arguing. His raised eyebrow was proof enough that he was fully aware she’d lost the key. His perspective annoyed her. “I didn’t lose it,” she repeated, losing her patience. I left it in my desk, which is no longer there. Anya didn’t tell Quinn this fact because then he would wonder why her family member had taken it. She wondered the same thing. Another reason not to confront them. Did they know about the room hidden behind her father’s office? Until her father had passed away she’d been the only one with access to that room and knowledge of the files hidden behind the fake wall. “How do you plan on getting in without the card?” he asked. “I plan on finding the card.” It had to be here somewhere. It had to be one of the damn maids cleaning up when really they should leave well enough alone. “And asking your family about it...” he inquired, as if that was even an option. Anya glared at him. “That is out of the question,” she said. “What swipe card do you need?” She was wary to answer, but what choice did she have? At least with Quinn on her side, she knew her presence would be left in the shadows. “My dad’s office. The one just beyond the doors of the suites.” He nodded. And in that exact same know-it-all-tone he said, “Consider it done.” That’s how sneaky this man was. Sneaky and successful with a one hundred percent rate of never getting caught. “Meet me tomorrow. Same time as tonight, in your favorite hiding place...the bushes.” He’d been watching her for days and she’d never noticed him. “I will have the key and you will get us in.” “How? There are cameras everywhere.” He stepped toward her, the closeness shrinking the room. He always had this effect. He always left her body shivering with pleasure and fear and craving more. How had two years not changed that?
Chapter Two QUINN BARKER COULDN’T stop himself. He stepped toward Anya just so he could smell her again. Yeah, smell her. Her familiar vanilla scent brought back everything in their past. Everything. He’d hadn’t stopped thinking about this woman since the night he walked out of this suite. Not a day had gone by when he hadn’t reached for his phone to get the information on her whereabouts. It wouldn’t have been hard. That was his job...or had been his job...when Robert was alive. A temporary position that he’d never imagined he’d undertake. Digging up the skeletons in people’s closets and handing the crucial information to a man who used it at his own discretion, for his own demented purposes, that no doubt put every last person that Quinn screwed into the exact bargaining situation Quinn had been in with Robert. It was amazing what people did to keep their secrets hidden. Robert had destroyed people and families ruthlessly for his own gain: Money and power. It made Quinn sick. The thought that Quinn had helped made him even sicker. But at the time, he hadn’t had a choice. So when Anya confronted him about the truth of his job, he’d let her believe he was the jerk Robert had painted Quinn out to be. Even on his death bed Robert was a greedy bastard and he took the one person in Quinn’s life that he’d started to like. Anya wasn’t like her sister Violet who wore a mask and no one could figure out what the hell was going on in her head. Not even Quinn...and he knew how to read people. Anya was different, transparent or as he liked to believe, real . When she was excited, her blue eyes lit up like sparkling beach glass glistening off the sandy beach under the bright sun. Her full lips, always painted a shade of glossy rose, except tonight, and pursed when she was angry. A pursed pout that he found absolutely adorable. When she was angry, she was angry. When she was sad, she was sad. And when she’d looked at him two years ago with betrayal in her eyes, he’d known there was nothing left for him to do except let her believe that he