by Monica James
But when that moment turns into a heavy, lengthy silence, I quietly ask, “Quinn, are you okay?”
I attempt to turn to look into his face, but his grip on me tightens, halting my movements.
“That motherfucker,” he finally sneers, his chest rising quickly. “He was going to rat you out twice, and get a fucking reward for your capture?”
I nod, my finger inadvertently tracing his nipple ring, as I need something to do with my hands. Quinn’s breath hitches in his throat, but it’s not from pleasure.
Thinking back to what he did to Justin, I realize that I don’t regret he’s dead. The only thing I do regret is that Quinn has to live with a murder on his conscience. Although I don’t know for certain Justin’s dead, I’m damn sure the blow Quinn delivered was fatal.
“What do you think happened to him?” I ask softly.
Quinn rubs his lips atop the crest of my head, gauging his response.
“I left him as a message for your dad. So if I didn’t kill him, then I have no doubt your father will. Either way, he got what he deserved.”
Oh God, Quinn did this for me. He’s got blood on his hands because of me. How can I live with myself, knowing what I made him do?
“I’m sorry,” I say into his neck, burying my face into his warm embrace.
“You’re sorry?” he asks.
“Yes. I have brought you nothing but unhappiness. How can you still be here? How can you still want me?” I ask, my throat beginning to close over. “I’m a fucking mess,” I sniffle, about to lose it. “I should just do everyone a favor and turn myself over to my dad, or the police. I’m nothing but trouble, and I’ll do nothing but bring you down with me.” I weep, the reality of what I need to do hurting far worse than being tortured by Justin.
“I need to let you go, Quinn. You deserve better than this!” I cry, spreading out my hand, referring to the shitty hotel room we’re sitting in. “And you deserve better than me.”
“Stop it! I’m not going anywhere!” he says angrily, pulling me out of his embrace to meet his wild eyes.
“It’s true,” I sob, my head unstable on my shoulders as my broken tears have unhinged my sanity.
He shakes me, attempting to calm me down, but the past nineteen years have come crashing down, and I can’t stop.
The fact I was bound and gagged, about to be raped by a severely disturbed man isn’t why I’m crying. The fact my father and his drug dealer are out for my blood isn’t the reason, either. And the fact I’m on the run doesn’t even skim the surface.
I’m crying because of Quinn. I’m crying because regardless of everything I have put him through, he still won’t leave me.
He still looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He still looks at me like I’m pure, and that I’m worth all this bullshit I have dragged him through.
“I don’t deserve you,” I hiccup under my tears. “I don’t deserve these feelings I have for you,” I declare, knowing I really need to stop talking before I say something I’ll regret.
“Listen to me, Red,” Quinn avows, shaking me so hard my head jolts with the momentum.
“I’m not leaving you. Ever. You hear me? You’re my girl, and I will protect you with my last, dying breath. I’ll happily kill for you again and again, and not lose a night’s sleep if it keeps you safe. You’re all I care about.” He takes a deep breath before he animatedly confesses, “And you’re all I fucking want.”
Before I have time to respond, he sets me free and yanks me forward, settling me onto his lap as he smashes his fiery lips to mine. My body is protesting, as everything hurts, but Quinn feels too good and I’d rather hurt than pull away.
“Oh fuck,” he groans between frantic kisses, his hands fisting in my hair.
I whimper as the feeling is blurring that fine line between pleasure and pain, but pleasure is currently setting pain on fire. Before long, pleasure is humming throughout my entire body like a live current of electrified desire.
“Red, I want you so bad,” Quinn says as he slides a hand up my leg, stopping mere inches away from the apex of my thighs.
“I want you, too,” I manage to choke out as I am gasping for air.
I’m well aware of the fact that I’m totally naked underneath my robe, and so is Quinn as he skates his fingers higher up my thigh, hissing as his fingers skim my naked core. He’s being a gentleman, so I reach down, untying the belt. I do what we both want—to be skin to skin. The robe falls open, and this is the first time I’ve been totally exposed to Quinn, and the feeling is like nothing I’ve ever known before.
