Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,90
the bag of sandwiches into Quinn’s lap. “The murderer thing is fine, just leave the dogs alone?”
“Men often deserve to die.” She rifles through the bag with her right hand; she now has to fold her cuffed arm across her body to reach the door handle. “But not the dogs. What the hell is wrong with you? And where’d you get that badge?” She stops fussing with the bag, and turns to me with an angry scowl. “What kinda game are you playing?”
“You would have had me arrested and sent to supermax with that bullshit, Q. Don’t you dare sit there like you have a right to question me.”
I pull around the corner, then another, and circle back to the freeway, since Quinn’s stunt is going to result in cops crawling all over town within minutes. We move through dark streets, along treelined roads, and then, speeding up at the merge lane, we move back onto the freeway and continue our trek back home.
“That could have ended really badly for me. Like, hard time in the penitentiary, and you were willing to toss me to the wolves that easily?” It’s shameful how much that hurts me. “I get it, okay?” I glance to my right for a second. “You don’t like me, you don’t love me, you don’t wanna be here. I get it. But, fuck. You’d have me sent away that easily?”
Ashamed, she looks to the road outside and loses her anger to something much more thoughtful. “I wouldn’t have had you sent away for life or anything. Just… you know… overnight in the local police station.”
“Kidnapping isn’t an overnight, ‘sleep-it-off’ offense, Q. It’s ‘say-goodbye-to-your-momma’ kinda time. And then what? You’d have hitchhiked back to Will and McGrady?”
I pull off to the side of the road a few miles away from the podunk town, drive into a small space surrounded by trees, and, cutting the engine, I grip my steering wheel for a long moment.
It’s proof of my ridiculous priorities that I’m madder about her going back to Evan than I am about potential time in prison.
“You’d risk being actually kidnapped while hitchhiking, all so you could run back to that club, and let McGrady take his anger out on you?” I shake my head and look anywhere but at her. “He knows you’re gone, Q. He knows something is up. And soon, he’ll know Will has relocated. It’s too late for you to go back now.”
Exhaling the rage that bubbles in my blood, I finally turn and take the bag of sandwiches from her lap. “I know you’re pissed about all this, but your goal is to keep Will safe, right? Well, his is to keep you safe, and he’ll be better able to get his shit straightened out now that you’re not underfoot.”
“I’m not a fucking toddler,” she seethes, though she accepts the sandwich I offer. “I’m a contributing member of our family. I’m doing my part to keep us safe.”
“You were dancing on a pole, and gathering intel from a man who was planting the shit in the first place! Everything McGrady told you was a manipulation. He’s the big hero, he found Nate Hardy’s remains. Oh wow, he’s so awesome. Except for the fact he was the one who put those remains there in the first fucking place.”
“That’s just…” One-handed, she opens the paper wrapping of her sandwich, and sighs. “That’s crazy. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Sure it does. How do you think he found the bones so quickly, huh? This beautiful damsel asks him a favor, he says sure, Prima—”
“Don’t call me Prima,” she growls. “Never call me that. It gives me the creeps.”
“The dude gives you the creeps!” I roll my eyes. “That’s not random, Q. That’s intuition. How is it possible that name creeps you out, but you don’t realize he’s your villain? Use your fucking brain!”
“I mean… objectively…” She starts picking at her sandwich – cucumber, tomato, lettuce, and a little onion. The sandwich is long, a job for two hands, so I take pity on her and reach across to unsnap the cuff.
Quinn’s surprised eyes whip to mine. We’re close, I’m still leaning over her, so our faces are a mere inch apart, and her breath is on my chin.
“You were saying?”
“Um…” She breathes hard, heavy, so her chest expands and touches mine. “Huh?”
I grin. “You were saying something about McGrady. Something about objectivity.”
“Oh…” She blinks, slow and mesmerizing, so her lashes come down and kiss her cheeks. “Um… objectively, I