Читать книгу Secret - Brigid Kemmerer - Страница 13

CHAPTER 5

Quinn pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up and shivered. She still had her dance shorts on, but there hadn’t been time to change. Her jaw hurt like a bitch, and she knew there’d be a bruise there tomorrow.

Her older brother had welcomed her home by slamming her face into the wall and demanding to know where his money was.

Like she had a clue. Quinn would be so happy when Jake went back to college. Her little brother Jordan had already taken to crashing at friends’ houses every night, rotating through his circle of gamer buddies so no one’s parents got suspicious.

Quinn had been sitting on the curb out in front of the 7-Eleven, but the old Korean woman who worked there had come out shrieking about teenagers loitering, so now Quinn was sitting on a milk crate out back, clinging to the darkness.

She was this close to stealing food from the Dumpster.

When she’d lived within walking distance of Becca’s house, Becca’s mom had always left her a plate of food. She’d known about Quinn’s disagreements with her mom. Quinn still had a key to their house on her key ring.

But now that Becca and Chris were an item, Quinn increasingly felt like a third wheel.

Especially now that she knew the truth about Becca and the Merricks.

A truth she’d learned from Nick, not Becca.

Some best friend.

Hunger clawed at Quinn’s insides and she wished she’d gone with Nick and Adam for coffee. But she didn’t have any money and she didn’t want to be a mooch and a third wheel.

But now that she had nowhere to sleep . . . Her fingers traced over the face of her cell phone, and she considered texting Nick.

A metal door slammed, a little distance down the back wall. Quinn saw a flare of light, then a cigarette glowed red. The light over the door was out, but from the person’s size, it looked like a guy. Dark clothes.

She pulled her hood down, tucking her blond hair more tightly under the covering.

It didn’t help. “Hey!” The sharp male voice made her head snap up. The musty scent of cigarettes burned her nostrils. He was coming toward her. “You can’t be out here.”

Quinn didn’t move. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

“And who are you, the owner of the parking lot?”

“No. The whole strip mall.”

Well, she hadn’t expected that answer. She still didn’t move. “Prove it.”

“What, you want to see the deed?” He moved like he was going to grab her, and she scrambled off the crate, dusting grit from her clothes.

“Fine, fine. I’m going.”

He followed her, taking a draw from his cigarette, clearly planning to make sure she exited his property. When she reached the sidewalk running beside the 7-Eleven, she whirled, ready to lay into him for being an asshole.

But here the light found his features. It was Tyler, the guy from Nick’s driveway. She thought of Nick’s revelations and knew she should be afraid of Tyler, but her life was overflowing with cruel people, and she didn’t carry that much adrenaline around with her.

“It’s you,” she spat.

“It’s you.” He put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled again. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He’s picking me up. He’ll be here any minute.” Just because she wasn’t afraid didn’t mean she was stupid.

“He was picking you up behind the 7-Eleven?”

Okay, maybe she was stupid. She gestured at the darkened storefronts lining the rest of the strip mall. “Why don’t you go back where you came from?”

“What are you doing out here, really?”

“None of your business.”

His eyes narrowed. “What happened to your face? Did that Merrick prick knock you around?”

He didn’t sound concerned, but he didn’t sound like an affirmative answer would surprise him, either. “No. And don’t call him that.”

He huffed, blowing smoke through his nose. “You girls are all the same. You think those idiots are amazing and perfect and special. Well, you know what? They’re not.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Charming. Clearly not everyone is up to your standards.” She stepped up and ripped the cigarette out of his mouth, intending to break it in half.

But it flared and burned to ash in her hand. Quinn shrieked and dropped it.

Tyler smirked. “You don’t know what you’re messing with, baby girl. With me or them.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I just wanted to talk to them, and you saw how that jerkoff treated me.”

“Yeah, and you were such a gentleman.” She swung a hand to shove him away.