I shyly rub my peaked nipples over Quinn’s naked chest, and it feels better than I could have ever imagined. We both moan at the contact. His fervent hands are running laps up the length of my spine, and the sensation is sending my skin alight.
As I begin softly rocking on his obvious arousal, which is pressing against my center, Quinn pulls away, and I gasp as his frenzied eyes scan down my body. As he reaches my mid-riff, he winces at my bruises.
“Shit, sorry, I didn’t think,” he apologizes quickly as he reaches for the lapels of the robe to cover me up, but I slap my hands over his.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp. “I want this. I want you.” I lean forward, sucking on his nipple, drawing the piercing into my mouth.
Quinn groans as he twines his fingers through my locks and bows backwards as I busy myself, tonguing his perfect nipple. The metal instantly warms the second my lips wrap around the piercing, and as I draw it into my mouth, I realize I could do this all night.
I am suddenly heady with being in control.
Letting his nipple go, I softly push on his bare chest and he falls backward, his hands settling low on my hips as I straddle him.
My eyes feast on every inch of the breathless man underneath me, and I need his hands on me like I need oxygen to breathe. With our eyes locked, I slowly wrap my fingers around his right wrist and draw it up to my chest, silently begging him to touch me.
Quinn pulls on his lip ring, his entire face flushed and filled with nothing but red hot desire.
“Touch me,” I whisper. He hisses as his fingers embark on palming my breast with slow, deliberate movements.
With our fingers entwined, I can feel the way my nipple instantly spikes, aroused by his gentle touch, demanding more. I can also feel my heart pounding against my ribcage—it’s only beating faster as Quinn’s skilled finger circles my dusty pink areola, which sends a shooting pain of need straight to my center.
My grip over his hand slackens, and I arch into his touch as his movements become a little harder, and also a little faster—it’s exactly what I need.
As I begin grinding my hips on his swelling, matching the torturous strokes on my breast, I can’t take it any longer. Blindly reaching for the top of my robe, I push it off my left shoulder, but suddenly, Quinn stops me, his fingers overlapping mine.
My confused eyes meet his, and I gasp, suddenly feeling like a fool. “You don’t want to?”
The thought has me quickly reaching for the lapels to tug them over my nakedness, but Quinn ceases my movement.
“Of course I do, but just…not like this,” he replies, ensuring his response is measured.
“I don’t understand,” I reply, feeling a little self-conscious.
Quinn releases my hand, and as he sits up, his fingers gently draw my robe together, covering me from his heated stare.
“Seeing you beaten, gagged and almost raped is an image which will haunt me for the rest of my life,” he whispers, gently tying the belt around my waist.
“When the time is right for us, I want it to be perfect,” he confesses.
As I cock an eyebrow at him, he chuckles. “Well, something like perfect.” He takes a shaky breath before he continues, “Nearly losing you put everything into perspective, and when I possess every single part of you—”
I gasp, aroused by his dominance.
“It won’t be in some shitty hotel, where
I can hurt you more than you already are.”
I’m about to contradict him, to declare he never could, but Quinn stops me, his fingers tightening around my waist.
“Red,” he says huskily, mere inches from my lips. “With you, I have no control. And I know when I’m buried deep inside of you, when you’re screaming out my name, it won’t be enough. I won’t be satisfied till I own every inch of you…inside and out.”
A shiver passes through my body and I remind myself to swallow.
“So until then, let’s just enjoy this.” He wraps a warm hand around my nape, capturing my lips to his, and kisses me until I’m gasping for breath.
So, for now, this will do. But tomorrow, tomorrow is a brand new day.
Chapter 32
Sacrifices
The veil of darkness has been lifted, and as the harsh light of day blinds me, I realize it’s time we make our move. I’m certainly not feeling as rough as I was yesterday, but I really want to leave, as I have no idea where my father and Phil are.
