Keeping Quinn: The Next Generation

by Edwards, Riley

  “I know that. She talked to me about it the day you kissed her by her car.” Well, fuck me running. Jasper’s known all along. “Warned her not to get involved with you.”

  My back shot straight and my hands fisted. I wanted to be pissed-off, I wanted to ask him what his problem was, but I knew. No dad wanted their daughter wrapped up with some asshole who has a reputation of blowing through women.

  “We’ve been exclusive,” I told him, needing him to understand that I wasn’t playing some fucked-up bed-hopping game with Quinn. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her. I didn’t even think I had it in me to love anyone. I get why you’d warn her off, but this isn’t that, Jasper. She’s not one of them. I’m not scratching an itch and I think you know that. I think you know, I wouldn’t do that to Quinn. We may’ve started one way but we sure as fuck aren’t that way anymore. And as much as I know you love your daughter and will do anything to protect her, I hope you understand that no one, not even you, is gonna keep me from her.”

  Jasper stayed where he was, arms crossed over his chest, and gave nothing away. I fought the urge to shove him aside and kick down the door to get to Quinn. He may’ve been her father, but in that moment he was an obstacle, the one person standing between me and the woman I loved, and I was running out of patience.

  “I wondered how long it would take for you to come and get in my face to see her. I’m glad it happened sooner rather than later.” I rocked back on my heels in surprise, then he continued. “She’s fucked-up. Completely shaken to her core. Right after I found her, she nearly lost consciousness. The violence…fuck…” Jasper hung his head then slowly lifted it and green eyes much like his daughter’s held me in place. “Knife to the throat, man. She saw the whole thing less than ten yards away.”

  “Fucking hell!”

  “It gets worse.”

  Worse? How the hell did Quinn seeing someone get murdered get worse?

  “The assailant saw her. Made eye contact.”

  There it was—worse—much fucking worse.

  “Christ,” I bit out. “The police catch him?”

  “Not yet. Though we’ve been to the police station and she sat with a sketch artist. The gang task force recognized him immediately.”

  My head swam, completely overloaded with all of the fucked-up possibilities. Quinn could’ve been hurt—or worse, killed—and that wasn’t a far stretch with a gang killing happening less than thirty feet away.

  “Where the fuck was she?”

  “Off MLK and Broadway.”

  “What the hell? That area is shit. Why would she be there?”

  “Her favorite Thai market is there. I’ve asked her not to go, begged her actually, and she wouldn’t listen.”

  “Christ!”

  I hadn’t realized my hands had gone into my hair until pain radiated from my scalp and I loosened my grip.

  “I wanna see her.”

  “Know you do but—”

  “No offense, but that wasn’t a question. I need to see her. And there are things we have to talk about.”

  Jasper looked pensive, worn down, like a father who loved his daughter beyond reason and was trying to do what was best for her.

  “She needs me, Jasper. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t positive she feels the same way about me as I feel about her. I tried to walk away, I tried to let her do the same. But it feels wrong, I can’t let her go.”

  “Quinn’s…she’s gonna fight you.”

  “I know she is.”

  “You ready for that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t let her push you away. She’s had her phone. And with everything that happened, I’ve been keeping a close eye. I know how many times you’ve tried to call.”

  “Yeah?”

  Jasper’s jaw clenched and he looked over my shoulder. “It’s the only time she cries.”

  Christ. I’d fucked everything up. If I hadn’t been such a coward, none of this would’ve happened. Quinn would never have been in that hood by herself. I would’ve been with her or she would’ve been too preoccupied to go. But instead of staying and figuring out our shit, I bailed and ran to Florida like a pussy.

  “She’s in her old room,” Jasper told me and stepped aside.

  “Thank you.”

  “You fix my daughter, I’ll be thanking you.”

  I gave Jasper a lift of my chin and went into the Walker family home.

