Not Without Juliet - By L.L. Muir Page 0,58

shaking put her off-balance, however, and she tripped. Percy, strangely enough, helped steady her.

The big guard returned her rather roughly to her cell. She felt rather than saw Quinn stiffen in the shadows. She took his lead and didn’t rush to the bars like she wanted to. They were back together, but it would be short-lived. And she didn’t want Percy to imagine more than he already had.

Or had he imagined anything at all? Maybe he’d been there, in the shadows around the arch, listening to their conversations. Maybe he’d known about the kiss. Maybe when he’d offered up Quinn as a punishment for her cruel mention of his brother, he’d known precisely how much it might hurt her in the end.

And if that was so, ignoring Quinn now would be wasting her last chance to speak with him, because she knew, in the pit of her stomach, that no matter how this all ended, she’d never be granted that dream again. This was it. All those practice runs were over.

This time, she was going to have to say goodbye.

She pushed her tears back. There would be plenty of time to cry later, once she was alone.

She turned to face the cell door and stole a look at Quinn. His worry was plain, though he tried to mask it. Her insides begin to melt and those tears threatened to defy her. It had been so very long since anyone had worried about her. If she let herself cry, though, he'd only worry more, and he was going to need his head in the game. Especially if he'd gone soft, as Gordon said he had. Quinn was the one they should be worrying about.

"I have good news and bad news," she said cheerfully, ignoring the finalistic clang of her prison door. "Good news is I'm back."

Quinn glanced at Percy, then shrugged his shoulders and leaned against the far bars. He folded his arms, like he was bored.

She sighed. “By the way, I’m pretty sure Percy speaks English.”

Percy didn’t flinch as he took the keys from Martin in exchange for the torch. Then he moved the old man’s arm to show him where the light must be held.

Still watching Percy, she said, “Notice how he wasn’t even curious when his name was mentioned?”

"Is that the bad news?" Quinn had sounded casual, but his fingers were digging into his own arms.

Percy began trying the keys in the door of Quinn’s cell.

"Not all of it,” she said. “The other bad news is the guy who claims to be my husband is Gabby's hitman. When I insisted I didn’t know him, he started ranting about needing satisfaction from whoever had been turning my head.”

She knew she was wasting time, but how did she tell him he might be about to die.

"And then?"

Quinn was no longer leaning. His hands were on his hips and he was looking right at her. He still stood on the far side of his cell, though. She got the impression he’d already guessed what came next.

"Percy told him it was you. You were right. He knows that I care about you and he used it against me. I don’t think he planned to, but he was angry because I mentioned...Skully.”

Quinn nodded slightly, but didn’t move any closer.

Jules couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed the bars that separated them. They were out of time.

“He already knows, Quinn. He already knows.”

A heartbeat later he was pressed against the bars, pulling her tight. She was so relieved she could have laughed. Percy and Martin disappeared in the background. It was only them. Together again. He was kissing her all over her face, missing her mouth in spite of her trying to help him find it.

“Your chances of escaping are much better above ground, right?” she whispered, since her mouth was currently not in use. “I still think my stand-by plan is better than nothing—bash him on the head and fight your way out. His nose might be broken, so I’d try to hit him there first."

Quinn kissed both eyes, then pulled back a little. By the look on his face, he wasn’t any more impressed with her plan that he was the first time she’d shared it. Then dread struck her in the chest like a boxing glove.

“You do know how to fight, don’t you?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Of course I ken how to fight. Am I not a Scot? We’re taught in Primary School. Now, go back to the