I studied her, taking in every detail, from the furrow of her brow to the way her knuckles blanched around her pint glass. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but obviously something had happened.
I scanned the bar quickly before resting my gaze back on her. “Sure, it’s a perfectly normal thing for some people to do. Not you, though.”
She scoffed. “Don’t act like you know me well enough to make that judgment.”
I ignored the sting of her words. Interesting that she was trying to hurt me. “I know you’re smarter than this. If you wanted to come to the bar, you shouldn’t have come alone. This isn’t safe—”
Her eyes flashed, pointed and full of anger and…something else. Perhaps it was pain.
“It doesn’t matter,” she snapped, her voice low enough that I almost didn’t hear. “Ember Hollow has no reason to hate me anymore.”
The bitter hardness in her expression cracked briefly, her chest hitching. She bit at the corner of her lip.
I leaned closer without thinking, forcing myself not to reach for her. “What are you talking about?”
She looked away, her teeth worrying at her lip until a bead of blood welled. “I—I think I was just fired.”
I stared at her, convinced I heard wrong. “What?”
She looked down into her beer. “Preston—” She cleared her throat. “Preston Holloway doesn’t want me working for him, I guess. Ember Hollow doesn’t have to feel threatened by me anymore.”
She lifted her glass and drained the rest of the liquid, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Fired? How was that possible? She had done so much work. She was a brilliant lawyer. That didn’t make any sense.
“Why? What happened?”
She pressed a palm against her forehead, as if she had a headache, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m just—I’m not a good person, Graham.”
Her voice was thick and hoarse. I wished she would open her eyes and look at me, because I didn’t know how to read what was happening inside her head. I felt blind, and the crowded bar was overstimulating.
Quinn still wore the vintage Cardinals jersey. Her hair was a little tangled, which wasn’t normal for her either. If she was possibly fired…that changed everything.
“I think we should go, Quinn.”
At first, she didn’t move. But then she slowly dropped her hand, letting her arm fall onto the tabletop. “I want another beer,” she said, but her voice lacked the defiance she was reaching for.
I let out a pent-up sigh. She needed to get out of this place. The music had my ears ringing. It was hard to concentrate and be vigilant when I couldn’t think clearly.
“Just because you’re no longer the defense lawyer of a serial killer doesn’t make you automatically safe,” I muttered, andshe flinched. “Whoever wanted to hurt you is probably still out there. You’re a target.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away hastily.
“Let me take you back to the bed-and-breakfast.” It was a plea more than a request.
Another tear escaped, dangling from her lashes before she wiped at it, nose wrinkling. “I don’t want to go there,” she croaked. “I don’t belong there.” It was almost a whisper.
My heart ached.
“Of course you belong,” I said quickly.
She looked at me. Her blue eyes grew red with the tears she was fighting valiantly.
“But,” I continued, “if you don’t want to go back to your room tonight, you’re always welcome at my place. You have your own room there, too.”
Her shoulders fell, and she let out a breath. Defeated.
After a long pause, she said, “Okay.” She sounded exhausted. “Take me to your house.”
