“I saw how he looked you up and down when you introduced yourself.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean. That call—I think it was about me. They took our driver’s license numbers and our birthdates. I figured they were running some kind of background check. He learned something he didn’t like. As soon as he hung up, he ended our meeting.”
“What if he found out you’re former CIA?”
She moaned, closed her eyes. “That’s not ideal, but why should that matter?”
Had she really just asked him that question?
“Och, he really hit you hard, doll.”The fuckin’ bastard.“You’re no’ yourself. You’re no’ thinkin’ clearly. Tell me. Where are we?”
“I know where we are—the Dakota hotel in Glasgow, Scotland.”
Now Quinn was truly worried. “What’s just across the water from us?”
“Norway?”
“The other direction.”
Her eyes flew open, her gaze meeting his. “Northern Ireland.”
“Aye.”
“Do you think he’s mixed up somehow with the IRA?”
“I dinnae know what he’s doin’, but those boys workin’ for him were Irish. The IRA has used Glasgow as a route to England in the past.”
“I read a paper recently about how Brexit has made those tensions flare again. MI5 held a conference about it, I think.” She stood, ice bag in hand, walked to her computer, and booted it up. “What if Jack’s misgivings had nothing to do with drugs at all? What if he was worried that Leo was supporting terrorists?”
She sat, started to read through the document, but stopped. “I can’t look at the screen. It hurts too much.”
Quinn was done fucking around. “I’m calling for a doctor.”
He settled her on her bed and then called the front desk, making up a story about how they’d been walking in Troon and some bastard had tried to steal her handbag and punched her when she wouldn’t let go. “Naw, she disnae want to talk to police. She disnae want to see a doctor either, but I think a doctor needs to take a look at her.”
“They’re going to think you did it,” she said when he hung up the phone.
Quinn’s stomach knotted at the thought. He’d seen his mother lie for his father a hundred times. “I’d rather face their suspicion and accusations than see you sufferin’.”
A paramedic arrived almost an hour later, saw her black eye, and turned to Quinn, his gaze resting on Quinn’s bruised cheek. “I’d like to examine her in private, please.”
“Aye, of course.” Quinn stepped into the hall, memories he wished he didn’t have filling his head—his mother’s screams, his da’s shouting, his own terror.
If you dinnae have my meals ready on time, I’ll find some other cunt to do it.
I’m sorry! I’ll do better.
Stop hittin’ her, Da! Stop! You’re hurtin’ her! Can ye no’ see that?
Get out of here, boy, or you’ll feel the sting of my belt.
How many times had he done nothing while his da beat his mother, leaving her bruised and battered?
No wonder she left you.
The door opened again, and Quinn was allowed to enter.
“She’s got a concussion and needs rest. I’ve given her somethin’ stronger for the headache.” The paramedic went through a list of things Elizabeth should avoid along with symptoms that indicated she needed to go to A&E. “I’ve suggested she go in for a CT scan, but she refused.”