Quinn I (Undaunted Men #1) (2 page)

“I’m sorry, babe,” I assure her, my voice gruff because of me, not her. “I got myself sidetracked. I need to get a condom on first.”

I reluctantly roll away from the warmth of her sexy, naked body and fumble through my nightstand drawer. As soon as my hand grabs the foil packet, my cellphone rings. “Double shit,” I mumble under my breath. I quickly look at the screen and dread fills me. I glance at the digital clock on the nightstand, which reads six a.m., and I know this must be important if he’s calling me at this hour, let alone calling me at all.

I hesitate, warring with myself, and then I reluctantly drop the condom back into the drawer, letting out a sigh. I swipe the screen on the phone, brusquely greeting the caller. “Quinn,” is all I manage to say, as I try to get a grip from having a stiff cock and dispel the lustful haze I was in.

“It’s been awhile, Quinn.” He doesn’t even pause as he skips over formalities and gets right to the point. “I’ve got something I need you to do for me.”

I’m sitting on the side of the bed now, with every nerve on edge. “When?” I ask. By the tone of his voice, I have a feeling he wanted something handled yesterday.

“Now,” he states. “I need you now.”
 

I drop my head into my hand, close my eyes, and then pinch the bridge of my nose.
Yep, just what I thought.
The sort of business he’s in requires abrupt decisions, making his
now
an immediate emergency.
 

I keep myself from expelling the unprofessional sigh that is dying to surface. “All right, I need you to give me five. I’m in mixed company.”

“Fair enough. Ring me back on your secure line.”

“Will do.” I end the call and grab my jeans, slipping them on.
 

“What’s going on?” Blondie asks from behind me.
 

I zip up my jeans, twist my head around, and look at the long-legged beauty I brought home. Damn, she looks just as good in the morning light as she did last night. I won’t forget her moves anytime soon, either. We had a damn sexathon going on. Her long blonde hair is splayed out all over my pillow, and the covers have come to rest low around her naked torso, exposing those luscious tits of hers.

“Look,” I let out an apologetic sigh as I run my fingers through my hair, “I’ve got to make an important business call. We’re going to have to put our little morning rendezvous on hold.” Maybe once I’m done with my business call, I can have some morning action, but something in the back of my mind tells me otherwise. “Just stay in bed and keep it cozy for me, all right?”
 

Her long eyelashes flutter as she purrs, “All right, but don’t take too long.”

I’m dreading the return phone call I have to make. When I get to the bedroom door, I glance over my shoulder one last time, and shake my head at the lost opportunity. I give her a false smile, knowing our one-night stand is already over.
 

I head downstairs, barefoot and shirtless, to start the coffee. Morning coffee, my one vice, always comes before business.
 

Reaching the kitchen, I’m greeted by my best friend, who does a morning tap dance on the tiled floor with her paws. “Mornin’, Kimber.” A genuine smile forms on my lips, and the impending phone call is forgotten for a moment. “How’d you sleep last night?” I don’t think my girl was happy about being kicked out of the bedroom last night. She usually likes to sleep with me.

She nuzzles her snout against my leg and wags her tail to prove to me there are no hard feelings. I give her a pat on the head and open the French doors, which are off to the side of the kitchen, to let her out.
 

Kimber is a retired military dog. She’s a Belgian Malinois, and was trained to sniff out explosive devices, among a few other things. Military dogs usually retire at the age of eight or nine, but Kimber retired at the age of six. She lost her handler in an ambush in Afghanistan. This particular invasion was brutal and traumatizing for Kimber, so the military felt it best to retire her early. I know the head honcho of the Special Forces training facility, and since he knew of my love for these animals, he offered her to me. I didn’t hesitate; I scooped her up right there and then. I hadn’t had the time for a dog over the past few years, mainly because these dogs need a lot of attention, but now that I’m working from home more, the timing was perfect.

However, she’s become a bit quirky in her early retirement. Sometimes when I give her an order, she does the exact opposite. I chuckle at the thought. Just like a female to do the opposite of what she’s told, but she’s the only female that has my heart, so she can get away with it.

