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“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 un-seen 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 f**king 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.
