Page 1 of Quinn

PROLOGUE

QUINN

Port Moresby

Papua New Guinea Capital

Present day

I’d arrived in Moresby mid-morning for a meeting with Eddie Samson that was arranged for later in the evening. He’d agreed to introduce me to a couple of men he thought could help me expand our business into Irian Jaya. It had been due to take place a few weeks earlier, but when Jake had been badly injured, Connor had postponed and left me in charge of New Britain until our brother recovered. I was looking forward to being responsible for an arm of our business on my own, to be able to make decisions I felt benefitted our family, like Jake did with New Britain.

It was now late afternoon, and I relaxed in a well-padded leather chair which was positioned not far from the entry door of the Aulani Sports Club. I sipped at a whiskey dry while watching the lakatoi races off Ela Beach.

Waigi and Mala sat at a table nearby, both with an SP Lager on the table in front of them. Connor had insisted they accompany me, and after what had happened to Jake a few weeks earlier, I wasn’t going to object. The men were watching a replay of a rugby league football match being shown on a huge television screen. At the moment the Parramatta Eels were running rings around the Penrith Panthers. It was what league fans considered a local derby. I was an AFL fan and knew nothing about league, but it was popular in PNG and was played by hundreds of Nationals.

My thoughts drifted to how close I’d come to losing my brother, and it brought a tear to my eyes. I’d never seen a man so brutalised and it had broken my heart, knowing how badly he’d suffered.

An ear-piercing scream snapped me out of my head. I leapt to my feet, spun around, and was body tackled by a young girl throwing herself against me. Instinctively, my arms wrapped around her waist. The thin waif barely reached my shoulders and couldn’t have been more than fifteen-years-old.

The dress she wore, if you could call it that, was tattered and torn, revealing her golden brown skin. Her long black hair was a matted mess, and when she tilted her head back to look up at me, her deep brown eyes were glazed over. When I attempted to push her away, she clung to me like her life depended on it.

“Please help me,” she whispered before collapsing into my arms.

Waigi and Mala stood close, wondering, like me, about what the hell was going on and who the girl was. They were alert, and although not concerned, their eyes repeatedly scanned the club. The girl posed no threat, but someone with her might.

“Quinn.”

Mala reached forward, touched the girl’s back, and held up his fingers covered in blood.

He moved to take a closer look. “Gunshot wound.”

“Fuck. Call Connor and get the plane back here. Tell him we have an injured girl and to send Barry. It’s obvious she can’t go to the hospital here, it’s what whoever attacked her would be expecting. We’ll have to take her back to Popondetta. Barry can look after her on the way back. Tell Connor to postpone the meetings and ask him to tell Logan to call the hotel when he arrives at Jackson Airfield.”

I could have stayed in Moresby but the girl had me intrigued. I had an overwhelming urge to stay where she was, to protect her and find out her story.

Mala headed to the bar where a telephone sat on the end of the polished wooden top while I swept the unconscious girl into my arms.

“I’m going to take her to the hotel.” I didn’t wait for a response before starting toward the door.

“I’ll come with you.” Waigi gestured to Mala who lifted his arm in response. He would have understand what we were doing.

We headed from the club and into the hot, humid air of the capital. The Tarvois Hotel was located directly across the street, so after dodging traffic in both directions, we jogged up the steps leading into the hotel and made our way through the lobby. Carrying the unconscious girl attracted more than a few glances but I didn’t give a shit. Bypassing the lift, which I knew from previous experience was slower than a whores orgasm, I took the stairs to the second floor with Waigi following close behind.

Waigi dug in my pocket for the key, unlocked the door, and once inside, I lowered the girl onto the bed.

Her dress was filthy, and lay open to the waist, revealing numerous bruises and small cuts. The evidence suggested the girl had suffered a brutal beating before being shot. A shiver of anger prickled my spine. I pushed her long hair back from her face and it was then I caught the tattooed symbol on the side of her neck—crossed arrows inside a pentagon.

Waigi’s eyes widened. “Sangumala,” he whispered.

Fuck. What fucked up situation had this girl escaped from? What fucked up situation had I stumbled into?

CHAPTER ONE

QUINN

Popondetta

Oro Province