Quinn swallowed. “Yes, obviously. But… I still need a date to this thing. It’s important. There are a shocking number of well-connected people who live around here and are planning to attend. And now that there won’t be a Carter Rogers society wedding on my roster—”
“I’ll go,” I said before he had to ask me again. “Of course I’ll go if you need me to.”
The sentiment behind my words, that I would do whatever he needed of me, floated around me like a comforting fog. It felt right. Offering to meet his needs fed that part of me that wanted to protect people. Protect him.
I cleared my throat. “What did Vince say?”
While he told me about my smarmy ex trying to intimidate him, I did my best to keep breathing steadily when all I really wanted to do was murder a particular DEA agent.
“He’s lying,” I said when Quinn finally took a break from talking to throw the vegetables into a large soup pot and add several spices. “Or else he’s completely delusional about the cause of our breakup. I wasn’t the one obsessed with my job—he was. He didn’t start out like that, but somewhere along the way, he let this… career competition take over. He wants to be the best, get to the top the fastest, impress people. When we first met, he said he wanted to settle down. We adopted Herc. I bought my place here in the Thicket. Then he decided at the spur of the moment to take a big job in DC. That was when I couldn’t keep pretending we wanted the same things. But I still can’t really figure out if he was lying about wanting to settle down or if he changed his mind once he saw how much more was out there for him.”
I reached over to steal a piece of carrot left on the cutting board and pop it in my mouth. “It doesn’t really matter, but it does explain why he’s so rabid about this case. He’s obviously using it to try and make a name for himself there.”
Quinn stirred the big pot before turning to me. “He wants me to wear a wire or something and ask Tommy to show me his Horn collection.”
I rolled my eyes. “Vince is an idiot. How does he expect you to explain your interest in this one particular hidden Horn to Marissa’s dad? Because that one isn’t with all the others.”
He shrugged. “Alternatively, Vince wants me to get him access to the property while Levi isn’t around. Let him search the place himself.”
Alarm bells went off in my head. “He said that? That he wanted to search the place without the homeowner’s knowledge?” What the hell was Vince thinking? Would he truly risk his job just to prove he could solve this case?
Quinn nodded. “It wasn’t that shocking. Isn’t that what you’re doing too?”
“Yeah, but I don’t work for the government. Chain of custody and illegal search and seizure aren’t concerns for me. Not to mention, I have permission to be here by the homeowner.” If Vince had truly suggested an unauthorized search of the premises, that changed everything. I needed to talk to the team. “What did you tell him? How did you leave it?”
“I let him believe I was mostly convinced, then told him I had to think about it. I left it open so I could talk to you and see what you wanted me to do.”
I was floored by his trust and faith in me. For as feisty and independent as Quinn Taffet was, he was actually deferring to me on this.
There had to be a catch.
“You’re really good at this teamwork thing, Taffet,” I said softly. “But stay the fuck away from Vince, you hear me? If he’s on a quest for glory, he won’t think twice about dragging you down with him.”
Quinn shook his head. “I’m not worried about me—”
“Well, I fucking am. I want you to avoid him completely, okay? Put him off. Tell him you’re too scared to get involved. Tell him to get a warrant. Better yet, just don’t take his calls.”
I hated the idea of Quinn even hearing Vince’s voice, letting Vince’s manipulation poison his brain.
His jaw set mulishly. “What happened to you not being bossy anymore?”
“I just don’t—”
Before I could press him on it, Marissa came into the kitchen talking a mile a minute at Levi about something having to do with goats.
“Nubians’ milk is higher in butterfat, but Toggs lactate for longer,” Marissa said, making Quinn turn around in slow motion with a funny look on his face.
Levi nodded. “But Nubians are loud as hell, Rissy. You don’t want that shit in your ears all night. Now, I know you don’t like their small ears, but La Manchas are the better dairy breed, all in all.”