Mile High Weekend (Opposites Attract Book 1) (9 page)

“I’m not unappreciative of the service you’ve done, Mcdavid, and I can tell that even though you just met this woman, you care what happens to her.” Gilligan’s expression lost its hard edge for just a second, but returned quickly. “But let’s be real here. You don’t know her, she doesn’t know you, and neither of you owes the other a thing. And I have a job to do. A job I think you understand. And you can’t tell me a man in your position hasn’t made a decision that puts career and public safety over personal wants a dozen times.”

Quinn ground his teeth together.  Every word of what the other man said was true, even if he didn’t want it to be.  Quinn
did
understand.  He’d become a cop because he respected the law and wanted to uphold it.  Of course, he’d also become a cop to protect the innocent.  His current situation wasn’t the first that made doing both seem im-fucking-possible.

The agent went on. “Listen…I’m willing to offer you my word that I will personally deal with Genevieve Michaels, that I’ll personally look out for her until this thing is resolved. And you…You can do what you want and give us both a headache. Or you can do what you
should
do and save me the trouble of arresting you.”

Quinn considered the other man’s suggestions as if they were viable options. 

Walking away felt wrong.  Charging in and breaking laws felt right.

But it won’t do any damned good.

Then Gilligan asked a question that made his decision a little easier. “She know you’re a cop? And what things you’ve done in that capacity?”

“No,” Quinn admitted.

“You want her to?”

For one second, Quinn thought the other man was threatening to tell her.  Then he realized he was merely making a point.  Just off the top of his head, Quinn could think of a dozen things he’d hate for her to hear about.  A dozen things that would turn her stomach.  Make her wish she’d never met him.  He might not be ashamed of his past, but it wasn’t exactly wine-and-cheese conversation material, either.

What the hell had he been thinking, dragging her anywhere near that?

It’s not
what
you were thinking,
he corrected.
It’s what you were thinking
with.

There was still time to undo what he’d done to her, though.  All he had to do was walk away.

And just like that, Quinn made the decision.  A clean break.  One of the things that made him good at working undercover, at working in situations that required quick thinking and a detachment from emotion.

Pretending not to feel a nagging sense of doubt – pretending not to feel anything at all – Quinn snapped up his bag, and met Gilligan’s eyes with an unwavering stare.

“Is someone outside, waiting to take me to the hotel?” he asked.

“Dark hair, navy blue suit,” the TSA officer confirmed.

Quinn strode down the hallway and pushed through the exit without looking back.

Eleven

Ginnie worked at keeping her eyes from flitting around the little room nervously.  In the too many minutes since the airport guard had left her alone, she’d already noticed that the table was bolted to the floor, that the door had no inside handle, and that there was no clock on the yellow-stained walls.  And she was pretty sure that the big mirror straight across from her was one of the one-way kind.  She felt like she’d walked straight into an eighties cop show.

And somehow I’m on the wrong side.

And speaking of wrong sides…What had they done with Quinn?  What was he telling them?

When he’d dived for the man holding her, she’d had a weird, hopeful moment.  One where she’d pictured the big, tattooed man scattering the airport police like bowling pins, then sweeping Ginnie off her feet – literally.  And then the two of them had gone running off, Bonnie and Clyde style.  Into hiding.  Maybe holing up in some hotel somewhere with nothing to do but –

Ginnie cut off her thoughts before they could go any further.

“What is
wrong
with me?” she muttered under her breath.

Before she could stop herself, Ginnie glanced up to the mirror in an attempt to see if the change was something visible.

I look like hell.

Her hair was a nightmare of curls, loose around her shoulders and damp from the melting snow.  This morning before leaving the house, she’d meticulously applied just enough product to tame its wildness.  But any trace of the smooth ponytail was gone.  Destroyed by Quinn’s strong fingers.  Made worse by the walk through the storm.

Ginnie’s clothes were askew, too.  The top two buttons of her blouse had come undone, exposing a glimpse of her collarbone, and throwing off her usually prim appearance even more.  A flush had settled under her skin, and she wasn’t certain if it was a result of her current incarceration, her thoughts of Quinn, or the change in temperature – warm, then cold, and now almost stifling.  Either way, the brightness of her cheeks showed no signs of settling down.

I look like hell,
Ginnie thought again.
But…in a good way.

She wasn’t sure what made it true, and she stared at her reflection a few seconds longer, trying to figure it out.

