She gives me another look and rises to her feet. “I need to shower after the day I’ve had.”
“Just let me know when you’re ready.”
After she goes inside to shower, I wander into the house just as Colt happens to be coming down the hall towards the basement.
He pauses, his eyes locking on mine. “Everything good?” he asks simply, referring to whether I’ve had issues with Slade.
“Everything’s fine,” I say without hesitation. It’s not really lying since I have no idea if Slade’s serious or not.
Colt’s eyes drop to the scarf around my neck, and the skin visibly tightens around his eyes. After a prolonged second, he walks past me. I don’t take his abrupt exit personally. Colt isn’t one to linger and draw out a conversation. He says what’s on his mind, and then he considers the conversation finished if there’s nothing left to be said.
It takes forty-five minutes before Harper and I leave the house. I insist on driving, knowing that my car is conspicuous in Riverside. I haven’t checked to see if there’s another light blue Volkswagen in the area, but I certainly haven’t run across another one in the few years that we’ve lived here.
I drive us to my favorite pizza establishment, and a few minutes later, we’re sitting in a booth and watching as the waitress walks away with our order. I love this place. It’s completely retro with its red and white table tops and classic seventies photos framed on the walls.
Harper reaches for her glass of soda and takes a sip. “Did you hear her last night?”
“Hear who?” I ask with confusion.
“Either Colt or Sebastian had a woman over.” She grimaces. “I definitely won’t miss that.”
A dull ache begins to form deep within my chest, and I use my nail to trace a scratch on the tabletop’s surface. “No, I didn’t hear.” Thank God.
She must pick up on my mood. “Quinn, is something wrong?” she asks, concern evident in her tone. “Did Slade contact you?”
I look up and meet her gaze. “He sent me a text yesterday while I was at work,” I admit.
“What did it say?”
“He wanted me to drop by his place.”
Harper’s brows knit together. “But I thought you told him it was over.”
“Not exactly. I just wanted to get away from him, so I let him think there’d be a next time.”
She stares at me. “Oh. So did you break it off yesterday through text?”
“I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I just let it go,” I say sheepishly. “I was hoping that he’d take the hint.”
“He didn’t, did he,” she guesses.
I shake my head and dig my phone out of my purse, bringing up today’s text conversation. I silently slide it across the table to her.
She picks up the phone and reads the messages. A little wrinkle forms between her eyebrows as she taps on the photos so that she can see them enlarged. Her eyes lift to mine. “He followed us?” she asks, looking nervous.
She’s still getting over her near-death experience with a stalker, and I can see the fear in her eyes. Our situations are completely different, but she still went through hell. Suddenly, I feel terrible for dragging her into this.
I gently take the phone from her. “I am so sorry. I wasn’t thinking…”
The fear quickly fades from her eyes. “Hey, don’t say that. If you’re in trouble, I want to know.” Her gaze drops to the phone I’d placed near my elbow. “Quinn, that’s a bad sign. You need to tell the others,” she says seriously.
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Why not? He’s stalking you.”
“I’m not sure what he’s doing, Harper. Slade’s into games. Those texts, they might just be a way to get a rise out of me for breaking things off.”
Harper leans in close, her expression sober. “Quinn, he took photos. What part of that isn’t creepy?”
“That’s the thing, he’s naturally creepy.”
She gives me an odd look. “You were attracted to creepy?”
“Apparently so,” I say dryly. I also add, “There’s a possibility that he only followed me last night on a whim.”
Harper’s quiet for a moment. “You know him better than anyone. What do you think?”
“I think,” I say slowly, “that if I have photos or comments sent to me tomorrow—about us, right now—then I might have a problem on my hands.”
Her eyes sharpen. “You’re testing him.”
I nod.
“This way, you’ll know if he’s serious.”
“I’m hoping this doesn’t backfire,” I mutter.
“No, it’s brilliant.”
“I should have never gotten involved with him, Harper,” I say heavily, my tone full of regret.
She looks at me curiously. “Then why did you?”
“It’s complicated.” I don’t know how to explain to her what I’m feeling for Colt and why I’d kept it from her.
“Talk to me,” she urges.
I hesitate and then look around the bustling little restaurant. No one seems to be paying much attention to us. “I don’t know where to begin,” I say quietly.
“Start anywhere, and we’ll sort it out together,” she says, her green eyes full of encouragement.
Her reply is the exact reason I’d asked her to come out with me. If anyone can help me deal with this mess, it’s Harper. I brace myself as I prepare to divulge my secret. “My feelings for Colt are far from sisterly,” I tell her, getting straight to the point.
She stares at me and slowly says, “I see.”
“Slade could probably pass as his twin, so that’s why he was so appealing,” I add. There. It’s out there.
Harper sits back in her seat, blinking. “Give me a second to process this.”
“Sure.” I pick up my soda and take a sip, waiting.
“Okay,” she says after a long pause. “How long have you felt this way towards Colt?”
“A while.”
Her eyes narrow.
“A year or more,” I confess.
She looks at me with exasperation. “Quinn! Why didn’t you tell me this when it began?”
