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eyes. A moment later, she smiled as he pulled her closer and wrapped her in his arms.
    “Thank you for coming to rescue me, cher,” he muttered against her ear, just before he placed a kiss on the side of her neck. “Emotional teenaged girls are far outside of my skillset.”
    Unable to help it, Renata giggled, then turned her face up to meet his gaze. In the midst of the heaviness of the last several months, and especially the last few days, the glint of humor in his eyes was such a welcome distraction it brought a lump to her throat. Before any tears could fall, she nuzzled her face against him, smothering herself in the soft cotton of his tee shirt. Ignoring the lingering pain that still nagged her shoulder, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight, even as he shifted their position to pull her into his lap.
    He placed a hand to her face, cupping it gently before his fingers slid under her chin. She tipped her head back, welcoming his lips to touch hers in a deep, unhurried kiss that was just enough to make her want to climb into his bed.
    But she needed to get back to Taylor.
    Quentin must have recognized that too, because despite the bulge growing insistently harder against her leg, he pulled away from the kiss, then pressed his lips to the top of her head. “How are you doing?”
    She opened her mouth to say she was fine, then stopped herself. Fine wasn’t really an accurate description of the emotional turmoil she felt. She was thrilled to have Taylor safely back in her presence. Overjoyed that none of her friends had to put themselves in danger to make it happen. But she was also terrified.
    There were too many unanswered questions to feel at ease. Where was Damien Wolfe now? Had he really died in that explosion? And for that matter, where was Terry King, who’d somehow slipped away from the surveillance on his house, and was in the wind now. Did he know where they were too? Instead of speaking, she burrowed her face against Quentin’s neck, and he took that as her answer.
    He squeezed her tighter, rubbing his fingers in an absent trail on her back. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, chérie ,” he whispered into her braids, making her scalp tingle with warmth. “You or Taylor. Waited too long. Been too patient.” He shifted positions yet again, this time to cup her face with both hands, so she could look at him as he spoke.
    The trace of humor was gone from his eyes, replaced with cold determination, and underneath that , something much warmer.
    “Wolfe took someone I loved once , when I was kid. He won’t survive trying that shit with me again. You understand?”
    Renata nodded, then closed her eyes to the soft brush of his lips on hers. She moaned a little as his tongue slid into her mouth with authority, like he was putting more emphasis on his words. Most times, logic would have ruled over the emotional, reminding her that “ I’m not gonna let anything happen to you ” was an impossible promise. But the way Quentin kissed her, with all of him, with everything, like he wanted to leave no doubt that he absolutely had the power to assure such a thing… she decided to believe him.
    She pushed away doubt, and fear, and the uncertainty of what was happening around them to succumb to his kiss. There would be time again for all of that later.
     

Three.
    Thump. Smack.
    Thump. Thump. Smack.
    Thump.
    Each connection between Inez’s fist and the thick leather of the heavy bag made a sound that resonated through the empty gym.
    This was solace, this was peace, this was… really Naomi’s thing, but Inez now understood why her friend used boxing as an outlet.
    It was pretty damned cathartic, releasing the tension that lay heavy on her shoulders into something that couldn’t fight back or resist. The punching bag just had to take it, and Inez had plenty of “it” to give.
    She wasn’t pissed off. It was more like she felt… cheated. One moment, she was suiting up to kick ass,