One of her hands came up to smooth something
– anything –
back into place.  Instead, her fingers found a loose strand of hair, wrapped around it, twisted it up, then let it drop again.  The curl landed softly against her throat and teased its way to the gap in her blouse.

Inexplicably, the sight of the gold tendril against her skin sent a rush through her.

What had
Quinn
seen, when he freed her hair?  A glimpse of the wantonness that now seemed to dominate Ginnie’s features?  Something that made him push her up against the seat in the airplane and tear into her mouth with his own?

Ginnie’s breath caught as the tingle under her skin flourished, and she forced her eyes away from the (really, seriously possibly one-way) mirror. 

God. You’re locked up for having sex on an airplane – but not
really
having sex at all – and still all you’re thinking about is sex.

She placed her hands back on the bolted-down table and folded her fingers together, then crossed her legs in an attempt to resume a demure appearance.  But the motion reminded her that her underwear weren’t where they should be, and her mind slipped to the way Quinn had seemed so annoyed by the fact that she’d left them in Lawrence’s possession.

And Ginnie realized that she wasn’t just thinking about sex.  She was thinking about sex.  And Quinn.

Just buy a damned vibrator and get over it.

The thought was so unexpected that Ginnie snorted a laugh.

But maybe she really would do it.  Maybe when she got to Vegas, she would pop into the first sex shop she saw, and buy the biggest, shiniest one she could find.

Wait.  Did they come in shiny?

Does it matter?

She was going to lock herself in her hotel room and find out what else she’d been missing.

If she ever made it to Vegas, and didn’t just wind up in prison in Huntingdon instead.  Although if what she’d seen on TV was true, and she
did
get sent to prison, she’d get a whole other kind of sex education pretty damned quick.

Oh, good. Now you’re not thinking about sex with Quinn. You’re thinking about vibrators and lesbian sex with fellow inmates instead.

She really needed to get a grip.  She was going to have a hell of a time convincing the authorities her Mile High encounter had been an act if she was squirming like this.

“What’s taking them so long, anyway?”

Ginnie jumped as the door swung open and a dry voice answered the question she hadn’t meant to ask aloud.

“Sorry, Mrs. Michaels. We’re just not accustomed to processing potential felonies here in Huntingdon.”

Ginnie whipped around to face the security officer.  It was the same one who’d intervened when Quinn grabbed the man who pushed her.  The same one who’d locked her in the room in the first place.  Gilligan.  And he looked totally serious.

“Felonies?” Ginnie repeated, trying her damnedest to keep the worry from her voice.

Ginnie’s eyes followed the stocky man as he crossed the room.  When he seated himself across from her and gave her a short nod, a cold sweat broke out on her upper lip.

“Felonies,” Gilligan confirmed.

Was sex in public a felony?  It couldn’t be.  Could it?

“You’re in a serious amount of trouble,” the airport official told her.

“But it wasn’t even real!” Ginnie gasped. “I swear.”

“I know.”

“You – what? What did Quinn tell you?”

Gilligan shrugged. “He had nothing
to
tell us. He couldn’t have known ahead of time what you were planning.”

“What
I
was planning?”

The agent sighed. “All right, Mrs. Micheals, let’s start there, then. Even a fake one, undeclared, is considered an offence.”

Undeclared?
What did that mean?  And wait a second…He’d said a fake
one. 
Which meant he was talking about her orgasm.  Which hadn’t actually been fake at all. 
Shit. 
He had to be lying about Quinn telling them nothing.  Which meant that Quinn knew and…
Oh god. 
Could someone actually die of embarrassment?

“It was so real even I was fooled,” Gilligan added.

At those words, Ginnie’s face heated up, and her mouth snapped shut.  He’d been there, on the plane, listening.

“Do you have anything to say?” Gilligan prodded.

“Not particularly,” Ginnie stated, her voice sounding a little faraway to her own ears.

“I think telling me what happened would be best.”

He wanted
details
?  This was a nightmare.  The worst kind of humiliation. 

But under that, a spark of anger was lighting.

“Quinn didn’t take
any
responsibility?” Ginnie asked.

“No. But we know you weren’t travelling together, so we had no reason to hold him responsible.”

“Where is he now?”

“You should be thinking about yourself, not him.”

“Where
is
he?” Ginnie repeated, the seed of fury growing.

“He’s left the airport, Mrs. Michaels.”

So he really had thrown her under the bus.

Fine,
she thought.
I can do that, too.

