” Her soft eyes rose to his, churning and resolute. “The bruises are bad enough. But she has burn scars across her stomach. And faint lines I’m almost sure are from him cutting her.”
Spinning away, Jace shoved a hand through his hair. It was either that or slam it into the wall and he didn’t want to have to repair the drywall. “You aren’t helping me feel better here, Quinn.”
“No, he’s methodical and calculating. Polished and perfect. Yes, he’s angry he lost his toy—”
“You took her and know exactly where he can find her.”
“—but coming after me will only make matters worse. He isn’t going to do that. He was throwing his weight around this afternoon because he could. Bluffing in the hope that I’d cave. That’s all. If anything, I expect him to call in favors from some well-placed friends to put pressure on Daniel.”
“Daniel won’t give in.” It wasn’t a question. He’d been listening to Quinn talk about her job—and her boss—for two years. He’d gleaned several things, including that Daniel was a decent, upstanding guy who cared a great deal about the work they did and the people they helped.
But that didn’t make this any less of a clusterfuck. He’d always worried about Quinn’s job. She dealt with terrible things all day long—the