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I pull up to Quinn's apartment building. The street is eerily quiet. I scan the building, my eyes finding her window on the third floor. It's open, the curtains fluttering gently in the breeze.
”Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Quinn never leaves her windows open, not in this neighborhood. I have a gut feeling something is wrong.
I switch off the engine and step out of the car, making sure to focus on my surroundings. The air is thick with tension, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched. I move quickly, my steps nearly silent as I approach the building.
When I draw closer, I catch a glimpse of movement in the form of shadows behind the curtains. My hand instinctively reaches for the gun tucked in my waistband, my fingers curling around the cold metal. I narrow my eyes, waiting to see what it could be.
A tall man walks closer to the window. This entire situation feels sinister. I can’t see his face from this distance. In shock, I hide behind a tree. I don’t want to be discovered because there’s no time for more trouble. Quinn might be back any minute, and I need to be there for her. I peek out, and he’s gone. The window remains open. Fury courses through my veins at the thought of him being in there, rifling through her things.
Who could it be? For some reason, Charlie Letvin comes to mind. Call it intuition. If Charlie's involved, then Quinn's in more danger than I thought. I have to get to her now.
I position myself near the entrance of her building from the parking lot, ready to stop her when she arrives from heading into the trap her home now is. My mind tries to piece together what Charlie's game is. Whatever it is, I won't let him win.Not that I ever have.
Time passes by, but feels like an eternity. I keep my eyes on the street, watching for any sign of Quinn’s car.
And then, finally, I see her. She parks her car and exits with her head down, lost in thought and utterly oblivious to her surroundings. She has no idea what's waiting for her, no clue that her home isn’t as safe as she thinks it is.
I step out from my hiding spot to intercept her. Quinn looks up and her eyes widen with surprise when she sees me. I don't give her a chance to speak.
”Get in my car,” I growl, my voice low and urgent. “Now.”
She takes a step back in shock. I close the distance between us in under a second, my hand reaching out to grasp her arm.
”What the hell, Mark?” she snaps, trying to wrench her arm free. “What are you doing here?”
I tighten my grip and pull her towards my car. “You're not safe,” I say. “We need to leave, now.”
“I'm not going anywhere with you,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “Let me go. What the hell are you doing here anyway?”
I don’t listen, dragging her along to my car, though she puts up a fight.
”Are you insane? Where are you taking me?” she insists as I open the car door and gesture for her to get in.
I know my actions seem rash, even insane, but I don’t have time to explain everything right now. Charlie could have other men lurking nearby, ready to strike at any moment. As Quinn hesitates, I see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
“Trust me, Quinn,” I say, my tone softer this time, trying to appeal to her sense of reason. “I wouldn't be here if it weren't important. Just get in the car, please.”
She studies me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine as if trying to assess if I’m sane or not. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she relents and slides into the passenger seat.
”Where are we going?” she asks again.
”To my house,” I say. “It’s the only place you’ll be safe.”
”Wait, what? Are you crazy?” she shrieks, trying to step out, but I slam the door shut before she can.
Chapter 5 - Quinn
I take a moment to register that I’m stuck in the passenger seat of Mark’s very expensive, very fancy black sports car. The leather feels cool against my skin, and despite the strangeness of the situation, the rich smell is pleasing to my senses.
But I’m not here to admire his car.
”Mark, what the hell is going on?” I demand in frustration. I sit up straighter to assert some control over the situation and swerve my body to face him. “You can't just kidnap me off the street like this!”
Mark glances at me, his eyes subconsciously wandering over my body, noticing how one of my legs is tucked beneath me, my skirt riding up my thighs. He follows the trail of skin, but I can see him forcefully avert his gaze. He’s trying hard not to look, to avoid showing me his moment of weakness.
I tell myself it can’t be because he wants me. It’s because he’s a man, and I’m a woman in a very short skirt. I immediately put my leg down, heat pooling wherever his gaze had roved.