Chapter 6
Rain splattered on the windshield, and the wipers swished at top speed.
Quin’s car idled in the parking lot of the town’s only Japanese restaurant.
Josie burrowed her neck in the sweater Quin had given her.
She’d never get his rich, spicy scent out of her head now—not when the intoxicating smell was on top of her and she was inhaling it as if it were aromatherapy. Maybe it was.
“Avocado roll?”
“I’m really not hungry.” She pressed her hand to her belly and turned her head toward the window. Many things had stolen her appetite. Quin and his less-than-chipper attitude made the list.
“Well, by the time the cops get to your house to take a statement it’ll be late and you won’t want to go out. Better to get something now and if you’re hungry later you can eat.”
She flicked her wrist. “Fine.”
He opened the door and cold air and rain rushed inside. He leaned out of the spray and caught her forearm. “Lock the door, and if anything fishy happens, lay on the horn.”
“’Kay.”
He shut the door and ran inside the restaurant. Her stomach constricted. God, she just wanted to go home and crawl into bed and it was just after noon. Now she had to give a statement to a police officer while harboring a fugitive.
Fan-freaking-tastic.
She shivered and folded her arms across her chest. Nothing would get her warm, except maybe a steaming bath and a fire.
Her phone buzzed next to her leg. She glanced at the screen: McKenna. She really didn’t feel like rehashing everything that had happened, but her friend would be worried. She swiped the screen then pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Oh, thank god. I just got your message. What happened?”
She mustered a deep breath and then gave McKenna the details.
“Holy crap,” McKenna murmured. “I can’t believe this happened. Where are you now? I wish I could come get you but Jaxon and I decided to spend a few days in the city. You know what? We can come home—”
“Don’t be silly. I’m totally fine. There’s nothing you can do anyway.”
“How did you get home?”
Josie rolled her lips together. Dang it. She massaged her forehead. “Um, a friend came and got me.”
Silence followed. McKenna’s ubersharp senses had surely picked up on something in her voice. “A friend? Like a guy?” The screechiness in McKenna’s voice assured her this conversation was going to take a different path if she didn’t correct it.
“No. Well, yes. A guy. But not that kind of guy.”
“Okay, now you’re acting weird.”
Josie huffed. “It’s Quin, okay? And if you tell anyone he’s here it could cause problems for everyone, including me.”
“Quin?” The screechy note turned downright shrill. “That asshat—”
“Trust me. It’s not like that.”
She heard McKenna take three breaths, likely trying to center herself before she let out another word. “Sorry. You know what you’re doing. Just be careful, please.”
Quin came out of the restaurant, two brown bags in hand, and her stomach rumbled. Perhaps he’d been right to grab food. Not that she’d admit it.
“I have to go. I’ll give you a call soon. Enjoy your weekend and say hi to Jaxon,” she said, disconnecting as Quin opened the door and leaped in, dropping the bags in her lap. “I got some ramen, too. Should help warm you up.”
She pressed her hands to the bag, letting the heat sink into her palms. “Thanks.”
He pulled onto the road and headed in the direction of her house.
Lightning lit the sky and thunder roared. “The police might not even come out in this weather just for a statement,” she said.
Quin grunted. “Yeah, probably not. Although attempted murder is a serious crime. Even tops my arson accusation.”
She wiggled in her seat. The memory of the bar fire and everything that had gone down after that put a sour taste in her mouth.
Quin shook his head. “It has to be the same person,” he muttered.
Josie knitted her brows together. “What do you mean?”
He rubbed his thumbnail over the leather steering wheel. Heat spread through her. Good lord. How could the movement of his thumb turn her on? She was still in shock, obviously. Or maybe she’d hit her head.
“All of it. Liam, the fire, someone now trying to hurt you.”
Josie let out a weak laugh. “That’s ridiculous.” Who on earth would be after Liam, Quin and her? It didn’t make sense. The incidents were too far apart. The assailant would have come after her when he’d torched the bar to frame Quin, not wait until months later.
