Quinn's Undying Rose Page 71

He grinned, lifting his jeans by a few inches, exposing the boots he wore. “Rose stapled some rubber underneath it, adding a couple of inches.”

“Looks good,” he said approvingly.

“And I’m wearing padding,” Wes added.

“Are those the agents?” Blake interrupted, pointing at Delilah, Portia, and Zane. “I thought there were only going to be two.”

Quinn winked at Blake. “Sometimes you have to know when to cheat a little.”

“Cool!”

“These are Delilah, Portia, and Zane.”

Blake nodded in greeting, eying the baby in Delilah’s arms suspiciously. Taking a step closer to Quinn, he leaned in and lowered his voice. “They brought a baby?”

“To distract the other side. Watch and learn,” Quinn answered quickly. “As I said before, they are the best at what they do.”

Which in Delilah’s case meant producing a beautiful child. But Blake didn’t need to know that. As for Portia, she was the best thing that could have ever happened to Zane, the vampire he considered his closest friend, who had battled with the demons of his past and finally won. He’d emerged a different man: finally free of the shackles of his mental prison. He was still one of the most lethal vampires he’d ever known, yet some of the volatility that had ruled Zane’s life had been replaced by the peace his mate gave him.

“Okay, into positions. Blake, you and Portia will go out on the porch, make sure you wander around out there, so whoever is watching can see you.”

Quinn couldn’t help but see the grin on Blake’s face as he let his eyes run over Portia’s body. Nor did he miss Zane’s corresponding scowl.

“And Blake,” he added. “We’re watching you.”

He hoped that would be a sufficient hint to make sure the kid would keep his hands to himself and behave. If not, Zane would be on Blake’s ass like a bee on honey. And whatever Zane dealt out would hurt more than a bee sting.

As Portia motioned Blake to the doors that led to the terrace, Quinn and his fellow vampires quickly stepped into the hallway, away from the rays of sun about to stream into the room.

“If he weren’t related to you, I wouldn’t let Portia near him,” Zane started. “But don’t be fooled. If he touches her, the deal is off.”

Quinn refrained from shaking his head. “Why is it that you guys constantly have to remind me that you’ll defend your mates against any man? First Amaury, now you. Don’t you think I already know that?”

“Just a friendly reminder.” Zane tried a courteous smile, but it looked wooden. Friendly was just not his way.

“He’ll behave,” Quinn answered automatically, turning to look at Rose. As he sought her eyes, she smiled at him; however, doubt remained in her eyes.

“You sure this’ll work?” she whispered to him.

“Him behaving? Don’t worry.”

“No, fooling Keegan.”

He stroked his hand over her jaw, forgetting for a moment that they weren’t alone. “Trust me.”

From inside the living room, he heard Delilah’s voice call Blake back into the room. “Blake, honey, you should wear a baseball hat or you’ll get a sunburn.”

Footsteps announced that Blake was coming back into the room.

Quinn could see through the gap of the door they’d left ajar that he entered. A minute later, Delilah said loudly, “There, that’s better.”

It was Wesley’s cue to take Blake’s place on the terrace, a San Francisco Giants baseball cap partially obscuring his face. As he walked out to join Portia, Delilah and Blake stepped into the hallway.

“Good. Follow me,” Quinn ordered, leading them downstairs into the garage.

He pointed at the convertible. “In you go.”

When Blake headed for the front seat, Quinn stopped him quickly. “The trunk.”

“What?”

“We can’t smuggle you out of here if they can see you.”

“But can’t I just lie on the backseat with a blanket over me?”

Quinn chuckled and exchanged a look with Delilah. “You’re watching entirely too many bad movies. That trick doesn’t work in the real world.”

He crossed the distance to the car and opened the trunk. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“There’s no space,” Blake complained.

“Bigger men than you have fit in here.”

“Yeah, cut up in pieces maybe,” his grandson grumbled.

“If you don’t want this job, you just have to let me know, and you’re out.”

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