Ugh! So… my laptop broke for a month. But, I got it fixed for Christmas. Sorry for the long wait! Also… so many new follows! You guys are awesome… Sooo I was thinking I'd recognize the people who reviewed in the story… by naming race horses after you! ;)

"Connor if you touch that radio one more time…" Quinn's voice was all business as she slapped his hand away from the numbered buttons on the dash of the truck. The MacManus brother in question was currently leaning his whole upper body over the center console, trying to reach the radio from his middle seat in the back. Murphy sat in the passenger's seat, using one arm to try and shove his twin back into his own spot.

"I can't stand this country shite!" Connor whined, trying to pin his brother to the door with one arm and quickly punch a button to change the radio station while Quinn checked her mirror before changing lanes. The morning had gone pretty much just like this, the boys teasing and rough housing the whole way.

She didn't remember sleeping, just staring at the numbers on her clock and realizing the alarm was shrieking a wake-up call. When she had stumbled out into the kitchen the boys were already there, firing up the coffee maker and trying to wake up themselves. Quinn's eyes had met Murphy's for the briefest of seconds and a thrill shot straight up her spine as she remembered just a fraction of the emotions that had run through her hours before as his rough tattooed hand had rested right against her face… She had pushed it away and acted as if nothing had happened, since Murphy seemed to be doing the same. They had all hurriedly showered and headed out the door at Quinn's urging, stopping at Jude's to pile into the truck that was already hitched onto the horse trailer, and were on the highway right on schedule.

The distinctive guitar solo styles of Slash flowed from the speakers and Connor quit wrestling with his brother long enough to crank up the volume.

"Alrigh' now we're talkin'!" He grinned. Quinn turned it down to a level a little less ear splitting, but nodded in approval. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Murphy turned in her direction, that frustrating smirk on his face. Without even looking she spoke.

"What Murphy." He broke out into a broad grin.

"Ya close enough ta that steerin' wheel er what?" Connor snickered from the back.

"Can ya see out the windshield lass, 'r should I get ya a couple phone books?" The brothers howled with laughter and Quinn rolled her eyes, but there was no arguing. Jude's over six foot frame may have easily been able to reach the pedals in the big Chevy, but Quinn had to scoot the seat almost as far forward as it would go to drive comfortably.

"If you don't quit making fun of me so help me I will turn this truck around," she said in the most threatening voice she could manage. The two men looked at her in mock surprise.

"Christ Ma, is that you?" Murphy joked, getting a laugh from the other two. Connor leaned himself into the front of the cab again to snatch the sale booklet off the dash. He settled back into his seat and started flipping through.

"How do ya read this fuckin' thing?" Quinn laughed.

"Well what do you want to know?" Connor flipped to a page and dropped it into her lap. She sighed in exasperation as she tried to grab the bundle of papers, hold the page open, and keep her eyes on the road. She scanned the paper, her gaze flickering between the highway and the sale sheet balanced against the steering wheel.

"Ok so. This is the big summer sale. Jude goes every year and usually brings a few horses back for his owners, or ones that he likes. Every horse that's up for auction is listed in the book. The book shows the horse's auction number which is this one at the top of the page… so in the case 119. This is the horse's name… Gren Gren Alley, the two names under it are the sire and dam, er, the parents… the horse's age, color, and gender, and fastest life time mark. Underneath that is who owns it, where it was bred, the starting bid, and any race history. Got it?" Murphy made a face.

"Where the fuck do they get names fer them?"

"Sometimes they're a combination of the sire and dam's names… Sometimes it's named after the farm where it was bred, and sometimes I have no clue." She glanced at the paper again. "Ah. See, the father's name was Gren Double Time, and the mother was Alley Bee." Murphy snatched the booklet and started to flip through, Connor looking over his shoulder.

"How 'bout… Willycheatumanwhen? Tha's fuckin' awful…" Quinn nodded.

"What are the sire and dam?" Connor traced his finger down the page.

"Ah, ShiverTree Noble an' Comidia Del Arte?"

"Then I have no idea where they got that name… But it is pretty bad. Please tell me no one is bidding on that one…"

"No check!" Murphy grinned, turning the page to her triumphantly. His blue eyes caught hers for the briefest second and his smile became more of a knowing smirk, and it sent her right back to that moment in the kitchen and she could almost feel his touch again, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone… Connor suddenly dove between them to crank up the volume, breaking them out of the memory of the night before. Quinn let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and pinned her eyes to the road as Connor settled back into his seat, singing along to ACDC's "Thunderstruck" so badly that Murphy reached back to cuff him upside the head. When the darker twin finally sat back down in the passenger seat, Quinn could see his amused grin in her direction out of the corner of her eye before he turned to stare silently out the window.

