Chapter 2
Quinn’s eyes are bright and her cheeks are flushed. “I can’t believe you stalked me!”
I haven’t felt like this in years and I’m not sure I like it.
This unsettling sensation of being seen.
Last time we spoke was the day we put Axel’s ashes in the ground, and I was a very different person back then.
Barely eighteen. An adult in theory and by necessity, but without the experience to back it up.
She must’ve been about twelve. The only family member that gave a shit that Axel was dead. So fucking small standing next to the grave while her bitch of a mother waited in the car.
No father to be seen, but his mom was there crying big fat fucking crocodile tears to ham it up for the people she was milking with the fundraiser for his funeral. Like she hadn’t walked out on him five years before.
It was my first real taste of death, but not my last.
“Because I didn’t stalk you.” I hide my scowl behind my beer.
Sinner tips his head towards Quinn. “I have to agree with the lady. You kind of did.”
I’m a grown-ass man. A criminal on a good day. A murderer on a bad one. “I know for a fucking fact you keep an eye on your sister’s posts sometimes. How is that so different?”
“She’s not your sister,” Colt points out.
Fucking traitor.
“Might as well be.”
I look to Quinn for backup, but the little demon has the fucking nerve to show off her bare shoulder with a shrug.
God damn it. I’m not blind. When I saw her face start showing up occasionally on commercials, yeah I looked her up.
It started as guilt from running away after Axel died instead of sticking around to keep an eye on her for my best friend.
But she seemed to be doing okay, and it turned into curiosity.
Checking her socials a couple times a year and watching her turn from a scrawny teenager with freckles and a mane of fiery hair, into the woman across from me dressed in skintight leather nursing a margarita.
Sinner scents blood in the water. “So you think of this guy as your brother, Quinn?”
She catches her lower lip between her teeth and glances away before answering with a question of her own. “I had a crush on you back then, did you know? I thought I was being really cool about it, but I bet you both could tell.”
“Ax told me. He threatened to kick my ass if I made you cry.” I grin at the memory and Quinn laughs.
“That sounds like him. God, I think about him all the time but I haven’t talked about him out loud in years. Mom hates it when I do, so I learned to keep it to myself.”
“He was a good guy. Deserved a lot fucking better than he got.” I lift my beer in a toast before taking a long drag.
Colt and Sinner do the same. “To Axel.” They didn’t know the guy, but loyalty in an MC runs deep. If he’s important to me, he’s important to them. That’s how this shit works.
Quinn looks between the three of us and raises her glass. “To the best brother I could’ve asked for!” Then she takes a sip and nearly spills when she puts it back down. “Sheesh. They’re pouring them strong tonight. Or maybe I’m just a lightweight.”
Colt leans his weight on the table between us. “Tell me to fuck off if it’s none of my business, but why would your mother keep you from talking about your own fucking brother?”
She runs a finger back and forth along the bottom of her glass. “He was my half-brother. I think Mom always hated that our father picked Ax’s mom over her. He only moved in when she found out about us and kicked them out. Dad was…”
“He was a fucking waste of oxygen,” I fill in for her.
“The asshole never gave a shit about his own fucking kids. He could barely take care of himself and smoked weed like it was a full time job. Even back then I never understood how the fuck he managed to get two women hooked, but they weren’t much better.
” I shut up when I see Quinn’s shock. “Sorry,” I lie.
Her mom was always a bitch, but I suppose she might’ve changed.
“I know she was never the best, but she gave up a lot to take care of me,” Quinn says softly. “She could’ve had her own career, but then she got pregnant, and Dad was in and out of our lives. I knew how to take care of her, but Axel, he was hard, you know?”
“You were what? Five when Ax moved in with you?”
She takes a sip of her drink and nods. “Something like that.”
Me, Sinner and Colt exchange a silent glance.
Family is complicated. Most of us know that first hand.
I’m sure she doesn’t have to hear about it from us.
Quinn presses a cocktail napkin against the back of her neck.
She looks even more flushed, the red spreading down to where her breasts are peeking out of her laced-up leather top.
It takes a lot of effort to drag my eyes up to her face. “Time to switch to water.”
“Yep.” She pops the P when she says it. “Aaaaanyway, Mom’s my manager now. She calls all the shots.”
“Must be doing a good job if you’re a rich and famous actress,” Sinner says.
“Yeah, right.” Quinn snorts, looking shocked at the sound. She blinks, then shakes her head like she’s clearing it. “Sorry. I shouldn’t complain. What about you? What have you been up to? Aside from getting cool tattoos and building muscle?”
“Like your sister. Yeah, right,” Colt mutters under his breath.
I let out a soft huff of a laugh. “Floated for a while, like I said, trying to figure shit out. Then my step-dad got sick. Long story short, there are only so many times you can hear that there’s a lesson to be learned or a meaning behind everything before you get real fucking tired of it.
Started working at a body shop and got a bit of a reputation for being good at custom paint jobs.
I did some work for a couple of the guys in the Sons and—”
Sinner throws his arm over my shoulder and grins. “And now he’s stuck with us.”
Quinn has her chin in her hands. “Aw, that’s nice. Friends I mean. Even if they’re friends with guns. I don’t have friends. Or guns.”
“You feeling okay, Q?”
She looks up at me, eyes a little unfocused. “Yeah? I don’t—” A flash of panic crosses her face and she tries to stand too quickly.
