A/N: Greetings, everyone!
Well, I've had half of this chapter written since September...What can I say? Lots of craziness has happened in my life.
Reviews:
MC, who so eloquently quipped: "UGHH! WHAT'S TAKING SO LONG..." - Life, my friend. Life.
noneed4names: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like it so far, and I'm sorry for the long wait for an update. I wish I were still in school and had lots of time to update like I used to. :/ Anywho, no, I went to UNC for undergrad, but I had some acquaintances who were from Fayetteville. The FSU in my profile is actually Florida State (grad school, bleh), but I can see where you might have though Fayetteville. :)
Shout out to bluecapri for being so kind and awesome and inspiring me to fit some writing into my schedule! :)
Without further ado, chapter two! Lol, that rhymed.
Three days after the party, Quinn got orders to drive Jessica to a beauty salon in Elizabeth City. Quinn deliberately thought of her by her alias to distance herself from the woman behind the façade. Every time Quinn's fantasies drifted toward the feel of the shorter woman in her arms, she quickly slammed the door on her memory.
Jessica preferred to travel in a Mercedes, and Quinn had no complaints. It handled like a dream and had plenty of power plus bulletproof windows. Quinn hoped Jessica's escape plan didn't include a shoot-out, but she wanted to be prepared for any eventuality.
Max, one of Hudson's most trusted bodyguards, accompanied them. Big and muscular, he looked like a brainless bull moose, but looks were deceiving. He moved faster than a jackrabbit and was nobody's fool. His responsibilities included escorting Jessica into the salon and waiting there while she had her hair styled. Hudson was notoriously protective of all of his possessions, especially his fiancé.
Quinn waited in the car, surveying the area for any sign of other guards on Hudson's payroll. Security had tightened in the past few days, making her wonder if their assignment had been compromised. She sensed that Jessica would make her move soon. Quinn expected her to enact her plan in the dark of night, not the middle of a bright summer day, but she wouldn't be caught off guard again.
An hour after entering the salon, Jessica exited, looking every inch the pampered socialite. Her jeans were designer tight, accenting rounded hips and surprisingly long legs. She wore red again, this time a full-sleeved blouse, unbuttoned down the front to display a white knit top that hugged soft, full breasts.
Despite the casual wear, there were diamonds at her throat and on her wrists and fingers. The brilliant sunshine caused them to shoot sparks in every direction. The only difference Quinn noticed in her personal appearance was a fuller hairstyle. As well as a purse that was big enough to pass for a suitcase, she also carried a shopping bag with the salon's name on it.
A ripple of awareness spread through Quinn as she watched Jessica's slow, graceful movements. She also felt a pang in her stomach when she saw the shorter woman smile at her escort, but she quickly stifled the feeling.
Max followed a few steps behind her. He opened the back door of the car and held it, while she took a seat, filling the car's interior with her unique, expensive scent. Then he closed the door, opened the front passenger door and settled in the seat beside Quinn.
"Where to? Back to the house?" she asked, glancing at Jessica in the rearview mirror.
"I need to go to Anderson's Jewelers and have the safety catch on my bracelet checked. Do you know where it's located?"
Quinn had spent her spare time learning her way around the city. She knew every alley, intersection, and parking lot, but not every business.
"What's the address?"
"It's out near the strip mall," offered Max.
"The south side of town," Jessica added.
Bingo. So this was it. Her side trip would take them to the edge of the city, close to the freeway interchange. The safe house was to their northwest, but it would be smarter to head south, and then change directions once they were sure they weren't being followed.
Showing no reaction, Quinn nodded and put the car in gear. Her muscles tightened, tension slowly coiling in her as she tried to anticipate how Jessica would neutralize Max. The big man wouldn't be easy to handle.
She waited, alert, as Jessica started rustling through the shopping bag.
"Paulo gave me some samples from his exclusive new perfume line," she told them chattily. "I can't decide which one I like best, so I need both of your opinions."