He was too quick and grabbed her wrist. “Trust me, they’ve pushed me way past being a gentleman. Maybe I should get some answers from you.”

God, he was strong. She regretted trying to hit him. Her arm burned like he was pressing the cigarette between his hand and her skin. Quinn was gasping before she could stop it. Part of her wished she’d stayed in the apartment and tried her odds against her brother.

“Go ahead,” Tyler said. “Scream. I’ll tell them I caught you trying to break in.”

“Let me go,” she whimpered. The pain was immobilizing. He was pulling tears out of her, and she wanted to kill him for that. “Let me go.”

“You think this is bad?” he said. “This is nothing. Just wait until you spend more time with them. Wait until you see what they do to you. They are killers.”

Sweat bloomed on her forehead. “Okay. I get it. Lemme go. Please.”

“I want to know what’s going on. You hear me? I want to know what really happened at that carnival, and I want to know what happened to the Guide that came to town to take care of it. You tell them I want answers. Got it?”

“Got it,” she whispered. The grip on her arm was the only thing holding her on her feet. She was going to pee her pants in a second.

“Good.” He let her go. Shoved her, really. She hit the ground, the impact jarring. She was lying where concrete met a bed of large, smooth stones surrounding the streetlamp. She’d probably have sixteen bruises tomorrow, just from this landing.

“Idiot,” he sneered.

She seized a rock and punched him in the side of the knee with it, throwing every ounce of strength into the motion. He swore as his leg gave out. He dropped like—well, like a rock. Quinn swung her elbow around to jab him in the face.

His hand shot out to grab her, but Quinn was already running. Full out, as fast as her feet would go. Trees stretched along Ritchie Highway up ahead, a gaping pit of darkness full of unseen dangers. Quinn scrambled through the underbrush, not caring about staying silent. She just ran.

Branches whipped her legs, but she didn’t slow. She stumbled twice. Then a third time, almost falling. Another branch whipped across her face, followed by a cloud of spiderwebs. Quinn screamed and beat at her face.

Then she shut up. Oxygen whistled into her chest, and she told her lungs to knock it off so she could hear.

Silence.

Darkness swelled around her, and she couldn’t see anything. Quinn yanked her phone out of her pocket and dialed. Third wheel or not, she didn’t know if Tyler would come after her out here.

“Come on,” she muttered, bouncing from one foot to another while it rang.

“Hello?”

“Nick,” she said as quietly as she could muster. “I need you.”

At first Nick saw nothing along the stretch of Ritchie Highway. He peered into the darkness, looking for Quinn, finding only trees. Down the road a bit, the Jiffy Lube sign threw light into space, but here it was pitch-black. He rolled down the window to listen, but the diesel engine made that impossible.

Worry danced with exasperation in his head. It had taken him only ten minutes to get here from Adam’s apartment, but that felt like a long time when you were hiding from Tyler Morgan. He knew from experience.

What had she been doing with Tyler, anyway? He’d just seen her two hours ago! Safe at home!

Just when he was about to turn off the truck to go looking, Quinn burst through the trees into the path of his headlights, lit up like a beacon.

Her legs were scratched to hell, long stripes of red crisscrossing her thighs. But more concerning was the bruise on her jaw, cut through by one long scratch that was still bleeding. Her eyes were red and tear-filled.

Then she was out of the light and climbing into the truck.

Fury stole Nick’s exasperation. “Jesus, Quinn, are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?”

“No! Did Tyler hit you? I’m taking you to the cops—”

“I’m not going to the cops.” Quinn flung her tangled blond hair back from her face. “Drive, Nick, all right? Drive the fucking truck.”

He took a long breath and blew it out through his teeth. She punched him in the arm. Hard. “Drive!”

He shifted into gear. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

Nick listened to the air threading through the cab, cataloging her injuries as his element fed information to him. Mostly cuts and bruises, nothing more serious than that.

As he thought it, his senses picked up on something else, an unnatural heat making the air jitter around her.

She was cradling her arm.