What the fuck? I grab her just in time to keep her from falling.
“Quinn!” A woman with warm chestnut skin and gold in her hair comes rushing over. “What’s going on? What are you doing with her?”
“It’s okay, Erika. He’s an old friend,” Quinn says, but she looks ready to drop.
“You’re with the show, right?” At Erika’s nod, I gesture at the still half-full margarita. “Her drink. I think someone slipped something into it.”
“What? Are you joking?” She puts a hand on Quinn’s arm. “Do you know these guys?”
Quinn looks up at me, head a little heavy on her neck. “He’s Priest. Don’t call ‘im Heath anymore.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s probably just the heat. I need to get out of here.”
“No way. You’re not getting into a car with a stranger like this,” Sinner says when Quinn pulls out her phone and starts up an app to call for a ride.
Erika nods. “He’s right. You shouldn’t be alone right now. I’ll go with you.”
“No! I don’t want to make a scene. If we both leave, people will notice.”
“We’ll get her home safe. Erika? Can you handle reporting this to whoever’s in charge? Nobody at the bar. We’ve been here since they came with the drinks but who knows what the fuck happened before that.”
“Of course.” Erika puts her hands on either side of Quinn’s face and looks her in the eyes. I can see her judging if she trusts Quinn’s judgement and I don’t fucking blame her. “Call me when you get home, and first thing in the morning. You got that?”
“Yes, Mom.” Quinn looks tired and a little wobbly.
“If anything happens to Quinn, I’m going to personally track all of you down,” Erika promises. She looks about as dangerous as a kitten, but I appreciate that she’s willing to use her claws.
“She’s safe with us,” Colt assures her in a tone that doesn’t leave much room for argument.
When we get her outside through a side door, Quinn sees the motorcycles. “I’ve never ridden on… ridden on…”
“It’s gonna be fine. I’ll hold onto you.
Come on.” Her phone’s sticking out of her pocket, so I grab it and slip it into the inside pocket of my cut, then settle her in front of me, wrapping one arm tightly around her waist and pulling her close.
She leans into my chest, soft and trusting. “Alright, we’re going. I got you.”
I don’t think I’ve ridden quite so carefully since my first time on a bike. Her place is an apartment in a fancy part of town. Nice to be a TV star, I guess.
“Hey, Quinn, we’re here. Are you with me, baby?” I hand her off to Colt, who lifts her gently.
“The air helped, but everything feels fuzzy,” she complains, but she’s up and walking on her own two feet, at least with the help of Sinner’s arm around her waist.
A guy in a uniform that looks like it belongs in an old movie comes out when we approach. He takes the four of us in and clearly isn’t convinced that we’re the right sort of people to be coming home with one of his residents. “Ms. Callahan! Are you okay?”
She lifts her head and smiles at the guy. “I’m fine, Clarke. Just had a long day. These are some friends from the show.”
His suspicion melts away. “Oh, right! The werewolves! My daughter thinks you guys are so cool.”
“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Colt says awkwardly.
Shit. Nobody can use their fucking eyes it seems. “Move fast, before he reads the backs of our cuts,” I whisper.
We get into the elevator and turn around.
Sinner waves as the doors close. Quinn is asleep on her feet as she helps us find her apartment.
She blinks at the digital pad next to her door long enough that I’m thinking we’re not gonna get inside, but then slowly taps a code and the lock clicks open.
Maybe it makes me an asshole, but I watch as she keys it in, tucking the information away just in case.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” Colt says, looking around at the empty box she calls home.
It’s not minimalist. It’s fucking empty.
The main space is the usual open plan everything room.
An ultra-modern kitchen separated from the living room by a marble topped island with built-in barstool seating.
There’s a hallway towards the back where the bedrooms and bathroom probably are, and a balcony to the side overlooking the city towards the shore.
The only furniture is an L-shaped gray couch and a glass coffee table.
The only art on the walls are three generic black and white prints arranged together.
The Eiffel tower, the Statue of Liberty, and Big Ben.
Quinn looks around like she’s seeing it for the first time. “I… I haven’t been here long.”
“Let’s get you something to drink before you zonk out.” Sinner opens the fridge. “Fucking hell, woman. Did you move in this morning?” There’s a few bottles of water, some yogurt cups and a sad assortment of pre-packaged sandwich toppings. He tosses me one of the waters.
I catch it. “Where’s your room, Quinn?”
She leads the way. It’s as barren as the rest. An air mattress on the floor pushed up against the wall, made up with sheets and a comforter.
A couple of paperbacks lie next to the pillow end and there’s a phone charger plugged into the wall.
There’s a massive suitcase in the corner and her closet is open, full of clothes.
The place is nice, but it looks like she’s fucking squatting in it.
“I really haven’t been here long,” she mutters defensively.
I push her phone into her hand. “Call Erika before she phones the cops.”
Quinn obeys, and manages to drink some of the water before flopping onto the mattress fully clothed and passing out almost immediately. I brush the hair off her face, letting my fingers linger a bit on the softness of her cheek.
“You guys can go if you want, I’m going to stick around in case she wakes up,” I tell Sinner and Colt.
Sinner shakes his head. “Fuck that, I’ll keep you company.”
“It’s a rough neighborhood. Might need backup,” Colt adds with a smirk.