Casey Elle - Helion (Rebel Wheels #2)

Table of Contents Title page Copyright Other Books by Elle Casey Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Chapter Forty-Four Chapter Forty-Five Chapter Forty-Six Epilogue Notes About the Author Other Books by Elle Casey Acknowledgments

COPYRIGHT NOTICE © 2013 Elle Casey, all rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without author permission. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this ebook only at author-authorized online outlets that serve your country. If you’re viewing this book without having paid for it, you are pirating this creative work. PIRACY = STEALING Elle Casey thanks you deeply for your understanding and support.

Want to get an email when my next book is released? Sign up here: http://eepurl.com/h3aYM OTHER BOOKS BY ELLE CASEY *= Coming Soon NEW ADULT ROMANCE Shine Not Burn By Degrees Don’t Make Me Beautiful Rebel Hellion Trouble* Trainwreck* Hold Me Down* YA PARANORMAL ROMANCE Duality, Volume I (Melancholia) Duality, Volume II (Euphoria) YA URBAN FANTASY War of the Fae: Book 1, The Changelings - FREE! War of the Fae: Book 2, Call to Arms War of the Fae: Book 3, Darkness & Light War of the Fae: Book 4, New World Order Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 1, After the Fall Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 2, Between the Realms Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 3, Portal Guardians My Vampire Summer My Vampire Fall* Aces High (co-written with Jason Brant) YA DYSTOPIAN Apocalypsis: Book 1, Kahayatle Apocalypsis: Book 2, Warpaint

Apocalypsis: Book 3, Exodus Apocalypsis: Book 4, Haven YA ACTION ADVENTURE Wrecked Reckless

DEDICATION To Rascal. You opened up my eyes to a whole new world and I miss you more than I can say.

CHAPTER ONE I HEAR THE FOOTSTEPS BEFORE the voice. It’s my cue to jump up off my bed and lock my door before she gets too close. “Quinlan! Where are you?” I love my mom to itty bitty pieces, but if I have to sit through another one of her lectures on proper role-modeling, I’m going to move out. I swear to God, I’ll do it. Now that Teagan, my best bud in all the land, has her own apartment, I actually have options. The fact that she always declines to take me up on my roommate offers means nothing. I can wear her down; I always do. Nobody’s a match for my determination. No one. “Quinlan?” My mom checks the door. “I know you’re in there. Listen, I need to talk to you about Jersey.” My little brother. One of the three siblings I’m supposed to be setting an example for. Luckily, he’s the only one still around much anymore. The twins are way too busy with their social lives to bother with family much. “I’m busy, Mom!” I shout through the door. “Homework!” “You’re out of school and you’re not taking summer courses. Open up.” Little does she know, I actually am in the middle of a big project. But I’m going to keep that information to myself because I know what her reaction will be. I get up and crack the door open. “Mom, seriously. I’m working on some financials right now and I need to focus.” “Financials? For what?” “Just a project one of my … uh … professors gave me at the end of the semester. Extra credit stuff.” She frowns. “How are you going to get extra credit for a class that already ended?” I roll my eyes and huff out an annoyed puff of air, as if she’s the stupid one. “Mom, would you give me a break, please? It’s not like I’m smoking crack in here or anything. I’m working.” “Jersey ate another chapstick.” I smile. “Jersey has a very versatile palate, what can I say? You should be proud he’s so out of the box.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Jersey is going to get poisoned one day with you leaving your crap all over the house. I need you to be more adult about how you conduct yourself where he’s concerned.” “Mom, I’m twenty-two. I am an adult.” “Adults don’t leave things around for babies to put in their mouths.” “Mom. Jesus. Wake up and smell the coffee. Jersey is twelve years old and obviously as dumb as a box of rocks. Time to stop blaming me for his half-a-brain.” I shut the door in her face and lock it again. I dance a little jig of glee and high-five myself because I know my choice of words is going to light her butt on fire. She knows I don’t mean them and that I’d lay down my life for the little turd, but it doesn’t mean I’m above yanking her chain whenever and however I can. Hot button … pressed. Whoop!

