Page 75 of Beneath the Surface

Dax was around the table in an instant, pulling her into his arms. She didn’t have the strength to pull away or the care thatshe was still upset with him. She buried her face in his chest and let herself break.

“He knew,” she gasped between sobs. “He knew he might die. And he still...he still left me this. Left me a way to finish it.”

“Because he trusted you.” Dax’s hand stroked her hair. “He knew you’d be strong enough.”

“I’m not strong enough. I can’t do this without—” She couldn’t finish. Without Gran. Without her father. Without anyone from her family left to help her carry this burden. She couldn’t—

“You’re not alone.” Dax pulled back just enough to cup her face, making her look at him. “You have Nathan. You have me. You’re not doing this alone, Quinn.”

His eyes were so intense, so sincere. Quinn felt something shift in her chest—a crack in the walls she’d been building around her heart since this all began.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “Really? It can’t just be the job. Your career is on the line. Wheeler’s threatened you. Why stay?”

Dax’s jaw worked. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he said softly, his thumbs stroking her jaw, “Because I can’t walk away from you.”

The words hung between them.

“Dax—”

“I know.” He let his hands drop, stepping back, and she felt the letdown instantly, like the floor was threatening to drop out from under her. “I know this isn’t the time. I know you’re dealing with your grandmother and your father’s case and—”

“No.” Quinn caught his wrist, desperate to hold onto him. “Don’t. Don’t pull away.”

He froze, his eyes searching hers.

“I need...” She didn’t know how to finish. What did she need? Comfort? Connection? Something to feel good in the midst of all this pain?

She neededhim.

Quinn closed the distance between them. Dax’s breath caught as she reached up, her hand sliding into his hair.

“Quinn.” Her name was a warning. A question.

She answered by pulling him down to her.

The kiss was soft at first—tentative, testing. But then Dax made a sound low in his throat and pulled her closer, and the kiss deepened into something desperate and real and perfect.

Quinn felt it everywhere—the warmth of his mouth, the strength of his arms, the solid wall of his chest against hers. She felt safe. Protected.

Wanted.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Dax rested his forehead against hers.

“We shouldn’t,” he said, but his arms didn’t release her.

“Probably not,” Quinn agreed. But she didn’t move either.

They stood there, wrapped around each other, while the files and evidence covered the table and her grandmother slept down the hall and the weight of everything they still had to do pressed down on them.

But for this moment—just this moment—Quinn let herself have this. Have him.

A throat cleared from the doorway.

They sprang apart to find Nathan standing there, eyebrows raised, trying not to smirk.

“Gran’s still sleeping,” he said, his tone careful, neutral. “Thought I’d check if you two needed anything.” His eyes flicked to the evidence spread across the table. “Find anything useful?”

Quinn dipped her head and wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself. She held up the letter with shaking hands. “My dad...he left another message. Another location.”