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“So you’re serious about her?” my sister asked, having followed me. She was leaning against the frame of my dressing room. “No games?”
Halting my frantic search for socks, I looked at her to make sure she saw how sincere I was. “Definitely no games. She’s it for me. And I’m going to get her back.”
“Okay. Then I’ll help you.”
Brushing past her, I raised a brow. “You can start with telling me when her plane takes off.”
“It’s already in the air. Don’t rush out. Take a shower. Make yourself look pretty. And then I’ll tell you all there is to know about Quinn Lombardo.”
I sank down on the bed, knowing she was right and that there wasn’t much I could do to stop a plane that was already in the air.
“Well, start talking then.”
* * *
Pulling into the quiet neighborhood, I craned my neck to be able to make out the numbers on the mailboxes. It was dark, the streetlights sparse, making it hard to read anything. It had taken me all day to track Quinn down, because instead of going to San Francisco like she told Freya, she’d gone back to Ferguson.
When I’d arrived at Quinn’s apartment and she wasn’t there, I’d called Freya. She’d been with Gunner, who’d reluctantly admitted that Quinn hadn’t stayed in San Francisco but instead had gone to her parents’ house. One of his men was watching her and reported to him every hour.
Freya had been serious when she said she’d help me. I now knew how Quinn had gotten the scar on her chin, and that she didn’t like olives on her pizza but loved them on a cheese board.
Freya had basically given me a handbook on what to do to get Quinn back. I’d always excelled in my studies and didn’t plan on slacking now.
Parking on the street, I didn’t care who saw me. The house was dark, the curtains drawn, making it impossible to look inside. Freya had told me that Quinn used to live in the apartment above her parents’ garage. That would be my first stop. If she wasn’t staying there, I’d have to find a way to get into her parents’ place.
Getting out, I went up to the car parked on the street, one of Gunner’s men inside. The window lowered as I got closer, revealing a grinning Carter. “You finally made it.”
Putting a hand on the roof, I leaned in. “She in there?”
“Hasn’t left the house since she came back.”
Straightening up, I stepped back. “Thanks.”
With a nod, Carter rolled his window up. I made my way around the side of the property, the garage set back a little from the street.
Everything was quiet, the occasional bark the only sound nearby.
Heading up the stairs, it took me only a few minutes to open Quinn’s door. She needed better locks. And an alarm system.
A gun cocking froze my movements.
“Don’t move,” a guy said, making my blood boil.Why is there a guy in her apartment? And why didn’t Carter warn me?
A light turned on, and I recognized another one of Gunner’s men. Lowering my hands, I pointedly looked at his gun. “I’m not here to harm Quinn.”
“If it isn’t Liam the great.”
Relaxing my stance, I glared at him. “You have me at a disadvantage, since I don’t know your name.”
He put his gun away but kept his hand close to his holster. “It’s Devon. And Gunner didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“Of course he didn’t.” Bastard was probably laughing his ass off at the thought of Devon possibly blowing a hole in me. Carter too. “But now that I’m here, your services are no longer needed.”
Raising a brow, he put his phone to his ear. “Yeah, it’s me.” He listened for a few minutes, his face pinching in displeasure. “Fine. But I’m leaving under protest.”
Shoving his phone in his pocket, he prowled to the door. “I’ll be watching from the street.”
Not wanting to waste more time on a pointless argument, I stepped to the side. Devon sauntered out, seemingly immune to my stare that had brought lesser men to their knees.