.xxx.

The sale grounds were a well-cared for group of white washed barns with precisely groomed dirt roadways between them, surrounding the biggest building which was the sales ring. Quinn had found a place in the outer parking lot to leave the truck and trailer and she and the boys wandered inside, looking for a seat near the front. The sales ring itself was a small roped off dirt area in front of hundreds of chairs, with the auctioneer's stand just outside the enclosure. A large TV screen mounted on the wall overhead flashed ads for different farms and racing products. Quinn gripped her sale sheet nervously. All around were well dressed men and women who, if they did look at her and the two heavily tattooed men next to her, did so in a barely concealed glance of disdain. These were the some of the local big wigs of thoroughbred racing so to speak. She mentally kicked herself for wearing jeans. Murphy and Connor glanced at each other as Quinn snagged three seats right in front of the sales ring, too preoccupied to with everything around her to even notice when Murphy settled in beside her.

"Friendly crowd," Connor murmured as a group of women walked past, casting downward glances at Quinn's blue denim and leather boots, her curly brown hair loose and undone, so unlike their business casual slacks and dress shirts, and primped updos. Quinn seemed to shrink in her seat and Murphy glared. The girl who had stood up to him the night before was too easily hurt by even the unvoiced opinions of others.

"Yeah," she whispered, staring intently at the sales sheet in front of her. The auctioneer's sudden outburst made all three start, as he bellowed into the microphone.

"GOOD MORNING!" He drawled, holding out the 'good' as though there were more than two o's. "Welcome to the Mid Season Performance Sale. We've got some great stock for you to look at today, so let's start off with page one in your sales book…" The first horse was lead into the ring. The bidding was fast paced and hard to follow, and over before anyone even realized. The horse was lead out, back to the barn to be picked up by new owners later. Four more horses were lead out, and the drill was the same. The auctioneer bellowed out bids and encouragements, the TV screen flashed prices, names of the parents and any outstanding performance history, and members of the crowd raised their hands until they were the only ones left, and the auctioneer yelled out a final "SOLD."

"Next up is hip number 127, a handsome bay colt by Are You Afraid Yet, out of Pitbulls Rok…" Quinn glanced down at the sheet, and her head snapped up to the boys, eyes wide.

"Oh shit… there's a check on this one!" The bidding had already started before she finished her sentence and she sat there frozen, unsure of what to do as numbers were called out. Murphy and Connor stared at her.

"C'mon lass, ya gotta raise yer hand!" Connor encouraged, elbowing Murphy to help him out. Quinn looked around at the different bidders throughout the crowd, feeling smaller by the second as these no-nonsense businessmen casually raised their hands, shelling out thousands of dollars with just a flick of their wrist.

"I, I can't…" she stammered.

Murphy grabbed her arm, pulling it up into the air in a swift motion and let go, leaving it there in midair. Quinn stared at him and at the auctioneer who pointed at her before she realized to bring her arm down. She turned to say something to the darker twin, to be embarrassed but he pointed to the paper and whispered.

"They're on twenty thousan', yer limit's thirty five!" His blue eyes burned into hers, alight with excitement and pushing her to do it, and behind him Connor with the same encouraging look.

"Twenty five, twenty five, can I get twenty five!" The auctioneer bellowed. A man across the way flicked his hand up and the auctioneer pointed, calling out for thirty. There was a pause, and Quinn's hand shot up. The auctioneer nodded at her, calling for thirty five, and Quinn strained to see the man who had been bidding against her. He shook his head.

"Goin' once, goin' twice and SOLD to the little lady in the front!" Connor and Murphy clapped her on the back and she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Skeptical glances came from all sides, questioning who exactly this "little lady" was, throwing around a couple thousand.

"Nicely done lil lady," Murphy teased, his hand lingering slightly between her shoulder blades as he grinned at her. She couldn't stop the huge grin that covered her face as she looked down at the sales sheet and wrote out the check. Connor snagged the sales book from her as she finished up the paperwork handed her and the next few horses were brought out. He rifled through the pages, looking for the next clipped check and settled on the page that held it.

