Cain raised his eyebrows. She was sitting like an idiot, just staring at them. She gave a jerky wave to the seats. “Of course.”
“She’s nervous, boss,” one of the two men said to Cain as they took their seats. How the tiny wooden chairs with their green padded seats held the three large men was a total mystery.
Deliberately, Quinn glanced between them with wide eyes, then took a sip of her coffee, barely noticing the rich flavor on her tongue as she pretended not to understand the language he’d used. Russian. Perfect accent. Interesting. Hadn’t Delilah explained to them about Quinn’s job, let alone her abilities?
“That’s to be expected,” Cain replied in equally perfect Russian.
She wasn’t nervous of them. She was pissed at what she’d overheard yesterday, at what people could do to each other, and was determined to find a solution. But if these men wanted to make stupid assumptions about what she might understand or not, she wasn’t about to correct them. Instead, she’d listen politely, then ask Delilah for a different team. She needed serious people to solve this problem.
Her glance strayed to Daniel Cain, who studied her closely. Did he suspect she’d understood? Maybe not so stupid after all. His air of utter confidence settled her in a weird way. What was with her anyway? She never responded to anyone like this.
Cain sat directly across from her, his blue eyes pulling her gaze like gravity. “I’m Daniel Cain.”
Duh. She nodded an acknowledgment, though she didn’t offer to shake his hand. Touch was complicated for someone like her.
“And this is Sawyer and Shaw.”
Two dark blonde heads nodded in turn.
“Brothers?” she asked.
One—Shaw, she thought—grinned. “Twins.”
That explained why the two men had the same general appearance—similar eyes, nose, builds, and so forth. “I see.” She turned back to Cain. “And your other associate?” The picture had showed four men.
He didn’t even blink at her knowledge of a fourth man on the team. “Max is outside in the car.”
Her shoulders dropped a fraction. Everything matched Delilah’s descriptions. “What do we do now?”
He eyed her speculatively with…what? Respect? Why? Because she was jumping straight to the point, perhaps? Did he expect her to be a frightened little rabbit?
“First, you’re going to tell us everything. After that depends on you,” he said.
“Me?”
He searched her expression, for what she had no idea. She stared back, giving nothing away. “Depending on what you have to say, we’ll give you options.”
Options sounded promising. Getting the hell out of here sounded better, as long as she knew the bad guys would be stopped first. Quinn stood up, her chair scraping across the stained concrete flooring in protest. All three men tensed. Not visibly, more a tightening around their eyes as they regarded her with careful interest.
“Going somewhere?” Cain asked.
“What I have to say shouldn’t be discussed in a public coffee shop.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’d leave with four strange men? On their word?”
“Easy, boss,” Sawyer murmured. Russian again.
Quinn put her hands on the table and leaned in, refusing to be intimidated. “I was provided pictures, descriptions, and names. You match up.” She stood back up. “Do you want to waste more time on lectures? Or do you want to get started?”
Shaw choked back a laugh. “Feisty one, isn’t she.” Again with the Russian. Delilah’s idea of funny could tend to the warped on occasion. Not telling these guys about Quinn’s ability to understand all languages had to be her idea of a joke. In this case, even Quinn’s funny bone was tickled. Always interesting to know what people were thinking when they thought you didn’t understand.
Cain rose to his feet. Trying to intimidate her with his greater size now? “People can disguise themselves.”
“Not from me. There’s truth in words.” Besides, she wasn’t the helpless little girl she’d once been.
Cain’s gaze sharpened as he absorbed her retort, as if he could delve into her mind. “You’re a Psy.” His words were a statement, not a question.
“No shit!” Shaw exclaimed, sitting up straight in his seat.
Sawyer elbowed him. “Shut up.”
Quinn flicked a quick glance toward them. They’d used words she hadn’t heard before. Did the twins have their own made-up language?
“Yes,” Quinn confirmed, returning her gaze to Cain. Each of these men was also a Psy, though Delilah hadn’t shared their specific psychic abilities.
Giving a grunt Quinn interpreted as satisfaction with her answers, Cain turned to the door. “Let’s go.”
Quinn grabbed her purse off the back of her chair and her laptop bag off the floor and followed him out of the shop, with Shaw and Sawyer bringing up the rear. Outside, a generic black sedan pulled up and Cain held the door for her. She ended up in the back seat with the Thor-look-a-likes on either side. Cain sat in the front, and Max was in the driver’s seat.
He turned and gave her a once-over. “I’m Max.”
“Quinn.”
He faced forward and put the car in gear. “Where to, boss?”
“Our hotel.”
CHAPTER 2
They made the trip in silence. Before she knew it, she was in a hotel suite—generic with the usual two queen beds, desk, TV, mini-fridge, and a view of the fire escape and the brick building next door. At least it smelled better than her room last night. Not much, but still. The air conditioner propped in the window made a high-pitched whine. The thing had to be on its last leg.
She turned from her quick sweep of the room to find four large men all staring her down. “How do you decide who sleeps together? Draw straws?”
Shaw sniggered, but a glance at Cain’s rock-hard jaw showed her humor was lost on him. Rather than comment, he pulled out the desk chair and placed it facing the end of one of the beds, then sat and indicated she should sit on the bed facing. “Tell us everything you know.”
She lowered herself to the mattress, her feet barely touching the floor, and tried to ignore his proximity and mouth-watering scent—evergreen and something darker. “What did Delilah tell you?”
“Not enough, apparently.” His tone was even, but she’d bet money Daniel Cain was not happy with Delilah. “I’d rather hear it directly from you, anyway.”
“Right.” She settled her purse and laptop bag on the floor. “As we established earlier, I’m a Psy. My specialty is communication.”
Cain leaned forward, elbows on his knees and gaze intense. Way too close, but she refused to back up or give an inch. Was that a flicker of awareness in his gaze? Quinn gave herself a mental shake. Of course not.
“In what way?” he asked.
“I understand every language and communication. All human languages, of course, but also animals, computers. Anything that can communicate.”
“So you understood our Russian earlier?” Sawyer asked.
She flicked him a glance. “Da. Ya ponyal.”
“And our twin-speak?” Shaw asked.
She quirked a smile.
“Damn.”
Quinn’s lips twitched at his disgruntled expression, but she returned her gaze to Cain and continued. “About five years ago, Delilah got me a job as an interpreter for the major world-wide political body which is headquartered across the street from the coffee shop where we met.”
“What languages?” Max asked. She glanced at the man who stood in the corner of the room behind her. Broader than the other three, he had dark hair cropped military-short and fathomless dark eyes. Hard to get a read on him.