  I didn’t stop to take in Emily’s wide eyes as she caught sight of me from the kitchen. The smell of baking cookies barely registered. My mind fixed solely on Quinn and seeing with my own eyes she was safe.

  15

  I heard the door creak open but I didn’t move. I laid on my side, staring into nothing, and I couldn’t bear to roll over and face either of my parents. My mom was killing me with her worried glances and gentle coaxing. My dad looked just as worried but his stare was different, it was mixed with anger—not toward me. He was angry in general, furious I’d seen what I’d seen, and anxious there had been no arrests. I wasn’t sure which of their concerns hurt me more. I didn’t like that my parents were having to take care of me. I hated that they were scared, hated even more I’d been so stupid I’d put myself in that situation.

  Once again I’d acted like a naïve twit going wherever I wanted to go, doing whatever I wanted to do. It was way beyond time I woke up and stopped walking through life with my head in the clouds.

  Then there were my sisters, brother, cousins, aunts, and uncles. All of them had been by to check on me. All of them handled me like glass. This should’ve been comforting, my family rallying around me, but instead I felt like a child who couldn’t get her shit together.

  Hell, most of my family had been through worse. Mercy and my sister had been kidnapped and beaten. Honor had almost been killed by her crazy stepfather. Tuesday had been stalked and her house set on fire with her in it. Yet, they all pulled themselves together and moved on.

  But there I was, acting like a baby, curled up in a ball on my childhood bed.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  Every time I closed my eyes I saw the knife in that poor man’s throat and blood spurting out. I couldn’t forget the cold eyes that stared at me as I scrambled to get my keys. I couldn’t think of anything else.

  And the what-ifs were screwing with my head. What-if I hadn’t gone to the Thai market? What-if I hadn’t gotten into my car fast enough? What-if I hadn’t wasted time on the phone with Bridgett? What-if I’d just wandered around the store a little longer? One little change and I wouldn’t have seen it happen. I wouldn’t have watched a man get stabbed in the neck.

  God. I just wanted it to stop.

  The bed moved behind me and suddenly a warm, hard chest pressed against my back, and a heavy arm went around my waist, and I stiffened.

  I didn’t need to turn to know who was behind me. I didn’t even need to look at the hand that engulfed mine. I knew the feel of him. I knew the way he smelled. I knew a lot about him, but not nearly enough.

  “Why are you here?” I whispered.

  “Babe.”

  I closed my eyes to fight the tears. For three days I’d beaten back the urge to call him, to answer the phone, message him back. Three really long, hard days. But I’d done it. I hadn’t given in to the need. I’d been determined not to bother Brice with my latest crisis.

  Brice nestled closer, his mouth going to the side of my neck and he kissed me there. My hair prevented his lips from hitting my flesh but I still felt it. I wanted to melt into him. I wanted to tell him all the things I couldn’t tell my dad. But I couldn’t.

  “Why didn’t you call me, Quinn?”

  “Because we’re not that.”

  “We sure as fuck are.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I know what we are. I may’ve forgotten for a while. Got caught up in the excitement. Maybe even allowed myself to believe we were more than we really were, but I remembered.”

  “Baby—”

 
“I can’t do this,” I interrupted him. “I lied to you.”

  Brice’s body went solid and his hand flexed around mine.

  “About what?”

  “I’m not capable of doing casual. I knew it. From the start, I knew it and pretended I could because I was selfish and tried to trap you into something you didn’t want. I know the type of man you are and I knew you’d never touch me unless I lied and told you I was okay with the only kind of arrangement you’re comfortable with. I’m sorry. All of this is my fault.”

  “You have no idea the type of man I am.”

  Ouch! That hurt. He was right of course, I may’ve known him physically, but I didn’t actually know Brice.

  “You’re right, I don’t.”

  We laid there in silence for a long time. Having him that close, holding me to him, was agony. I wanted to tell him to leave. Hell, I needed him to leave before I broke down in tears. It wasn’t his fault I fell in love with him. It wasn’t his fault my heart shattered and I was scared it would never fit back together. It was pure torture, all of it.

