Page 49 of Wretched Lies

“I look forward to it,” I reply, grateful I’m at the door and can make my escape, however temporary.

Chapter 15

Reid

As Tandy approaches the counter with two cardboard cups, her glower suggests she’s seriously tempted to hurl the scalding hot drinks at me. She knows who I am. Everyone knows who I am, and hers isn’t the first scowl I’ve encountered in town this morning. As far as Tandy’s concerned, I’m the reason she lost her job and Clara was sent away.

She slams the cups onto the counter, and black coffee pools in the lids. “Anything else?”

“No, thank you. I just needed my caffeine fix,” I say, offering my best smile. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

“Guilty conscience?” she asks as I swipe the card machine she aims like a weapon.

No, I want to answer. I was awake worrying about your friend spending the night with a ruthless member of the Russian Bratva. It doesn’t help that Quinn’s been ignoring my messages all morning.

“Sorry, my mistake,” Tandy continues when I don’t answer. “Men like you don’t have a conscience.”

Despite the open hostility, I’m tempted to ask Tandy tocheck in with her friend. Better still, visit the mansion to make sure Quinn’s OK. But I can’t do either of those things without breaking Quinn’s cover. And Tandy’s already beaming a smile at the next customer.

The sun beats down on the sidewalk as I head for the SUV. Jake is behind the wheel and I pass him his coffee through the open window.

“We’re attracting a lot of heat,” he warns.

I follow his gaze to the blacked-out vehicle parked directly across the street from us. It’s next to an unmarked transit van.

“Good,” I say. “I want them to know we’re watching them too. Has there been any movement at the house?”

Jake’s wearing aviators, but I know the look he’s giving me. “Since the last time you asked five minutes ago? No.”

I heave a sigh as I circle the car and open the passenger door. An engine roars close to my ear, and when a horn blares, I drop the coffee cup and reach for my gun. Hot coffee splatters over my boots and onto the street as the sound of graveled laughter floats from the battered truck that passes close by.

“It’s just a local,” Jake says when I climb into the car. “Fucking moron.”

My cheeks burn with humiliation. Everyone calls me a kid, and that’s exactly how I feel. I told Quinn she was mine, but I’d left her in that godforsaken mansion for Ilya’s amusement. Maybe I’m not up to this.

“Here,” Jake says, handing me his coffee. “You need it more than I do.”

I’m about to refuse when my phone vibrates against my chest. I snatch it from my pocket and accept the call immediately. I lock eyes with Jake.

“Quinn? Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” she replies. “Sorry for not seeing your messages, it’s been hectic.” She takes a breath. “Ilya’s still here.”

“I fucking know Ilya’s still there,” I bite out. We’d seen Barrett’s jet take off, and I assumed Quinn was safe. Until Mace broke the news that only Barrett had arrived back in New York. “Did he stay at the house with you?”

“No, the guesthouse,” she answers in a tone that’s as grouchy as mine. “So, have you been calling because you’re concerned, or are you just having a temper tantrum?”

“A tantrum?” I repeat. “Are you serious right now? You think I was just worried about another guy making a pass at you? He’s a predator, Quinn. Of course, I’m concerned. I’m going out of my fucking mind here.”

Jake presses the coffee into my hand, and I take it gratefully. “I’ll just get some fresh air,” he says, tipping his thumb to the sidewalk.

“Can we not fight about this?” Quinn pleads. She sounds tired. I guess I wasn’t the only one who didn’t sleep much last night.

I watch as Jake closes his window before exiting the car. The door slams shut, and I’m sealed in. It’s just me and Quinn. I lean back against the headrest and close my eyes. “Please, tell me how you really are.”

“Scared.”

“I can come and get you.”