Quinn by Iris Johansen Read Free Book Online Page A

they’d promised me. Or when I’d been unusually good for a time and not gotten tossed out of the current school of choice where they’d sent me.” He grimaced. “That didn’t happen often.”
    “You weren’t a good boy?”
    “I was a bastard,” he said flatly. “My parents didn’t care as long as I didn’t get in their way. I did that a lot. I was willful and reckless and willing to fight to get what I wanted. It was no wonder that I wasn’t welcome in their orderly lives. My father was a stockbroker and my mother was a socialite who did nothing but look pretty and act as my father’s hostess, companion, and mistress. They lived smooth, pleasant lives, parties and trips to the Hamptons, journeys on my father’s yacht. That’s all they wanted, and I disturbed the flow.” He lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. “So most of the time, when I wasn’t being a son of a bitch, I just stayed away from them. It was better for both of us.”
    “I can see that it might be. Poor little rich boy.”
    He chuckled. “Are you mocking me?”
    “Yes.” She met his gaze. “Because whatever hurt you, you’ve managed to put it behind you. You can take a little mockery now, can’t you? I feel sorry for the boy whose parents didn’t want him, but I’m familiar with a lot of those kinds of stories. Most of them didn’t include the soothing clink of coins to ease the pain. Sorry if you think that I’m not suitably sympathetic.”
    “But you’re trying to be honest.”
    She nodded. “I think you were as tough a person then as you are now. We’re alike in that. We’ve both learned to look ahead, not behind us.”
    “And you’re not impressed by my wicked past?”
    “Not as a kid. You’ll have to do better than that.” She frowned. “If you were kicked out of all those schools, how did you get into Harvard?”
    “I cheated?” He shook his head. “No, I’m too damn smart. Things are easy for me. That’s why I was so frustrating for everyone. My parents swore I’d never get into Harvard, so I set out to do it. And I made it through.”
    “Brilliantly?”
    “Of course, it wouldn’t have given me any satisfaction if I hadn’t done it well.” He waited for the waiter to change out their salads for the sandwich plates. “My parents wanted me to go into politics. They thought a senator would be a nice addition to their circle. I took a look at Congress and decided that I’d probably be a zombie by the time I was thirty. So I joined the SEALs instead.”
    “From what I’ve heard, they definitely don’t develop zombies.”
    “No, I’ve never felt more alive in my life. They made me into the quintessential warrior, with all the skills and opportunities for battle. I’d found my niche in life.”
    “Then why did you get out?”
    “I liked it too much,” he said simply. “And I was too good at it. At first, I considered myself a patriot, and that was okay. Then there comes a point when you know you’re coming too close to the line between fighting for a reason and doing battle for the sheer heady love it. If you don’t stop before you cross that line, then you become what you’re fighting. I was tottering on the brink because I knew I was good enough to let loose all that violence and skill and probably never have to account to anyone. It was a hard decision for me to make.”
    She studied him. “I can understand how it would be.”
    Yes, she could sense that streak of wildness and violence in him, and he wouldn’t try to hide it from her. She wasn’t afraid of those qualities in him. If she was, then he’d have to handle that as it came to the forefront. He wasn’t going to lie to her about that side of his character. He hated deceit, and he was having to practice too much of it with her.
    “Why the FBI?” she asked.
    “It offered a certain amount of action, the technology interested me. I’d always been good at search and destroy. I’m insatiably curious, and I liked puzzles.” He