dark line of his brows slammed together over a glare. No doubt the intimidating look was exactly what he used to keep the soldiers he trained in line.
Quinn had a feeling those men, given that expression, would jump to do whatever Jace Hyland wanted...right after wetting themselves. And it wasn’t like Jace trained wussies. He had the best of the best, the strongest of the strong and the most masculine of the masculine under his command.
“I’ve taken some leave.”
Okay, before she’d been miffed. Now she was royally pissed. “Because of this? Because of me?” God, she was going to hurt Warren—and then possibly Jace. This was getting blown out of proportion. Big time.
“No. I had this time off scheduled already for another reason.”
Well, wasn’t that just great. Why didn’t that make her feel any better?
The man was on vacation—probably the first one he’d taken in two years—and he was sitting here preparing to babysit her as if she was a shaky-legged toddler.
“Why the hell aren’t you on a sandy beach somewhere, then?”
He sucked in a breath. Quinn watched his chest expand and hold. She counted in her head, up to almost ninety before he let the breath go with a quiet rush that she felt deep inside.
“Not much on sand these days,” he said quietly.
And Quinn immediately regretted her outburst. Who was she to tell the man how to relax? Her problem was, she wasn’t sure Jace understood the definition of the word.
And if anyone deserved a chance to unwind and shed responsibilities, it was Jace. But that was a discussion for another time.
What she had to deal with right now was the threat of him moving into her home. It was hard enough to keep her mind where it belonged when he was in the middle of her office. Running into him in the hallway late at night? Quinn wasn’t sure she’d survive the experience.
Not without embarrassing them both.
“There’s nothing more important than this. I made a promise, one I intend to keep. Michael would never forgive me if something happened to you.”
How was she supposed to counter that? Especially when his personal crusade was championed by a ghost. If she refused and, God forbid, something did happen to her, Jace would carry that guilt around with him for the rest of his life. He was weighed down with too much of that as it was.
This situation was spiraling out of control so quickly Quinn couldn’t find a single slippery thread to grab so she could try to hold it all together.
Jace pinned her with his gaze. Her heart fluttered and a pressure settled right in the middle of her chest. He held her eyes for several seconds before saying in a low, fluid voice, “Humor me.”
It wasn’t a request, but he waited for her response anyway. And for some reason, her ability to argue simply fled. She couldn’t deny him. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Realizing her mouth had gone dry, Quinn simply nodded.
Aw, hell, what had she just gotten herself into?
3
“I COULD JUST stay here,” Quinn suggested, despite knowing it wasn’t going to happen.
Jace didn’t even bother answering. He flashed her a cutting look and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. Not very patiently.
A black bag sat on the floor beside him. His foot tapped, a staccato against the cool tile.
She’d discovered the reason he’d had leave scheduled. And she didn’t like it. And really didn’t want to go. Attending an MMA fight was more her idea of torture than entertainment. She’d never understood the draw, for men or women.
Brutality was something she fought against. And these men—Jace included—were embracing it. Training for it. Seeking it out.
She didn’t understand and really didn’t want to.
They’d been arguing for the past twenty minutes, though. It had taken her under five to realize Jace wasn’t budging. She’d continued in the hope that eventually she’d make him late enough that he’d either leave her behind or, preferably, skip the thing entirely.
“In about thirty seconds I’m going to put you in the car myself. Stop stalling.”
Or not.
With a resigned sigh, Quinn grabbed her purse and slung it diagonally across her chest.
The drive out was silent. A part of her was grateful for the residual irritation oozing between them and the distraction it provided. Inside her own head, she continued the argument, knowing it was about as productive as actually speaking the words out loud. But maybe her mental rant would drain the emotion away.
They pulled into a dark parking lot filled with cars and trucks of every make, model and price point. Jace’s fingers brushed against her hip as he reached down and clicked open her seat belt.
Smacking his hands away, she snapped, “I can take care of myself, Jace.”
Or maybe the brooding was just feeding into her already crappy mood.
He blew out a grim breath. Exiting, he went to stand at the hood of the car. Bag slung over one shoulder, his wide, hard back to her, he waited. Even in the early summer, it was already late enough to be full dark. Harsh light from a car in the spot three spaces over slashed across his forbidding body.
His silence said more than any words could have. And for some reason, Quinn had the urge to reach out and run a soothing hand over his tense shoulders.
Grinding her teeth, she fought back the instinct. Touching him always seemed to backfire on her, sending an unwanted tingle of awareness rushing through her body. Better to keep her hands to herself.
So, instead, she walked past him toward the rectangle of light spilling out into the night from the two huge doors propped wide open. Noise poured out, along with shouting, laughter and music. Apparently the fighting had started and there was already a match going.
She’d barely gotten through the doors when Jace’s hand wrapped around her upper arm. Urging her forward, he directed her through the crowd, oblivious to the dirty stares that followed in their wake.
The dull roar of noise was a constant assault on her eardrums. Pulling her to a halt off to the left of the huge circular cage sitting in the middle of the room, Jace leaned down to speak into a guy’s ear. The man, several inches shorter than Jace, flicked a quick gaze over his shoulder at her and nodded.
The man’s eyes roamed up and down her body, not in a sexual way, but assessing. As if he was finally getting a look at a piece of artwork he’d been hearing about for years and was trying to decide if the hype was warranted.
Stepping away from the other man, Jace bent down to yell into her ear. She tried to ignore the soft puff of air against her skin and the tingle that chased behind it.
“Stay here. If you need anything tell Axe.” He threw