  “There’s a lot we need to talk about.” Brice broke the silence. “There’re things I need to explain to you but right now’s not the time.”

  It would never be the time. For one, we were over. For two, Brice didn’t share his feelings with me.

  “You don’t owe me anything. I appreciate you taking the time to let me down gently, but you don’t need to. I know we’re over. I know—”

  “The fuck we are.” I jerked at the vehemence in his tone.

  “Brice—”

  “I’m not letting you go.” And to punctuate his words, he pressed closer.

  “I can’t do it. I’m telling you I don’t know how to have you in my bed and not have all of you.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I was in love with him. That was a sure-fire way to make him run for the hills. The only thing that held me back was that I was too afraid I’d see pity in his eyes after I told him. I was already damn near broken and seeing him look at me like I was some poor, hopeless fool would gut me.

  “That’s part of what we need to talk about. But first we need to have a conversation about what happened, what you saw—”

  “No! I’m done talking about it.”

  “Quinn, baby—”

  “No. I’m done. All everyone wants to do is talk about it. I just want to be left alone.”

  “When’s the last time you left the house?” He changed the subject.

  I didn’t answer, because I didn’t want to admit that after my dad found me, drove me to and from the police station, I hadn’t left the house.

  “Right,” he mumbled. “We’re going to lunch.”

  Much to my surprise he loosened his hold on me and allowed me to sit up so I could turn and look at him. And when I did I was in utter shock.

  “Oh my God! What happened to you?” I asked, taking in his face.

  There was an angry, red cut on his lip and a bruise forming at the corner of his mouth.

  “Not important.”

  My heart seized at his answer. It wasn’t important because Brice didn’t share that kind of stuff with me. He’d obviously been in a fight, I didn’t think his lip would get busted up that way on the job, but what did I know? Nothing. That was what. Because Brice’s personal life wasn’t my business.

  “You should go,” I reminded him.

  “Jackson,” he sighed.

  “Jackson?”

  “You weren’t answering my calls, I had no idea what was going on and had limited options to find out. Jackson came into the bunk room as I was thinking about what I was going to do next. I was well-aware of what the ramifications were gonna be by asking him, but I needed to know that you were okay.”

  “So…he did that?”

  Damn it all to hell. Jackson and Brice were best friends. So on top of everything else, now I’d screwed up their friendship.

  “Yeah, babe. I think we both knew Jackson wasn’t gonna be pleased when he found out about us. I’ve been lying to my best friend for months. And let’s not forget, he made it clear you were off-limits.”

  “He what? Why would he do that?”

  “Same reason your dad warned you to stay away from me. They both thought I’d jack you around.”

  “So you told Jackson about us?”

  “No, babe. I didn’t have to tell him shit. He’s not dumb, it took him all of two minutes after I asked about you to put two and two together. He didn’t like what that equaled.”

  Oh, no! Jackson was going to be so mad at me. And he had a big mouth, the first call he’d make would be to my brother. If Jason got involved, shit would hit the fan. Then Jackson would rope in Ethan, Carter, and Nick and hellfire would rain down.

  “I have to call Jackson,” I blurted.

  “No. You need to let me handle Jackson. He’s rightfully pissed at me. Either he’ll understand you mean something to me and he’ll back off or he won’t. What’s not gonna happen is you getting into the middle of it, because he says one thing to you that makes you feel bad or makes you feel like you’ve done something wrong, him and I are gonna have bigger issues than we have now.”

  “But—”

  “No, Quinn. I can take whatever he dishes out but you are not taking any of it.”

  “He hit you.” I gestured to his face. “In the mouth.”

  “Yeah, he did. Again, rightfully pissed. I also allowed him to get a second swing in before I stopped him. I deserved it. He got in his licks, and now we’ll deal.”

  “You deserved it?” I scooted to the edge of the bed and stood. “Now we’ll deal?”