“You’re obviously feeling better.”
I jolt, startled that Quinn is awake.
I look over at him, and can’t believe how someone so beautiful inside and out could want me. And risk his entire life to protect me.
“How do you know I’m better?” I ask, shifting closer to him so we’re sharing the same pillow.
“’Cause I can hear you thinking,” he says with dimpled smirk.
I can’t help the small laugh which escapes my lips, and it’s nice to be laughing again.
“What were you thinking?” he asks, smoothing the furrow lines in my brow.
“We need to make a move,” I reply with a sigh, wishing we could stay in our protective bubble forever.
Quinn nods, his sleep-rumpled hair slipping into his eyes. “So, where did you want to go?”
He watches me closely, and I know that if I told him I wanted to hitch a ride to the moon, he would follow me. But in a way, I am traveling to outer space. I’m traveling to a land which has the power to change me forever.
“Canada,” I reply, and who would have thought one word could feel so claustrophobic.
“You want to stick to the original plan?” Quinn questions softly.
“Yes. I’m mentally and physically fatigued, and if I were to fight my father and Phil, I know I would lose. We stick to Tabitha’s dad’s plan; at least this keeps the cops off our asses.”
“You wouldn’t have to fight them,” Quinn states, reaching forward and running a finger down the length of my nose.
“What do you mean?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I would do it. We still have the guns. I could arrange a time and—” but I stop him by placing a finger over his lips to silence him.
“As much as I appreciate the offer—no. We’ve finally got the upper hand, as they have no idea where we are. Let’s make a run for it, and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”
At the start of this journey, it was all about revenge and vengeance, but now? Now it’s about survival. To survive this in one piece, physically, and also emotionally, is all I care about.
When I think the coast is clear, I remove my finger, and Quinn’s mouth dips into a small frown.
“When the time comes, I’ll do it for you.”
I don’t even need to ask what he’s referring to, as this whole experience has shown me that I can run, but I can’t hide. Sooner or later, my father will catch up to me, and when he does, one of us will be dead.
There are no compromises or happy reunions. The ending of this story results in someone’s death. And I’m just hoping it’s not mine.
“I can’t let you do that,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I can’t let you kill for me…again. With each life you take, Quinn, a piece of you will die with them. Believe me, I know.”
“I don’t care,” he tenaciously replies. “I meant what I said. I’d do anything to keep you safe, and while your father is still alive, you’re not safe.”
“You’re so stubborn.” I sigh, and he smirks in return.
Resting my palm onto his stubbled cheek, he turns into my caress and kisses over my moon tattoo.
“What does this mean?” he asks, gently holding my wrist while kissing over my ink once again.
As I watch Quinn’s lips lightly press over my skin, I think back to the day I got it.
“It was one of the worst days of my life. And still, till this day, thinking about it makes me sick. It was a Wednesday, and I was making my last drop off. This customer was a regular, and she always ordered a hit of heroin every second Wednesday of the month. There was nothing extraordinary about this woman, she looked like an average junkie mom, but unlike other junkies, she was always punctual. She would wait for me by the backdoor at exactly 6 p.m. in her pink fluffy robe and Bugs Bunny slippers, biting her nails, awaiting my arrival. Six rolled around and she wasn’t there,” I say, my mind lost in the past. “I noticed the backdoor was unlocked, so I thought maybe she had passed out inside. I let myself in, but as I opened that door, whatever innocence I had left died with her on that filthy floor.”
Quinn’s captivated eyes, which are watching mine closely, are the only reason why I go on, as this memory is one better left buried.