The high seat backs and headrests prevented Quinn and Max from having a clear view of her, but they heard the hiss of an atomizer. Then her small, tan hand reached between the headrests. She put a tissue near Max's face and let him inhale the perfume.
"This one's called Ambrosia," she said, shifting the tissue toward Quinn so she could get a whiff before she withdrew it.
Quinn heard her spraying another sample, and then another tissue was held toward Max's nose. "Now this one is called Sweet Nectar. It has more of a berry scent, don't you agree? I'm not sure I want to smell like fruit. What do you think?"
Max mumbled a vague reply.
Damn. She was good. Quinn hid her grin as she obediently sniffed at the second sample Jessica held near her face. Hudson's henchman wouldn't know what hit him when she finally made her move.
They heard the spray of another atomizer, and she was reaching around the seat again. Then she slapped an ether-soaked cloth over Max's face, holding it tightly with both hands. He grabbed at her wrists, but she had locked his head in a vice between her hands and the headrest. The bodyguard struggled briefly before realizing he couldn't break her hold, and then he reached for the beeper at his belt.
Quinn grabbed his wrist and held tight until the big man sagged into unconsciousness. Then she pressed the window button to let some fresh air into the car so the ether wouldn't affect them.
"So which do you like best?" Jessica continued the charade in case the car was bugged. Then she slithered over the seat and slid between her and Max. The action had her body bumping against Quinn's, the shorter woman's thigh brushing her shoulder and chest. Quinn steeled herself against the feel of her wiggling form.
Quinn offered a noncommittal, "They all smelled good," in response to her question.
"You guys aren't much help with the perfume preferences," Jessica said on a heavy sigh as she shoved Max's limp body closer to the door, maintaining a conversational tone. "I guess I'll leave the choice to Finn. How about some music?"
Quinn switched on the radio and cranked the volume to cover their conversation.
"What next?" she muttered.
"Anyone tailing us?" Jessica's smooth tone had been replaced with a crisp, no-nonsense whisper.
"Puck in a dark green SUV. I can't see who's with him."
"Lose them. I want to dump Max out of here before the ether wears off."
Considering the bodyguard's size, it wouldn't take more than a few minutes for him to recover. Quinn altered their route and headed for a less congested area of town. Once they had cleared the heaviest traffic, she had a better view of the car following them. She made a couple of unexpected turns, and Puck started closing the distance between them.
"He's suspicious," Jessica grumbled, dividing her attention between Max and the car behind them.
The traffic began to thin out as they reached an industrial park. The area was nearly deserted on Saturday, so Quinn made a sharp turn between two huge warehouses. They were nearing the end of the connecting alley when the SUV came into view again.
For the next few minutes, they wove in and out of alleys, slowly increasing their lead. Then Max started to stir.
"Stop in the middle of the next one," said Jessica.
Quinn did as she said, slowing the car enough for the other woman to open the door and nudge Max onto the pavement. The big man fell with a thud and a grunt. She slammed the door, and Quinn floored the accelerator, peeling rubber, as Jessica settled into the bucket seat.
The plan went like clockwork. They were just pulling out of the alley as Puck was forced to stop for a groggy and stumbling Max. The few minutes it took their pursuers to get the extra man into the SUV gave them the time needed to disappear.
Quinn shot out of the complex and turned onto the nearest residential street, and then another, tires squealing. Meeting minimal traffic, she sped up for another few streets, and then made a third turn onto a deserted, tree-lined street.
Pulling into the drive of a small ranch-style house, Quinn quickly punched the code of a remote garage door opener. It slid upward, she drove inside, and the door closed to conceal them from the street.
As soon as she had switched off the ignition, Quinn moved toward the dusty, nondescript black pickup truck parked next to them in the two-car garage. Jessica grabbed her bags, and they jumped from the car.
"Good plan, Jackson. I was afraid we would have to elude Gregory's men in his Mercedes."