  Brice sighed like I was totally dense for not understanding why two men I cared about deeply getting into a fistfight was okay—normal even.

  “Yeah, Quinn. We’ll deal. Everything’s out in the open now. And honestly, if my head hadn’t been shoved so far up my own ass I would’ve acknowledged my feelings for you and I wouldn’t have hidden our relationship like a coward.”

  I stood unmoving and stared at Brice. My lungs burned until I finally drew in a sharp breath. I must’ve heard Brice wrong, nothing he was saying was making any sense. Not a single word.

  “What?”

  “More shit we gotta talk about. But first let’s get some sunshine on your face and food in your belly.”

  “I think we need to talk now.”

  “After lunch,” he volleyed.

  “We’re not going to lunch.”

  “We are. So either you put on some shoes or you go barefoot.”

  My hands went to my hips and my eyes narrowed. Since when had Brice turned into a pain in the ass?

  “And you plan on getting me out of my house how?”

  “Any way necessary.”

  “You know my dad is probably listening at the door?”

  I really hoped he wasn’t but my father tended to treat me like I was fifteen and not nearing twenty-five.

  God, seriously, is it any wonder he treats me like a child when I’m constantly behaving like one?

  “Great. Then he can hold the door open for me when I drag your ass out of it.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Maybe. But you’re not locking yourself away in this room. I understand why your parents are allowing it. They’re worried about you. But, Quinn, I’m not gonna let you hide away. I’m not gonna let you sit in this room and stew. You’re putting on your shoes and going to lunch with me. After that, if you’re ready we’ll talk about what you saw. But when we do that, we’ll be at home.”

  “I am home.”

  “No. You’re at your parents’ house. And I get why you needed to be here. I understand you need the security and comfort. But that ends today. You’re coming home with me.”

  He had no idea why I was hiding at my parents’ house and I wasn’t going to tell him. It would make me look more of a fool to admit I couldn’t face him.

  “No—”

  The sharp knock on my bedroom door cut o
ff my argument.

  “Quinn. Brice. You’re needed in the living room,” my dad said from the other side of the door.

  “Be right out, Jasper,” Brice answered for us, then turned to me. “Shoes!”

  “They’re by the front door,” I snapped.

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  Brice opened my bedroom door and swept his hand, motioning me to precede him. Good God, he was infuriating. Why couldn’t he understand I didn’t want to go anywhere with him? I wasn’t ready to face what I’d done.

  I walked down the hall feeling Brice following closely behind me, and when I came to the living room, I stopped dead and let out a groan.

  This was not good.

  This was worse than not good.

  This was totally fucked-up.

  Jackson stood near the couch, my dad off to the side, but my mother was nowhere to be found—which meant Dad had warned her shit was about to get ugly. Dad would protect her from the fight that was getting ready to ensue. Normally, he’d protect me from it, too, but this was my mess.

  “I can’t believe you’d hit Brice.” I looked at Jackson and tried not to flinch at the anger I saw. At my declaration, Brice’s hand found my hip and he gently moved me to his side and Jackson’s jaw clenched.

  Brice was right, Jackson was pissed, but more than that he looked like I’d wounded him. We’d been best friends since we were in diapers. We’d shared everything; that was, until he met Tuesday, then he’d kept a whole lot from me. But I understood; he was falling in love and muddling his way through. But one look at Jackson told me he didn’t understand why I kept Brice from him.

  “And I can’t believe he’d fuckin’ touch you. Yet, there he is with his fuckin’ hand on you.”

  “Seriously, Jackson, that wasn’t cool.”

  “But it’s cool you being treated like a piece of ass?”

  “Jackson,” my dad growled.

  Brice’s hand flexed on my hip, his fingertips digging in painfully.

  “Warning, Jackson, that’s the last time you say shit like that about Quinn. I let that shit at the station—”

  “You let it? Friend, I should’ve kicked your ass.”