Page 24

O h, God. How had everything led to this?

Braxton had been driven to his knees and Cross was reaching for the rope that would drop the guillotine’s lethal blade. Ignoring Grendel and the acid he was holding, Quinn could only focus on the man she loved.

He couldn’t die. Not when they’d only just reunited. During their years apart, she’d never been able to fully say goodbye to him, and now they were so close to having a future again. And he’d just told her he loved her. She wanted the chance to say it back.

Quinn wasn’t letting him go, absolutely refused to let things end this way.

“Brax!” She struggled to get up, tried to go to him, but one of her wrists was still tied up, and Camille grabbed her shoulder, keeping her pinned down in the chair. “Let him go!”

Cross paused, as though considering her plea. “Maybe you should be first, traitor. My plan was originally for you to die at dinner with the others, but this seems much more fitting. We can let Pharaoh watch what happens when two liters of acid is poured over your head. This time, though, there is no tank of water to submerge yourself in. Sorry, Quinn. You’ll just have to deal with the pain.”

“You sick fuck!” she snarled. “You’re not going to get away with this.”

“I think I already have,” he said smugly. Then he nodded to Grendel. “Go ahead. Let him hear her scream.”

Shit. Swallowing hard, Quinn felt Camille release her shoulder and step back, removing herself from the splash zone. The moment Grendel lifted the container with his good arm, Quinn threw all her body weight against the side of the chair, tipping it over, praying the old wood would break when it hit the ground.

She landed with a thud and a loud splintering sound filled the air, but she was still tangled up, trying hard to move fast and get out of harm’s way. Stepping over her, Grendel began to tilt the container and all Quinn could do was try to turn her face away. Mouth tightly closed, she braced herself for the scorching pain to touch her skin.

A gunshot popped, followed by another, and Quinn’s head snapped up. Grendel’s eyes went wide and he dropped the container. Acid poured out of the opening, spreading across the floor. A bright blossom of red spread across his chest and he fell dead, falling face first in the acidic puddle.

Saint moved through the doorway, fast and low, Gray and Inda close behind. Relief swept through Quinn, but she scrambled forward, trying to get away from the quickly-spreading trail of acid. While Gray brought Cross down with a bullet, Saint released Braxton from the pillory and helped him up. Meanwhile, Inda lowered down to check on Ryland.

Ripping free from the ropes, Quinn kicked the chair aside and crawled forward. Suddenly, Brax was there, sweeping her up off the floor and into his arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked, holding her face and raining frantic kisses all over it. “Your leg?”

He pulled back to look at it, but she clutched onto his wrists, refusing to let go, holding on for dear life. God, the image of his head locked in that guillotine would haunt her forever. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“I am now.” He looked over where Inda had pulled Ryland’s vest off. “How is he?”

“Okay,” Ryland answered with a grimace.

“Looks like the bullet exited through the back of his shoulder,” Inda said, giving his chest a light pat. “Daddy here will be just fine.”

“Daddy?” Cross managed to croak. Saint had put two bullets in the man and he lay propped against the side of the guillotine’s frame, face wreathed in pain and a hand over his heart as he slowly bled out.

“Yeah, and I promise to be nothing like you,” Ryland said. “I’m going to be the best goddamn dad in the entire world.”

“Where’s Camille?” Quinn asked, looking around. The woman was nowhere in sight.

“Leave her alone,” Cross hissed, but everyone ignored him.

Inda popped up. “She must’ve slipped out during all the chaos. Don’t worry, I’ll find her.”

“Bruja, take Saint and Demon,” Braxton ordered.

“What about the guests upstairs?” Quinn asked as they headed for the tunnel.

Gray paused. “We warned them not to touch anything, that it was probably poisoned, and they all took off.”

“Can’t say I blame them,” Saint added wryly.

“Not our circus, not our monkeys,” Gray said, and they disappeared into the labyrinth.

Quinn released Brax’s wrists and wrapped her arms around his neck. They pressed their foreheads together. “Thank God you’re alright,” she murmured, running her fingers up through his curls. “I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

“It’s over,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and turning her toward the door. They walked over to Ryland and Brax extended his hand. “Need some help?”

“Thanks.” Ryland grasped Braxton’s hand and he hauled the other man up.

Behind them, there was a slight scuffling sound, and Quinn looked over her shoulder to see Cross slump sideways and grab his gun. As he was swinging it in their direction, Ryland lifted his Glock and fired twice. Two perfectly-aimed shots—one in his heart, the other between his eyes. Cross fell, this time for good.

Ryland’s arm dropped and a storm of emotions crossed his face. “Now, it’s over,” he stated grimly.

Almost , Quinn thought. They still had to find Camille and Zaitsev.

◆◆◆

It seemed karma decided to take care of the final two players involved with The Agency. When Braxton, Quinn and Ryland reached the main floor of the manor house, the rest of his team appeared.

“Where’s Camille?” Quinn asked. Knowing the woman was on the loose, somewhere in the large house, made Quinn extremely uneasy.

“Dead,” Gray stated. “But not because of us.”

“What do you mean?” Brax asked.

“She ran through the dining room, grabbed a bottle of champagne and locked herself in a bedroom,” Inda said. “The one you told us about, Quinn.”

“Julien’s old room.” A shiver ran through her and she could already guess where the story was going. Camille had never gotten over her twin’s death.