"No. Too easy for him to track." Quinn had rented this place to store a getaway vehicle and a few of her personal things. Hudson would probably track down the car if he had it bugged, but not until they were long gone.
They climbed into the truck. She stripped off her dark shirt, leaving her in a white tank top. Then she reached for a baseball cap on the dash, tugged it over her head, and hit the ignition.
"Shouldn't we wait awhile?" Jessica asked apprehensively.
Quinn shook her head. "No, that would be too risky. They've already called for backup, but they won't be looking for a truck with one occupant." Quinn gave her a meaningful glance.
"Got it," Jessica said with a definitive nod, sliding to the floor and crouching out of sight just as Quinn activated the overhead door. She backed the dusty truck from the garage.
Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, Quinn found it hard to control the urge to speed, but she wove back through several residential streets at a sedate pace. As she approached the intersection that led back to the main highway, Quinn spotted the SUV, but it didn't follow as she made the turn.
Within another two miles, they had reached the freeway ramp leading south. As she paused at the yield sign, she spared a glance for her passenger, and then did a double take. Jessica had lost the long blonde hair, apparently a wig, and now had short, spiky red hair. She had also shed her blouse for a white knit top and ditched the jewels along with the pampered princess look.
The new look suited her new role.
Their gazes met, and something dangerously sexy arced between them. Quinn's muscles clenched as the unwelcome heat curled through her bloodstream. Undercover girl became more fascinating with each layer she revealed.
Jessica's instant frown and the tightening of her jaw convinced Quinn that she didn't appreciate the unexpected attraction.
"Got another ball cap?" Jessica asked, breaking the strained silence. "I'm getting a little cramped down here."
Quinn glanced in the rearview mirror again, then handed her a hat. After donning it, she slowly eased into the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt. Her tone was terse when she spoke.
"Where are we headed?"
"South for a while," Quinn explained, easing into traffic. "Then we'll be turning north toward the safe house in Virginia."
Jessica nodded.
Quinn thought the diminutive redhead relaxed a little, but she kept a close watch on the traffic around and behind them for an unexpected tail. After a few minutes of silence, Quinn offered a compliment.
"You handled Max like a pro."
Her tone chilled. "I am a pro."
Quinn hid her grin. Touchy. She didn't doubt that the mysterious Phantom was one of the best, but she also had to be insane or inconceivably ambitious to live with a slimeball like Hudson. What could possibly motivate such a beautiful young woman to that extent?
Despite doubts about her mental stability, Quinn was finding Jessica more intriguing by the minute, which meant that the sooner they parted ways, the better. Quinn didn't want or need involvement with a sexy, lunatic secret agent. She couldn't deny her yearning for uncomplicated feminine companionship, but there was nothing uncomplicated about her current companion.
Quinn would be glad to have her end of the job finished. A heady sense of freedom rushed through her. In a couple of hours, she could head home to Colorado and know she had done her part in bringing Hudson to justice. The thought brought on a sweet surge of satisfaction.
Jessica withdrew a cell phone from her bag. She punched in a series of numbers. Quinn heard ringing and a pickup. She punched another series of numbers and then snapped the phone closed.
"Notifying someone?" Quinn asked with a raise an eyebrow.
"Berry. He will know we are on our way when he gets a coded message from this number."
It pleased her that Jessica had mentioned Berry's name and that the two of them had the operation so ingeniously coordinated. That meant that there was less of a chance for confusion or errors. Fewer risks meant higher achievement rates.
"So you're the infamous Quinn Fabray?"
Quinn gave her a sharp glance. How had Jessica learned her name? "You've been in regular contact with Berry? Wasn't that risky considering how close Hudson has you guarded?"
"I haven't talked to him, but I knew he planned to contact you. He promised me someone who couldn't be compromised. I have seen your photo in old agency files and read about a few of your accomplishments. I don't remember your hair being red. Dyed?"
