Chapter 24
Quinnly
Michigan, Ohio, West Virginia, Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, and New Jersey have all been marked off the list, though Lincoln argues that Maryland was his kill, not mine. But I recall my scissors being used, so… he’s mine.
We’re in Pennsylvania now, looking into a couple that uses their farm for more than farming needs, but I’m starting to think this waitress should be my target.
The FBI released a statement the other day, The Chameleon Strikes Again, the same bullshit they keep spinning to make the public feel safe. It’s annoying, and I know Lincoln can sense the shift in my attitude.
“You’re sulking,” he says, pulling a napkin from the dispenser on the table.
It’s still cold outside, and the weather puts me in a poor mood.
Plus, the anniversary of Paps’s death is right around the corner.
I thought I’d have the map completed by now, but it’s taken longer than I anticipated.
Though, I’ve never been good with time management.
“I never expected this to take so long. Like sure,” I lower my voice slightly before continuing, “fifty kills all in different states would be time consuming for most people I guess, but I thought I was better than most people. Am I bad at this?”
Lincoln’s hands pause on the napkin holder for a moment before he leans down and whispers, “Bad at what, exactly?”
“This, the map,” pulling the card from my pocket, I throw it on the table and stare down at it morosely.
He leans back in the booth as I stare at the card that’s been folded and unfolded countless times, and now has permanent creases in it. “What, specifically, makes you think you’re bad at it?”
My eyes jump to his, and I scoff. “It’s taking too long. It’s been nearly a year, Shadow.”
He chuckles and leans forward, eyes firmly on mine. “Travelling, stalking, learning each target, all of that takes time. Did you think you’d have it done in a few months?”
“I don’t know.” I grumble, crossing my arms and looking out the window.
Our food’s delivered by the waitress with bleached hair who keeps looking at, and flippantly touching, Lincoln, like she wants to eat him for dinner.
“Thanks.” I bark when she touches his wrist–again, making her jump and look away from him before walking off.
She might not be on Conall’s list… but if she touches him one more time, I might remove her hands and watch her bleed out behind this shithole diner.
“Testy, Menace,” he says with a laugh.
“She hasn’t asked if it’s okay to touch you,” I mumble. “I’ve been told that it’s important.”
His brow lifts, and his lips stretch into a smile.
He’s not touched me again since I woke up to him cuddled into my body.
It’s been months, and I realize his you know what needed time to heal, but I’m starting to think I imagined his head between my legs back in Wisconsin.
I don’t know what his deal is, but it seems like he only wants me after we kill together…
“Eat, Quinnly,” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
He’s been staying close ever since Maryland, never leaving me alone for too long. I’ve learned a lot about him. How he observes our surroundings when we’re on surveillance, how utterly organized he is, how infuriatingly patient. It reminds me of Paps in a way.
He likes all kinds of foods, but he tends to eat what I like. The only thing he’s refused to give up on is his gummy bears. I hate the texture, but he keeps a bag around for himself anywhere we go.
He grunts, nodding to my still untouched plate.
Groaning, I shovel a fork full of sausage into my mouth and chew, offering him a smile and he smiles in return as if he got exactly what he wanted. Which he absolutely did. Once his plate is empty, he pulls my plate his way and finishes what’s left.
The past few days he’s been… softer. Leaving little presents here and there for me to find. He even got me a Pop-Tart container that looks like the silver pouch they come in, but it’s plastic and more durable.
I don’t know where he found it, but it’s probably the best present I’ve ever gotten.
“Do you need anything else?” The waitress asks, in that sickly sweet voice, staring at Lincoln with hungry eyes. Her hand reaches out, and I smack it before it can land on his shoulder.
“What the hell?” She squawks, turning to give me what I assume is meant to be intimidating eyes. All it does is serve to make my blood boil, and Lincoln waves her off.
Throwing down a few bills, he stands, gripping my hand and pulling me out of the booth. “Not here.”
With a few choice words under my breath, I follow. My feet stomp extra hard in my boots, and I make sure the waitress sees his hand covering mine before we leave. In the car, he knocks my cheek with his knuckle. “Jealous, jealous girl.”
Rolling my eyes his way, I tilt my head down and look up at him. “I think the word you’re looking for is angry.”
