Witching For Joy (Premonition Pointe #3) - Deanna Chase Page 0,66

leaning back in a chair, eyeing her. His face was gaunt as if he’d just come off a bender, and his clothes were rumpled in a way she’d never seen before. He always looked put together, but in the tiny room in what appeared to be a roadside motel, he looked like a junkie who was desperate for his next score.

“Why, Quinn?” she croaked out as she tried to separate her feet and failed. “What do you want?”

“What do you think?” He waved a hand around the room. “If Carly doesn’t pay that ransom, this is what I have to look forward to from now on.”

“Carly?” Horror filled her and this time when her stomach rolled, she twisted just in time to expel the contents of her stomach onto the floor. The ties rubbed on her wrists and she wondered if when she got out of there her skin was going to be rubbed raw.

“You’re disgusting,” he said, getting up and moving into the tiny bathroom. When he emerged, he threw a towel over her vomit and sat back down, leaning forward with his hands clasped. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to get Carly to pay up. I still have my ace in the hole, but I’d rather not use that. There’s a cost in Hollywood when you spill your ex’s secrets. Some directors are touchy about that kind of drama. But I’ll still do it if the payout is big enough.”

“Your ex? You dated Harlow?” she asked in horror.

Quinn raised one eyebrow. “Are you always this slow?”

Joy stared up at the yellowing ceiling and tried to collect her thoughts. He had shown her a picture of him with Carly and Harlow. But didn’t Harlow have a boyfriend? Baldy was considering selling the story. What was his name?

Quinton.

Holy shit. She’d had the clues right in front of her the entire time. But how could she have known Harlow’s ex was behind the abduction? Clearly, Carly hadn’t known, or she’d have been looking into Quinn herself.

“What happened to you?” Joy asked him.

“What happened, she asks,” he said in a mocking tone. “What didn’t happen?” He got up and started pacing. “At first, everything was great. Harlow and I were happy. We spent all our time together, and I was even thinking of asking her to marry me. But then Carly decided that her niece needed more out of life than just following an actor around, so she convinced her to enroll in a music program and it was all downhill from there.”

“What was downhill?” Joy asked. “Your relationship?”

“No. Don’t be an idiot. Harlow loved me,” he said, his chin raised as if he was god’s gift to women everywhere. “My career went downhill. Once I wasn’t seen with the niece of Hollywood’s most beloved aunt all the time, casting directors couldn’t be bothered. My roles were diminishing, and the press was non-existent. You really just have no idea how good you have it with the paps following you around everywhere. If they’re talking about you, that means they want you. And that translates into jobs and cash.”

“So this is all about revenge because Carly’s advice caused your star to slip?” Joy asked incredulously.

“It’s not revenge. It’s survival!” he roared and then slammed his fist down on a rickety nightstand. It wobbled and then fell over, taking the cheap lamp with it. “No one can tolerate going from being one of the most sought-after, up-and-coming stars to an actor who can’t get a role in a movie unless his friend demands he’s hired before she signs on.”

“Prissy?” Joy asked warily. “She’s the one who recommended you?”

“Yeah. But only because I hooked her up with a reliable supplier.” He shrugged as if taking drugs was a completely normal everyday thing. Maybe it was in Hollywood. There were certainly enough rumors about it. But so far on set, no one seemed to be high. No one but Quinn anyway.

She vaguely recalled him agreeing with her that Prissy was a major pain in the ass. And yet, Prissy was the reason he even had a job. Joy guessed there was no honor among users.

“So what now? Why am I here?” Joy asked, needing to get down to business. “Are you going to ask for a ransom for me, too? If so, I gotta tell ya, no one I know has the kind of money it takes to make drugging and abducting someone worth it.” Her headache was still pounding, but righteous indignation had