Page 20 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

“Shit.” I drop her hand and cover my mouth.

“I was minding my own business. Cleaning. Like I’m supposed to. And I heard voices in the master bedroom. No one was home. At least, that’s what I thought.” She wraps her arms around her torso and shivers. “He saw me and I ran.”

“How the hell did you get away?”

A harsh laugh escapes her throat. “I almost didn’t. He had me, twice. But I managed to give him the slip. I know these streets better than most.”

“Did you get a good look at the killer?”

“I was too busy running for my life.” She crosses her arms. “And he was wearing a black ski mask.”

Fury turns my vision red. The thought of finding Quinn dead on the red-carpeted steps in that mansion or in a street leaves my stomach churning. “You could’ve died!”

“No shit, Sherlock. You think I don’t know that?”

“Listen, kid, I don’t know what kind of bad luck charm you’ve got hanging around your neck, but if you don’t get your shit together, you’re going to end up another file at the bottom of my stack. You need to wise the fuck up.” I’m breathing like I’ve just run up a flight of stairs with a wicked hangover after a long night.

“Fuck you.” She spits the words at me like a viper bite and stomps to the bedroom. “Asshole.” The door slams, punctuating the word.

I collapse against the counter, bracing my hands on the edge, and hang my head. What the fuck is wrong with me? This kid isn’t my problem. She means nothing to me.

Then why the hell is my chest tight and my head spinning? Shit. I need to get a grip on whatever this is.

Quinn might not be my responsibility, but she’s certainly my solution. She’s a murder witness. The only clue I have to solve this damned case. I can’t afford to lose her now.

Chapter Eight

Quinn

That son of a bitch.

How dare he lecture me on safety.

He knows nothing about the hell I’ve been through. Nothing about my past or the things I’ve done to survive.

I pace the length of the bedroom and kick a T-shirt lying on the floor. It skitters across the faded carpet, stopping on the ruins of my bloody, ripped uniform.

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