"No, a wig," Quinn corrected, a wave of nostalgia tightening in her gut. Jessica was on e of them, one of the FBI's elite force of undercover agents. She had known a few other female officers, and they had her utmost respect. They worked twice as hard as a male agent and rarely got the recognition they deserved. The law-enforcement world was still a male-dominated profession.
Continuing with the line of questioning, Quinn couldn't help querying, "You shed your blonde locks pretty quickly. Are you a natural redhead?"
"No."
Jessica didn't elaborate, which stirred Quinn's imagination. When she realized how curious she was to know more about her fellow operative, she abruptly halted the direction of her thoughts.
"You earned quite a reputation with the agency," Jessica continued, diverting the subject from herself.
Quinn smirked a little before replacing it with a frown. "Not all good," she answered. "I hated the political games."
Jessica's eyes were wide and curious when she asked, "Is that why you quit the agency at the ripe old age of twenty-seven? You just got fed up with the politics?"
"Partly," Quinn quipped.
"So what made you decide to come out of retirement for this job? Did Berry call in markers or do you have a personal vendetta against Finn?"
Quinn ground her teeth to keep from snapping that it was none of her business. Jessica's questions ticked her off, but she supposed the other woman had a right to ask.
"Let's just say I don't owe Berry any favors and leave it at that."
Quinn's passenger wisely didn't pursue the subject. She could believe whatever she wanted, because Quinn didn't plan to offer any details. Jessica didn't need to know about Maggie or the guilt that had haunted her for four years.
Maggie would have admired Jessica, Quinn thought, her chest going tight. She had always wanted to undercover work. When she had finally gotten her big chance, she had walked into a trap that had cost her life. The memory made Quinn angry and restless, so she changed the subject and asked one of the many questions she wouldn't admit she had been eager to hear the answer to.
"Do you have a name besides Phantom or Jessica?" she asked, studying the smaller woman's profile while she stared out the windshield. "Is that your real name or is it a top-level security secret?" Quinn smirked.
She had almost given up on an answer when Jessica finally responded. "You can call me Rachel, if you'd like," she said quietly with a hint of apprehension.
Rachel. She liked it. It sounded soft and feminine. A little inconsistent with what Quinn knew about her, yet appealing.
"That's a pretty name," Quinn offered sincerely.
Rachel hesitated another instant and then added, "It means 'sheep' in Hebrew. My parents always said that I was their little ewe, watched over and protected by the Shepherd."
It wasn't a giant leap of faith, but it was a baby step. Quinn didn't expect much more. She knew how hard it was for an undercover agent to trust anyone after months of being constantly on guard, when a slip of the tongue could blow your cover and end your life. She didn't know how long Rachel had been hiding behind a phony name and background, but she knew it would take her a while to unwind.
Neither of them was inclined to make small talk, so conversation came to a halt. As the miles passed by, they watched the passing scenery, kept an eye on the traffic behind them, and gradually relaxed.
Quinn grew increasingly aware of Rachel's scent, the warmth radiating from her body, and even the soft, steady sound of her breathing. Her senses absorbed everything about Rachel in an intense, disturbing fashion, even while she argued the idiocy of the reaction. She comforted herself with the thought that their forced alliance wouldn't last much longer.
It took them a little over two hours to reach the state line and cross from North Carolina into Virginia. Their destination, a single-story house on the outskirts of Emporia, was easily found. Surrounded by several large bushes and evergreen trees, it sat apart from any neighboring houses.
Quinn turned into the drive, pulled to a stop near the front porch, and shut off the engine.
Tension hiked upward a few degrees as they faced a new and unknown territory. She and Rachel both studied their surroundings for a long time before considering it safe to get out of the truck. Quinn reached for Rachel's bags, but the other woman stopped her.
"Leave them for now."