“It was his idea,” she announced.

“His idea?” Now Gilligan was frowning at her.

“Yes!”

“But you had never met before today?”

“No.”

Gilligan shook his head. “Back it up, Mrs. Michaels. I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Quinn thought having a fake – you know – was a good way to get revenge on my husband.”

The TSA officer leaned forward. “And how were you going to
get
that revenge?”

“Um…Loudly?”

“And he was going to help you?”

“He
did
help me.”

“Tell me…When – precisely – did you meet Quinn Mcdavid?”

“Right before I got on the plane.”

“So this was before you checked your luggage.”

Ginnie shook her head. “After.”

“So how did he put it in there then?”

Ginnie just about choked on her next breath. “How did he – he
didn’t
. I told you…It was fake. I had a few drinks, got in an argument with the flight attendant, and there was Quinn.”

My knight in shining ink. Yeah, so much for that.

“Are you sure it was just a
few
drinks?” Gilligan asked.

Ginnie shot him an indignant glare. “There’s no law against getting tipsy. And I’m not even sure there’s a law against airplane sex. So if you’re not going to…” She trailed off as the officer’s eyebrows shot up so far that they disappeared into his hairline. “What?”

Gilligan jumped to his feet and rapped on the mirror.

Ha!
Ginnie thought.
One-way. I
knew
it.

Seconds later, the door swung open once again, and another TSA agent came in, rolling a familiar, black and grey bag behind him.  He lifted the luggage, set it at the edge of the table, then exited silently.

“Recognize this?” Gilligan asked as soon as the door was closed.

“It’s my bag.”

“Yes, it is.”

The TSA agent stood up and unzipped the suitcase.  Then he flipped the top open and pushed it toward Ginnie, whose face reddened immediately.  The contents was a mess of lace and silk and was that a pair of handcuffs?  And a big, plastic police badge attached to a distinctly blue shirt.  And yes, it looked like vibrators did indeed come in
shiny
.

She reached up and shoved the bag a bit farther away.

“That’s not – ” But Ginnie cut herself off as the stuff in the bag shifted and she spied a plastic evidence bag and
its
contents.

A gun. What the hell?

Gilligan reached in and yanked the bag out.  He held it up.

“
This
is the fake I was talking about,” he said. “I don’t know how it got missed in the bigger airport, but it was the first thing we saw when it came through our screening department. So, Mrs. Michaels…Do you have something to say now?”

Ginnie’s gaze strayed back to the suitcase.  Leather.  Lace.  Toys.  A police costume and a gun.

And then Ginnie figured it out.

“It’s a prop,” she blurted.

“A prop?”

Ginnie was sure that every drop of blood in her body had managed to settle in her face. “For the, uh, bedroom.”

Gilligan blinked once. “I see.”

Great,
Ginnie thought.
Now I’m a woman who has fake sex on airplanes
and
carries fetish items wherever she goes.

Except the bag wasn’t actually hers.  It just
looked
like hers.  Exactly like it.

Very quickly, she scanned the tag attached to the suitcase. 
L.W. Michaels.

Oh. Ew.

“Mrs. Michaels?”

Ginnie brought her eyes back to the airport guard.  Should she tell him that the bag really wasn’t hers?  Or would it just create a headache and generate paperwork and stall her even further?  Would he even believe her?  She knew who the…err…items belonged to.  And Lawrence would definitely recognize Ginnie’s own stuff the second he unzipped her real suitcase.  He was more than familiar with her standard look of crisp blouses and tidy skirts.

And there was the added humiliation factor to consider.

Sorry officer, that bag isn’t mine after all. It belongs to my former husband’s hoochie. Looks like they were gonna get kinky. My bad.

No.  Far too embarrassing.

And the TSA officer wasn’t quite done yet anyway.

He reached into his pocket and yanked out a second evidence bag, this one full of slips of papers.

“These,” he stated, “Concern me even more than that replica.”

Ginnie squinted at the red-tinted bag.

The look like…Prescription pads. What the hell?

“Are those Lawrence’s?” she asked.

“You tell me.”

Ginnie took a breath and put on her game face. “Were they in my bag?”

“They were. And I’m sure your husband is aware that he’d be violating several laws if he used these inappropriately.”

I’m sure he would,
Ginnie thought, then wondered,
Is this
still
so embarrassing that you’ll get arrested on Lawrence’s behalf? Just turn him in for...Whatever dumb thing he was up to.