“We’re nearly there, just a couple of more blocks,” Quinn says reassuringly, mistaking my apprehension as fatigue.
We reach the address minutes later, which is a two-story house with a big garage attached around the back. Quinn lets go of my hand, jogging to the side of the house, calling out to Jason.I follow close, my steps slower than Quinn’s, as I feel like my legs are about to collapse from under me.
A young man comes out from the garage, rubbing his greasy hands on a dirty blue cloth.
“Can I help you?” he asks, eyeing us suspiciously.
“Hi, I’m Quinn. Rodney sent us.”
The young man nods, looking behind us before replying, “Follow me.”
Quinn and I follow quickly and are led to the adjoining garage.
“Wait here,” Jason says, walking into the side door.
“Quinn, is this safe?” I whisper, keeping my eyes peeled on the door.
“It’ll be fine,” he says, drawing me into his arms and kissing my brow.
We stay this way until we hear keys jingling and the garage door motor groaning as it winds up, revealing the inside of a workshop. As I look inside, I see endless cars and workers modifying them. I don’t want to know what goes on here. I have a feeling the less I know, the better.
“Okay, she’s all yours,” says Jason, tossing Quinn a set of keys and opening the door of a late seventies black Chevy truck.
My eyes widen because I’m seriously in the dark about what is going on.But now is not the time to question it because we need to get the hell out of Dodge.
Quinn opens my door, all but lifting me into the cab and reaching over, buckling my seat belt for me.
“Sorry, Red,” he says, kissing me quickly on the lips before racing over to the driver’s side. Lucky jumps in before him.
“Thanks for what you did for my dad,” says Jason, and Quinn gives him a quick smile before starting the engine with a roar.
“Don’t mention it,” he replies, throwing the car into drive and fishtailing it out of the garage.
Quinn pulls onto the road with skill and speeds away from our near capture in a matter of seconds. The road blurs before me, and I grasp the door handle for support. And it’s not because of Quinn’s erratic driving. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, my body threatens to give out.
“What did you mean by sorry? And who is Rodney?” I ask breathlessly, looking at Quinn who is concentrating on the road.
Quinn blows out a frustrated breath before he replies, “It’s my fault the police are here.”
“What are you talking about?”
He clenches his jaw, and I know he’s furious at himself for whatever he did.
“I used my credit card to pay for your things. I wasn’t thinking, and it was too late to take it back without making a scene. I didn’t think the police would catch up to us so quickly. I knew we were leaving today, so I thought by the time the police got around to checking out if it really was me who used the card, we’d be long gone. I’m so sorry, Red, this is all my fault.”
But I’m not really listening because all I can focus on is the fact that Quinn paid for everything. I just assumed he’d used Tabitha’s money.
“Did you pay for everything?”
Quinn nods, confused. “Yeah, of course, why?”
“I just…I just assumed you’d use Tabitha’s money.”
Quinn opens his mouth in understanding and turns to face me as we stop at a red light. “I wanted it to be a real date, and using Tabitha’s money didn’t sit right with me. Call it pride or whatever, but I wanted to do it right.” He pauses, fisting his hair into an angry peak as he sighs. “But now I’ve gone and fucked everything up.” He steps on the gas as the light changes to green.
His notion of paying for everything is old-fashioned and totally unnecessary, but it’s also so incredibly…sweet.He did this, all of this…for me.
Before I can stop myself, I slide across the bench seat, nearly squashing Lucky in the process, and throw myself into Quinn’s lap, straddling him.