Elizabeth had gotten an email from Shanti O’Neal but had forgotten about it the moment she’d heard about Quinn’s friend. “Connor made the Dean’s List.”
“What? O’Neal?” Malik laughed. “No way, man.”
Dylan raised his beer. “Way to go, college boy.”
“I guess he wasn’t the idiot we thought he was,” Lev teased.
Thor was more polite. “That’s good to hear.”
Shanti had been a Cobra client a little more than a year ago. Connor, a Cobra operative, had been the head of her security detail. The fact that the two of them ended up getting married afterward was a bit of a scandal, though Connor’s decision to leave Cobra to go to college had prevented him from answering any thorny questions. That had been a harrowing mission, though certainly not the roughest for Elizabeth. She’d come to respect Shanti, a human-rights attorney, and they were now good friends.
The conversation drifted after that, but Elizabeth’s thoughts stayed with Quinn. She took out her phone, sent him a quick text message.
I just heard the terrible news. I’m so sorry. Please let me know if you need anything.
She waited for a moment, hoping he’d respond, wanting to know she’d reached him. Cobra’s planes were equipped with wi-fi. But after a few minutes with no answer, she tucked her phone away.
* * *
Glasgow
It was almostnine in the morning when Quinn arrived in Glasgow. He rented a black Vauxhall Crossland X and drove down the M8 toward Stepps to Jack and Ava’s place off Cumbernauld Road, rain drumming on the windshield.
It was a typical dreich day—cold, wet, gray.
Och, he hated this city. Memories rushed back at him, but he pushed them from his mind. He’d left that life behind long ago. It had no hold on him now.
He took the A80 exit and soon found himself in front of the house. Jack had done well for himself after leaving the service. He’d gone to work as private security for some MSP in Holyrood. He and Ava had bought this place—a respectable villa made of proper stone—when she’d fallen pregnant with their first. Quinn had helped them move.
Och, who needs all these bloody books?
Those are Ava’s. She loves to read, so she does.
Quinn parked, sat in the car. He’d spent twelve hours in the air trying to come to grips with the truth, but some part of him still couldn’t believe it.
Jack. Dead.
Nothing about it made sense.
He re-read Elizabeth’s text. He’d already sent her a reply.
Thank you.
What else was there to say?
Quinn glanced over, saw that the blinds were closed. He hadn’t warned Ava he was coming. It had been midnight in Glasgow when he’d left Denver, and he’d been certain she and the wee ones were sleeping.
How would she feel about him showing up at her door?
He was about to call her when the front door opened and Ava appeared, Olivia and Isla behind her. He climbed out of the car, left his duffel in the boot, and walked up the footpath to the door.
Ava stared at him, clearly surprised to see him. Her eyes were red from crying, dark circles beneath them, her blond hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He wished he’d been here a few days ago to stop this from happening. “I’m so bloody sorry, Ava.”
She stepped into his embrace, her body trembling as she wept. “He’s gone.”
Quinn held her, wishing he could cry, too. Instead, he felt only rage.