Page 36 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

“Hey, I just call ’em like I see ’em.”

“What about you?” He leans forward, eyes keen with interest.

I shake my head. “There’s no one to worry about me.” A deep breath purges dark thoughts from my mind.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true.” I hold his gaze. “I’ve been alone a long time.”

He hums thoughtfully. “I know the feeling.”

A wild thought strikes me. “Claude, would you do me a favor?”

“What do you need?”

“My roommates. I don’t want them to think I’m dead in the street, but I can’t reach out to them myself. Would you give them a call to let them know I’m safe?”

Worry creases his brow. “I don’t know, Quinn. Maybe you should have Grant tell them.”

“No, they’ll worry more if a cop calls.” I chew on my lower lip when the idea strikes. “You can tell them I gave you a message to deliver. I’m working on finding a better job, and I’ll be home soon.”

Skepticism is painted all over Claude’s face. “I’ll think about it. But I think you should have Grant reach out to them instead.”

I muster a pout. “He’s so busy. I don’t want to burden him with one more thing.”

Claude sighs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you!” I launch myself into his arms and hug him tight.

The scent of his cologne teases my senses. The same scent as Grant last night, but on Claude, it smells lighter, almost sweet.

He gives me a gentle pat on the back and I pull away.

“Anything else you need?”

“Yes.” I eye the basket inside the bedroom. “Where’s the laundry?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

I grab the basket and follow him down the stairs. He shows me to the laundry room and leaves me to it, reminding me to return upstairs as soon as I’m done. The last thing either of us needs is a lecture from Grant.

Between loads of laundry, I sit on the sofa and read. Somewhere in between, I pop a small beef roast into the oven. By the time the last load is done, I can hear noise from the bar filtering through the doors. My curiosity pulls me closer. Just a peek before I go upstairs and start dinner.

After I slip through the doors, the scent of pub food and malt liquor hits me. My stomach growls even though I have food cooking upstairs. I peer around the corner and see the movement of bustling patrons enjoying a night at the neighborhood pub.

Claude moves behind the bar with purpose and grace. His gaze skims over the crowd before landing on me. He shakes his head.

A firm hand clasps my uninjured shoulder. Panic grabs me by the throat.

He found me. Somehow the murderer found me. Fuck.

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