Page 61 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

When we reach the kitchen, I note the small area where the guard has taken up his post. “How many guards are on duty?”

“Two of us, sir.” He retrieves a bag from the table and hands it to me. “I found this while walking outside the front of the building, behind one of the rose bushes near the neighbor’s place.”

Turning over the bag, I suck in a breath. It contains a knife the length Quinn described earlier. “How did you find this?”

“Glint of sunlight struck the blade while I was doing my rounds. It was half-buried in dirt.”

The murder weapon. Luck smiles on me today.

“I’ll take it down to the station and have it dusted for prints. What’s your name?”

“Vincent Anderson.”

“Good job, son.”

He beams at the praise.

I tuck the blade back into the brown grocery bag on the counter. “Let me know if you find anything else.”

“Absolutely, sir. Thank you.”

I leave young Anderson to his post and return to the master suite. Careful not to make any noise, I pause outside the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of Quinn, staring out the window deep in thought. But she’s not there.

There’s a shuffling noise inside the bedroom. I rest my hand on the hilt of my .38 and step lightly, keeping my footfalls even. My heart stops when I see her in the wardrobe, bent over, drawer open, three thick wads of cash sticking out of her back pocket.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She straightens instantly and spins to face me. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“You’renotstealing from a dead man?” I close the gap between us and snatch her by the arm, pulling her away from the wardrobe.

“No.” She doesn’t fight me, but I can see the fear in her eyes.

“Because that’s what it looks like.”

“I can explain.”

“Oh, you’ll explain, all right.” I holster my gun, grab the cash from her back pocket, and toss it back into the drawer before slamming it closed. “Let’s go.”

My blood pulses hot beneath my skin. How could I have been such a fool to trust her? I kick myself as I drag her behind me down the stairs and out the back door.

“Are you taking me to the station?” she asks, stumbling, trying to pull away from me.

I tighten my grip. She winces at the pressure. Our eyes lock, and judging by the expression on her face, she knows it’s over. All of it.

“Grant?” My name is a plea on her sinful lips, and I flinch at the way it stings.

She says nothing while I flag down a cab and shove her inside. The ride is plagued by tense silence. Quinn twists her hands in her lap, refusing to meet my gaze.

The cab pulls up outside the Black Penny. Her demeanor shifts from uncertainty to hope.

But I’m not done with her yet. Hell, I haven’t even started. I toss the cabbie the fare and climb from the car, pulling her with me.

We pass Claude in the hallway. He says nothing when I pin him with a firm glare.

Once we reach the safe confines of my apartment, I place the bag on the table beside the case files and lock the door.

Quinn stands in the center of the apartment awaiting her punishment.

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