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want.”
    “I’m flipping you off.”
    “Not as powerful when I can’t see your middle finger.”
    “Just trust me. It’s up there.”
    “I do.”
    “So, Lark is there. And what exactly do you plan on doing with her?”
    “What do you think?” Quinn asked. He genuinely wanted to know. It might give him some ideas.
    “Are you going to seduce her?”
    An uncomfortable rush of heat assaulted him, his stomach tightening. “No.”
    “I thought—”
    “You think I’m a bigger jackass than I am, Sam.”
    “No, I think you’re angry, and you’re just on this side of desperate, Quinn, and at this point, I wouldn’t put much past you. I don’t blame you, but I will remind you, she’s about four years older than my own daughter, which means that as much as I like you . . . if you’re going to use her? Hell, bro, you won’t have to worry about the Mitchell brothers kicking your ass. I’ll do it for them.”
    “Noted,” Quinn said, gritting his teeth. He didn’t like Sam’s assessment of his character or his state of mind. He wasn’t above making Cade think he might seduce the other man’s sister; he wasn’t even above manipulating her emotional loyalty just to screw with Cade; but he sure as hell wouldn’t do anything as sick as screwing her just to screw Mitchell.
    Even he had his limits.
    “Good. Well, I’d better tell my wife to go and pack her things.”
    “Great, I hope you enjoy it.”
    “A week alone with Jill in a tiny cabin? The jury’s out.”
    “What’s going on with you two?” He’d always seen Jill and Sam as solid. Sam had been married ever since he’d met the guy fourteen years earlier. But the tone had definitely been changing over the past few years. He talked about her less.
    He smiled less in general.
    “Nothing,” Sam said. “That’s the thing. All right, buddy, talk to you later.”
    “Yep.” Quinn hung up the phone and took another look at the outbuilding. And he thought about the woman inside. Yeah, she was hot. And in other circumstances . . . hey, maybe they could have tangled the sheets. But he had a hard line, and that was it.
    He wasn’t mixing sex and revenge.
    It was time to forget about Lark and her curves and think about how he was going to clear his name—and make sure Cade Mitchell paid for all of the false accusations.
    Vengeance was best executed with singular focus.

Chapter Three
    Lark finished getting the last computer plugged in and online, then stood up straight, surveying her work. Not bad. You know, except that she was working for Beelzebub himself and the cost would undoubtedly be her eternal soul—but other than that, it was good work.
    She let out a breath and pulled her purse off the counter, digging around for her keys before heading outside. It was nearly dark. She’d been too absorbed in her work to notice how late it had gotten.
    That meant avoiding that dinner invite might be stickier than she’d imagined. Oh, except no. She might be working for the devil, but she didn’t have to eat his food. There was some kind of epic biblical metaphor in there somewhere, she was sure of it.
    She just needed to get home and get in front of her computer and try to decompress from this insane day.
    She walked back up the bark-covered path and toward the main house, then paused in the open space where her car was parked. Did she have to clock out or . . . was she good since she was contracted for a specific amount? Oh,
grrr
. She didn’t know. Which meant tracking Quinn down again.
    She didn’t want to track him down. Unless it was to punch him in the face.
    She sighed and headed toward the building he’d mentioned was the kitchen, then stood by the front door for a minute before raising her hand to knock.
    A woman answered the door, in her late thirties, dressed in a very plain t-shirt and jeans. Was she Quinn’s girlfriend? She didn’t look flashy enough to be Quinn’s girlfriend. Because if he was anything like Cade had been back in