Page 14 of Braxton

His stomach growled, interrupting his dreary thoughts. Funnily enough, today wasn’t the first time she’d pulled a gun on him. Two months into their marriage, he’d returned early from a mission. On the way home, he stopped at a chain restaurant they both liked to pick up a burger and fries for himself and an order of mozzarella sticks for her.

He’d wanted to surprise her, but he was the one who ended up surprised when she thought he was an intruder and caught him in the crosshairs of her Glock. They’d had a good laugh over it while eating but, to this day, he couldn’t see a plate of mozzarella sticks without immediately thinking of her. Or a chocolate-covered strawberry or a plumeria flower. And her honey-dipped jasmine scent had permanently ingrained itself inhis senses. And don’t even get him started on cherries. Anything with the damn fruit made him think about her.

Even after all this time apart, he still craved her.

After several minutes of watching the main entrance, the door opened and Quinn walked out. He pulled in a sharp breath, excited by the turn of events. She moved with a grace and stealth he could admire. She’d also gotten rid of the backpack she’d been wearing earlier which was probably full of gadgets and goodies.

Leaning back, keeping out of sight, he watched her head down the sidewalk, and then he made the split second decision to follow her.

???

After she stashed her drone and go bag full of equipment, Quinn’s stomach growled. As she made her way out of the storage unit, it belatedly occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten anything substantial since her stakeout of Ex Nihilo’s warehouse began yesterday. No wonder her stomach felt like it was eating itself.

There was a lowkey pub a couple of minutes up the street and she was craving some greasy bar food and alcohol after confronting Brax. Maybe she was still a little too close to his location, but she knew him well enough to comfortably predict he’d be sitting with his team right now, dissecting exactly how she’d gotten into their warehouse and what their next move against her would be.

Completely unconcerned, she walked down to the pub and found a quiet, dark corner. When the waitress came over, Quinnordered mozzarella sticks, her guilty pleasure, and a glass of Pinot Noir. As she was contemplating dessert, too—because let’s face it, today was a win since she was still alive—the chair across from her scraped back.

Quinn wasn’t in the mood for company or to be hit on. With an annoyed look, she glanced up, ready to tell the jerk to take a walk…and froze.Oh, shit.Braxton sat down across from her, a smirk on his face.

“We weren’t done talking,” he said smoothly.

Quinn swallowed back a retort as the waitress returned with her wine, her appetite disappearing as tension tightened her limbs. Dammit, she shouldn’t have underestimated him.Sneaky bastard.

“Did you want something to drink?” the waitress asked him.

“Whiskey. Whatever your best one is,” he added, and she nodded, slipping away.

“I see some things never change,” Quinn murmured, taking a sip of her wine. Doing her best to appear cool, she met his intense silver eyes. “I doubt this place has Macallan, though.”

Nerves strung taut, she casually slid her hands beneath the tabletop and did a quick visual sweep of the room, searching for his team members. She automatically reached for her Glock and, the moment she did, Brax moved fast.

Beneath the scarred table, they both swiftly drew their pistols, aiming at one another. The air between them shifted, the tension skyrocketed, and everything in Quinn went on high alert.

Their gazes locked. Hard and unyielding, full of mistrust.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed when the waitress returned and set the whiskey in front of Brax.

“Here you go. Would you like anything else?” she asked, but neither looked up at her.

“No,” they both answered at the same time.

“Um, okay, well, the mozzarella sticks should be ready shortly.”

Neither replied and the server hurried away.

“You gonna shoot me, Cherry?” Brax asked.

“Call me that again and I might.”

“You used to like when I called you that.”

“I used to like a lot of things you did. Not anymore.”

A long, strained moment passed between them before Brax sighed. “Instead of a shoot-out, I suggest we call a truce and talk. I’d rather things not get messy in a public place.”

As nice as that sounded, Quinn didn’t exactly trust him. Hell, she didn’t trust anyone except her family, and that only included the women. Being abandoned by most of the important men in her life at one point or another—starting with her father who’d skipped out when she was still just a baby—had left her with some pretty massive trust issues. She’d taken a huge chance giving her heart to Brax, and even he had let her down.

But, he was right. Shooting each other right now would get them nowhere.

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