Page 39 of Dirty Ex-Mas
“And you didn’t tell me that either.” Quinn’s chin trembles. Daria lowers her head, as though ashamed of her actions.
“It was my plan, QT. Don’t be upset with Dar for this. I pushed it on her because I wanted Tremblay alone,” I say.
Both women look at me: Daria with gratitude and Quinn with understanding.
“I still can’t believe David is the bad guy,” Quinn says. “I mean, he really sells women into sexual slavery?” She looks to me for an answer.
I nod. “Pretty much.”
“What will happen now?” Quinn asks.
“Well, now we try to nail Tremblay to the wall.” I mention nothing that’s happened until now. Daria already knows it all, and Quinn doesn’t need to know.
“How can I help?”
“You don’t,” Daria answers Quinn before I have a chance to. “It’s not safe.” Daria and I decided not to tell Quinn that she was an original target, no good can come from having her know that. It’s over now and Daria will be vigilant about protecting Quinn from here on out.
“Were you ever going to tell me it wasn’t real?” Quinn asks Daria.
“It was real, QT.” I reach out and touch her on the shoulder to get her attention. “You set the stage that made it possible for me to get the guy. Don’t doubt that. I truly could not have done it without you.” I lay it on a little thick, but I don’t want Quinn upset with Daria, and I don’t want Daria to feel bad about how this went down.
I could have apprehended Tremblay on my own, in a way that would not have attracted attention, but this made it easier, and for that I’m grateful. Plus, no one was hurt and I’m spending more time with Daria. It’s a win-win all the way around. As I’m breathing a sigh of relief, I hear the sound of flesh and bone hitting the like.
I turn toward the other end of the room to see Reed punching the shit out of Tremblay.
Fuck.
18
Quinn
I drag Reed into the bathroom with me after Mack pulls him off David. His breath is heavy, his chest heaving, and he’s split the skin of the knuckles on both hands. I push down on his shoulders until he sits on the closed toilet seat, then get the first aid kit from under the sink.
“Let me see,” I ask of his hands. He holds both up for my review and hisses as I dab at the wounds with antiseptic wipes.
“I’m sorry if it hurts.”
“It’s fine,” he says, but still tries to pull his hands away.
“Stay still.” I reprimand. “I can’t get a good look at them otherwise.” I wipe the blood and loose skin off his hands as gently as I can. Reed closes his eyes, but I don’t think it’s because of the pain, not physical pain anyway. I can’t imagine how he must feel right now. I dress the wound on his right knuckles as best I can, then kiss the tips lightly before setting his hand in his lap.
“Are you kissing myowie?” He smiles as he asks me that.
“Don’t knock it,” I tell him. “It helps speed the healing process.”
He chuckles. “Thank you.” Then reaches his undressed hand up and touches my cheek. Our eyes meet and my breath catches as I see affection and desire in his gaze. I want to stop time in this moment right here, where we are looking at each other, and it’s just the two of us, and he’s touching me, and anything at all could happen. As though there are infinite possibilities in my immediate future where Reed and I are concerned, and maybe there are.
I try not to look disappointed as he drops his hand, instead busying myself with tending to the cuts on it. “You should be good as new in a day or two,” I tell him as I finish.
A half smile takes over his face as he stands, towering over me, even though I’m in my heels. He looks down at me, sets his hands on my shoulders, and runs them down my arms and back up again. “It looks better on you.”
I raise a brow in question.
“My jacket. Looks better on you.” His hands stop moving and he grips me lightly on each arm, halfway between my shoulders and elbows; his voice soft like a caress I want to lose myself in.
I can’t look away from him, even though the longer his gaze holds mine, the harder it is for me to breathe.
“Are . . .” I clear my throat. “Are you okay?”