"Jaysus they spend a lot o' money on these fuckin' things," he whispered to Murphy. The darker haired twin leaned over to read the page.

"Limit o' eighty grand on that one? Tha's a day's work fer us aye brother?" He grinned. Connor laughed.

"Not anymore brother. Who even has that kinda cash?" he asked, flipping the check up to read the name of the potential buyer.

Victor Petrova.

He nudged Murphy. Hard.

"Tha fuck Connor!" Murphy hissed, and Quinn looked at them questioningly before returning to her paperwork. The older twin pointed to the check. Murphy stared.

"Petrova… one o' the mob ya think?" The blond twin nodded in agreement.

"Aye… We'll have to ask Smecker about that one. Best keep quiet fer now, keep yer girl out of it," he said, flipping nonchalantly to the next page. Murphy's head snapped up, one eyebrow raised, about to say something to the effect of "fuck off", before Quinn leaned over, motioning for the sales book.

"Hey, I need that back, I think there's another one coming up that we're bidding on," she grinned excitedly. Connor just grinned back as he handed over the booklet, pointedly ignoring his brother's death glare.

.xxx.

"My arse is killing me," Connor groaned, and Murphy tried to stretch in his seat. Quinn rolled her eyes, but was too excited to actually be annoyed. They had snagged up four of the six horses they had been sent to bid on, each time getting easier and easier to raise her hand and claim a horse, despite all the high class big spenders around her. She stood up.

"You're a pain in the arse," she said, mocking the way the blond twin said it in his Irish brogue. He faked a look of hurt and Murphy laughed.

"That was terrible, I hope we don' really soun' like that," Quinn ducked her head from his playful gaze.

"You don't… Alright boys let's go. We gotta load up and head home." The auctioneer was announcing the next horse and Quinn looked up to watch as they slid their way out of the row of chairs. A handler was leading into the ring the most beautiful animal she had ever seen.

She was big, monstrous really for her age and her gender. Her long well-built legs travelled up into a nicely sloped shoulder and powerfully muscled hind end, her neck arched up into a finely sculpted head, with large intelligent eyes and a long tapering face. Every book, every opinion she had heard on perfect conformation seemed to come together to form the horse in front of her, wrapped up in a shining ink black coat. The horse stepped daintily into the ring, away from the handler, stopping to stare out into the crowd, her stance proud and defiant, ears pricked toward the distance, far over the crowd at something only she could hear and see. She was beautiful. Quinn needed her.

"Excuse me!" The snappy voice broke into Quinn's thoughts and she blushed and babbled an apology as she realized she had stopped in the middle of the row of chairs, effectively blocking a business suited man's view. The boys were at the end of the row, staring at her in confusion and she hurried to catch up.

"Just wait, I want to see this one!" She said quickly, standing in the aisle to watch. The boys glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"Can I start at thirty five… hundred, thirty five hundred…" Even the auctioneer seemed shocked at the low price. Quinn glanced around. One hand went up. The TV screen flashed the same information as the book in her hands, but she still looked back and forth between the two. Two year old filly, parents she had hardly ever heard of… one start, disqualified. But there was something about her… Quinn raised her hand.

"Four, can I get forty five hundred," the crowd seemed to buzz. The other hand went up. Why was there only one other person bidding on this horse? Murphy glanced over her shoulder.

"Who put a check on this one?" He asked. Quinn looked at him confused.

"No one…"

"So yer buyin' it?" Connor asked incredulously. The thought that it was a stupid idea, that something must be wrong here, that a horse did not go for this cheap without a good reason did cross Quinn's mind. But there was something else she couldn't place as the horse plodded placidly around the ring, the handler keeping her at a distance. That was strange, the horse wasn't even doing anything dangerous…

A movement caught her eye as a man seated on the end of the row of chairs she stood by leaned toward her. Some of the crowd had turned to look at her.

"Little girl… you don't want that horse," the man smiled. The twins looked at her. She looked at them, at the crowd, at the man who was warning her. Something wasn't right… She raised her hand.

"SOLD. Hip number 225, Wicked Witch, to the little lady in the front for five thousand dollars."

.xxx.

"Ready, go!" Connor yelled, snatching his shot glass off the bar and downing it, his brother and Quinn following suit. Quinn coughed and choked on the strong liquid that burned down her throat, making her gag despite the strong buzz she had going. Murphy and Connor erupted into laughter at her, yet again. She flushed red, from embarrassment or alcohol was anyone's guess.

