Page 17 of Quentin
“What the hell are you into, you stupid little fucker?”
Joey sputtered. “What the fuck, man? You’re not my father!”
“No, but I am the sheriff of this town, and if you’re bringing in the shit that I think you are, I am gonna put your ass back in prison personally!”
Joey laughed. “The fuck you are. You’ve been balls deep in the dirty goings on in Fontaine for so long that the dirt on you would fill Commonwealth Stadium! And I know more of it than you think I do.”
Silas cursed. “Krokodile, Joey? That shit will tear this town apart!”
“You think I don’t know that? But thing is, Silas, these aren’t the kind of people you turn down. They ask you to do something for them, and you do it…otherwise you wind up with a few extra holes in you. Andthat’sif you’re lucky.”
“Promise me you’re not bringing that shit to Fontaine…I don’t want to have to send you back to prison. It would kill your mama.”
“Don’t make me play hardball with you, Silas. You’re family, but I’ll throw you to the damned wolves if I have to.”
Silas didn’t doubt that for a minute. Joey had no notion of loyalty, that sniveling little shit. It was going to get ugly, and he didn’t have any other choice. But…on the upside, he had Harlow Tate handy to take the fall. It wouldn’t be too difficult to make her look guilty as sin.
“We need to talk this out face-to-face. I can help get you out of this, if you let me,” Silas lied.
Joey scoffed at that. “Yeah, right. There’s no way in hell we’re getting out of this…me and Tommy are in too deep.”
Silas covered his face with his hands. The last thing he needed was for his baby brother to get dragged into this mess. A cousin was one thing, but a sibling was something else altogether. Voters didn’t much care for a sheriff with a drug-dealing brother.
“Meet me at the diner on twenty-seven,” he said.
“I’ll meet you at Mama’s,” Joey said.
“No. There’s a Darcy in town looking for you…he’s already been to your mama’s once. He’ll be watching for you there.”
Joey capitulated with a sigh. “Fine. But Silas, I trust you as far as I can throw you…I’ll be coming armed.”
So would he. “You’re family, Joey. Family comes first.”
“What the fuck ever, man.”
Twelve
Lowey woke up slowly, feeling slightly disoriented. The weight of Quentin’s arm draped over her ribs was a little uncomfortable, but she was reluctant to move. He still slept soundly beside her, and for the moment, at least, she wanted to enjoy it.
She didn’t trust him. He wasn’t the kind who’d stick, and she knew that, but it was nice to lay there next to him and pretend just for a little while. Craning her neck, she looked at him, taking in all the details. He was beat all to hell, but he was still the best-looking man she’d ever seen. Even battered and bruised, that bone structure was perfection. With the perfectly trimmed beard and always meticulously groomed hair, Quentin probably spent more time and effort on his appearance than she did. Not that he needed to. Now, lying there in the bed, his hair mussed, she was seeing something of him that she never had before.
They’d had sex more times and more ways than she could even count, but never once had they slept together.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, his eyes opened slowly. “Stop thinking,” he said.
“Not possible,” she replied.
“Stopoverthinking,” he retorted.
“That’s not possible either,” she shot back.
“We’re good for right now. You, me. This bed. The pain in my ribs has let up just enough that I think maybe we can have more hot, amazing sex in the next century at least.”
A giggle escaped her. Immediately, she clapped her hand over her mouth. Giggling wasn’t her. She was notthatgirl. More to the point, she and Quentin were notthatcouple. It was all hot sex with just enough kink to make her blush when she remembered it. Laughing, teasing one another, cuddling in bed—they didn’t do that. But it was happening, and God help her, it was more tempting even than his perfect body.
“You’re doing it again,” he said. “Overthinking.”
“Can’t help it. You look like Quentin Darcy, but you sure as hell don’t act like him.”
