Page 259 of Quinlan

No one’s ever said anything about gasolineboarding.

Ha. A joke coming from me instead of Damien.

Revenge turns me into this funny person. My sanity is kind of frayed around the edges, I think.

Do I care?

Fuck. No.

A cruel, unfamiliar laugh bursts out of me. Must be a direct response to Aria’s screams.

Or is it from Quinlan’s smile? From her hand rubbing my shoulder and her sweet voice in my ear?

She says, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” and that’s funny for no other reason than just because.

I do what she says. I don’t stop, dousing Aria’s mouth and nose with gasoline.

Damien presses the cloth to her face. She struggles and I spill more gasoline. He’s laughing for a few seconds, and when he’s done, his smile lingers on his face.

Rome smiles too. He’s done fastening the rope around the naked Rex’s wrists and ankles. The man won’t be able to get off the chair Rome has bound him to. Ever.

The tank is empty by the time Rome joins us, hovering over Aria from Damien’s side.

There’s more where that came from. Gas, I mean. Not people. There are no more people. Only us.

Quinlan and her giant smile, the three of us with our sleeves rolled up to our forearms. With resolve in our hearts.

My family.

That has to be the reason for all this…happiness. For why I can’t seem to control my smile.

That, and that Quinlan’s okay. She didn’t just make it out alive. She took care of these bastards. Did what she had to—and did it fucking well—until we showed up.

Other than her cheek, she’s not injured. We checked her, of course we did, stripping her, there in the dark alley, to make sure there were no bruises. There were none. She didn’t flinch when we ran our hands over her body. Everything was intact.

Then we had to come up with a new plan. And fast.

The zip ties Damien had been keeping in the trunk of his SUV came first. Those were for emergencies, AKA for Jagger.

His clients could get aggressive, though he hadn’t asked Damien for help more than once. Jagger had to lock up an unpaying, violent fuck in his bathroom this one time. That’swhen he called Damien. That one incident was enough for Damien. He’s always prepared.

Quinlan heard that story while Damien dug them out. Sheawed at how considerate he was before demanding to meet Jagger when he came back.

By some dumb luck, no car pulled into the alley. One person crossed the street, minding his own business. Thank fuck for cellphones.

The rest—wiping Aria’s taxi and calling the crew we’d hired on retainer for this exact moment—wasn’t luck. Years of planning had brought us to that moment. We hadn’t anticipated this particular mess. Having people and money to deal with the unexpected, though, that helped.

Now, here we are, at a remote warehouse on the outskirts of Chicago. We left the scene squeaky clean and, more importantly, again…

Quinlan is okay.

So, while being happy is fine, drowning in it is not. Losing my mind will have to wait.

“All done.” I bark another laugh, hurtling the orange container to the other side of the warehouse.

Itclicksandclackson the cement floor.ClickandClack.

Well, I guess my temporary insanity won’t go away. Maybe I should just try to tamp it down.

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