Something Like Redemption (Something Like Normal #2) (20 page)

“Don’t even think about it,” he snarls, understanding my plan of giving myself up.

“It’s the only—”

But Quinn pulls me out into the foyer before I have a chance to finish my sentence.

We’re headed toward the door, which is no longer manned, and I shrink into my hair, as I can see two police officers by reception, talking to Janet, who has her hand pressed to her chest. A look of pure horror is plastered all over her painted face, no doubt realizing that she was flirting with a fugitive.

We’re almost at the exit when the concierge steps forward, opening the door for us, his back toward the police, blocking us from their view.

“Go to 352 Labouri Street. Tell Jason I sent you, and that you’re Quinn.”

Quinn sighs, touching the concierge on the arm. “Thanks, Rodney.”

Rodney? How does Quinn know his name? Before I have time to question him, I’m getting yanked outside and we’re running down the street, our boots thumping on the pavement.

I’m gripping onto Quinn’s hand like it’s my lifeline, as I’m afraid to let it go. But I’m not afraid for me. I’m afraid for him. What if he gets hurt because of me? My stomach rolls with the thought, and I think I’m going to be sick.

“We’re nearly there, just a couple 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 behind, 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,” Quinn says breathlessly.

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, while 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’s door motor groaning as it winds up, revealing the inside of a workshop. As I look inside, I see there are endless cars and workers modifying them, and I don’t want to know what goes on in 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 black, late 70’s Chevy truck.

My eyes widen, as I’m seriously in the dark, but now is not the time to question it, as 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 seatbelt for me.

“Sorry, Red,” he says, kissing me quickly on the lips before racing over to the driver’s side, Lucky jumping in before him.

“Thanks for what you did for my daddy,” says Jason, and Quinn gives him a quick smile before starting the engine with a roar.

“Don’t mention it, kid,” he replies, throwing the car into drive and fishtailing it out of the garage.

Quinn pulls onto the road with skill, and is speeding away from our near capture in a matter of seconds. The road blurs before me, and I grasp onto the door handle for support—and it’s not because of Quinn’s erratic driving. Now that the adrenalin has worn off, my body is threatening 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 on our tails.”

“What are you talking about?” I gasp, turning in my seat to look at him.

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,” he says, frowning.

But I’m not really listening, because all I can focus on is the fact Quinn paid for everything. I just assumed he’d used Tabitha’s money.

“Did you pay for everything?” I ask.

Quinn nods, confused. “Yeah, of course, why?”

“I just… I just assumed you’d use Tabitha’s money,” I reply shamefully.

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 says, frustrated, stepping 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.

“Red!” He chuckles as the car swerves slightly.

I crouch down low and nestle into him, wrapping my arms around his neck, toying with the hair at his nape. I don’t care he nearly got us caught, and I don’t care that the police are probably a hair’s breadth away from finding us.

All I care about is holding onto him and never letting go.

“Thank you,” I mumble against his chest.

“Thank you? You’re thanking me for nearly getting us caught?” he questions, pulling the car over when I make my intentions clear that I’m not moving.

“I don’t care about that,” I mutter against him. “All I care about—” I pause, afraid of my honesty.

But as I hear the steady beating of his big heart, a heart that has been so kind to me, a heart that has cared for me since the very beginning, I’m sick of being afraid.

“Is you,” I whisper.

Quinn wraps his arms around my back, pulling me tighter into him.

After a minute of silence, Quinn says against my head, “All I care about is you too, Red.”

Melting into his arms, I sigh when I bury my nose into his neck, relishing in his familiar, comforting smell.

“Good. Now shut up with the apologies.”

And that earns me a chuckle.

“How do you know Rodney? I mean, we’ve been here for less than seventy-two hours, and you’re making friends with someone who just saved our ass. What’s the deal?” I ask with a yawn. Being wrapped in Quinn’s arms seems to make me relax enough to feel sleepy.

“I helped him out,” he replies vaguely.

“How?” I persist.

Quinn chuckles again and I feel his nipple ring shift under my cheek. “Those pretentious jackasses at his work were accusing him of stealing.”

“How do you know he wasn’t?” I ask, snuggling closer into him.

“I just knew. Rodney’s not a bad guy. Some other prick was stealing, and because Rodney was ‘just’ a concierge, of course he had to have done it. In those people’s eyes, he was nothing but an underprivileged, uneducated doorman.”

“So…” I say, encouraging him to continue.

He chuckles, resting his lips on my head as he speaks. “So I bribed them.”

“Bribed who?”

“Rodney’s manager. I told him if he cleared Rodney’s name, I’d make it worth his while. And this time around, I did use Abi’s money. But I didn’t think she’d mind, as she would have done the same.”

I pull back to meet his kind eyes.

“But Rodney could have been thieving. I mean, you saw what was going on at the address he sent us to. I don’t think his son, Jason, is a qualified mechanic, if you know what I mean.”

Quinn laughs, kissing the tip of my nose. “Think of Rodney as, Rodney Hood.”

“Huh?” I ask, scrunching up my face, frightened Quinn has lost his mind.

“Rodney steals cars from the rich, who can have a newer, better model, delivered to their doorstep within the hour, to feed his family of eight, plus three dogs.”