"Shut up you two… that stuff tastes like shit!"

"Hennessy, lass. It'll put hair on yer chest," Murphy grinned, blue eyes flashing. She giggled and leaned back from the bar. She wasn't sure why she had let the boys convince her to go out. By the time they had got back to the barn, unloaded the horses, and done all the chores that needed to be finished, she was ready for bed. This of course had led to more teasing from the boys about what an old lady she was, going to bed early and not wanting to go out on the town with two handsome men, self-proclaimed as it was. She smiled at the thought. They were handsome. Irritating, but handsome, and hard to say "no" too. Especially Murphy.

He sat next to her now, Connor on her other side, keeping a steady flow of awful tasting shots coming their way and generally laughing and joking with anyone who came in the door. Unfortunately that included any number of attractive young women who wandered in.

"There was a bar like this back 'ome we used to go ta. Back in the city. McGinty's… funniest fuckin' bar tender. Doc McGinty. 'As Tourettes, always yellin' "fuck" an' "ass"." Connor choked out, laughing halfway through the story as he remembered. Quinn grinned at the thought and laughed too, everything was funny and pleasantly warm. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, everything seeming to move a little more slowly. The obnoxious giggling pulled her out of her reverie and her eyes slitted as she turned to look next to her.

Some blond thing with legs a mile long stood next to Murphy, laughing as he made mention of her outfit, a barely there skirt and top that cut low and high in the right places. Quinn looked down at her jeans and lacy layered tank top she had put on. Connor saw her look and slid her yet another drink with a sly grin.

"C'mon now Quinn, don' look so down. Made out fine at yer first sale, bought yerself a nice new 'orse…" She tried to smile, taking a haul off some vodka mix the server had slid down the bar top to her at Connor's motion. She tried to focus on something, anything, but the two flirting beside her when finally the blond girl turned to walk off toward her similarly dressed friends in the corner of the quickly filling room. Murphy's hand gave her a quick smack on the ass, and she turned slightly, blond hair flipping over her shoulder as she gave him a devilish grin and a wink. Murphy grinned himself, turning on his bar stool back to Quinn and his brother.

"Fuckin' hot isn' she?" He slurred at his brother, before his eyes flicked to Quinn's. Anger ripped through her, intensified by the alcohol and his beautiful blue gaze, furious that he made her feel this way about him and too drunk to be able to explain it.

"Fuck you," she practically spat, sliding off the stool and making her way toward the door. Connor looked at his twin and shook his head, his own buzz making it hard to focus, but not to the point he didn't realize his brother's mistake.

"Yer a fuckin' idiot Murph," he rolled his eyes at the darker twin's confused and hurt look, taking another long pull on his beer. Murphy turned and staggered out after Quinn.

She stood just outside the door, searching her small purse for her car keys, cursing when she dropped them to the ground. Another hand snatched them up before she could, and she looked up, face inches from Murphy's.

"Goin' somewhere?" he grinned.

"Yeah. Home." She growled, making a swipe at the keys in his hand. He stepped back.

"Yer not drivin', yer drunk."

"Well you're an asshole."

"Quinn… What's wrong?" He moved towards her, eyes searching her face. She met his gaze, brown eyes searching his, so intense and worried. But the thought of the other girl sent a pang of jealousy and anger searing through her and she spun around, walking away, back toward the door.

"Like you even care. Why don't you go back inside and talk to that 'fuckin' hot' girl, I'll go in and take Connor home." She barely kept her voice from straining and she felt so stupid, the alcohol and all her emotions that she felt for this man who she barely knew, that he could make her feel this self-conscious and vulnerable… A hand gripped her arm firmly and spun her around, putting them face to face, inches from each other, his hands rough and calloused and against her arms, yet so warm.

"Jealous, Quinn?" he murmured, voice so low and husky it sent a chill through her, the sound of her name in his lilting Irish making her brown eyes meet his dark cobalt, pleading, wanting. She broke his gaze, glancing down, the buzz of the liquor making everything pour out before she could stop it.

"Yeah it did make me jealous, but it doesn't even matter, I don't really even know you that well and you're not with me and-" He leaned in closer, one hand slipping from her arm to her chin, dark blue eyes smoldering as he tilted her face up to meet his, their lips brushing for a moment that she swore lasted forever and not nearly long enough all at once, as he pulled away, smiling at her shocked silence.

"Jaysus ye talk too much."