33. Fresh Air, Romantic Strolls, and Fires

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Nicky's POV 

I wake up still on the couch, but I've been moved so I'm laying across it, a pillow has been propped up under my head and a blanket has been thrown over me. Another pillow and blanket lay on the floor next to the couch.

"Oh good, you're awake," Quinn says she looks up from the dishes she's washing in the connecting kitchen. "I was starting to think you died on me." She shoots me a smile over her shoulder. "Not that I'd object to being left alone with that eye candy you brought with you."

I give her a flat look. "Don't let him hear you say that. His ego's big enough as it is," I tell her. She laughs. I look around. The only rooms I can't see into are her bedroom and the bathroom. "Where is he anyway?"

"Tied up in my bed, waiting for me to have my fun."

"Very funny," I tell her dryly.

She laughs again and turns around to face me. "He went out back, said he wanted some fresh air and that he had to make a few calls. He did say he wanted to talk to you when you woke up."

I nod as I get to my feet. "I want to talk to him too."

Quinn eyes me. She's always been able to read people better than I have. She has an eye for detail and she's always able to tell what I'm thinking. "You going to tell me exactly what's going on?"

I shake my head. "The less you know the better."

"Then I guess it sucks that you gave me the password to your computer and then never changed it."

My gaze shoots up to meet hers, my eyes wide.

She stares back at me seriously. "I already know what's going on. Or at least, the gist of it. I looked through your computer while you were asleep."

"Invasion of privacy much?"

"We're best friends," Quinn states. "If I were in your position you would be doing the same for me."

I cross my arms over my chest. "That's not the point."

She shrugs innocently. "Not my problem," She turns back to the dishes in the sink. "By the way, me and your FBI "friend" had an interesting conversation while you were in your death like sleep," She uses her fingers make quotes as she talks.

"Do I want to know what this conversation entailed?" I ask her.

She shrugs again. "I just cleared some things up."

I stare at her for a beat, trying to figure out the hidden meaning behind her words. Suddenly it hits me. "My God, you threatened him."

Quinn turns away from me but I can still see the smile on her face. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"For a person who hates violence with an admirable passion, you seem to enjoy threatening people," I tell her.

And it's true. Quinn despises violence of any kind, but especially when it's against children or animals. She gets in arguments, not fist fights, but she still recognizes that there is violence in the world and there's nothing she can do about it. But that doesn't mean she has to like it.

For her to threaten with or wish violence on anyone, well, you would have had to have seriously-and I mean seriously-pissed her off.

"Threatening someone and actually committing an act of violence are two very different things," Quinn says. "And all I said was that if you go down for being a hacker, he's going to go down for helping you. That's hardly threatening violence upon him."

I roll my eyes and shake my head. "I can't believe you."

She smiles at me. "Well, I don't think we have anything to worry about." She stares at me. "He seems to really . . . like you . . . and you feel the same." The way she says like suggests that's not the word she was going to use. The look in her eyes as she says that only confirms it.

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