“Because if I didn’t say it out loud, I could pretend it wasn’t true. Harper, my feelings could change everything. Colt would never look at me the same, and Channing and Gabe would be uncomfortable. It would completely change the dynamics between the four of us. They’re my brothers, I can’t let that happen,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
“Not really,” she says softly.
“Gabe and Channing are, even if it’s not by blood,” I say firmly.
“But you don’t see Colt in a brotherly way.”
“I can’t help how I feel. I’ve tried to ignore it, and that sent me straight into Slade’s arms. Now look at the mess I’m in,” I say with frustration. “All Colt has to do is take one look at Slade, and he’ll know.”
“They’re that similar?” she asks, eyeing me.
“Yes.”
“Maybe he should know, Quinn.”
I look at her as if she’s lost her mind. “Absolutely not. It would ruin everything.”
“What if Slade somehow approaches you when Colt’s in the vicinity? There’s a chance that Colt could also figure things out for himself. Wouldn’t you prefer to be in control of how he finds out?”
“He’s not going to find out.”
She gives me a look. “You can’t control Slade. What are you going to do if he’s a total lunatic?”
“I don’t know,” I say miserably.
“Yes, you do. You’re going to need help.” She gives me a warning look. “If Slade’s as crazy as you’re implying, Colt will be livid if you try to handle this on your own.” Her eyes turn threatening. “I will be mad. If Slade isn’t rational, you can’t handle him. I know from experience,” she says bitterly.
Before I can respond, our pizza arrives. We thank the waitress, and a heaviness settles over us as we dig in.
Harper wipes her mo
uth with a napkin. “You know it’ll be worse if Colt finds out on his own,” she states, returning to the earlier topic. “And I’m not just referring to this mess with Slade.”
“There’s no point in telling him how I feel,” I say, putting down my slice of pizza and wiping my fingers on a napkin. “It doesn’t matter at this point anyway. Slade might just be taunting me without being a real threat,” I remind.
“For your sake, I hope you’re right. But if you turn out to be wrong, I want you to promise me that you’ll go to Colt with all this,” she insists.
I grimace, reaching for my soda. “I already promised Colt that I’d tell him if Slade becomes a problem. But that doesn’t mean I have to tell him everything—at least not if I don’t have to.”
“Quinn, you have to tell him the entire truth,” she chides.
I take a sip of soda and set the glass back down, shaking my head. “I don’t have to do anything,” I disagree.
“As soon as Colt learns Slade’s harassing you, he’s going to start digging. Who do you think he’s going to turn to for help?” she asks pointedly.
I release a groan. “Bryce.”
“Bingo.”
“But he doesn’t have a name to search for,” I remind.
“If Colt’s coming at you with demands of a name and everything else, how long do you think you’re going to be able to hold out?”
I fall silent.
“I’ll tell you,” she continues. “Not very long, because Colt’s about the only one that can talk sense into you.”
“Hey—”
“It’s true,” she insists, cutting me off. “I try, but it takes me a while. Colt just has to say a few words, and you cave and give in.”
She’s right, and I scowl.
“By the time he drags the truth out of you, he’ll be pissed that you didn’t just confide in him in the first place. Is that really how you want this to go down?”
I release a heavy sigh. “I hate you.”
She gives me an amused smile. “This is why I’m here. You need my help sorting this out, and my advice is to control the outcome, don’t let it control you. If Slade contacts you again and shows no signs of letting up, you need to go to Colt first, and then the others.”
“If I do that, I feel like I’m allowing Slade to ruin my life,” I say unhappily.
Her eyes soften. “I know, and it won’t be easy. But I don’t think you can handle Slade on your own, and I don’t think you believe you can, either.”
***
The next evening, I’m in the kitchen putting my leftovers in the refrigerator. After I’d finished my shift at the salon, I’d grabbed something to eat on my way home.
I frown as I turn away from the refrigerator. It’s Friday. Usually, I’m itchin’ to go out and socialize, but tonight, I think I’m going to stay in. I haven’t heard from Slade after my outing with Harper, and I’m hoping that means he’s going to leave me alone. I’m not one to hide from anyone, but since the situation is so complicated, thanks in part to Colt, I’ve decided that it might be wise to lay low this weekend. By Monday, maybe he’ll have found someone else to play his sick games with.
I look up as Harper breezes into the kitchen.
When she sees me, she sobers. “Anything?” she asks in a light but deliberate tone.
I know what she’s asking, and I shake my head.
She relaxes as she sets her purse on the island counter. “That’s good. Are you going out tonight?”
“I think I’ll skip.”
She frowns until comprehension dawns in her gaze. “You don’t want to do anything that could set him off.”
“If it weren’t for certain circumstances, I’d go out and show him that he can kiss my ass,” I grumble.
“You want him to lose interest.”
I nod.
“I think that’s a wise decision, but only for the weekend. You can’t avoid social settings for fear of drawing his attention.”
“I know.”
Six
Quinn
By Monday, life has gone back to normal. The weekend had passed uneventfully without so much as a text from Slade. Maybe he won’t be an issue after all.
