Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [123]
Rainie pressed her forehead against the warm glass of the passenger side window. She rubbed her temples unconsciously and wished she could get these thoughts out of her head.
Outside, the sun beat down relentlessly. Even with the AC cranked in the tiny rental car, she could feel the heat gathering just beyond the vents. Her bare legs were hot from sunbeams. She could already feel sweat trickle uncomfortably down her back.
“Thinking of Oregon?” Quincy asked abruptly. He was wearing his customary blue suit; jacket draped neatly in the backseat for now, but tie still knotted around his throat. She didn’t know how he did it every morning.
“Not exactly.” She straightened in her seat, stretching out her bare legs. She wore a fresh pair of khaki shorts and a white collared shirt that desperately needed ironing. No suits for her. Not even if they were returning to Quantico. The place wasn’t her hallowed ground and they both knew it.
“You’re thinking of Oregon a lot these days, aren’t you?” Quincy asked again. She looked at him more carefully, surprised by his tenacity. His face was impossible to read. Dark eyes peering straight ahead. His lips set in a tight line. He was going for the neutral, psychologist-on-duty approach, she decided.
“Yeah,” she said.
“It’s been a long time. Nearly two years. Maybe after this, we should go there. To Oregon. Have a vacation.”
“All right.” Her voice came out thicker than she intended. Dammit, she had tears in her eyes.
He heard it, turned toward her and for the first time, she saw the full panic on his face. “Rainie . . .”
“I know.”
“Have I done something wrong?”
“It’s not you.”
“I know I can be distant. I know I get a little lost in my work . . .”
“It’s my work, too.”
“But you’re not happy, Rainie. It’s not just today either. You haven’t been happy in a long, long time.”
“No.” It shocked her to finally say it out loud, and in the next instant, she felt a curious sensation in the middle of her chest. Relief. She had gotten the word out. She had said it, had acknowledged the elephant that had been lurking in the room for a good six months now. Someone had to.
Quincy’s gaze returned to the road. His hands flexed and unflexed on the wheel. “Is there something I can do?” he asked at last, already sounding more composed. That was his way, she knew. You could hit the man in the gut, and he’d merely square his shoulders. If you hurt his daughter, on the other hand, or threatened Rainie . . . That’s when the gloves came off. That’s when his dark eyes gleamed feral, and his runner’s body fell into the stance of a long, lean weapon, and he emerged not as Quincy, top criminology researcher, but as Pierce, an extremely dangerous man.
That was only when you harmed someone he loved, however. He had never done much of anything to protect himself.
“I don’t know,” Rainie said bluntly.
“If you want to go to Oregon, I’ll go to Oregon. If you need a break, we can take a break. If you need space, I’ll give you space. If you need comfort, then just tell me and I’ll pull over this car right now and take you into my arms. But you have to tell me something, Rainie, because I’ve been floating in the dark for months now, and I think I’m losing my mind.”
“Quincy . . .”
“I would do anything to make you happy, Rainie.”
And she said in a small voice, “I’m so sorry, Quincy, but I think I want a baby.”
Kaplan was already waiting for them when they pulled into the parking lot outside the Jefferson Dormitory. He looked hot, tired, and already pissed as hell with the day.
“A little birdie told me I’m not supposed to be talking to you two,” he said the moment they climbed out of their car. “Said I should deal only with some new guy, who’s now heading the investigation.”
Quincy shrugged mildly. “I haven’t been notified of any change