"There the fuck you are," he said, shoulders relaxing a bit.
The guilt was overwhelming, strong enough to damn near buckle my knees right there.
Because he looked tired and worried and rumpled because of me. Because he realized I was missing. Because he had no idea where I was, what could have befallen me. For as many friends as I had made in my life, I had racked up quite a few enemies as well, ones who would be happy to catch me, rip me away from my life.
And Quin, being the man he was, would have felt responsible for recovering me. He wouldn't have been able to eat, to sleep, to think straight until he got a lead.
While I played house.
While I never once asked Christopher for the ability to call home and tell them that I was okay.
God, I was such an asshole.
"Quin..." I started, not sure what I could even say, what words there existed that could excuse letting them all worry themselves sick about me.
"You're okay?" he asked, voice a little raw.
"I'm fine," I assured him, taking a step forward, feeling Christopher's hand snag me at the wrist, stopping me.
And Quin? He didn't miss that.
His body stiffened, gaze moving over Christopher, appraising him.
If it came down to these two men, I had no idea who I would put my money on.
"What did I say about putting your hands on her?" Quin asked between gritted teeth.
"You are trespassing on my property, and you think you can tell me what to do?" Christopher asked, voice low, lethal.
"Okay, okay," I said, breaking free from Christopher's hold, moving into the center of the room, directly between both of them, arms raising like I could actually hold them off if they decided they wanted to go a few rounds. "I think there has been a misunderstanding."
"There has been a fucking crime," Quin corrected.
"I mean, we all know how Bellamy is," I started, watching as his gaze cut to me.
"I'm not talking about fucking Bellamy, Miller," he corrected, gaze moving back to Christopher.
"Alright, wait," I tried again, wondering where the hell my trusted negotiation skills were hiding.
Probably somewhere getting nice and rusty, I decided, as no good ideas came to mind.
"Don't try to tell me he hasn't held you against your will," Quin shot at me.
"Okay, well, maybe."
"Maybe?" he asked, voice a hushed whisper. "Are you fucking with me? How is there any maybe about that?"
"Well, I mean, Bellamy drugged and kidnapped me. He brought me to Greece with Fenway..."
"Fucking Fenway," Quin grumbled under his breath, making my lips curve up. Fucking Fenway. I'd heard that phrase more times than I cared to remember.
"Yeah, but those two sort of... ran off as soon as we were on the shore in Santorini. Where Christopher and I... had a discussion."
"A discussion?" he prompted when I didn't go on.
"I had a business proposition for Melody," Christopher piped u[.
Quin visibly shocked back at the sound of my name, his gaze shooting to me.
He knew it.
Of course, he knew it.
He was my boss.
He knew all my details.
But he never used it.
And no one else ever did either.
I never offered it to anyone.
So, obviously, he was starting to put the pieces together.
"If you don't mind, I'd prefer to hear this story from Melody," Quin said, gaze holding mine, daring me not to tell him the whole truth.
"Christopher's brother was kidnapped, being held for ransom by Chernev."
"Of the heroin fame?" Quin asked, knowing damn near every major player in the world.
"Yes."
"Ruthless bastard."
"Yes, well, that was why I was needed. To negotiate a deal. For a nice price."
God, I hadn't even thought about the money in over a week. Honestly, I wasn't sure I had thought about the money at all since being back on the yacht.
"Tell me, Miller, did you really have any say in this transaction?" Quin asked, too smart for his own good. Or mine in this situation.
"Okay, no," I admitted, watching as his jaw tightened. "But, really, it was a good deal. Better than anyone has ever offered me. And the job seemed easy enough."
"And yet you are still in fucking Greece for what reason?"
"We got Alexander—Christopher's brother—back. But Chernev got away. And, apparently, he had turned one of Christopher's men. Which we didn't learn until he attacked me in bed."
"He what?" Quin asked, voice a barely audible hiss as his hands curled into fists.
"It's okay. I'm okay. Really, there was no, you know, physical damage or anything. Christopher came in and handled it."
I knew Quin well enough to interpret the look in his eyes right then, to know he had picked up on my carefully chosen words.
No physical damage.
I charged on, though, because I wasn't ready to go there. If I ever would be.
"And because Christopher wasn't sure if any of his men could be trusted at that point, he packed his brother and me up with just three guards and headed here to hide out while he had Holden called in to... do some interrogating."
"Why were you the one almost killed?" Quin asked, turning accusing eyes on Christopher.
"Because I had been on a call with him, distracting him while Christopher and his men made their way to retrieve Alexander."
"And he hates women," Christopher added. "Especially ones in positions of power."
"There's that too," I agreed, nodding.
"How long have you been here? Instead of Santorini?" he asked, keen eyes landing on me once again.
"Too long not to have found a way to call you," I told him, shaking my head. "I wasn't thinking straight," I admitted.
"I bet," Quin agreed, looking again at Christopher, the accusation clear in his eyes.
I knew I had been right.
When I got back to Navesink Bank, he would force me into therapy.
And they would throw around those words.
Stockholm Syndrome.
More startling than the idea of that, was the idea of leaving at all.
"How did you find me?" I asked, looking for something to distract me from the thoughts about leaving.
"We started to worry when we hadn't heard from you. No one had seen you. No activity on your credit cards. Finally, Nia pinged your phone. And you'll never guess where she found it."
"At Bell's place," I assumed.
"And he was oh, so conveniently off on a job and 'unable to be contacted' until further notice. But you know Nia; she won't settle for not figuring shit out. She traced some of his phone records to Greece. I took a shot and jumped on a plane."
"How long have you been in the country?"
"Four days or so. I'll say this for that bastard," he said, jerking his chin toward Christopher, "he has these people brainwashed into thinking he's a decent guy who would never actually kidnap someone."
"He's done a lot for them," I defended immediately, knee-jerk.
A shadow crossed Quin's face as he listened to me. "I'm going to need to speak to you alone, Miller. Outside," he added. "Is that going to be a problem?" he asked, tone seething as he glanced at Christopher.