“Is it?” he said, challenge biting his voice.
Her temples began to throb. The town fell away and the houses on the outskirts became more spaced out. In just a couple of minutes she’d get that hot bath. “I don’t know. Seems kind of far-fetched, Quin. Can we talk about it later?” She rested her head on the seat and turned her face toward him.
He glanced at her, the set line of his jaw softening. There was no sign of the glint in his eyes that she saw whenever he didn’t want to let something go. “’Course. Sorry. You’ve had a rough morning.”
He turned into her driveway and déjà vu struck her. Tears rushed to her eyes at the memory of pulling into the driveway, riding in the passenger’s seat while Liam drove.
Quin moved the gearshift into park. His gaze found hers and a familiar tingling seized her belly.
A gush of shame quickly replaced it. His expression became sad, as if he sensed the direction of her thoughts.
His hand slid from the handle between the seats and he tangled his fingers with hers. “I’m so sorry, Jos.”
Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. He pulled her to his chest.
She needed to get out of the car. To douse herself in cold rain. To remind herself that Liam was gone and he wasn’t coming back and having any kind of feelings for his best friend, whatsoever, was akin to cheating on him.
She sniffed and pulled her head from the cozy softness of his shirt.
“I’m going in.” She shoved open the door.
A blast of rain hit her face. She squinted against the torrent and lifted her arm to her forehead for shelter.
Her feet landed in a puddle and the cold wind sucked the air from her nostrils.
She welcomed all of it—anything to put distance between herself and the turbulent confusion crushing her heart.
* * *
“Dammit, Jos!” Quin jogged around the car. The cold rain washing over him did nothing to stifle the annoyance flaring off his body. She slipped on the mud path leading to the steps of her front porch and let out a shriek.
He caught her waist as she fell backward into him. “You trying to bust your other damn ankle?” Not taking the risk of picking her up, since she just might deck him this time, he kept his arm around her waist and half carried her up the steps.
He waited for her to pull her keys from her pocket, but she turned the door handle instead. Fresh annoyance seared his neck. “What is it with you small-town people leaving your doors unlocked?”
She limped into the house, barely masking her discomfort, and plopped into one of the kitchen chairs. Mud and water covered her from head to toe. Her loose hair had become even curlier. She glared at him.
“Until an hour ago I didn’t anticipate someone wanting to harm me.”
He worked his jaw back and forth. He couldn’t be mad at her for being trusting. As much as it frustrated him that she’d left her door unlocked and someone wanted to hurt her, it wasn’t in her character to live in fear.
“I get that. Going forward we should probably be more vigilant.”
She sent him a no-shit-Sherlock sneer and pulled the shoe off her injured foot. Propping her leg onto her knee, she circled her hands around the base of her calf.
Quin glanced out of the open front door.
“I’ll grab our lunch.” He hustled to the car, grabbed the bags from the footwell on the passenger’s side, and ran back up the steps.
After shedding his now-soaked shoes, he put the bags in the fridge then grabbed one of the wooden chairs.
It scraped against the floor as he moved it closer to where Josie sat. “Let me look.”
She curled her body so it was a few inches from his reach, her eyes hesitant in her pale face. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
His fingers twitched. A pang struck him in the chest. She didn’t want him near her.
Had he gotten too close? Said something wrong?
Josie was smart and intuitive. In the car, he’d said he was sorry.
In the moment, it could have meant anything.
Sorry she was struggling. Sorry that he could see the memories of Liam on her face.
Sorry that he was there instead of Liam.
There was a plethora of things he could be sorry for, but she’d probably picked up on the one that was most true.
I’m sorry for wanting you.
Because what kind of lowlife douchebag had even the slightest nonplatonic thought about his dead best friend’s girlfriend?
He cleared his throat, mustering all his macho. “Look. You can kick me out if you want, hate me, hell, you can even hit me if you feel inclined. But don’t be an ass about your ankle because of me.”
