Page 9 of Trusting Quin


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My cries go on for quite a while, with Cara in my ear trying to calm me down. When I get myself under control, I curse myself for being stationary for so long. What if they know what kind of car I drive?

Wiping my face quickly, I pull out of the strip mall parking lot and drive aimlessly. We’re silent for a moment, then Cara says, “Babe, you should leave. Go back to BC.”

“No. Fuck that. I will not go back there. I’ll go home. I have no money to go anywhere else and I’m not going to ask my parents for shit.”

My phone chimes and I pull it away, seeing that Cara deposited three grand into my account. “Cara” I start, but she cuts me off.

“No. You need to leave. I already sent Courtney and Nabi away. He’s catching a flight back to the States and Nabi is driving to her parents’ house in Toronto. That puts about eight hours between her and them and another country between them and Courtney. The guys and I are going to New York for a while, staying in our penthouse there until all this shit blows over. I’ve contacted the other models and they know we’ll be shut down for a bit. I need to keep everyone safe. That’s my job. I wish I had waited for his photo. I would send it in with an anonymous complaint.”

I try to cut in again, so she won’t feel guilty about my impatience, but she shushes me. “No more talk from you. You need to leave. Jax will leave the day after we do and he’s going to check your place. If you’re there, he has orders from me to hogtie you and send you back to BC. Do youwantme to send you back to your parents like that?”

That pulls a laugh out of me, along with a shudder. “No, Cara.”

“Good. That should be enough to get you somewhere, be it another province or to the States. Either way, you need to leave in the next few hours. You know where you’ll go?”

“Yeah.” No. I don’t have people. My parents would only gloat that I’m back home when I told them I’d never darken their doorstep again and my brother is off somewhere in the military. He hasn’t spoken to any of us in years. I don’t blame him. None of us were especially close. More like four strangers sharing an overpriced mansion. My grandfather lives in a retirement home, so that’s out too.

“Okay. Be gone by tomorrow morning. You hear?”

We say our goodbyes, with me promising to call her when I’m settled somewhere. For an hour or so, I drive in silence not paying attention to where I’m going. Before long, I pull into the airport. I don’t have my passport, but I have money, so I can fly anywhere within Canada.

Initially, it seemed like my subconscious was telling me I needed to suck it up and go back to BC. I was almost kidnapped for fucks sake. Maybe it’s time to realize what’s important in my life and try to make up with my parents.

The weird thing is, we’re not estranged because I’m gay. They took that shit in stride, saying they suspected when I didn’t have a girlfriend when other kids my age did and because my best friend was a girl. That last bit made no sense, since I could have been straight and had a girl as my best friend, but you can’t argue with people like them, so I just let them keep their stupid assumptions. What made us estranged is I knew they never loved me. I never felt taken care of. We had nannies but they were no real role models. My grandfather—my mother’s father—did his best, but he was on the other side of the country. We probably saw him once a year if he could afford travel. My father was fucking loaded but never thought to fly his wife’s father out—not like my mom objected about it. He said it would set a bad example for us and we’d think it was okay to give handouts. It’s no surprise I got the fuck out of there as quickly as I could.

All that rolls through my head and I sigh, imagining how smug my father will look when I show up on his doorstep when I get to the ticket counter. I look up at the wall of departures and try to find one that’s leaving for British Columbia soon, but my eyes snag on a flight leaving in forty minutes. Quebec.

My Daddy is in Quebec. He told me to call if I needed anything. Did he really mean it or was he being nice? Playing the role of caring Daddy until the date experience was over? I’m not sure, but I guess I’ll find out.

While I wait in line, I think about my Daddy and feel a sense of calm settling over me for the first time in hours. Even though I only met him once, he felt familiar, and I need familiarity right now. Seeing his wide eyes, easy grin, deep brown skin, and beautiful locs will set me at ease quicker than anything else I can think of. Just thinking of him makes me feel safe. I can only imagine how I’ll feel when I see him.

“How may I help you, sir?” the ticket agent asks when I approach the counter, smiling warmly at me.

“One way to Quebec on flight number 1015.” I drum my fingers on the counter, looking over my shoulder to make sure Andler and his crony don’t barge in here for me.

“Cutting it close,” she jokes, printing off my ticket. I laugh lightly with her and take it. “Any luggage?”

“Nope, spur of the moment trip.”

She nods and points behind her. “Your gate is C18. Luckily, it’s right next to security and it’s a slower time for travelers, so you should get through in time for boarding to start.”

I give her a shaky smile, trying to look normal and hurry through security. It doesn’t take long and I get lucky because nothing beeps or goes off like it would any other time and I’m ushered through. The ticket agent wasn’t lying—the gate is the second from security and people are already standing in line to board. I follow suit, glancing over my shoulder, but finding it unlikely that Andler and Co will buy a ticket just to kidnap me. Then I reconsider, seeing as how they booked multiple dates with an escort service out of town to kidnap someone.

If it wouldn’t look suspicious—or worse, get me kicked out of the airport—I would shoved to the front of the line so I can get on the plane and out of sight. But I keep calm and follow other passengers at a leisurely pace.

My seat on the flight is right next to the bathroom, something I would complain about any other time, but right now, I’m just thankful I’m about to get away. The flight is only two hours, so it’s not like I’ll be stuck there for an eternity.

It takes for-fucking-ever for everyone to board and I feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that I was almost abducted and I need this plane in the air and to Quebec before I break down. All I can think is how Malcolm’s strong arms felt around me and I pull in deep breaths, willing myself to keep calm until I can feel them again.

IfI can feel them again. I’m being very presumptuous, just flying in and hoping he’ll come save the day. If he turns me down, I’ll have no other choice but to go back to BC and hide out. The good thing is my parents live in a gated community that’s heavily patrolled. Even if I’m not especially happy there, I would be safe.

Reaching into my wallet, I pull out the card Malcolm left me and stare at it, memorizing the number, just in case I drop the card, or it falls in the toilet, or someone steals my wallet, or … something. I should punch the number in my phone and save it, but I like having this piece of him.

Malcolm Hayes. He doesn’t really look like a Malcolm. I’m not sure what he looks like, but that name doesn’t really suit him. I scoff to myself, looking out the window at the air traffic controllers and baggage handlers. I know the man for three, four hours tops and I think I know what name he should have? I’m a fucking idiot.

Finally, the captain comes over the speakers and tells us about our flight, the attendants give us the safety demo and then we’re jetting down the runway, pulling up into the big friendly skies. My breath comes out in a whoosh. I know I’m not completely safe just yet—not until I have somewhere to stay and regroup—but at least I’m on my way and I can relax just a little.

I pull out my phone and see that I only have seventeen percent on my battery. Instead of leaving it on airplane mode, I power it down completely, wanting to keep some battery life so I can call Malcolm. Which leaves me with nothing to do but think.

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