He clucks his tongue but doesn’t comment, only gives me a smile that makes my insides warm and looks out the windshield. I can’t keep count of all the cars and fake names since Lincoln’s been traveling with me, but I’m not complaining, he’s been a welcome addition to my end goal.
He hasn’t started the car yet, despite the colder temperature because it’s nighttime in Pittsburgh in the middle of fucking January. Instead we sit, and I start to get shaky. “We have a bad, bad couple to get to, what are you waiting for?”
“I think we can deviate from the plan tonight.” His eyes never leave the back door of the diner. We parked off to the side of the gas station beside it, and only decided to go to the diner because Lincoln was hungry.
“What do you–” and then the waitress walks out, long blonde hair swinging behind her. Turning my head to look at him head on, he smiles and runs a finger up his thigh where I know he keeps a blade. “You aren’t going to be angry when I get… stab-happy, right?”
He chuckles, and leans down into my space sharing the air with me. “Not for a second.”
With a smile spreading across my face we watch a guy pull into the lot, like a bat out of hell, and she climbs into his car.
His music is loud, hair messy, and when she gets settled, he reaches over and grabs her by the back of the neck, bringing her in for a kiss.
I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that, and I don’t think I want to.
“You ready, Menace?” He asks as they peel out of the lot. Lincoln’s an excellent driver, which makes no sense since I know he lives in New York, and who needs a car in New York?
Following these two is easy since there’s hardly any traffic at this hour, and they aren’t very cautious. They have no reason to think they’re being followed, so why would they be? The thought makes me giggle, like I know a secret no one else does.
They pull into a spot outside of a building not far into town, but close enough that the roof line shows a whole lit up steel city.
Lincoln circles the building, parking the car across the street.
The two of them don’t seem in a hurry to get out, so Lincoln and I take our time making our way toward the front of the building.
It’s dark outside, and at this hour it’s damn near silent too.
All we can hear is the way the waitress giggles as the guy kisses on her neck.
They walk to the door and there’s a buzz not unlike the ones in the apartments back home, and the door opens letting them walk through.
Lincoln catches it with his foot before it can close all the way, but the two lovebirds sucking face are halfway up the stairs and don’t even notice.
This is going to be epic.
Lincoln and I listen for their steps to stop, but they continue climbing. On silent feet, we decide to follow up the stairs at a distance as Lincoln looks for cameras. I catch his eye and subtly shake my head, communicating silently that I can scrub those later, and I’m not concerned with them.
When the steps ahead stop, and we hear keys jingle on what I count to be the fourth floor, I pause, looking over the top step to make sure we go in the correct apartment. There are only two doors on this level, and the couple goes into the one on the right.
Too bad it wasn’t the one on the left, I might’ve decided not to kill them…
Lefty peeps are superior after all. A giggle erupts from my mouth and Lincoln’s quick to cover it.
Spoiler alert, he’s not in my head, which is a damn shame, because I think that was really fucking funny.
I’m killing that touchy twat either way.
“You want them to know we’re coming?” He rumbles in my ear. With his chest against my back, pinning me to the stairs, I wiggle my ass and enjoy the groan he lets out.
“I want to be coming,” I whisper, “on your cock, Shadow.”
His groan is strained, I can practically hear his resolve waning. He’s going to fuck me, and he’s going to love it. But first, we have a touchy twat to take care of.
Their door closes, Lincoln lifts his body off mine, and the stairwell smells flood back in without his body close enough to mine. Offering his hand, he pulls me to my feet and the two of us walk hand in hand to the door.
I’ve been called a lot of things, subtle is not one of them. Lifting my foot, I raise it to shit-kick the door in, but before my perfect blow can land, Lincoln’s arm sweeps across my stomach and I’m off my feet.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He rumbles, setting me down, but not removing his arm. His locs brush my temple and I lean into him. He smells so good.
“Getting into the apartment, duh.” Spinning around, his hand lowers to my hip and he squeezes.
“Not to dim your fun, but maybe you shouldn’t crash through the apartment of your latest victim.” His lips remain in a flat line, but his eyes roam my face, landing on my lips.
“How else will I make an entrance?” I wink, turning around and lifting my foot once again.