I get Kimber’s breakfast ready as the coffee brews, and the second it’s finished, I pour a steaming hot cup into my favorite mug. I don’t add anything to it; I like it black. I blow across the steamy liquid and take my first sip of the day. “Ahhh…” I groan aloud in the quiet kitchen. The taste is ambrosia. What is it about that first sip of coffee in the morning?

I head down the hall, away from the kitchen, and steal away to my computer room. I had special security alarms and codes installed to protect my clients’ sensitive information, as well as my projects.

I punch in the security code and open the door to my secured room. I feel at home in this room. I enjoy being a computer guru, and not only that, I love using and applying any new technology I can get my hands on.
 

Anytime something new comes out, I learn everything I can about it. Many times I get offers from companies to test their product for efficacy, then give them suggestions on how to make their product better. I own thirty acres of land north of Raleigh, North Carolina. Living away from the congested city allows me to test in private. So not only do I get my hands on leading edge technology, but some of it is top secret.

Being former military, I know weaponry and technology like the back of my hand. I live and breathe them, and it didn’t take long for my reputation and name to spread around, giving me contacts from all over the world. I can only take on one or two clients at a time because testing products isn't my full-time job. You could call it a hobby I get to do on the side, but having those contacts and products come in real handy when I can use them for my real job.

When my buddies and I got out of special forces, we didn’t want our tight knit brotherhood to dissolve. Stryker, Travis, Hunter, and I had created our very own undercover business. After much deliberation we decided to name our company, Atrox Security. We've done all kinds of work, from private investigations to highly classified governmental operations. It's all for one, and one for all with us. There is nothing we wouldn't do for each other.

Taking another sip of coffee, I sit down and turn on my computer monitor. I rest my head against the back of my chair and close my eyes, thinking of the last time I’d heard from Tony Moretti. It's almost been a full year, and I was hoping like hell he wouldn’t remember, but Moretti doesn’t forget anything. I should’ve known he’d call to collect on my debt at some point. Once you rub elbows with these guys, there is no escape. I only hope he will be true to his word and not pull my ass into anything else after I pay my debt.
 

I reluctantly pick up my secured phone and dial him back. He picks up on the first ring.

“Quinn,” he answers quickly. “I’ve got a situation.”

There is slight panic to his voice, and it takes me off guard. Moretti never shows emotion; he’s always been cool under pressure.
 

“What’s going on?”

“It’s my daughter. She’s run away, and I think she’s headed underground.”

“What? Why would she do that?” Both brows rise in surprise. I’m completely dumbfounded as to why he’d be calling me over this, and come to think of it, his daughter is an adult. “Isn’t she old enough to decide to take off if she wants to?”

“It’s more than that,” he interrupts.

“With your contacts, I don’t think you need me to…”

“Dammit, Quinn, just listen,” he grits out, already frustrated with me.

“All right,” I concede and taking another sip of coffee, do just that.

“Look, this is more than a runaway situation. My men can work every facet of any city and then some, but she went totally off the grid.” There’s distress lining his voice, and I can tell he truly believes she’s in trouble. “When I checked my email this morning, I had a message from her. Judging by the time the computer said it hit my inbox, she sent it in the middle of the night.”

“What’d it say?”

“She said not to worry about her, that she’s fine, but she doesn’t know when she’ll be able to see us again. Told us where we could find all her banking account information to keep her mortgage paid and up-to-date.”

“Damn.”
 

“Apparently, her car was tracked to the base of the Shenandoah Valley yesterday, where she did a bait-and-switch with her car, because when my men finally caught up to her vehicle, the driver was someone else and they knew nothing. She gave them her car for free if they’d just take it off her hands.”

I let out a long, low astonished whistle. “She’s definitely trying to run from something.”
 

“Yes, she is, and so now you see my dilemma. The mountains’ foothills are taking us way out of our area of expertise. She’s taken off on foot, and I know she’s hiding out somewhere on those trails. I’m fairly certain she has plans to resurface at another point with a new identity.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask.

