“No, you don’t.” The sound Ripper makes might be a laugh, but he so rarely loosens up enough to joke around that I’m not sure. “Base out.”
I dig a protein bar out of one of my pockets and tear the wrapper, despite the ball of fear currently lodged in my throat. “Probably nothing?”
“Almost definitely nothing. But I never ignore a gut instinct.” West adjusts his rifle and jerks his head towards to the makeshift shelter. “Let’s go before Ry gets twitchy. Youknowhe’s going to make the probie pack up all our gear.”
I offer a tight chuckle and follow West as he picks his way over the dense underbrush. I hope his gut instinct is wrong. Because I’m falling in love with Q, and if Alec is anywhere other than Dallas, I need to get back to Seattle right fucking now.
* * *
Quinton
“Hand me a candy bar, lover,” Alec says from somewhere far away.
A candy bar? He doesn’t eat sweets.
Nothing makes any sense. I can’t move, can’t see, and something thick and oppressive covers my face. My shoulders and wrists ache, and I have to pee. Every few seconds, the raw agony of a back spasm obliterates all rational thought.
A gun. Alec forcing me to swallow a handful of pills. I turn my head, and the patch on my neck pulls at my skin. Dennis. The hatred in the blond man’s eyes.
No…
“You’re sure he’s going to cooperate?” Dennis asks.
Focus, Q. Listen.
It’s my only hope. I have to stay present. To find some way to get a message to Graham and let him know what’s happened to me. But it’s so hard. I just want to sleep.
“…get to the house, we can do whatever we want to him. Have to keep his face pretty for the judge, but get enough of the scopolamine and temazepam into him, and he’ll be putty in our hands. And if not, a couple of days chained up in the basement will do the trick.”
“Can’t we just make him OD and be done with it?”
“No!” Alec snarls. “He’s going to pay for what he did to me. To both of us.”
I can’t listen anymore. It’s too hard. He’s so angry.
Let me die.
The thought shouldn’t bring me peace. I want tolive. To see Graham again. To cuddle Clementine and even suffer through one of Manny’s torturous therapy sessions. But it would be so easy to just give in. No more pain. If I could just…let go.
* * *
A jolt startles me awake—notthat I remember falling asleep. It’s cold. My wrists burn, and I can’t see. Why can’t I see?
Blanket. Alec. Drugs. My mind struggles to put the pieces together. He’s going to break me. Make me pay for leaving him.
Fight him, Q. You’re stronger now.
Except, he doesn’t have to break me this time. All he has to do is convince a judge that I’m not mentally sound, and he’ll get access to my money. That’s all he’s after. That and control. He gets his rocks off making others do exactly what he wants.
The van slows and hits a pothole, and I stifle a whimper.
“Rest stop time!” Alec announces. “I’ll take our passenger. You keep watch. If any other cars pull off the highway, come get me.”
“Will do,” Dennis replies, his voice full of puppy dog like adoration.
The side door opens with a snap, and I jerk, the handcuffs sending sparks of pain all along my wrists. “Now, if you’re really good, Quint, maybe I’ll give you something to eat before we set off again.”
He moves around me for a couple of minutes, and I drift in and out, only vague fleeting thoughts I can’t quite grasp floating through my head.
