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Honestly, because arguing was easier than thinking.
“Let me go,” she said.
“No way. Not until you tell me what’s rolling around in that head of yours.”
She met his eyes and made her expression hard. “Let me go or I’ll tell Nick and his brothers what you can do.”
Well, that broke his control. His face turned furious and he shoved her onto the couch roughly, leaving her there and storm-ing into the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened with a creak, and he slammed it shut hard enough to make the contents rattle.
“You don’t know what the f**k you’re talking about,” he snapped, using an opener to jerk the cap off a bottle of beer.
“Don’t you get it? This isn’t a game.”
“Yeah, I get it,” she fired back. “You’re all gung ho for someone to kill my friends, when you’re guilty of the same thing.”
“I’m not guilty of anything!” he yelled. “I never hurt anyone with this! They did.”
Quinn sucked back into the couch, holding her breath. His anger was frightening, reminding her of that first night behind the 7-Eleven, when he’d burned her arm and demanded answers.
He wasn’t done yelling. “I risk myself for you, and you’re going to turn it around and threaten me? Are you f**king kidding me? Do you understand that the Guide could be watching?
That what I did was enough to earn a bullet to the head?” He took a long drink and slammed his beer onto the counter. “God damn it.”
Quinn wished she could make herself invisible. She hugged her knees to her chest and wished she’d put the pants on. She felt too exposed. Too vulnerable.
She was ready for him to stride across the apartment and shake her or slug her or physically shove her out the door. But he just stood there and took another long drink.
After a minute, he looked back at her. His voice was rough, but not aggressive. “Nice job, getting the conversation off of you.” He paused, and his expression turned resigned. “Tell the Merricks whatever you want. I know what I did—what I am. I can’t undo it.”
Quinn kept her breathing shallow, scared to move.
As usual with Tyler, she wasn’t sure whether he was a good guy or a bad guy. He’d helped her—more than once, and at risk to himself. What was she going to do—tell Nick about Tyler’s secret so these mysterious killers could kill more people? Turn Tyler in for saving her life?
But he was sitting here judging the Merricks for something he struggled with himself. That was the worst kind of hypocrisy, right? Hating someone for something you hated about yourself?
I never hurt anyone with this.
Did he really believe that? He’d burned her arm. He’d brutal-ized the Merricks—she knew that from Nick. Hell, he’d gone after Becca more than once.
Or did he think that was okay because his sister had died?
That because he hadn’t killed anyone, he somehow got a free pass?
Quinn pulled the sweatpants up her legs and walked into the kitchen.
“I’ll keep your secret,” she said quietly. “You were right. I was angry—I didn’t want—I don’t—”
Then her mother’s anger and violence overtook her, and Quinn started crying.
Tyler folded her into his arms and sighed against her hair.
“What a crazy, f**ked-up night.”
She laughed through her tears, sniffling against his shoulder.
“Tell me about it.” She hesitated. “Do you really think there’s a Guide in town?”
He took a long breath. “There have been a lot of fires. I’d be more surprised if there’s not a Guide in town.”
