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My response is a laugh as I reach into my backpack for my Colt. “I don’t think so.”
Before he can object, I follow him silently, ensuring my steps are masked by the soft green carpet.
“Of course not,” Quinn replies with a sigh.
My heart beats at a deafening octave, and as the knocking gets louder and more insistent, I think I’m about to throw up in terror.
“Do you think they found us?” I whisper, not needing to clarify whotheyare.
Quinn shrugs as he replies, “I doubt they would knock, but I don’t know. I really wish you would just go wait in the bathroom.”
“How aboutyougo wait in the bathroom?” I spit back, insulted.
Quinn blows out a breath, exasperated by my stubbornness. Too bad. Besides, he should be used to my pigheadedness by now. I mean, I have a very good teacher.
As he silently approaches the small window of our room, he takes a shallow breath and uses the barrel of his pistol to inch the curtain open a fraction. I can’t see a thing as his huge back blocks my view, so I stand on tippy-toes but still can’t see jackshit.
As the knocking turns into a loud banging, I’m tempted to jump onto his shoulders so I can see who the hell it is.
“Who is it?” I demand, attempting to look over Quinn’s shoulder as he turns to face me.
By his plagued expression, I’m not sure if I want him to answer my question. But of course, curiosity gets the better of me.
“Is it them?” I ask, holding my breath.
“Worse,” Quinn replies, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans as he reaches for the doorknob.
“Worse?” I gasp, watching in awe as he stows away his piece. “Then why are you putting your gun away?”
But all my questions are answered as Quinn yanks open the door, revealing someone I never, ever expected to see.
When I see Pollyanna’s scowling face, I’m tempted to rub my eyes because there must be some mistake. But as she rudely shoulders past Quinn and me, I know I’m not mistaken.
I’m rooted to the spot as I vaguely hear Quinn shutting the door behind me, foiling my escape.
Pollyanna scrunches up her nose in disgust while gazing around our tiny lime-green room. As she runs her finger over the dusty breakfast table, she mumbles, “What a shithole,” and wipes her hand on my jacket, which is draped on the back of a chair.
Quinn stands by my side, and we watch Polly sag into the brown armchair, making herself right at home as she kicks her boots onto the stained coffee table in front of her.
I lean toward Quinn, my eyes never leaving her as I whisper in a catatonic tone, “Why did you put your gun away?”
Quinn chuckles as he kisses the top of my head, and the sound draws Polly’s attention our way. I don’t fail to notice her gaze fall to Quinn’s chest, and the feeling I had yesterday of clawing her eyes out returns.
“What are you doing here?” I bark, thankful it came out coherent and not consisting of a string of profanities.
Polly’s icy blue eyes flick to mine, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh, trust me, I do not want to be here.”
“Well, you know where the door is, seeing as you so rudely decided to break it down,” I bite back, mimicking her actions. “So don’t let it hit your spoiled ass on the way out.”
Polly’s jaw drops and Quinn sighs, obviously unimpressed by my bad manners.
“Pollyanna, hi, I’m Quinn.” He walks toward her and extends his hand when I make no attempt to move.
She shuffles to the edge of the chair, graciously accepting his hand while batting her fake eyelashes. “Hi,” she purrs, leaning forward, revealing an eyeful of boob in her low-cut top. “And it’s Polly.”
I clear my throat when she makes it more than obvious she’s checking out my very half-naked man.
“Okay, enough with the introductions. What the hell do you want, Polly?” I ask, reaching for Quinn’s discarded shirt and throwing it at him.