“She was lying on her kitchen floor with a fucking needle hanging out of her arm, the tourniquet still wrapped around her bicep. She looked dead, but her chest was rising and falling. My brain was telling me to run, but I just couldn’t leave her there if she was alive. I don’t remember the smell, because the closer I got, all I could focus on was her chest, which was rising abnormally fast. When I was a few feet away, I toed her with my boot and asked if she was okay. But she didn’t answer, and I couldn’t see her face as she was turned away from me. I asked her again if she was okay, and I crouched low, attempting to turn her face. But suddenly, all I could hear was a whisper of…scurrying. I could hear millions of legs, scurrying all around me. I listened intently, as I couldn’t figure out what the sound was. And that’s when a fucking cockroach ran up my arm. As I looked down, the entire floor was swimming in bugs, all different shapes and sizes, and I realized the scurrying noise was coming from her. It was coming from inside of her.”
Quinn gasps, and I conclude my gory tale. “They were fucking eating her like she was a bug buffet. I stood up so quickly, I lost balance and I fell—on top of her. On top of them. It was like a bomb of every size bug went off, and that’s when the smell hit me. In my panic of getting the fuck up, I somehow moved her, and she was staring at me, with only one glassy eye, as the other was an empty socket, eaten out by the spider which was using her cranium as a nest. The louder I screamed, the more bugs seemed to emerge from her body. It was an endless sea of bugs, coming out of every orifice,” I whisper, almost gagging at the memory.
“And that’s why you hate bugs,” Quinn finishes for me.
I nod in response.
“So the reason why I got this tattoo is because, if a man can walk on the moon, then anything is possible,” I reply. “In my darkest hours, I would look at it and know that one day, I would be free. If a man could do a complex thing, such as walking on the moon, then I could do the simple thing of leaving my dad and living a normal life. Well, something like normal. And it’s better than getting a tattoo of a bug,” I add on a gasp as Quinn kisses up my arm, licking along the crease in my elbow.
“You’re right. Anything is possible,” he says. “And you’re proof of that.”
I raise my eyebrow, about to ask him what he means. But he presses his lips to mine, silencing me and my memories.
***
We drive through the night, stopping only to sleep for a few hours, as getting to Canada is more vital than it’s ever been. I try my best to keep awake, but sadly, my beaten body is still healing, and sleep overcomes me often.
The sound of tires crunching over the open road, and the low hum of talk radio is my background noise for the next day as Quinn allows me to sleep off my injuries.
However, I think he too needs the silence.
It seems like a lifetime ago that we left South Boston. But after this is over, I know things will never be the same. I know something big is just around the corner. I just don’t know what.
“Red, are you awake?”
My sleep-induced brain recalls the significance of that phrase, as those exact words were spoken to me all those weeks ago. We may still be on the run, but so much has happened since then. And I know this is only the beginning.
“Where are we?” I grumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with the heels of my hands.
“Just outside Canada,” Quinn replies with a yawn. “I thought we could get some clothes and other stuff, seeing as we both need some supplies.”
I open my heavy eyes, and thankfully, it’s the cusp of dusk, as my irises can’t handle any sunshine.
“Good idea,” I say, looking up at Quinn, as I have been using his lap as a cushion. “Sorry,” I apologize and quickly jump up, as I can only imagine how hard it must have been to drive with my head in his crotch.
“It’s okay,” he replies with a wink as he jumps out of the truck. “I like having your head in my lap.”
I smile and stifle a yawn behind my hand as I get out of the truck. Lucky whines and looks at me hopefully. Poor baby… he’s probably been holding his bladder for miles. I snap on his retractable leash and let him out before I lock the door behind me. We tie Lucky up behind the store, and I crouch low, gently rubbing him between the ears. “Be a good boy, take care of your business, and stay, okay? We’ll be right back,” I coo, melting as he licks my nose.
“I can see why his name is Lucky,” Quinn cheekily smirks, while I playfully bump him with my shoulder.
“I so should not be tired,” I declare, and Quinn chuckles, reaching for my hand as we enter the department store.
The simple gesture of handholding shouldn’t give me such a rush, but it does. Quinn and I have come so far, and I just hope we keep moving forward.
“I’m just going to get some girly things,” I say. “Gimme five?”
