But she’s nowhere in sight.
I stand up, wincing as lancinating pain at the bridge of my nose nearly makes me collapse. But I keep it together, rushing toward the gun that Piper thankfully brought in—I can’t fucking believe I had left it in the car—slipping it into my backpocket and rushing outside.
My car is still parked right out front, and the car key is in my pocket.
It’s a typical motel right off the state road with a grimy-looking restaurant a few feet away. I rush around the building first, whipping open some of the empty, unlocked rooms, calling her name. She’s nowhere to be found.
I can’t think where else she would be, unless someone… took her. I force myself to push away that thought, hurtling instead toward my last chance, the restaurant.
I slam open the door, and… fucking hell. There she is.
I let out a breath of utter relief before tensing all over, because Piper’s sitting down at a booth with… two men.
She hasn’t seen me yet, apparently deep in conversation with them both.
What. the. Fuck?
I walk, or rather, stumble, over, still feeling completely fucked up. Then I sit down beside her as she jumps, clearly surprised.
“Quill! Feeling better?”
Her cheerful voice sounds fake. I stare at her, wondering what the hell is going on.
Then I turn my glaring, if sore, eyes at the two men, both of them muscular, smooth-shaven and wearing closely-cropped haircuts. At once, they stand up awkwardly.
“Well, it was nice seeing you,” says one of them.
And then they leave.
“What the fuck was that about?” I growl.
“Nothing.”
Piper’s shaky hand goes toward the glass of ice water she’s apparently ordered, and I grab it and press it in mine.
“Tell me.”
“You were sick,” she says, licking her lips, “so I went out to get a snack.”
I stare down at the small plate in front of her, covered in crumbs.
“Who were they?”
She shrugs. “No clue. I didn’t have any cash on me, so they offered to pay.”
“Whowerethey, Piper?”
She shrugs again, looking angry now. “I said, Quill, I don’tknow.”
“Then why the fuck did they say it was nice to see you?”
“I don’t know!” she bursts out. “Itoldyou, I don’t know them! I can’t control what they say to me!”
“If they had just met you, they would have said that. They would have said it was nice tomeetyou. Notseeyou.”
“Oh my fucking God, Quill! Who the fuck cares? Leave me alone!”
She wriggles her hand out of my grip, and I let her, probably because with the migraine, I’m still feeling very uncoordinated.
