Axel shakes his head. “I was at the restaurant because Quinn’s caught up in it. That guy with Sheila? Herdate? His name’s Romero, and he runs the whole fucking show. He’s the oneholding her safety over my head. There’s no fucking way he just happened to be there.”
“And you’ve been a good little minion this whole time? He’d have no reason to doubt your loyalty?” I have all the fucking questions about this.
“Fuck you. You think I’d risk her life like that?” Axel bristles, but reins himself back in. “There’s no love lost between us, but I’ve kept my head down and done my job. But when I saw Greg fucking around with Quinn, it felt like I was fucked either way. Better to get Quinn and keep her safe myself. And then you fuckers lost her! Even though I said to not let her out of your fucking sight!”
I hate to admit it, but Axel carries himself like someone used to being listened to and getting shit done. Ten years makes a lot of fucking difference. I can see how he’d do well in the Reapers, and I’m the last person who should judge anyone. I’d do the same in his place if Mila was in trouble.
Hellfire steps in. “Shut it down or I’ll lock you in a cell and throw the key in fucking river.”
“She’s my fucking sister.” Axel glares at him.
“And all these guys? They’re mine. You aren’t, so tread lightly.” Hellfire shoves him towards the steps. “Now prove you’re useful and give us a rundown of where we’re going. Anything happens to the girl, it makes us look like we can’t protect the people who hire us.”
Axel takes the team leads through the layout of the Reapers’ base. Since Quinn’s our responsibility and we know at least a few of the people involved, me, Colt and Priest are included. We pay careful attention, knowing our lives might depend on it.The base looks solid, and isolated outside of the city, but it’s no fortress. We’ve taken out worse. Half the club is former military, or close to it. This is a war the Reapers don’t want, whether they know it yet or not.
Colt nudges me. “I feel like we’re still missing too much. Why is Sheila working with them? What the fuck does Romero actually want?”
“If he wants to explain it to me before I blow his brains out, I might allow him a few moments. Otherwise, I just care about getting Quinn back. It’s getting harder and harder to think about living without her, know what I mean?”
Priest nods. “So we’re gonna make sure we won’t have to.”
33
Chapter 33 - Quinn
My eyes burnwhen they finally take my hood off. The lights are so bright after the long darkness. I blink the black specks away, giving whoever released me time to leave the room and shut the door behind them with a metallic thump, followed by the click of the lock.
I’m in a bedroom. No windows, so while everything looks fairly normal, it feels like a prison cell. Everything is shades of red and pink, with small touches of baby blue and white. There are generic paintings on the walls: swans on a lake, horses in a meadow, that sort of thing. Every surface has a vase on it, packed with slightly wilted flowers. It all feels very deliberate and kind of creepy.
Surprisingly, I’m not bound in any way. No blindfold or cuffs or anything. Not that I have much experience being a captive outside of Saving the World, when I was locked in a cell with Toby, waiting for Erika to break us out. I’d always imagined handcuffs or chains or a cage or something.
I laugh out loud, clapping my hand over my mouth in surprise.
The panic is making me a little crazy.
When they pulled me out of the van, Mom didn’t say a word. Just disappeared one way while I was led in a different direction. I wonder how long Colt waited. Are they already on their way? Someone had to see what happened, right? They kidnapped me right out of my own building in the middle of downtown.
Okay. What would Desdemona do?
Take stock of where I am and see what I have available. I start looking for ways out. The door is the obvious first choice, but equally obviously, it’s locked. I put my ear up against it, listening for anything on the other side. Not much. Some dull thumps, but the door seems thick.
I search the rest of the room, looking for anything that might be helpful. There’s probably not going to be a secret panel hidden behind a painting, but even knowing if there are cameras somewhere would be nice. There isn’t much to look through except the dresser, and…
Oh my God.
Pictures, so many pictures. And they’re all of me.
Candids, promos, newspaper cuttings, printouts, they’re all put together into a crazy stalker scrapbook.
Oh, I’ve got a really bad feeling about this. Like really, really bad.
On the bright side, this is a good indicator that whoever is behind this isn’t out to kill me. At least not right away. On the other hand, I might wish they were. I get chills and hug myself,rubbing my arms with my hands to warm myself up. It doesn’t work.
But who?—
The lock in the door clicks.
Panicked, I shove the scrapbook back in place and look around for somewhere to hide, or a weapon to pick up. Anything to slow down what feels like the inevitable, but there’s nothing. I back up against the far wall and wait as the door slowly opens.
