of normal women who were corrupt.
Others thought one or more of the “original” goddesses, who’d had much greater abilities in a world unpolluted and not yet depleted of resources, had deliberately eliminated the gods’ ability to procreate. No one knew for sure.
Regardless, even in the information Quinn had found about the rogue goddesses, there’d been no mention of rogue protectors. Maybe the Protectorate archives contained something, but of course Quinn didn’t have access. She wasn’t sure if Nick did, but he was treating the whole thing so lightly, she didn’t trust him to check.
She needed to go to Boston.
…
“I don’t know why we can’t take the Charger, that’s all.” Nick slammed the driver’s door and unlocked the trunk. After handing Quinn her duffel, he unloaded his pockets into the trunk’s storage case. She counted two pistols and three knives.
“Because I don’t want to take three days to travel,” she said. Again.
“You wouldn’t be driving. It would be no more than twelve hours there, twelve back, tops. That’s barely a day.”
“I’m in a hurry.” She swung her bag over her shoulder and headed toward the terminal. “What’s your problem with flying, anyway?”
“It’s not the being-in-the-air part—”
“Let me guess. It’s takeoffs and landings.”
“Nope. It’s the lack of viable escape routes.” He held out a hand to stop a cab so they could cross to the terminal. “Kinda hard to protect you when there’s nowhere to go.”
Quinn smiled. “Great, you can relax. There won’t be anything to protect me from.”
“Never let down your guard.” He moved ahead of her to scope out the counters. Midafternoon, midweek, the crowd wasn’t too bad. Nick stood watch while Quinn used their e-tickets to check them in at the self-service kiosk, and he maintained his vigilance through security and down the concourse.
“Nick, please,” Quinn protested after he made yet another three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spin. “I feel like we’re on a stealth attack for the U.S. military.”
He glared at her but settled down. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“I know. But I have to go.” She slowed as they approached their gate, noting the line of people stretching away from the boarding pass scanner and spilling out onto the main concourse. The gate attendant announced boarding for their flight, all rows, and they joined the line, slowly moving forward.
Quinn handed over her boarding pass, waited for the attendant to run it through the scanner, and continued down the Jetway. She was on the plane before she realized Nick wasn’t right behind her. The attendant glared when she tried to go back, so she found her seat, stowed her carry-on bag, and settled in, feeling the seconds tick by into minutes before he appeared at the front of the plane.
“Problem?” she asked when Nick appeared, scowling, three disgruntled-looking passengers following him down the aisle.
“Damned pass wouldn’t scan.” He zipped his duffel, tossed a book onto his seat next to Quinn, and straightened. “I’m gonna do a quick walk-through. Stay here.”
“Will do.”
She picked up his book, surprised to see an old Dean Koontz horror novel. Nick wasn’t the reading-for-pleasure type. She tried to think of what he usually did during downtime, but there hadn’t been much. When he was with her he was always on alert, always engaged either with her or the people around them. The realization that after so many years there might still be things she didn’t know about Nick Jarrett was unnerving.
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she rejected it. Reading preferences aside, he was no stranger to her. She knew well his need to be in control, his surface amusement at everyone and everything around him, his snap judgments about people. She understood his compassion, the legacy he followed. He did the job he did because of a deep nobility, something he’d deny but that had been the foundation of the wall they’d set between them. A wall introduced by his words but bricked by her own distance.
A few moments later, he dropped into his seat and held out his hand for the book. “Full flight.”
“Anything suspicious?”
“Nope. Ninety percent business people, ten percent frazzled families.”
“Exactly what I would pretend to be, were I after me.” She handed him the book. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you read.”
“You’re gonna sleep most of the flight. I need something to do.” He tucked the book into the pocket in front of him, then tilted toward her to dig underneath him for his seat belt. His scent rushed through her, spiking her in place with his hard