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“Miss? You okay?” a nasally voice asks, snapping me out of my blackout.
“What?” I ask, looking up at the lady in front of me. She has cold eyes, unlike Hank, who always greeted me with a smile.
“She’s fine,” Quinn answers as he winds his arm around my waist to stop me from collapsing.
The lady looks from me to Quinn, pursing her thin lips.“What can I get for you, then?”
“A room, please,” Quinn replies, stepping toward the counter while softly releasing me.
Surprisingly, my feet hold me up.
“How long for?”
“Just a night,” Quinn says, pulling out his wallet.
Reaching for her silver-rimmed glasses from where they’re tangled in her wiry gray hair, she perches them on the tip of her skinny nose and begins tapping away on a computer.
“Two single beds or a double?” she asks, looking at the screen.
“Double,” Quinn says
I say, “Single.”
We reply at the same time, which is not at all awkward.
Quinn glares at me, his nostrils flaring slightly, and when we’re asked again, double or single, he replies, “Double,” without breaking eye contact with me.
I lower my eyes, unable to maintain contact. I know I’m being a total bitch to him, but I have no other choice.
“You’re in room 14. Andnopets,” she barks, curling her lip. “I saw you pull up with thatdog.”
She didn’t dare refer to Lucky in such a derogatory manner, did she?
I lean forward, bracing my hands on the counter and getting into her personal space while she leans back nervously. “The onlydogaround here is yo—”
But I’m rudely cut off by Quinn when he yanks on my arm, talking over me.
“Thanks,” he says quickly while grabbing the key card and escorting me out the door.
“Let me go!” I demand, attempting to shake myself free. But it’s pointless, as Quinn drags me toward our room without loosening his grip.
My boots drag on the gravel as I attempt to kick my heels in, but I have no doubt Quinn will drag me, kicking and screaming if need be, so I let him lead me. He unlocks our door and hurls me into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The walls rattle with the force, and I know he’s pissed.
“What is the matter with you?” he shouts, dropping our bags onto the carpet.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I smugly reply, sitting on the end of the bed.
“Bullshit, you don’t,” he huffs, stalking over to me, his huge frame dwarfing mine. “You do remember we’re on the run, right? Trying to keep a low profile is kind of imperative. But you insulting everyone you come across is not really low-profile material.”
He drops to his knees, crouching in front of me.
“I know this is hard, but…”
“I’m going to take a shower,” I snap, standing up and stepping around him, as I’m in no mood for a lecture or pep talk.
Nothing he says will change the fact that Hank is dead, and Tristan is hurt, and it’s all my fault.
“Red!” I slam the bathroom door shut, wishing I could do the same with Quinn.