Quinn's gaze held hers for the first time since they had left Elizabeth City. More tension flashed between them, complicated by a touch of suspicion. Rachel's wary expression didn't surprise Quinn. She wasn't prepared to trust anyone or anything right now. Quinn nodded, understanding the reaction, and climbed out of the truck.
Rachel let her lead the way to the front porch. Quinn found the key where she had been told to look and preceded her inside the house, then stopped.
"Stay put a minute," she said, reaching for the gun she had tucked in the waistband of her jeans.
Rachel ignored the command and accompanied her as she searched the house, checking each room thoroughly and making sure they were alone.
"Everything looks okay," Quinn said a few minutes later as she slowly replaced her gun. "Berry should have gotten your message by now. He will have a couple of agents here to guard the place in an hour or so. They will be coming from D.C., so it shouldn't take them long."
"You're not staying?" Rachel asked with an accusing glance.
Quinn met her gaze and ignored the brief pang of guilt. She set her mouth in a thin line and retorted, "My part of the plan was to get you out of Hudson's estate and to this safe house. That's all I agreed to do."
"So you're ready to disappear?"
The antagonism in her tone had Quinn clenching her jaw. "A week playing lackey to Hudson is more than anyone should have to endure," she argued grimly. "As soon as your bodyguards show up, I'm going home."
Rachel snorted indelicately and changed the subject. "In the meantime, I'm starved," she said. "I think I'll see what kind of food we have stocked."
Quinn's annoyance vanished at the thought of food. It had been a long time since breakfast, and a meal now would help her avoid making extra stops on her way home. She decided not to argue and simply said, "Sounds good to me."
Quinn followed her into the kitchen and watched while Rachel rummaged through the refrigerator. She admired the way the shorter woman's jeans molded to the feminine curves of her hips, thighs, and surprisingly long legs. She would have had to be dead not to notice how well Rachel was put together, but that's as far her interest went – as far as she would allow it to go.
She quickly redirected her attention. Moving to the window, she surveyed the backyard for as far as she could see. The house was secluded; there was no sign of neighbors and everything was quiet.
"Are you eating?" asked Rachel.
Quinn nodded. "Sure."
She turned back and helped Rachel get the food on the table. They put together some sandwiches, opened a bag of potato chips, and ate in silence. Quinn studied her as she, familiarizing herself with Rachel's new punk look. It suited her features as well as the seductive blonde image. She wasn't sure which she preferred. Not that it matters, she tried to tell herself.
It seemed that Phantom was a chameleon, as well.
"Do you mind if I ask what you do now that you're not with the agency any longer? Do you still live and work in D.C.?" Quinn was startled from her thoughts by Rachel's questions.
She had never been comfortable discussing her personal life, but she didn't see the harm in small talk. "I moved out west a few years ago."
"Do you still work in law enforcement?"
Quinn shook her head. "No, I'm just a private citizen who minds her own business."
Rachel's brow creased in a frown, and Quinn realized how censorious her commend sounded. Rachel abruptly stopped asking questions and grew quiet, which should have pleased her, but perversely it didn't. They finished their meal in silence and then worked together to clean the kitchen.
After they had taken turns in the bathroom, Quinn switched on the TV in the living room while Rachel paced around the house, checking the contents of cupboards and closets.
She had just stopped her restless prowling and joined Quinn when a knock at the front door startled them.
"Stay out of sight," Quinn told her, heading toward the front of the house while Rachel headed toward the back.
A glance through the peephole showed two familiar faces: Jesse St. James and Will Schuester, both experienced agents she recognized from her days at the bureau. Tucking her gun back in her jeans, she opened the door. They shook hands and exchanged greetings, and then she led the way back to the kitchen.
They found it empty. Quinn glanced at the door, then toward the window, annoyed and confused until noises from the bathroom helped her pinpoint Rachel's location. She heard the toilet flush, some clinking of the toilet tank, and then Rachel called to her for assistance.
"Quinn, could you help me again? This toilet still isn't flushing right."