She pushed back the wayward hairs from her cheeks and temples looking unaffected by his words. “You know I won’t kick you out.”
Despite the ache in his chest, his mouth lifted into a grin. “But you hate me and perhaps want to hit me?”
Her face relaxed. “Maybe the latter.”
He chuckled as the fire in her eyes died. She let out a thin laugh and then her smiled faltered, taking with it some of the ease on her face. Fuck, grief was the worst thing he’d ever had to deal with and it wasn’t even his own grief that ate at him the most.
She extended her leg so it rested on his knee. “I’m sure it’s just twisted.”
He wrapped his palm around her calf and peeled off her sock. He turned her ankle, pressing around her flesh then feeling for swelling. He brought his thumb to the soft spot between her ankle and top of her foot and she jerked in her seat.
“That hurts.”
He waited until she nodded for him to continue. “I don’t think it’s broken, but probably a sprain. Do you have a Tensor bandage?”
She lowered her foot. “I have all the fixings, but I’d like a bath first.” She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Never mind. My luck and one of the officers will come while I’m in there and they’ll identify you from the most-wanted list.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not on the wanted list.”
She waved him off. “Whatever. Wanted, warrant, same thing.”
“What are the chances the sheriff shows up and not some deputy who has no idea who I am?”
“No. But it’s a small town. A guy at my house will strike up a lot of interest, and it won’t take long for people to figure out who you are.”
He shrugged. “Not really that worried.” He kept his hands on her ankle, moving his thumb to the arch of her foot and gently stroking. She leaned back in her chair, now appearing almost relaxed by his contact.
“There’s something I need to show you,” he said.
Her eyes lifted slowly to his. “Why do you say that so ominously?”
He applied a little pressure at the ball of her foot and her eyelids flickered. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a foot rub.” She blushed and pulled her toes from his grasp. “Thanks. What did you need to tell me?”
Christ. Was this what it was going to be like? A little push a little pull? Of course it was. Because he was an idiot and couldn’t stop himself from crossing the motherfucking line.
“Frasier Donohue.”
Awareness dawned in her light brown eyes. She flicked her gaze away. “What about him?”
“Are you aware he has a thing for you?”
She squirmed.
“Jos?”
Seconds ticked. She kept her gaze down. He pulled his keys from his pocket and removed the thumb drive. “Can I use your laptop?”
She straightened in her seat. “What’s that?”
“Proof that Frasier might have been involved in Liam’s death. Where is it?”
She pointed to the living room, her face tight with angst. “Couch.”
He stood and made his way to the living room. The device had some kind of astrology sticker on it. He took it to the kitchen and placed it in front of her. Then he dragged his chair closer to her and waited while she fired up the laptop.
She turned it toward him and he stuck the thumb drive in the USB port. Reaching over her, he tapped the mousepad and brought up the Bonfire folder.
“What are these?”
“Hold on.”
He made the images larger and clicked through. The first shot of Liam and her lit the screen. She didn’t make a sound but brought her fingertips to her lips. A knife cut through his insides. No matter what he did, he brought more pain to her.
But there was no help for it.
He clicked rapidly through the group pictures then moved slowly through the dozens of pictures of her at every angle.
She slapped the laptop closed. “Holy shit,” she breathed. “Where did you get these?”
Quin’s eyes darkened. “Never mind that.” He gripped her elbow with his fingertips. “He’s got a thing for you . . . clearly. Did you know?”
Her teeth scraped over her bottom lip. “Yes. Well, no. No. I had no idea he’d gone to this extent . . . at least not after—”
She got to her feet and her knees instantly shook.
He stood and caught her shoulders. “Sit, dammit. You’re hurt.”
She shook her head, and he didn’t have the fight in him to force her. Not until she said what she wasn’t telling him. “Jos—”
“He followed me one night. Liam beat the shit out of him.” The words came out like a tsunami. Fast and destructive.
Rage made Quin’s vision blur.