Chapter 9 #2
Quinntessa’s eyes were really dark—the deepest, darkest brown I’d ever seen.
Moments ago, they weren’t. They were greeted by the golden rays of the sun peeking through the clouds.
I would swear up and down they were a soft honey, maybe even a chocolate hue.
I hated the way her deep, dark eyes reminded me of mud.
Not just mud. Mud.
My father’s mud. The pigs at the farm that shredded my older sister’s ex-boyfriend’s body in the mud.
Quinntessa wore red. That or pink. It made my dark thoughts storm with the idea she was . . . involved in my nightmares. In the pig pen. In red.
Not often was I as frazzled as the girls who fought with me—flirted with me, usually—but now, I was here, struggling to keep my hold on my bike.
My knuckles were turning white. I didn’t want her to think I’d deck her for something she had no control over.
She couldn’t help it. It wasn’t her fault she was resurfacing bloody memories by simply being a beautiful girl with a love for everything red.
Those flashes tore through me. Every time she turned around and glared at me, it sucked me back into the woods where I’d run from flying arrows for practice.
Levi had dark eyes, but nothing like hers.
He wore his dark heart on his sleeve, but her?
She was running from it. I doubted she would shoot at me in the daylight like most of the men under my father.
Don’t let the sun catch you killing.
That was what I’d been taught. The rule was be collected, methodical, and to never lose your cool.
It was easier to fight off allegations of torturing someone in private, where the evidence was contained, hidden from the world, than explain why prints were found at the scene of a passionate kill.
Passion meant messy. Messy meant navigable.
Killing under the stars was preferred. Even if the constellations could whisper to the moon what I’d done, the sun couldn’t light up my truth like a forest fire.
Passion burned within. Passion was messy and clear.
I couldn’t make this a passionate kill. I wouldn’t go as far as saying I would torture her, but something quick and simple would aid us both in the end.
Quinntessa threw more hands at the parking spaces. For all I cared, she could trace them in neon chalk for me. I still wouldn’t park in them.
“This is pure stalker behavior!” Quinntessa whined, her back to me.
I ripped off my chin strap and groaned at how annoying she could be. There was no real problem with me parking here. Anyone with a brain could put two and two together that this was a parking lot. Where people park. In any space available.
Prissy bitch was just too used to how they ran things up in New York City.
“Your bike is super loud and?—”
She turned at the same moment I wrenched my helmet off and ruffled out my hair. I raised my gaze when I didn’t hear her yapping anymore, only to find her stiff as a board.
Was it my hair that shocked her? I thought she liked pink, considering she was dripping in it.
“Um, uh.” Quinntessa’s face dipped deeper into shades of red, her blush mixing with her subconscious fight to hold her breath. Her eyes fell to my boots and slowly flickered around my body until they reach my eyes again, and I found pure, horrific panic there.
Not the type of tremor-inducing panic someone felt when they saw their death, but something more . . . gay.
This had just become ten times more interesting.
I grabbed my collar and fixed my jacket with a quick pop. She opened and closed her mouth a few times but never spoke a word. Quinntessa was bashfully trying to melt back into her car by shuffling little by little away from me.
My brow arched, testing her nervousness. I could feel the piercing cricket against the messy bangs of my choppy, chin-length cut. She would be a lot of fun.
“I’m—” Quinntessa gulped and ran her fingers through her hair. “My name’s Quinn. Quinntessa Dawson.”
I wanted to snark back and tell her I already knew that, but I let her keep talking. If I tripped her while she was trying to speak, I feared she might not recover.
“Sorry about . . .” She lowered her eyes, genuinely embarrassed by her actions. Where had all her confidence gone? “You were just, um, I thought you were some jerk stalker guy. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I really hope you accept my apology for being so rude to you.”
Jerk Stalker Guy. That was a new nickname for me.
Instead of fretting, I shrugged my shoulders and ran my fingers through my hair.
She had every right to be worried about a man following her.
This was 2024, after all. More women were going missing every day at the hands of entitled men.
If anyone knew how dangerous Quinntessa’s life was right now, it was me.
“Does it make you feel better that I’m not a . . . jerk stalker guy?” I playfully asked, a smirk rolling over my features. “Quinntessa.”
Her name was a little pretty. I’d never met a Quinntessa before. Though, if I ever imagined I would, I wouldn’t have expected the girl in front of me.
