His Blackmailed Bride

She looked up as he opened the door. The corduroy suit had clearly been his in the days before he’d matured. The jacket was too small; his shoulders seemed ready to burst the seams. He was wearing a blue turtleneck beneath the jacket, and it clung to him, clearly defining the ridged muscle in his chest and abdomen. Her glance fell lower, to the tightness of the corduroy trousers across his thighs and groin…

Something sharper than fear flared within her. ‘I’m not going with you,’ she said, taking a step back. ‘You can’t make me.’ Quinn said nothing. He merely clasped her hand in his and tugged her out of the door. ‘Damn you,’ she hissed, ‘you won’t get away with this!’

He laughed softly. ‘Get away with what, sweet Juliet? You make it sound as if I’m stealing you. You’re with me of your own free will, remember? You can’t live without me.’ His voice grew cold and his fingers bit into hers. ‘And neither can your father.’

His rental car was parked on the quiet street behind the Fowler house. The engine sounded as loud as a buzz saw when he started it, and she looked towards the house, certain she’d see someone running towards them. But the house watched them with empty glass eyes, and soon they were moving swiftly along the silent suburban streets. When they reached the motorway, Quinn jammed his foot almost to the floor, and the car leaped ahead like a racehorse. He made only one stop en route, at a service station along the road. Paige sat in the car, gripped by a strange lethargy, watching as he made a call from a telephone booth. His speech was animated, and she had the impression he was arguing with someone at the other end, but finally he laughed, slapped his hand against the side of the booth, and hung up. Less than half an hour later, they were on the east side of Manhattan, approaching Central Park.

Quinn slowed the car and pulled to the kerb in front of a handsome brownstone house. A man about his age stepped from the shadows, peered into the car, and smiled at Paige.

‘No wonder you’re in such a hurry, old man,’ he said. ‘All right, follow me.’

He climbed into a small Mercedes waiting at the kerb and pulled into the street. A dozen questions raced through Paige’s mind, but she wasn’t about to give Quinn the satisfaction of asking any of them. His silence would be hers, too. The cars wove through the streets of the city, from east side to west, through midtown traffic, until they reached lower Manhattan. At last, in an area given over to clusters of municipal buildings, Quinn’s friend pulled to the kerb and parked. Quinn did the same.

‘Get out,’ he said to Paige.

They were the first words he’d spoken to her in hours. The man grinned at her as she stepped on to the pavement, and then he looked at Quinn.

‘You’re sure this is what you want, pal? No offence, sweetheart,’ he added, flashing a smile at Paige. ‘It’s just that this is a mighty big step to take on the spur of the moment.’

That was when Paige’s pulse began to race. ‘Quinn?’ she whispered, and he turned a cold, unsmiling face to her.

‘Jim and I went to school together,’ he said. ‘And now he’s the Mayor’s number one boy.’

Paige’s mouth went dry. ‘Quinn,’ she said again, and this time a mocking smile touched his mouth.

‘Everything’s all set—we can be married within the hour.’ His eyes sought hers, and she drew in her breath when she saw their blue-green fire. ‘Isn’t that wonderful news, darling?’

‘But… but I thought…’

Why was she so stunned? He’d told her he was going to marry her. In the last couple of hours, she’d even begun to believe it. But it couldn’t happen so quickly, she thought, staring at him. Without realising it, she’d counted on time as her ally. There were laws and licences and blood tests…

Faintly, as if from a great distance, she heard Jim’s puzzled laughter. ‘Hey, pal, I thought you said the lady would be delighted.’

‘She is,’ Quinn said. His hand closed on the nape of her neck. ‘She’s just speechless. Aren’t you, Paige?’

His voice was a smoky whisper as he drew her to him.

Paige’s lashes fell to her cheeks. She wanted to hit out at him, to pound her fists against his chest—but a sweet weakness as heavy as cream was flooding through her.

‘Don’t,’ she whispered, but it was meaningless. Quinn’s mouth took hers and she swayed towards him, leaning into his encircling arm. She heard him make a soft sound in his throat, and then he pulled her so tightly against him that she felt her breasts flatten against his chest.

Jim laughed nervously. ‘OK, guys. I’m convinced.’

When Quinn drew back and looked at her, his eyes were blue flames.

‘Tell Jim you want to marry me,’ he whispered.

Paige touched her tongue to her lips. ‘I…’

‘Tell him.’

She looked into his eyes. ‘I want to marry Quinn,’ she murmured.

She knew that both the question and answer were meant for Jim. But she thought she saw something ignite deep in the aquamarine depths of Quinn’s eyes. Tears glistened on her lashes, and she blinked them away. When she looked into his eyes again, whatever she’d seen was gone, and she realised that all she’d seen was a reflection of her own anguish.

The tall building into which Quinn led her seemed empty at first. But there was a harried clerk waiting in an office that had clearly been opened for them and, in a tiled room, a lab attendant in a white coat greeted them with a sharp-needled syringe. Finally, in an apartment high above the East River, Paige and Quinn were married. A stranger in a dark suit asked the questions she’d expected to hear asked on this day, and she answered them. But the man who stood beside her wasn’t Alan. It was Quinn who held her hand, Quinn who watched her face as she made her whispered replies, her hesitancy offset by his strong responses. He paused only when it came time to place the wedding ring on her finger.

There was no ring. Quinn looked over the judge’s shoulder, to his friend, and Jim made a face and shrugged.