Chapter 12 #2
“Have your own secrets,” he replies. “Hawke and Aro were sweet. Hot and sweet to each other. Dylan and Hunter were alive. Volatile and alive.”
My stomach knots, and I narrow my eyes. He’s been watching us for years.
“But you’re the one I’ve been looking forward to,” he says in a breathless tone. “You excite me.”
“Because I look like her?”
The line falls silent, and I can’t believe the question came out before I could stop myself. I wait as one second stretches to ten, and I can’t even hear Deacon breathe.
I shouldn’t have asked that. It would be stupid of me not to assume this guy is dangerous, and who knows what will trigger him?
“Hello?” I say.
I check the phone, seeing the call is still connected, but he’s not talking. I mean to ask him about the phone he left. What was on it and why did he want me to have it? What about the diary? Did he leave that too?
But I watch the ceiling door, my skin crawling at his silence. I end the call and set my phone down, keeping my eyes trained above.
I’ve got a lot of men in my life all of a sudden. I can’t tell anyone about this one, though. They’ll react just when I’m gaining some freedom.
He’s been watching my family for a long time without incident, it seems. Should I be more scared?
What’s Deacon’s goal? It’s not me.
It wasn’t Hawke and Aro or Dylan and Hunter, either.
In fact, my family members didn’t sound like they’ve ever seen him or his brother.
Have they talked to either of them? Have they questioned where these men live, work, or what their endgame is?
It’s been going on for years, and that’s an incredible amount of patience for nothing. There has to be a reason.
He said Manas was in New Orleans? Is that their permanent residence now? I need to make a list of things to find out when—if—I talk to him again.
My cell vibrates in my hand, and I look down, seeing a text from Hailey.
Here.
Shit. I dart back out of the hideout, concerned for her as much as me. She’s sitting in her car in the alleyway alone. It’s one thing to make guesses about my own safety, but the people who work for me?
I need to get rid of Deacon and Manas—whoever they are.
Leaving the mirror, I close it back up and scan the street for anything suspicious before I dive into the kitchen.
Juliet needs snacks for the staff in the morning, and I offered to run any leftovers to her.
I needed time to sort through everything and close up, so Hailey ran home, showered, and ate dinner.
Grabbing the bags with the boxes of pastries, I shut off the light with my elbow and push through the door, handing her the food.
She smiles, taking everything.
“Thank you,” I chirp before spinning back around and locking the door.
I hear her start the engine to her Toyota RAV4, and I throw a quick glance up, worried I’ll see Deacon peering down from the roof. I exhale, comforted that I don’t have to be back till morning.
Holding up both hands, I catch her keys like a basketball and walk to the driver’s side, while she hops into the passenger seat.
I don’t drive much, but I do when necessary. Like when I don’t want to make my younger employee cart me around, even though I have to mooch off her car.
I suppose some kind of SUV or van for the business would be a good idea. Maybe next year.
I drive us to Camp Blackhawk and grip the wheel, following all speed limits like it’s my first time all over again. Since I got my license five years ago, I’ve only driven a couple of dozen times. When I do, I have to relearn.
The turn-off to the camp is just ahead, and I start to slow, flyaways dancing across my face with the air sweeping through the open windows.
But a figure darts into the street.
I go still, pressing the brake hard as a young girl dashes across the highway and dives into the brush. I cruise past slowly, peering to the right and watch Thomasin Dietrich—the fifteen-year-old local trouble—race into the woods.
Her white ponytail blows in the wind, her body covered neck-to-toe in black pants and a long-sleeved shirt.
The tips of her hair are red now, a change from the black they were last summer and the blue before that.
She looks back at us.
“What is she up to?” I murmur to myself.
She carries a backpack, is not dressed for summer camp, and I doubt she has any business at Blackhawk. Any that’s legal anyway. Her father hates my brothers and vice versa. She wouldn’t be hanging out anywhere near my family.
She whips back around and disappears into the forest, her house not far down the road.
I turn the wheel, my tires hitting gravel as we approach the camp. I think about calling Dylan or Hawke to come out and take stuff in, but I have somewhere else to be and no time to chat. We drop off the goodies and hightail it out of there, quickly making our way into my neighborhood.
A twinge of guilt hits me even as I purse my lips against a smile.
I don’t want my family pissed, but it feels good to set the pace for once. I’ve kept a secret for a solid twenty-four hours, and it’s a big one they’re going to care about.
Dylan can pull something like that. And definitely Aro.