Quinn had no idea what she was talking about, but she decided to find out. "You guys help yourselves to some lunch. I'll be right back," she said, walking down the short hallway to the bathroom.
To her surprise, her reluctant charge was slipping backward out the narrow window. She spared Quinn a fierce glance, jerked her head toward the front of the house and disappeared.
She flushed the toilet again, stalling for time and making more noise to cover Rachel's actions. Then Quinn followed her out the window, feet first. It was a tight squeeze, and she muffled a grunt as she hit the ground. By the time she had rounded the corner of the house, Rachel was flattening the tires of the agency's sedan with a pocketknife.
"Let's go," she said in a terse whisper, climbing into the truck and quietly closing the door.
"What the hell?" Quinn demanded, but she didn't hesitate to follow her lead. All she could do was trust Rachel's instincts until she knew what had spooked her.
"The guy who called you a renegade retiree," Rachel explained shortly.
"Schuester?" Quinn asked in disbelief.
"I don't know his name, but I recognized his voice. I've heard it on Finn's private phone."
"Sonofabitch!" Quinn's hoarse oath echoed in the cab as she hit the ignition. Her first instinct was to confront Schuester, to beat some answers out of the rotten, low-down traitor. Personal need warred with common sense. As much as she wanted to grill the man for answers, she had to consider Rachel's safety first.
There was nothing lower than a cop on the take. How long had Schuester been on Hudson's payroll? How long had the man been dirty? Long enough to have orchestrated Maggie's disappearance and death? Quinn ground her teeth in frustration, clenching the steering wheel and slamming the truck into gear while mentally vowing to get some long-overdue answers.
They heard shouts behind them as they sped down the street, but lost sight of the house when they turned at the next intersection. They were both too busy checking for other threats to worry about the stranded agents.
Sure enough, the green SUV pulled from the curb as soon as they hit the connecting street. Quinn pushed the accelerator to the floor. "Puck and Max."
"I saw them," Rachel said grimly, pulling a semiautomatic out of her bag. It looked big and heavy in her small palm, but she handled it skillfully, checking the load and flipping the safety.
When they turned onto a nearly deserted, straight stretch of road, Rachel opened the passenger window. "Swerve to the right," she ordered.
Quinn shot her an incredulous look. "And give them a clear shot at you? Hell no."
"Give me a clear shot at them," Rachel spat back.
"You're a better marksman?" Quinn scoffed.
"I'm good. Now, swerve."
Quinn did as she asked, veering the truck to the right so Rachel could have a straight shot at the SUV gaining on them. Quinn heard her squeeze off four successive shots, and then she swung back into the cab and stayed low.
There was no return fire.
She steadied the truck again, changed lanes, and then glanced in the rearview mirror. One of Rachel's shots had shattered the windshield of the SUV, but Puck hadn't slowed his pursuit. Quinn knew how skilled he was at the wheel.
"Hudson wants you alive."
"For a while at least," she agreed. "He always has a mast plan and his own agenda."
They hit the green light at the next intersection and turned into heavy, two-lane traffic. Another look in the mirror showed Puck running a red light, but steam was starting to roll from beneath the hood of the SUV.
"Did you puncture the radiator?" Quinn asked, impressed.
"That's where I aimed," Rachel said, lifting her head long enough to check behind them. "I figured it would be the fastest way to disable the car."
"You're right."
Within a few minutes, the tailing vehicle was engulfed in a cloud of steam.
"They'll have to slow down now."
Quinn took advantage of the pursuing vehicle's problems and wove in and out of rush-hour traffic until she had put a good distance between them and other pursuers. After traveling several more miles, she thought they had probably lost the SUV. Quinn turned her attention to her passenger again. "What now?"
"I have a contingency plan," Rachel stated matter-of-factly.
"Glad to hear it." Her tone and expression were harsh. "Care to fill me in?"
