Neanderthal Marries Human (Knitting in the City #1.5)(45)
Author: Penny Reid

He threw the towel into the dirty laundry bin then grabbed the laptop and motioned for me to come to him. “I have some of the details here, but you can look at the entire file at the office whenever you like.”

I walked to his side and peered over his shoulder. “So…who are these people?” It felt a little strange, now that I was faced with what I’d requested, like an invasion of privacy.

“They’re modern day industrialists, very wealthy, huge contributors to Senator Watterson’s campaign, and likely the reason he’s a third-term senator.”

I bit my lip and started reading one of the surveillance logs he’d pulled up. Distractedly, because I was trying to read and talk, I asked, “You said their son was the one who drugged me?”

He straightened, turned to me, caught and held my gaze. “Yes. Their son’s name is Damon Parducci, and he is both the secret they tried to keep and the reason my company ceased providing security for them six months ago.”

“Why? What happened?”

Quinn recited the facts like he was giving a report to his supervisor—no embellishments, just stark details.

“We realized Damon was trouble soon after we secured the account, but he wasn’t within the scope of our operations. We were assigned to provide security to just the husband and wife. None of the children—all grown—were within our purview. However, we intercepted several phone calls between Mr. and Mrs. Parducci and their son. He is a drug abuser, and they were attempting to push him into a rehab program. This is what we do. We gather information, store it, flag it as potentially useful. Their son’s drug problems were flagged. We started trailing Damon because he appeared to be the main source of potential leverage over his parents. However….”

Quinn’s jaw ticked and he glanced away briefly; when he returned his gaze to mine, his face was somehow harder. “However, once we began trailing him, we discovered that he was dealing in a large amount of product—a very large amount. Also, we found that he was drugging young girls and raping them.”

My eyes widened. “You—you let him…?”

“No.” Quinn’s hands reached for my arms as though to stay any potential retreat. “No. Pete was trailing him that night and stopped Damon before he could do anything more harmful than filling the girl’s system with benzodiazepines. But we believe that she was not the first.”

“God…what happened?”

His voice turned monotone once more, his expression grim, but he didn’t release me. “I confronted his parents with the information we found, showed them the evidence of their son’s misdeeds, and told them that I would have to turn him over to the police.”

I waited for him to continue. He didn’t, so I asked. “Unless…?”

He shook his head. “No. No unless. It wasn’t about leverage. I told them it was going to happen and explained why I had to end our professional relationship.”

“But…weren’t they upset? What did they do?”

“Yes, they were very mad, and they tried to bribe me, to bury it. Then, they threatened me.”

“What did you do?”

He shrugged. “I told them that I was also aware of their off-shore holdings and eleven prior years of tax evasion.”

“And…they chose their offshore holdings over their son?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you turn the parents in? If you were already exposing the son, why not the parents as well?”

“When we discover something like exploitation, rape, drug distribution, we don’t hold on to it, we pass it on to the police through an anonymous tip. Sometimes we provide tangible evidence, like video, audio, or pictures. In this case, Damon was arrested possessing a very large amount of coc**ne with intent to distribute, which is a felony and an automatic fifteen-year sentence.”

“And the parents?”

“Their tax evasion is insurance against retaliation.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. “Honestly, though, I think they were relieved. Their son had been a pain in the ass for a long time.”

“But…what about the girls?”

“Since we stopped him before he violated the girl, the drug charge carried the heavier sentence. I passed on as much of the rape evidence I had; that way, if any women come forward, their stories can be corroborated. I stepped up the timeline for his arrest after I found you in the Canopy room.”

I nodded, thought about this, then asked for additional clarification just in case. “You always pass this kind of stuff through to the police? Always?”

“Yes. Always. In fact, I’ve pulled a few other files for you to see—they’re at the office waiting for you. Nothing as bad as Damon Parducci, but similar issues where we’ve turned the bad guys over to the cops.”

“Who makes the determination? Who decides if the misdeed is bad enough to turn over or…not bad enough to use as leverage?”

Quinn inhaled, his gaze steady, but his jaw tight. Finally, he said, “I do.”

I studied him. This wasn’t a revelation so much as verification of my educated guess. I analyzed his confirmation from several angles. The responsibility he’d saddled himself with was a terrible burden, especially since it wasn’t his to begin with. Laws, courts, judges, and juries existed to administer justice.

He was a superhot vigilante.

“Oh, Quinn….” I gave him a sympathetic smile. “You really are Batman.”

He breathed a small laugh and closed his eyes. “Something like that. But, you were right, I’ve benefited from the information I’ve gathered.” His lids lifted and his gaze felt somehow determined, sharp. “It was all about revenge at first, gathering as much information as I could so that I would be able to destroy the people who killed my brother. After that….”

I wanted to prod him for more, but waited.

Quinn’s hands dropped from my arms and he glanced over my head. “Let’s just say I’m talented at using people.”

I watched him for a long moment. It was too much to absorb. All this detail sharing led to more questions. I needed to get my head out of the weeds and think about the big picture, what he’d ultimately done with information he’d gathered, what information he still possessed that should be turned over, what would happen if he did pass it to the police.

What were the broader ramifications—not just for us, but for the victims of these bad guys?

I couldn’t ignore the fact that Quinn used secrets to persuade people to do what he wanted. I called it blackmail when he first told me that night in London. The line between persuasion and blackmail was a thin one; it might not have been technically illegal.

Technical honesty and technical legality were concepts that were dissonant with right and wrong. I liked my labels, which meant I didn’t like relativistic morality.

Eventually he brought his gaze back to mine, his head tilted to the side, one of his eyebrows raised. “You wanted to talk about something else.”

I was still deep in my hamster wheel of analysis. “What?”

“When I came in, you said you wanted to talk about things that matter, but it wasn’t the private clients.”

I shook my head slowly. “No. It wasn’t the private clients. Although, admittedly and in retrospect, what I wanted to talk about feels a bit ridiculous.”

“What was it?” He asked this question gently, like nothing about me was ridiculous.

“I’m only going to tell you because I need some time to think about what you’ve just shared with me, and this other topic—it is ridiculous. But it will provide a distraction.” I paused, took a quick survey of my thoughts on the subject, then added, “I think I’m going to need a lot of time to think about what you’ve just shared.”

“Take all the time you need.” Quinn brushed the hair from my shoulder.

“I’ll have more questions.”

“I expected you would.”

“But you trusted that I wouldn’t overreact?”

He nodded. “Yes. After our conversation in London, and what happened on the plane after…and when you let go of the idea of a prenup, I trusted that you wouldn’t overreact.”

“Hmm….” I gave him a little smile, just a little one, then gathered a deep breath to tell him how I felt about his inappropriate gentlemanliness.

“Quinn, I don’t want you to open doors for me anymore.”

He looked at me, his expression blank, and I didn’t know if that meant he was angry, annoyed, or confused. So I continued.

“I feel like it’s inappropriate for you to order my meal. I am fully capable of speaking to waiters and waitresses. Also, I can pull out my own chair.”

“You’re upset because I have good manners?”

“It’s that, you don’t do these things for other people. I’ve never seen you pull out a chair for anyone else. You do these things for me because I’m a woman.”

The skin around his eyes crinkled as though he were smiling. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. “I was not expecting this.”

“Well…it’s how I feel.”