“Because she’s my daughter, and even though she doesn’t know the first thing about disappearing, she has access to people who do.”
 

“What the hell? What would make her leave like that?”

“Quinn, this was done with last minute haste,” he proclaims, ignoring my question. “I have to give my girl credit though; when she went off the grid, she literally went off the grid. There’s no way our men can track her down in those woods.”

“Moretti,” I growl through the phone line, “what made her run? You know I’m not stepping into the fray without some background info.”

He lets out an audible sigh, expressing a certain noise that only a distressed father could make. “Somehow she got herself pregnant,” he confesses, sounding dumbstruck. “Only God knows how.” I do my damnedest to stifle a laugh because I know how she got herself knocked-up. “Anyhow, the father is...” He pauses, looking for the right words. “Hell, I don't know what went down between those two, but they've known each other since they were kids. This isn't like her, and I can sense real danger. Call it a father's intuition, but something is way off.”

I raise a brow at this little bit of news. Childhood friends don't just separate like that unless something big happened between them, and I mean gargantuan. “Besides the fact that I’m having a major stroke over this news, her mother is going to hang me by the balls if I don’t get her back.”

“I can hardly see how her being pregnant and going for a hike is considered an emergency,” I argue. “I mean, maybe she…”

“Quinn, she also committed a murder recently,” he gruffly admits, and I almost choke on my coffee.
What the fuck?
“I need her back. She’s going to need my protection because she’s not safe.” Panic is evident, as well it should be, and if it were my daughter, I’d be calling in all my favors, too. “You have all that backwoods training shit, and if there’s anyone who can find her, it’s you.”

“That’s it? You only need me to retrieve her for you? Then we’re square?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “Just get her back to me safely and in one piece.”

Something tells me this is too easy, and nothing is ever straightforward and easy with Moretti. “What’s the likelihood that she’s armed?”

He lets out a heavy sigh in defeat. “I don’t know.” He sounds terribly exhausted, and a part of me feels bad for him. “I thought I knew her, but right now, I don’t know where her head is.”

Knowing she’s part of the mafia family and knowing they have their own legalities and judicial system, there’s no telling what I could run into or be up against. I will say this though, this job is a hell of a lot better than doing any of their dirty work. I’m usually not one to stereotype, but when the majority of any given group, such as the mafia, acts in a certain manner, it’s hard not to judge them and want to steer clear.

I take a moment to soak in the information. A pregnant mafia princess, wanted for murder, and the father of her unborn baby is a childhood friend, yet considered a potential enemy of the family. This could get very interesting.

“I’m not stepping between active crossfires, right?” I ask, cautious, because these sorts of enemies usually come with their own entourage. The last thing I need is different facets of other mafia families coming after me.
 

“Quinn, you owe me. I’m calling in that favor.”

The non-answer means exactly what I didn’t want to hear. “I’m out.”
Fuck that shit. All those Italians look the same to me, and I wouldn’t know who is who.
“What makes you think I’m not in the middle of another job right now?” I ask irritated.

“Quinn,” his voice pleads on the edge of desperation. “I know you’ve just recently come off
Project Blyss
. I also know you’re skeptical and on edge about me, but you won’t be stepping into the middle of a warzone. I promise. I’ve already made it clear that I've laid down my arms in the name of my daughter.”
 

Not knowing who else is involved, I can only hope they have truly done the same. I know how they play, and it’s always dirty. I know I’m stereotyping again, but I can’t help it. I exhale loudly as I swipe my hand over my face, knowing I can’t rightly say no to the man. Namely, because he’s not going to let me.

“She’s not safe,” he reiterates. “She’s God-knows-where, unprotected, and I don’t need her getting into the wrong hands. Do you hear what I’m saying? This is my baby girl.”
 

“Yeah. Yeah, I hear you.”

“So you’ll do it.” He's not asking, he's demanding the verbal acknowledgement.