“He burned you?” Nick asked.

“How did you know that?”

“It’s his MO. He’s a Fire Elemental. I’ve felt the effects before.” More than once, too. Tyler and his best friend Seth used to wait to trap Nick alone. They’d pin him down and threaten to burn his skin off, knowing Nick wouldn’t use his abilities to stop them.

Only they didn’t always stop at threats.

Nick should have let him suffocate in the driveway.

“Fire, like Gabriel?” Quinn snorted. “Why is that not surprising? They should just burn the crap out of each other.”

“Not like Gabriel. Nowhere near as strong. Give me your hand.”

“He seemed plenty strong to me.” But she held out her hand, snatching it back at the last moment when he went to take it. “Don’t touch it, okay? It hurts like a bitch.”

He glanced away from the road for a sec. Lights from the roadway reflected off the drying tears on her cheeks. He caught sight of that bruise again and wanted to kill Tyler.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said. “Come closer.”

She unsnapped her seat belt and scooted to the middle of the bench, until her shoulder was against his side and their thighs were touching.

Her face pressed into his shoulder. She smelled like the woods, pine and dirt and nighttime.

Nick sighed and put an arm around her, stroking her hair back from her face. “Quinn. Do you want me to take you home?”

“To your house?” her muffled voice asked hopefully.

He hadn’t meant his house, but he felt the pain and fear in every breath she took.

“Please?” she whispered.

“Okay,” he said, hitting the turn signal to make a U-turn at the next intersection. “You have to be absolutely quiet. Mike will kill me if he finds you there.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to be loud?” she said suggestively.

Nick made a disgusted noise. “You can’t be too hurt if you’re making jokes.”

She raised her head and sniffled. “You smell like Adam.”

Nick couldn’t figure out the note in her voice, but warmth snuck across his cheeks as he remembered the exotic scent of oranges and cloves. Of course she’d know what Adam smelled like—she’d spent an hour with her hands all over him during rehearsal.

“Your bag is still here, too,” Quinn continued, kicking at his messenger bag on the floor of the truck. “Nick Merrick, you dirty dog. It’s after midnight.”

“We just talked.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Quinn. Shut up and give me your arm.”

When she did, he glanced between her wrist and the road. He could feel the heat coming off her skin from here. No wonder he’d found her crying.

He definitely should’ve killed Tyler in the driveway.

Nick blew air along the burn, feeding power into it.

Quinn sucked in a breath. “What are you doing?”

“Healing it.” He had to be careful, though. Too much power could hurt. He knew that from experience, too.

She relaxed against him, resting her head against his shoulder again. “That feels amazing.”

“I’ll send you a bill.”

“Can you fix my face, too?”

“Yes.” Another breath, another flare of power. She was relaxed, so he tried for information. “Why did he hit you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Did you sleep with Adam?”

“Of course not.” The thought was terrifying and intriguing all at once, and he told his imagination to knock it off.

“Don’t get all indignant about it. Two virile guys? Isn’t that like twice the recommended daily dose of testosterone?”

“Quinn.”

“Did you make out at least?”

He sighed along her skin.

Quinn made a low sound and snuggled closer. “You really like him, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer. Honestly, he still didn’t know if he’d been relieved to get Quinn’s call, putting an end to the night, or disappointed that it had cut their time short. He felt so unprepared to be with a guy, like he only knew the choreography for one dance step, and this was a completely different type of music.

God, he couldn’t even fool himself. Disappointed. He’d been disappointed.

He’d never lost control like that before. His life was always about fulfilling expectations. Spending a few minutes acting on instinct—he’d never felt anything like it. He couldn’t wait to feel like that again.

Quinn lifted her head and looked up at him. “You do really like him. I know you do. I could tell the instant you saw him at the studio.”

“I’m glad I’m so transparent.”

“You’re not transparent. He’s just like that. Magnetic. Everyone likes Adam.”

