Page 54 of Beneath the Surface

Not whatever this thing with Quinn was becoming.

Quinn returned a few minutes later, slipping her phone into her pocket. “I talked to Agent Torres. Gran had a good night. Stable.”

“Good.”

“Are we leaving soon?”

“Yeah. Soon as you’re ready.”

Quinn grabbed her jacket and messenger bag, moving with brisk efficiency. Not quite running away from him, but not exactly lingering either.

The drive to Seattle started in silence. Dax kept one eye on the road and one on the rearview mirror, checking for tails every thirty seconds. Old habit from being deployed. Couldn’t shake it.

Quinn stared out the window, her reflection ghostly in the glass. Her arms were crossed—defensive posture. She was shutting him out.

He deserved it.

After an hour of tense silence, Dax reached over to turn on the radio. Found a classic rock station, volume low. Something to fill the oppressive quiet.

“Tell me about Afghanistan,” Quinn said suddenly, her voice soft.

Dax’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. “Why?”

“Because you mentioned it earlier. And because I want to understand.” She shifted in her seat, turning to face him. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I think it would help me understand why you keep everyone at arm’s length.”

The words hung between them. An accusation disguised as curiosity.

Dax drove for another mile before answering, the white lines on the highway blurring past. “I was an EOD specialist. Explosive Ordnance Disposal. Defusing bombs, clearing IEDs.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“It was. Every single time.” His jaw clenched. “But someone had to do it. I was good at it. Made hundreds of successful disposals. Saved a lot of lives.”

“But?” Quinn’s voice was gentle.

“But I couldn’t save my team.” The words came out flat. Emotionless. The way he’d trained himself to say them. “We were clearing a road. I had just finished working on a device. There was a second bomb. Hidden. I missed it.”

He could still smell it. Cordite and blood and burning flesh. Could still hear the ringing in his ears, the muffled screams.

“O’Brien was in front of me. Took the blast that should have killed me.” Dax swallowed hard, his throat tight. “Mueller and MacKenzie died in the blast too. All because I missed that second device.”

Quinn’s hand moved toward his on the gear shift. Then she stopped herself, pulled back. Tucked that loose strand of hair behind her ear instead.

The absence of her touch hurt more than it should have.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly.

“Wasn’t it? I was the expert. Supposed to be the one who kept them safe. And I failed.” His voice was rough, raw. “After I came back, I couldn’t...couldn’t connect with people anymore. Because everyone I cared about either left or died or got hurt. Safer to keep people at a distance.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“It is.” Dax glanced at her, saw the understanding in her eyes. “But it’s safer. For them and for me.”

Quinn was quiet for a long moment. Then, “Is that what last night was about? When I hugged you?”

Dax’s chest tightened. Of course she’d bring it up. Quinn didn’t do subtle. “I don’t know what you—”

“You froze.” Her voice was matter-of-fact. “I threw my arms around you because I was excited, and you went completely rigid. Like you didn’t know what to do with the contact. Then you held me back for maybe ten seconds before everything got awkward and we both just...ran away from each other.”