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I smile up at him. “I know.”
I’m second-guessing if this idea was such a good one.
Justin’s truck is a mammoth Dodge, but it may as well be a mini, as the tension fills any remaining space in the cab.
What also fills the cab is the constant dinging of Justin’s cell, alerting him to an awaiting text. I’m not sure who’s texting him, but after the twentieth message, he switches it off.
I didn’t want to be rude, so I sat up front, which was a huge mistake, as I can feel the tension radiating from Quinn every time Justin talks to me, or looks at me, or breathes the same air as me.
But what choice did we have?
As we drove out of the rest stop, three cops were checking out our vehicle, no doubt discovering it was stolen.
“I have to stop just outside of Arkansas. Is that okay with you guys?” Justin asks, looking over at me, his warm chocolate eyes revealing nothing but kindness.
“That’s fine. Thanks again for doing this.”
“No worries, Mia, anything for you.”
I hear Quinn snarl in the back seat, and I sigh.
We ride the rest of the way in almost silence, and finally, as we pull up at a hotel, Justin suggests we stay the night. He mentions he has some business to take care of, so we may need to stay for a couple of days. I don’t think that’s wise, and we should keep moving, but I won’t say anything until I speak to Quinn.
I’m not sure what our plans are, but I could use a shower and some decent food.And I also want to check in with Abi.
Justin parks his truck in front of the hotel.
“Did you want to stay with me?” Justin asks, killing the engine.
I whistle, looking up at the fancy building through the windshield.
“Perks of my job,” he replies vaguely. He still hasn’t clarified what he does for work.
It would help, seeing as the police are probably looking for us at every cheap, hidden-away motel along the highway. The odds of them looking for us here are slim. We lived large in New Orleans, so they probably think we’ve blown all our cash.
I look at Quinn over my shoulder, and he shakes his head, clearly opposed to the idea.
“Thanks, Justin, that would be awesome,” I say, ignoring Quinn’s snarl.
Justin nods and places his hand on my arm. It’s an innocent gesture, but I’m certain Justin has roughly two seconds to remove his hand before losing it to Quinn.
Justin gets the hint, and thankfully, he lets go. He tells us to wait out here while he checks in.As soon as the door shuts behind him, Quinn reaches for my arm from the back seat, yanking me toward him.
“Jesus Christ, Quinn!” I cry, shrugging out of his grip. “Do you think you could quit it with the homicidal tendencies?”
“I meant what I said. He’s lucky he still has any fingers left.”
I roll my eyes but secretly love this possessive streak in him.
“He’s doing us a favor. The police won’t look for us here. They’re probably guessing we’d be slumming it in some shithole,” I explain, and Quinn sighs, knowing I’m right.
“I get that, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. He’s obviously still in love with you.”
“What?” I gasp, repulsed. “Ew. He is not.”
“Trust me on this, Red. That torch is burning so brightly, it’s shining outta his ass.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I scoff, hoping he is.