Rachel didn't respond right away, but she eased herself upright and faced forward, pulling her seatbelt around her. If we get on the interstate and head south, I know a small town where we can stop over and switch vehicles again."
"Another safe house?" Quinn asked, not sure if that would be a good idea with everything that has happened.
Rachel's lips tightened. "At this point, I'm not trusting my life to the agency. I will find my own safe place and then make new arrangements with Berry."
"And what do you figure my role will be in your alternative plan?" Quinn grumbled, her hopes for a speedy return to Colorado fading fast.
Tension sizzled in the silence that followed. They both knew she didn't want any further involvement, but she had promised Berry to keep Rachel safe until she had adequate protection. Quinn didn't make idle promises, and this one had just taken on a whole new perspective.
"That's up to you," Rachel replied. "You can drop me off in Hendersonville or you can accompany me to my destination."
Quinn sighed inaudibly. "Which is?"
Rachel stared forward. "Ultimately, Kentucky."
"What's in Kentucky?"
"It's not what's there, but who and what aren't there," Rachel clarified.
"Hudson and the strong arms of his organization?" Quinn concluded.
"Right."
Quinn had little alternative than to follow Rachel's plan of action. It grated that she had been so close to making her solitary getaway, but she couldn't just dump the other woman alongside the road. She would have to stick with Rachel until alternative plans could be coordinated with Berry.
Reining her frustration, Quinn focused her thoughts on Schuester, mentally reexamining every aspect of the agent's participation in Maggie's last assignment. Not for the first time, Quinn wished that she knew more about that went wrong that day. The lack of details was a constant thorn in her side.
They drove through the late afternoon with minimal conversation, each lost in thought. Much to her annoyance, Quinn once again grew increasingly aware of her sexy, enigmatic companion. She became attuned to every subtle move Rachel made, and Quinn's nerves jangled when any part of the smaller woman shifted closer to her. Get a grip, Fabray. She's just a girl, she tried in vain to tell herself.
They passed a car with a kid mushing his face against the window, and Rachel chuckled softly. The sound pierced through her armor, making her feel things that weren't safe to feel.
Despite Quinn's fundamental longing for a woman, she knew better than to get physically or emotionally tangled with this one. She was trouble with a capital T. Rachel represented everything Quinn knew she should avoid – federal bureaucracy, undercover activities, and Finn Hudson's criminal dealings.
And she was Hudson's lover. The circumstances were strange, to be sure, but that still made her off limits. Quinn tried not to focus on Rachel's quiet, undemanding presence or wonder what she was thinking and feeling.
To keep her thoughts off her hormones and her companion, Quinn replayed the events of the day over and over in her mind.
She wondered if St. James was as dirty as Schuester. They had seemed surprised to see her at the safe house, so Berry must have kept her involvement a secret.
How much of the agency's security had been compromised? Schuester had been an agent for years. How much money did it take to buy someone's soul? How much to make him betray his comrades or sign death warrants for coworkers?
How widespread was the corruption? She wanted a few words with Berry, but she didn't want to make contact through the agency. Quinn would wait and call his home number later. It was long past the time for some answers.
Frustrated with her own thoughts, Quinn's attention turned to Rachel. The other woman lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck, the first small indication of weariness. She had to be exhausted, yet she hadn't uttered a word of complaint.
In profile, she looked deceptively young and innocent. Her lashes had a pretty, feminine sweep of curl. The soft curve of her cheek made her look almost delicate when you couldn't see the stubborn set of her chin or the iron determination in her eyes.
She was a paradox, to be sure, one that challenged Quinn more than any woman had done for several years now. She's off limits, she reminded herself sternly, turning her gaze back to the road.
A/N: Poor Quinn...Will she ever get control of her wayward feelings? Who is Rachel and how could she sleep with disgusting Finn? Who else is going to try to kill them? More to come in chapter 3!
I hope you guys liked it! I will be back with chapter 3 at some point (hopefully soon, but I make no promises).