“Now we know what was tainted with Novichok,” Saint said flatly. “By the time we broke the door down, she’d managed to swig half the fucking bottle down. But, it was over.”

“Oh, and she shot Zaitsev on the way,” Inda added.

Saint nodded. “Made our job a helluva lot easier.”

“Jesus,” Ryland hissed. He was holding his shoulder, looking at his teammates, slightly shell-shocked. Quinn could hardly blame him. He’d just killed his father and lost a half-sister he’d never really known.

“Now it’s over,” Quinn said. She looked up at Braxton and smiled.

“Or, maybe it’s only the beginning,” he said, pulling her closer.

“I’d like that,” she whispered.

“Me, too, Cherry.” He pressed a kiss to her lips.

◆◆◆

The team returned to the jet and Hunter got them the hell out of France. They didn’t want to be anywhere near the Mercier’s manor house when the bodies were discovered and the authorities started asking questions.

Everyone was mentally and physically exhausted, and the group slept most of the way back to San Francisco. After bandaging Ryland’s shoulder, Harper wanted him to go to the hospital, but he stubbornly refused, insisting he’d been through worse and he just wanted to go home. But Harper worried and called Aubrey, a trauma nurse. After showing her Ryland’s injury over a video call, Aubrey directed them on exactly how to temporarily patch him up and, the moment they returned, she’d check his wound. Then if he had to go to the hospital, he promised to go.

After months of hunting down all the evil assholes associated with The Agency, every target had been eliminated. Finally. Some, of course, by Cross and one by a lion, but no one was complaining. Like Saint had said—it made their job a helluva lot easier.

With Quinn tucked snugly beneath his arm, her thigh carefully cleaned and wrapped, Brax mentally went over all the terminated players: Lester Tillman, Marcus and Selma Santiago, Benedict Salinger, Chadwick Carlisle, Alvaro Mesa, Ivan Zaitsev, Malcolm Grendel, Julien and Camille Mercier and Nathan “Cross” Mills.

All successfully neutralized and no longer a threat. Thank Christ. He was tired of chasing after The Agency and worrying about his team and their growing group of loved ones. Every member of Ex Nihilo had found love, and Brax never wanted to see that threatened.

Hell, even his jaded ass had hope again. And the woman he’d never gotten over was now sleeping against his side. For the first time in five years, Braxton Graves felt content and hopeful.

◆◆◆

“Oh, God,” Quinn gasped, her inner muscles tightening and squeezing around his cock.

Brax hiked her ass up higher, powering into her slick passage, unable to slow his impending orgasm. “Get there, Q,” he growled, rubbing her clit harder.

She threw her red head back and cried his name out.

“That’s my good girl.” He dug his fingers into her hips, pulling her back as he gave one last hard thrust, and came so hard, his entire body shuddered and quaked. They collapsed on Quinn’s bed and Brax pulled her close, nipping her bare shoulder.

“Why is it always so good?” she asked breathlessly.

He knew exactly what she meant. They’d both been with other people before they met, but nothing even came close to the extraordinary connection he and Quinn shared. The intensity of their bond was unlike anything else. Deep, pure and so damn potent it always left them in a state of ecstasy. It didn’t matter if they went fast or slow, either. Each time was like a kinetic connection of their souls, and the spark they created was incomparable.

It always took a moment for them to come down from the orgasmic high. When he finally did, Brax propped himself on an elbow and grinned.

“I thought we were just supposed to get your things and go back to the warehouse.” He started playing with a fiery strand of her hair. The dark red color with its flecks of gold fascinated him, and it fit her personality so well.

“That was the plan. I can’t help it if you seduced me.”

He threw his head back and laughed, and she rolled onto her back and tugged on one of his unruly curls.

“Me? You’re the one who practically ripped my pants off,” he said. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“What can I say? I’m feeling frisky.”

“Yeah, I found your drawer of goodies. I could barely close the damn thing, it’s so full of stuff.”

She pushed up and crawled over, straddling his thighs. “I’m glad to have the real thing back. But I’m sure we can still put my goodies to good use.”

Lowering her head, her hair cascaded over his chest as she began kissing his pecs.

Immense gratitude flooded him. They’d been through so much together, and now here they were, on the verge of their happily ever after.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he asked, voice husky.

“I hope as much as I love you.” She circled her tongue around his flat nipple.

“Quinn…”

She looked up and gave his nipple a playful twist. “Why so serious, Mr. Graves?”

He loved how she had the ability to balance him out, because he could definitely get caught up in his own head too much sometimes. “I guess because I spent so much time missing you, mourning what we had and then lost. And I never thought we’d get it back.”

“But here we are, stronger than ever.”

“Marry me again.” The words just came out.

Her eyebrows shot up. Shit. He never jumped into anything, always thought things through thoroughly before choosing a course of action or making an important decision. But with Quinn, it had never been like that. She made him throw caution to the wind, and she brought out his wild and reckless side.

But he knew what he wanted, what he’d always wanted. What he couldn’t live without—her. And he wasn’t backing down.

“What do you say, Cherry? Be my wife again?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Nothing would make me happier.”

He dragged her up his body and their mouths met in a long, slow, sensuous kiss. Taking a moment to savor her, tasting their future together, he ran his hands down her sides and sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

He’d found his forever once again, and he wasn’t ever letting her go.