Page 66 of Ruthless Touch

My natural inclination is to snap at them both.

Tell them I don’t owe them answers. We’re not friends, and I don’t need their over-the-top concern. I don’t want them worrying about me or sticking their noses where they don’t belong.

But then a pang of guilt hits and reminds me they’re giving me an interrogation because they care. KD cares about me as his partner and friend, and Priscilla has basically stopped thinking of us as just roommates and started acting like we’re besties.

Here are two people in front of me who want deeper connections and yet I turn them down.

I push them away just like I did Gun last night.

What’s wrong with me? Why am I like this?

A deep emotion I can’t name pulls at my heart thinking about our fight. I’d immediately regretted everything that happened and convinced myself I had made a terrible mistake.

But what’s done is done, and there’s no turning back.

There’s only moving forward. Only pursuing and completing my mission like I’ve vowed to do.

“Look,” I say cryptically, “I wish I could explain more. But it’s complicated, and I’d rather not involve either of you. I’m okay now; that’s all you need to know.”

I turn and finish the last couple steps to my room. KD pushes back against the door before I can get it all the way closed.

“EQ,” he says sternly. “I hope you know what you’re doing, and I hope wherever you were you’re not getting yourself into something you can’t get out of. I’m your partner for a reason. Never forget that.”

A small smile starts on my face. “How could I? You never let me forget with your emotional self.”

“One of us needs to act like a human,” he says. “I was hoping it’d rub off on you.”

“You might want to be more realistic. Maybe aim for the moon instead. Better chances.”

“You know Hart’s going to have your ass, right? She’s been furious.”

I plop down on my bed with both eyes closed.

The director.

How could I forget I’d have to answer to her when I got back? She makes KD and Priscilla’s interrogation look like cake.

“I’ll deal with her,” I mumble.

KD shakes his head, clearly bothered by my secrecy and nonchalance. “You’re a big girl, EQ. I won’t hold your hand. But maybe get an icepack for that swelling on your jaw. A bruise that nasty after seven days is no joke.”

He shuts the door with those parting words, telling me exactly what we both already know—I wasn’t visiting Uncle Jerald, and Iwasin trouble.

My eyes wander to my floor-length mirror across the room. I do need to put some ice on my jaw. A week later after the incident in the warehouse, I’m still a little banged up.

That Jeokpa’s right hook was nothing to mess around with.

Since I’ve got no phone—it’s still locked up somewhere in Gun’s apartment—I pull out my MacBook and check my emails.

Sure enough, I have about fifty angry emails and iMessages from Director Camille Hart. I click on her latest, the one she sent me yesterday evening titled, “Clock’s Ticking, Quinn. Report NOW.”

The body of the email only gets worse, with numerous professionally worded threats and admonishments:

Subject:Clock’s Ticking, Quinn. Report NOW.

From:Director Camille Hart

To:Elise Quinn