would go back to the way it was before. Or worse. She didn’t know what the Protectorate would do if they found out they’d slept together. John might have someone else assigned to her and keep Nick away.
A few minutes later, they pulled to the valet behind the Prius. Quinn smiled at the hotel staffer who took their disreputable duffels, mild distaste curling his mouth until she handed him a hefty tip.
“Quinn.”
Marley’s soft entreaty stopped Quinn inside the doors to the marbled lobby. Nick shot her an inscrutable look, then a commanding one at Sam before heading to the check-in desk. Sam took up a stance a few feet away, facing the doors.
“I’m sorry,” Marley said.
Quinn sighed. “I know you are.”
Marley shook her head. “I know you don’t understand. Why I did this. How someone could fool me so easily.” She stared out the etched glass doors, blinking fast. “Not all of us are as confident as you are. Or lucky enough to have two guys who love you and would do anything for you.” Bitterness colored her tone now, jealousy that might have been a driving force in her bad decisions. Not necessarily jealousy of Quinn, but of anyone who had what she didn’t.
But she was right. Quinn didn’t understand. “You have Tim and Bobby and Fran and a whole compound full of people.”
“Pfft. They don’t care about me. You know how many people come to my place because they hear I can help them get back on their feet, and then leave and never contact me again? No one stays. Fran, yes, but…” Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head again. “Sam would do anything for you. That’s clear after talking to him for five minutes.”
Quinn watched Sam’s shoulders tighten and knew he was listening.
“I thought I had that with Anson,” Marley lamented. “I just wanted—”
“You wanted to keep him,” Quinn interrupted. “You got desperate and let him talk you into something you knew was wrong. We all do that.” Her circumstances had been different, but how could she condemn Marley when Quinn had held on to Sam just as tightly? “But we can’t control other people’s feelings.”
Marley nodded and walked to the counter where Nick still stood.
“You let me go.”
Quinn turned to Sam, who watched her sadly. “What?”
“You’re not like her. You let me go.”
It was Quinn’s turn to blink back stinging tears as Sam, too, walked away. She had a new empathy for her sister. Of course people would do anything to avoid being alone. The crushing loneliness her relationship with Sam had held at bay threatened to descend on her, and now was the worst possible time to let it. She had to be strong. There was work to do.
Chapter Fifteen
The goddess visited the dungeon after her love had been sealed away, where he could steal no more power from other, innocent goddesses. “If you leave me here, I’ll die,” he pleaded with her through the iron bars in his door. “I can no longer survive without access to the energy of life.” Tears dripped down the goddess’s face, for she knew the truth of his words, and it was her fault. She knew it was wrong, but there was no way to fix all the damage she had done, and she deserved no mercy. She laid her fingers on his. “Take mine.”
—“The Goddess and the Leech,” from Tales of the Descendants of Asgard
…
Nick had obtained a two-bedroom suite, by far the nicest accom-modations they’d shared this month. Quinn’s shoes sank into the plush ivory carpeting when they entered. The center room held dark, fancy antique tables flanking a beautiful but hard-looking love seat and two chairs in earth tones. Doors on either side of the room led to bedrooms with double beds visible. Nick went to the bay window to check the latch and peer out. “Fire escape here. No bedroom access, though.”
“Duly noted.” Quinn went to the French-style phone to order room service.
Sam had his laptop open already and scribbled down the research Quinn wanted him to do. Once that was all done, she grabbed her bag and headed to a bathroom to shower. The bedroom was small, with only a few inches between the gold-comforter-covered double beds, a walnut armoire against one wall instead of a closet. The marble bathroom was tiny, too, but luxurious, with a plush rug and thick white towels. The hotel’s gold logo filled the center of the white shower curtain—a real curtain, not an