My mood is upbeat at the salon, and I feel back to my usual self. The cut on my lip has healed enough that it’s no longer noticeable. As for the bruises on my throat, I can successfully cover them with a light layer of makeup, and no one will know they’re there. No more scarves. Thank God. I am not a scarf-wearing kind of woman.
When it’s time for my break, I make my way to the breakroom and feed some money into the beverage machine. After I have my soda, I sit at the empty table and wait for Ash. Most days, we try to plan our breaks together.
She enters the breakroom a few minutes later, a manila envelope in her hand. She pauses beside me and sets it down. “This was in the mail,” she informs before moving away to the refrigerator.
I stare at the envelope, making no move to touch it. It has my full name written on it in big, black letters. A bad feeling is uncoiling within me. There’s no doubt that it’s from Slade.
Ash sits across from me, pulling her lunch out of a bag. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
I casually pick up the eight-by-ten envelope and fold it before slipping it into the back pocket of my jeans. “I’m done at three, so I’ll just wait until my shift is over.”
She opens the plastic lid on her container to reveal a chicken salad. “Makes sense. What was in the envelope?” she asks curiously, picking up a plastic fork. “You don’t typically receive personal mail here.”
“It’s a bill from one of the stores a few blocks down. My card was rejected the other day because of suspicious activity. I called the bank and cleared it up,” I lie.
Ash doesn’t question me since she doesn’t know me well enough to know when I’m not being truthful. The rest of our conversation is light, and when I go back to work and meet my next client, it’s a struggle to concentrate on our conversation. I’m acutely aware of the folded envelope in my pocket.
It’s not until after my shift, and I’m in the privacy of my car in the employee parking lot, that I reluctantly pull the envelope from my pocket. I really don’t want to open it. After a moment’s hesitation, I carefully open the envelope and pull out the white piece of paper. There, written in what looks like smeared blood, are the words YOU’RE MINE.
My heart begins to thunder inside my chest, and my throat thickens. I should have known. With trembling hands, I shove the paper back into the envelope and set it aside. Slade’s playing some sort of game with me, and I don’t know how to stop it. He’d known I’d gone out with Harper to see his reaction, so he’d laid low over the weekend, allowing me to feel some sense of relief.
The bastard.
I’d known he wasn’t finished with me, but I hadn’t wanted to admit it. It’s why I’d stayed home over the weekend. I’d wanted to delay the inevitable, because this shit is going to blow my life to smithereens.
My eyes close with a sense of dread as I think of Colt. This will change everything. As badly as I want to keep the truth from him, I can’t. Harper was right. If I avoid coming clean about everything, the truth will be so much worse once it’s revealed.
“Damn it,” I whisper. If I’d known that Slade would ruin my life, I would have never gone near him. But that’s the type of horrendous luck I have with my mistakes. They always come back to bite me in the ass.
Knowing I can’t stay in the employee parking lot, I reluctantly start my car and back out of the parking space. I’ve never dreaded going home as much as I am today. My mood is heavy as I drive, and when I eventually pull into the driveway, I cut the ignition and sort my options. Colt’s not home.
No one else is, either.
I could go inside and act normal, putting this off for a couple days with the hope that Slade won’t do anything stupid. The only other option is to reveal everything to Colt—today. I know which one Harper would insist that I choose.
Since I’m home early, and Colt won’t arrive for a few more hours, I find the wait excruciating. Around five, I reluctantly wait on the sofa down in the entertainment room, the folded envelope and my phone resting on the cushion beside me.
Thirty minutes later, I know I’m about to face the firing squad when I hear Colt’s footsteps on the stairs. Suddenly, I wish the wait would have been much longer. I really don’t want to do this.
When Colt enters the main room, he looks surprised to see me. He sets his duffle bag on the floor, his handsome face pulling into a frown. “You’re waiting on me?”
I silently nod.
His hazel eyes sharpen. “This about the bastard that hurt you?”
I allow the silence to speak for itself. If there was any other way to avoid this unfolding conversation, I would take it in a heartbeat.
Colt takes a seat on the opposite sofa, his eyes fixed on me as his expression darkens. “He’s not leaving you alone.”
“No,” I whisper.
His eyes turn deadly. “Give me his name, Quinn. I’ll take care of him.”
My throat feels like it’s closing in on itself, and I look away—avoiding his gaze. I’ve never feared anything, but I am very afraid of how this conversation will change our relationship.
“I’m not going to kill him if that’s what you’re worried about.”
My eyes shift back to him, noting that his expression is now devoid of emotion. He’s hiding his thoughts, because he thinks I’m fearing how he’ll deal with Slade. “It’s not.” Well, I am, but it’s kind of not the issue right now.
Colt’s eyes drop to the folded envelope beside my phone. “What’s in the envelope?”
“There’s something you need to know first,” I say quietly. Once Colt sees the pictures and the paper with the blood, he’ll be hard to talk down. If I’m going to explain my reason for being with Slade, it should be revealed now—before the conversation gets out of hand.
No Going Back (Revolving Door Book 3) Page 5