Nick blew another line of breath along her arm, drawing the burn out, feeling the skin rebuild. Everyone likes Adam. Quinn’s voice had changed when she’d dropped the words.

Nick realigned what he’d learned from the evening, Adam’s gentle teasing, his easy comfort with who he was. They’d shared a moment. More than a moment—Nick had trusted him with the biggest secret of his life. You’re safe here.

With a start, he realized that Adam’s one-liners could have been the same kind of practiced words that Nick dropped on unsuspecting girls.

He’d rushed into this with his emotions exposed and bare. He’d fallen for Adam’s quiet confidence, his dedication to dance and school, and his singular focus on what he wanted. Nick had been all instinct and feeling and passion. Adam had been controlled. In control.

You’re going to break my heart. I can feel it.

God, repeating it to himself now, it felt like such a line.

“Yowch!” Quinn said, sitting up straight and yanking her arm away. “Holy crap, Nick!”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Here. I’ll be more careful.”

“No—actually—I think it’s fine.” She held her wrist out, running a finger along the smooth skin. “You’re amazing.”

“Amazing,” he echoed. “Yeah. Right.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Am I being an idiot, Quinn?”

He could feel her studying him in the darkness. “I think I need more information.”

“With Adam.”

She was quiet for a minute. He pulled up the driveway to his house and killed the engine. They couldn’t sit here too long, but they could never finish this conversation in the house, so he waited with the keys in his hand, his eyes on the darkened dash.

Quinn let out a slow breath. “You really like him,” she said softly. “Like, full on hearts in your eyes, doodling your last name with his, making up—”

“Quinn.”

She pulled her legs up on the bench to sit cross-legged. “Did you go back to his place?”

He winced, feeling like he was admitting something he shouldn’t. “Yes.”

“Was there more kissing or more talking?”

His face felt warm again, and he fiddled with the keys in his lap. Was this how girls felt? He didn’t like it. “Dead even.”

“Did anyone’s clothes come off?”

“No!” Thank god. But now he was imagining it.

God, this was so confusing. He shouldn’t have thrown away the cup sleeve with Courtnie’s number. That he knew how to handle.

But another part of him railed against the idea, like he’d cracked a door and his subconscious had wedged an arm into the opening.

Quinn was quiet for a while. “I’ve known Adam for a long time,” she finally said. “But that doesn’t mean I know him well. He doesn’t bring a lot of guys around the studio or anything—but he never seems lonely, either. Are you going to see him again?”

“I don’t know. You called, and I left in a hurry. He said he’d text me later.” Nick checked his phone. No new messages from Adam. Not even to ask how Quinn was.

“Sucks being the girl, doesn’t it?” said Quinn.

“Shut up.” But yes. It did.

Nick tried to be quiet when he snuck Quinn into the house, but Hunter stirred and ran a hand across his face when they crept into the bedroom.

His eyes widened fractionally when he saw Quinn, but he took it in stride. “You guys want me to crash on the couch?”

“She’s sleeping here, that’s all,” said Nick.

Hunter yawned and rolled over, turning his back on them. “Yeah, okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Nick usually slept in a T-shirt and boxers, but out of deference to Quinn’s presence in his bed, he pulled on a pair of threadbare sweatpants. They changed in the dark, and then he drew back the blankets.

Quinn slid in beside him. She offered his modesty no deference. His hand brushed bare thigh, but before he could react to that, she was pressed up against him, her leg slung over his.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, controlling the air so the sound waves of their conversation wouldn’t carry to Hunter.

“Come on,” she breathed. “If I’m caught here, it should at least look like we’re sleeping together.”

Nick didn’t say anything, torn between protesting and thinking she had a pretty good point.

Quinn snuggled more closely, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s not like you care, right? If you want me to move, I will.”

“No.” He hesitated. “I guess it’s okay.”

“Can you still fix my face?” Her voice was sleepy.

“Sure,” he murmured. At least her sleeping position made that easy. He turned his head and eased a breath along her cheek.

