Page 131 of Brutal Vows
Glancing at Quinn’s possessive arm clamped around my body, his crystal blue eyes warm with laughter. “If you don’t have any other plans, that is.”
Quinn says, “I’ve got all sorts of plans. What time?”
“Six o’clock work for you, lover boy?”
“Aye.” He looks down at me, and his voice grows husky. “Hope Sloane won’t be serving anything too heavy. I’ll need my energy for later.”
“You don’t have a problem with energy,” I say softly. “Are we done fighting now?”
“Probably not.”
“Great. Thanks for the heads-up.”
When I turn back to Declan, he winks at me before strolling away.
Back in the car, I ask Quinn for his cell phone so I can call Gianni. I left my handbag at the hotel because I was too distracted wanting to rip off Quinn’s head when we left.
When I dial the number, it goes straight to voicemail.
“Gianni. Call me as soon as you get this. Shit, forget that, I don’t have my cell on me, I’m calling from Quinn’s phone.” I look at him and say, “What’s this number?”
He quirks his lips. “You think I’m giving out my untraceable burner number to your idiot brother?”
Good point.
Into the phone, I say, “Never mind, I’ll try you later. And you’d better be back at the hotel with Mamma right now, apologizing for leaving her alone overnight.”
I disconnect and hand the phone back to Quinn. As soon as he’s stashed it inside his shirt pocket, he drags me across the seat and pulls me onto his lap. He looks at my mouth. His eyes start burning.
I sigh. “Not in front of Kieran, please.”
From the front seat, Kieran says, “Don’t mind me, lass. I’m blind as a bat up here. Deaf, too, if it makes ye feel any better.’”
Ignoring him because Quinn’s sliding his hand up my thigh, I warn, “Don’t you dare.”
He whispers, “You defended me. In front of all those wankers, you introduced me as your husband and called me ‘honey.’”
“Those ‘wankers’ are my family.”
“You said we were your family, too,” he breathes, eyes alight. Sinking his fingers into my flesh, he touches his lips to mine.
Pleased by how satisfied he is, I smile at him. “Don’t let it go to your head. That’s big enough already.”
He takes his hand from my leg and clasps it around my jaw. He kisses me again, this time more firmly, but still with no tongue. A thrill in his voice, he says, “You said we were on our honeymoon.”
“I was trying to distract everyone from the mess you made. Remember the dead guy on the floor? Brains, blood, sound familiar? Also, back up a second. What the hell was your problem this morning? Were you concerned about this meeting you neglected to tell me anything about?”
His jaw works. He caresses my face for a moment in pensive silence, then shakes his head.
When he doesn’t offer any explanation, I say crossly, “I see you’ve hit the mute button again. I wish I had access to that when you won’t shut the hell up.”
“Let me have this moment of happiness before you destroy my will to live, please.”
When I blink, taken aback, he says, “That was a joke.”
I chew my lip and play with a button on his shirt. “Don’t joke about your will to live. You’ve said some things in that regard that worry me.”
He exhales, pulls me against his chest, and tucks my head under his chin. Holding me tightly, he says gruffly, “Tell you what. You’re the only one in this marriage who’s allowed to kill me. How’s that?”
