Honor Reclaimed (HORNET #2)

Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

KABUL

Quinn sat upright in bed, every trained sense he had going on high alert. He couldn’t put his finger on what had tipped him off—the house was quiet, everyone sound asleep, and he heard no unfamiliar sounds.

But something.

Something…

What?

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and checked the time on his phone. 0520. When he’d done his rounds twenty minutes ago, he hadn’t spotted anything out of the ordinary, but he wasn’t waiting another forty minutes to check again when every fiber in his being told him something. Was. Wrong. He grabbed his rifle and edged down the hallway to Harvard’s door.

He rapped his knuckle against the wood. “Harvard.”

A thunk. Voices. At least two, trying to be quiet. Scrambling.

What the fuck?

Quinn’s heart rate jacked up and he raised his weapon, all ready to burst into the room and take down whoever was on the other side.

The door opened and Harvard poked his head out. “Uh, Quinn. Hi. What’s up?” He was shirtless, showing off lean muscles that the last few months of training had added to his once broomstick-thin body, and his pants hung low on his hips, unbuttoned. His hair was mussed as if he—or someone else—had been running their fingers through it all night.

Well, shit. No wonder he hadn’t put up a fight about being left behind at the shelter.

Quinn shouldered his rifle. “You can come out, Zina. I know you’re in there.”

Red bloomed across Harvard’s cheeks as Zina came to the door in a bathrobe, her hair just as mussed, her lips puffy, cheeks reddened by stubble.

“Uh…” Harvard said, rubbing the back of his neck like a teenager caught in the act by dear old dad.

Quinn snorted at that mental image. Yeah, right. As if he’d ever qualify to be anyone’s father. He held up his hands. “No judgment here.”

After all, how could he cast stones after his one night stand this summer with?—

Mara.

Goddammit. There she was again. He’d been doing such a good job blocking her out of his mind too.

“Is there something wrong?” Zina asked, clenching the bathrobe to her chest. If she was at all embarrassed, she didn’t show it, but maybe that was because worry lit her pretty features.

“I don’t know,” Quinn admitted. “I got this feeling…and it’s probably nothing,” he added when her eyes widened. “Still, I wanted Harvard to run a check with the security cameras he installed.”

“Absolutely,” Harvard said. “Give us a minute.”

The door shut and Quinn heard their murmurs, the unmistakable sound of a kiss. Yeah, maybe he’d give them a bit more space. He walked over to the top of the stairs and peered down to the dark first floor.

Harvard reemerged a few minutes later. “Camera’s showing no activity.”

Damn. Wincing, he rubbed his temple where a headache was starting pound. If everything was secure, why did he feel so uneasy? Probably just head-trauma induced restlessness, but he still didn’t feel right about going back to bed. “I’m going to walk the grounds. Just in case.”

“All right,” Harvard said. “And since I’m up, I’ll check out a few things online. See if I can’t dig up more intel on Siddiqui or the bomb he wants to buy.”

Guilt prickled up the back of Quinn’s neck. “No, don’t do that. Go back to Zina.”

“Nah, that’s over.”

He said it so off-handedly, Quinn gaped in surprise. He’d never pegged Harvard for the one-night-stand type. That was more Jean-Luc’s specialty. And his own. “Didn’t your relationship just start?”

“It’s not a relationship. We had sex and now it’s over. What?” he said defensively when Quinn continued to stare. “It’s a perfectly natural stress release if both parties know and agree to the terms going in.”

“You make it sound like a…loan contract. It’s sex.”

“Which is a kind of contract between two consenting adults.”

Quinn blinked. He couldn’t wrap his mind around— Where the hell did this kid learn about fucking, from a law textbook? “But it’s sex. It never wraps up all neat and tidy like that. It’s dirty and rough and the aftermath is?—”

Now Harvard was blinking at him, owl-like, and he realized he was giving away far more about his own fucked up sex life than educating Harvard on what a healthy sexual relationship should be. “Uh, can we pretend this whole convo never happened?”

“Yeah,” Harvard said, dragging the word out. “That works for me. I’ll let you know if I turn up anything more on?—”

A bell sounded from Harvard’s room and he ran toward it. Quinn waited a beat, then started downstairs when it didn’t seem like he would be back.

“Wait,” Harvard said, coming to the top of the stairs. He waved a paper in one hand and grinned. “I got a lock on Siddiqui’s car. It’s sitting in a restaurant parking lot only two freaking miles from here. What do you say we go slap a tracking device on the thing?”