But Quinn doesn’t break rules. Never Quinn.
Pulling up in front of my house, I see the garages are closed and remember my parents are gone for a week. They’d stopped in while I was busy at work to grab a hug and let me know they were taking off to a resort. It’s perfect, actually. I can get moved out in peace.
“Thank you,” I tell Hailey as she rounds the car and I hand her the keys.
“No problem!”
She hops into the driver’s seat, smiles and waves, and I take out my key, slipping inside the house.
I tap out a text to Farrow. Come when you’re ready.
I run up the stairs, his reply rolling in. Cum when I’m ready?
I roll my eyes and stick my phone in my back pocket.
One more stop before I sleep tonight. I should hit the gym, but I have a full day tomorrow with several Fourth of July orders to prep. I need rest.
After showering, I brush out my hair and pull on some jeans, tucking in a tan tank top. I grab my phone and veer to my dresser, slipping in some gold studs and a little lip gloss.
I start to leave, but I spot a car out my bedroom window that wasn’t there when I got here. Drawing back the curtain, I immediately recognize Jared’s old Mustang.
My stomach sinks. Oh, no.
He’s going to have a fit if he sees Farrow Kelly picking me up.
With my I.D., credit card, and cash in my back pocket, I jog down the stairs and instantly smell the cologne Lucas was wearing the other night. I halt.
The legs of a chair scuff across the floor in the kitchen, hot blood coursing through my veins.
I walk toward it, Lucas coming into view as he sits at the table, bent over and tying his tennis shoe. The lights are off, the late day sun dimming, and he’s dressed in track pants with a shirt laying on the table.
I don’t see Jared.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
My voice is soft but steady. I don’t want to be angry at him, but I don’t want him here, either.
He doesn’t look up as he ties the other shoe. “I sold my mother’s house,” he tells me. “Your parents were kind enough to let me stay while they’re in Bermuda.”
So he’s staying the week? Or longer?
He must’ve returned his rental car and borrowed one of Jared’s many spares.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I state.
There was a time I would’ve been ecstatic to have Lucas all to myself. If only he hadn’t started acting like I was his possession instead of his friend.
Finally, he looks up. “I’m not your babysitter,” he says.
Rising, he walks over to me, and I straighten, aware of his naked chest and making a concerted effort not to look.
“I’m sorry for how I’ve been.” He stops in front of me. “You were right.”
I was?
“I made…mistakes the last time I was home,” he explains. “It was never about you or the family. It was me.”
I stare up into his eyes, but my pride won’t let me ask him. What mistakes? If I know what happened, I’ll understand. Doesn’t he know that?
He pulls the blue Cubs cap off the counter next to me.
Slowly, he raises it above my head, and I gaze at him, lost in the moment of standing in front of him like this hundreds of times in my life and gazing into the same beautiful eyes.
He fits the cap onto my head, brushing my long bangs out of my eyes.
He swallows hard. “Please take it,” he whispers.
My skin tightens with goosebumps. He stands so close. The kitchen is dark. He could’ve stayed with Madoc, but he’s here. What does he want from me?
I’m not giving the compass back to him.
“I’m meeting Madoc.” He searches my eyes, a small smile on his mouth. “Want to go to the gym?”
He’s not asking for the compass back. I left it at the bakery anyway.
He just wants me to have the hat.
Do I want to go to the gym with him? God, yes.
I can’t say no to him. I never could. I never wanted to.
But that’s what women do, isn’t it? What my mother did all those years as my father’s mistress? She dropped everything when he wanted her close. Because she was addicted to how good his attention felt.
A horn beeps outside, just in time, and I inhale a shaky breath. “Farrow…” I say softly. “I’m going somewhere with him for a bit.”
Lucas’s eyes narrow, but then his expression relaxes. “Where…” He clears his throat, trying to reel in the agitation on his brow. “Where are you going?”
His tone is gentle, but I can tell he wants to forbid me.
“I can drive you where you need to go,” he offers.
My mother only got better when she took responsibility for herself. And my father only claimed her when she showed him that she didn’t need him.
I turn to leave, but he stops me. “Quinn.”
I look over my shoulder.
His chest rises with a breath that he doesn’t release. “Aren’t you going to tell me the news?” he asks.
What news?
“You bought a house.”
I square my shoulders. How the hell does he know that?
He approaches again. “Aren’t you…” He’s trying so hard to not be overbearing. “Aren’t you worried you’re moving a little fast?” he asks me.