She relaxed into him, so he fished for information. “You never told me how you ended up with Tyler.”

“I walked to the 7-Eleven. He was there.”

“You walked there alone?”

“I walk there all the time. Stop being such a mother hen.”

“Why did Tyler start hassling you?” For an instant, he wondered if Quinn had walked up and started hassling Tyler. She wasn’t exactly subtle.

“He wants to know what happened at the carnival. He said something about the Guides.” She paused. “The news said those explosions at the carnival were due to poor wiring.”

“No. That was Calla Dean. She started those.”

“Calla Dean!”

“Shh. Yeah. She was behind the arson attacks, too.”

Quinn’s house had burned down in one of those arson attacks—it was the whole reason they were living in that damned apartment. “I thought that was Rick Stacey!”

“He helped, but she was the mastermind.”

Quinn was silent for a minute. She knew Calla Dean from school—but she didn’t know her well. Calla had been one of the students who’d disappeared after the carnival, and everyone thought she was dead. There was still a memorial of notes and pictures taped all over her locker.

It seemed ridiculous, but all Quinn could think was, I always liked her highlights. “I thought she was one of the students who died in the carnival explosions.”

“We don’t know what happened to her. When Silver came after us, we found the middle school Elementals, but not her.” He shrugged. “Maybe she ran.”

“And Silver is one of the Guides that are trying to kill you guys, right?”

“Right. But he’s in prison.”

“When will they send a new one?”

“Eventually.” He brushed a finger across her cheek. “How’s that feel?”

Her eyes, normally so bright, were shadowed in the darkness. “Much better,” she whispered. “Thanks.”

Then, without warning, she shifted up and pressed her lips to his.

For a second, Nick didn’t resist. He’d kissed girls—lots of them—and he knew how to respond. If that girl Courtnie had ambushed him with her lips, he probably would have kissed her back without thinking about it.

But this—this was different. Quinn knew. And this wasn’t like earlier, when she’d been giving him a cover.

He’d never shove her away, but he stiffened and drew back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” he said automatically.

But it wasn’t okay. He felt like he was hurting her, when he hadn’t done anything.

And this would be easier if she weren’t still attached to his side like a leech.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I forgot—what you were doing—it felt—it felt—”

“Shh,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

“Are you mad?”

He shook his head. “I’m not mad, Quinn.” But he kind of was, and he couldn’t put it all together. He paused and touched her face again. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to keep doing this.”

She caught his hand and held it there. “It’s my fault.”

He frowned. “I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t . . .” Her voice dropped even further, and her eyes flicked toward the end of the room where Hunter slept. “You know.”

“I know.” Truth was, sometimes he wished that, too.

“Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?”

Nick shook his head and kissed her on the forehead. “No. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

She took him at his word. She snuggled back into him, and after a few minutes, her breathing told him she was asleep.

It wouldn’t come so easily to Nick.

Sucks being the girl, doesn’t it?

But he wasn’t a girl. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to play one. Slowly, carefully, so as not to wake her or Hunter, he slid the phone off his nightstand and unlocked the screen.

Did he want to do this? What message would he send?

Then his message icon lit up.

Adam. Words appeared on the screen.

You free tomorrow? Have class til 8 but free after.

Nick’s heart skipped ahead of him, dancing in circles. But he’d already blown off physics tonight, and he had a paper due in two days.

He probably shouldn’t seem too eager, either.

God, he couldn’t believe he was even having this conversation with himself. He typed back quickly.

Have to study.

As soon as he pressed SEND, he wanted to punch the phone. He had to study? Seriously? What the hell was wrong with him? He so couldn’t play this from the other side. How would Adam read that? As rejection? More likely, that Nick was the biggest nerd to walk the earth. The phone silently mocked him, not offering any further messages.

Then, just as he was about to set it on his side table, the display lit again.

Study here?

Nick smiled.

You’re on.