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Quinn scratches his whiskered chin. “Well, we’ll find out.”
“How?” I question, arching an inquisitive brow.
Quinn sucks on his lip ring, his dimple hinting at the wicked plan he’s currently conspiring. “We get the fucker wasted and find out what he knows.”
Justin has been MIA for most of the morning, which is handy, as we’ve just got off the phone with Tabitha.
She advised us not to do anything drastic until she talks to her dad because she thinks our idea of staying put is horrible. We’re supposed to call her back tomorrow, and hopefully, she’ll have some miracle solution because I’m fresh out of ideas.
Running may be the best option, but it’s proven not to be the safest. But neither is sitting and waiting to be cornered by two psychopaths.
Quinn has been quiet since speaking to Abi, and I wonder what’s on his mind.
“Are you all right?” I question as we stroll toward the hotel, dodging crazy Christmas shoppers with hands filled with shopping bags.
Quinn shrugs, his broad shoulders rising in uncertainty, which worries me.
“Hey,” I say, placing my hand on his bicep, stopping him from taking another step.
Quinn rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, meeting my eyes with a look of dread.
“I’ve thought of a plan,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “But I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it.”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
“We smoke out your dad,” he replies, running a hand through his messy hair.
I raise an eyebrow, and Quinn sighs, closing his eyes briefly.
As he opens them, the pain is evident with every deep breath. “Let that fucker find us, and when he does, you let me deal with him…my way.”
I know Quinn’swayentails a lot of violence and murder.
“No, absolutely not. No way in hell are you going anywhere near him. It’s too dangerous. You saw what they did to H—” I stop, unable to finish my sentence.
“If we’re smart, then the onlydeathwill be theirs.”
“I can’t ask you to…” An elderly couple walks past us, oblivious to our poisonous conversation. “Kill my dad,” I continue with a whisper when the coast is clear.
“You’re not asking me to do anything,” Quinn says, hooking his thumb toward his chest. “This is my choice.”
“It’s not the right choice.”
“It’s theonlychoice,” he spits stubbornly, shaking his head. “Running from those motherfuckers is no longer an option. I don’t know how, but they keep tracing our steps. It’s only a matter of time before one of us slips up, and I’d prefer it to be them.”
By the hard resolve of his jaw, I know he’s made up his mind.
Deciding to humor him, I ask, “What do you suggest we do?”
“How do you trap a predator?” he asks, looking as if he is about to be sick, and suddenly, I know why.
“With bait,” I reply softly.
In other words…me.
So Operation BAIT sounds like an awful plan in theory, but in reality, it’s the only plan we have if we don’t run. I know my dad will eventually track me down if we stay put, and I would rather be prepared when he does.
The police will hopefully see reason once I confess my story, but my dad and Phil won’t. Therefore, I’m more afraid of getting caught by them than by the police.