My eyes fell to her fingers as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. She had a small bracelet on her wrist with a silver heart. When I returned to watching her face, she was bright pink again.
Her hands moved to rub the back of her neck, and her stress level irritated me again. Was I so intimidating that she couldn’t look me in the eye?
“A bit.” Quinntessa licked her glossy lips. More glitter. Jesus. “I still don’t get why you had to park here, though.”
Taking a second to breathe, I took her avoidance of my eyes as a sign she wasn’t comfortable.
I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, nor embarrassed by her actions, not after seeing her close to tears in her own home.
I just wanted her to focus her attention on me again.
It was easier that way, easier if I could see how much she reminded me of dark days, not glittery, pink, princess shit.
“Like I said, Quinntessa.” I stuck a finger out at her convertible.
“You have a nice car.” And a nice ass. “People don’t park next to nice cars because these cheap asses can’t afford to pay any of those big corporations to fix it.
Now, I don’t mind keeping Mr. Morley in business.
He’s a good man with heart, but I’d hate not having my bike. ”
She was silent. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Erica and Olivia walking across the parking lot.
I turned my head just enough to see Erica spotted me, slowing her pace a tad.
My lips pressed together, hearing her warnings in my head.
I knew Erica was aware Quinntessa’s father was a cop.
I thought she was attempting to figure out if I was interested in her for work or play.
Work. Quinntessa was all work. I didn’t play around when it came to someone posing a threat against my child. In the end, Erica should understand. She loved Estelle as much as I did.
“So what if I park next to you? Means no one’s messing with my bike as long as I park next to the cutest car in the parking lot.” I paused, dragging my eyes down to her shoes and back up to the heart on her face. I bet her bedroom was bright pink. “Take it as a compliment, babe.”
Quinntessa made an odd noise in the back of her throat. “Oh,” she mumbled.
I flashed her a toothy grin, hoping to release some of this tension between us. It was unnecessary and premature, if anything.
I leaned closer and winked. “Pretty privilege.”
Quinntessa didn’t relax. In fact, she became more tense, if that was even possible. Fuck. Did this girl have needles running through her veins? Why was she acting so paranoid about everything?
“Ex—” She glanced around. “Excuse me?”
“Damn.” I tugged the metal of my piercing into my mouth and took the chance to examine at her up close. Besides in the hallways and the pictures in her garage, I hadn’t gotten within a few hundred feet of her. “You’re so tight.”
“Tight?” Her lashes fluttered. Whether on purpose or by accident, she grabbed my attention easily. The sun hit her eyes perfectly, giving me a peek at how deep that brown truly went. “Um, no, uh, that’s kind of?—”
Oh, shit. She thought I meant she was tight. I didn’t mean to jump that quickly to . . . Okay, well, I implied it. So what? Everyone at this school knew I wasn’t shy about what I want.
“Yeah.” I ducked my head when her eyes dashed away again, forcing her to meet my gaze again.
There was so much darkness in there waiting to come out. I fell into her eyes and tried my best to understand her, every speckle representing a thought she wanted to say but never did. Anyone with a brain could see she wasn’t a simpleton, sweetheart girl. Her rosy cheeks tickled my curiosity.
There was more to her. A thrilling amount more.
“You’re tight as a spring, baby. Chill out.”
“I am chill.” Quinntessa scowled. I lifted my chin, waiting while she stood a little taller. “I never got your name.”
Her lack of confidence made me feel powerful and sick.
Bile rose in the back of my throat as I leaned back in my seat, fingers tearing through my hair.
I wanted to stay here and take note of all these little flaws, but at the same time, I knew deep in my stomach, I needed to get as far from her as possible.
She would hate me in the end. I was not here for her.
Then again, was I?
I could have killed her. Ever since Levi gave me the assignment, all I’d done was avoid and push to go after Sebastian. First, it was for information for Papa, but now, he made me want to stick a knife in his throat.
When I looked at her, all I saw was fear. She was broken, in pain. That was something I could grab onto and twist where I wanted.
I was pretty good at manipulating the world around me.
“Quinn.”
“Hm?” Quinntessa tilted her head. “Yeah?”
“My name, babe.” I smirked as her eyes flashed with surprise. “It’s Quinn.”
“Your name is Quinn?” She stumbled over her words and pressed a finger into the middle of her chest. “My name is Quinn.”