“This isn’t really helping Rodney’s case,” I say with a small smile.

Quinn smirks, toying with his lip ring. “They accused him of stealing personal items from guests.”

“What would a simple man like Rodney want with showy shit from snooty guests?” I ask. Even though I don’t know Rodney, his scuffed shoes, and discount watch was a dead giveaway he wasn’t like everyone else in that place.

“Exactly,” Quinn simply replies.

“So you bribed his boss? With money?” I ask, needing to clarify Quinn didn’t use his fists, as well as money, to seal the deal.

“Yes, Red. Money is the universal language, sad but true.” Quinn chuckles when I give him a disbelieving look.

“So you vouched for a total stranger? Why?” I ask, not that I’m unhappy he did so, more that I need to know his reasons.

“Because everyone, regardless of what they have done, deserves a chance,” he replies softly, and I have a feeling we’re no longer talking about Rodney.

I let it go, because I can feel Quinn tense up underneath me, not wanting to discuss this further.

I can’t help but marvel that Quinn did something incredibly kind to help out a complete stranger. And even though I’m pretty certain Rodney helped Quinn set up our date, as they most likely became friends the day I went missing, what Quinn did for him was something not many others would have done. But whatever the reason Quinn decided to help Rodney, I’m glad, because Rodney came through for us when he needed him the most.

After a few moments of silence, and me snuggling back into Quinn’s chest, clinging onto him like a koala, I ask, “So, what are we going to do now?”

“I think we should take the back roads and keep driving. No stopping till we’re far enough to get the cops off our tail. And it’ll give us some time to figure out what the hell to do next.”

I nod. “We’ll take it in turns driving then. Drive through the night, okay?”

Quinn nods. “As long as you’re okay with that. It’ll probably mean using gas stations as our bathrooms and the supermarket for the next couple of days, but it’ll give us some breathing room.”

“Sounds good to me,” I reply. “What’s a road trip without excessive amounts of artificial sugar and frozen burritos?”

Quinn chuckles. “So, any place special you wanna go?”

I shrug, my eyes closing, as being this close to Quinn is heaven. “Nope, anywhere with you is special,” I reply softly.

And I mean every single word.

Chapter 17

Passengers

We drive through Louisiana, taking remote backroads used only by the locals, and hopefully not patrolled by the police. Thankfully the lonesome dirt roads link back up to the highways, so we know which direction we are traveling in.

We drive nonstop, only stopping for gas and the occasional bathroom break, but Quinn is right, we need to give ourselves a big head start now that the police are onto our location.

Quinn has driven all of the way, but after nearly running us off the road because he fell asleep at the wheel, I demanded he pull over. He’s driven for way too many hours without a break. He insisted he was fine, but when I told him this wasn’t negotiable, he agreed and was out like a light.

So now it’s just me and the open road, as Lucky has also crashed, snuggled into Quinn, who is using the window as a pillow. He’s going to be sore when he wakes, but I don’t have the heart to wake him up.

I’m not sure of the exact time, but judging by the coyotes and raccoons, and whatever other wildlife wants to jump out in front of me, scaring the bejesus outta me, I’d say its well after midnight.

We’re headed for Arkansas, and I’m aching for a bed and shower, and to eat something that isn’t defrosted in the microwave. But I’d never tell Quinn, as he feels bad enough.

Even though we almost got caught, I’m not freaking out or on edge, and that’s because I’m with Quinn. My feelings are growing every single minute of every single day, and that’s what’s getting me through this. If I was doing this on my own, or with someone other than him, I doubt I would be this composed or sane. But with Quinn, I feel like I can pull through anything.

Lost in Quinn thoughts, I fail to hear a small whimper until it becomes a steady, panicked moan. I look over, in belief that it’s Lucky having a doggy nightmare. But the distraught whimpers are coming from Quinn, and becoming increasingly worse.

I try and reach out to comfort him, but he’s too far away, and even with one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching for him, I can’t touch him.

My eyes dart between the road and Quinn, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, especially when his whimpers turn into spoken, hushed words.

“Mom… I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Quinn cries, whipping his head from side to side. “I’m sorry I made you choose. I didn’t know… and it’s too late.”

What’s too late? Oh God, I feel I should wake Quinn, as his face is contorting in pain, but I also feel as if I’m intruding on a private memory, one Quinn wishes to keep to himself.

“Don’t tell Tristan, please don’t tell him. If he ever found out, he’d never forgive me.” A sob tears out of his throat, jerking me with its intensity.

I can’t stand to hear him in such pain, so I quickly pull over at a rest stop and am by Quinn’s side in seconds.

“Quinn,” I whisper, while he’s mumbling incoherent words under his breath.

He doesn’t rouse.

“Quinn,” I say again, a little louder, shaking him lightly on the arm.

Nothing.

“Quinn!” I shout. “Wake up! You’re dreaming,” I cry, shoving him harder, his firm bicep tensing under my palm with the pressure.

I hate to be so rough, but if I were dreaming as he is now, then I would want someone to wake me. I know this from experience, as many a times I wished someone would wake me from the horror of my dreams.