“Quinlan! Open this door!” “I will if you stop riding my butt.” “Open it.” “I’ll tell Dad.” There’s a pause as she considers her next move. We both know what’ll happen if I drag him into the mix. He’s under no illusions that my little brother is going to be the next brain surgeon on the block. The kid’ll be lucky to graduate the sixth grade, and everyone’s on board with that fact, with the exception of my mom. And my father is not a huge fan of her always blaming everyone else for Jersey’s bullcrap, so she tends to do it out of his presence whenever possible. “You better be getting a lot of extra credit on that project,” she finally says. “Oh, I am. Believe me.” I’m going to help my best friend get her damn inheritance back if it’s the last thing I do this summer. “I need you to take Jersey to his doctor’s appointment later.” “What time?” “Two o’clock. I have to go see his therapist and come up with another plan for him. I don’t think he’s responding very well to the one we have in place right now.” “Fine, I’ll do it. Now leave me be so I can concentrate.” “Quinlan?” Her sad voice makes me open the door. “Yes, mommy dearest?” I grin to take the sting out of our conversation. “Don’t call me that. I just wanted to ask you, in a calm and rational voice, to please be more careful about leaving tempting things out in the open where your brother can get his hands on them.” I lean out of the doorway with my lips puckered up to get a kiss. When she caves and gives me one, I smile. “Don’t worry, Mom. When I’m rich and famous I’ll pay to put him in a nice home.” I pull my head in and lock the door before she can get to me. “Quinlan! That’s not funny!” “Yes it is,” I say, going back to my bed. She and I both know I’d never do that, even if it would make everyone’s life a hell of a lot easier. My brother Jersey has the energy of three boys his age and only a very small percentage of their brain power, thanks to an accident on his way out of the birth canal. He’s hell on wheels, but we love him to death. The little shit is probably going to be my roommate when my parents get too old to handle him. And when that happens, I’m going to let him eat all the chapstick he wants. That stuff smells good. Besides, who hasn’t tried a little now and again? None of us ever died from it. “I’ll send him up,” she says, her voice fading as she walks down the hall. “Mom, no!” I shout, stumbling to the door. I throw it open in time to see her disappearing around the corner. “Mom! I have to work!” “You’re an adult. Adults work and take care of kids all the time.” “But he’s not my kid!” “Make it happen, Quinlan.” “Stop calling me Quinlan!” I slam the door shut and let the steam flow from my ears. Dammit. Foiled again. Now how in the hell am I going to get this report done in time for Teagan’s attorney appointment?

CHAPTER TWO MY HEART NEARLY LEAPS OUT of my chest when the big boom hits. When I can breathe again, I jump from my bed and run to the door, opening it up. I expect to find complete disaster on my doorstep, but instead I just find Jersey in a pile, wearing a cape from three Halloweens ago. It’s way too small, but does that stop him? Hell no. He’d still be in his toddler-sized Ninja Turtle underwear if our mom hadn’t thrown them out last year. Jersey has a hard time letting go of the things he loves. He falls into my room, his head landing on my feet. “Hi, Sister,” he says, looking up at me, his expression pure innocence and mostly blank. He almost never smiles. “What are you doing, Jersey?” “Being invisible.” I sigh heavily. “Could you please go be invisible somewhere else? I’m really busy right now.” “Can you see me?” he asks, getting up on all fours and dog-walking into my room. He crawls under my desk and pulls the chair in as far as he can, trapping himself behind the legs. “Nope. You’re totally invisible. Where are you? In the kitchen? Oh, what a great idea. Why don’t you go to the kitchen?” I shut my door and go back to my bed, sitting against my headboard and putting my laptop back on my legs. “Dad said he can see me.” “Dad’s a damn liar.” I tap away at the keys, putting another bulleted point on the list of things I want the lawyer to see. “Dad’s a damn liar,” he says. “Dad’s a damn liar.” “That’s what I said. Don’t wear it out.” “Dad’s a damn liar.” I ignore him. It’s the only way to get him to shut up. He gets wound up with too much attention paid to him. “Mom’s a damn liar.” I can’t help but grin. “You should go tell her that.” “I’m not stupid, you know,” he says. I look up to find him frowning at me. “No one said you’re stupid. I’ve said you have half a brain, but that’s only an expression.” “What does it mean?” I sigh, feeling just a touch guilty. “It means you’re awesome cuz you’re not like other lame kids. Now can I please do my work?” “Dad’s a damn liar,” he says. “Yeah, I know.” “So is Mom. Mom’s a damn liar.” “Yep.” “I’m gonna go tell her.” He crawls out from under the desk. “I’m gonna go tell her right now.”

“Good. Go tell her,” I say absently, not really paying attention to him. Another glitch in these stupid reports just jumped out at me and makes me want to slap myself for not noticing it earlier. It’s added another hour to an already too-long project that I need to have done by four o’clock. I’m alone for about five minutes before I realize that it’s way too quiet in the house. With four maniac kids and two loud adults at this address, it’s never ever this quiet, not even in the middle of the night. Jersey’s a sleep-walking maniac so we always have shit going on. My brain alarm goes off when the only thing I can hear is my bedside clock ticking. I didn’t even know that thing did that. “Jersey?” I look up and out into the little bit of hallway I can see from my bed. No answer. “Shit.” I put the computer down and wander out of my room, fully expecting my brother to be pressed up against a wall pretending to be invisible. He can be very determined when he’s in the mood. “Jersey? Where are you, punk? Stop fucking around.” My other brother and sister are at camp, so they’re nowhere around at this time of the day. “Jersey!” No answer. My blood pressure creeps up. After a quick search, I realize he’s not inside the house. I move out to the backyard. Anxiety settles in as I come to the conclusion that he’s not in his little clubhouse or the shed. The only thing left is the front yard and then the great big wide-open world out there, otherwise known as my mom’s worst nightmare. Jersey is ripe for the picking. Any kidnapper, molester, or run-of-the-mill murderer would take one look at him and yell Bingo! Cha-ching! Come to papa! For the first time in my life, I believe I’m getting a taste of what my mom deals with on a daily basis, and I don’t like it one bit. “Jersey!” I scream, as I run down the front stairs and out into the yard. “Where are you, Jersey?!” Old lady Ludke from across the street waves at me frantically and then points to the side of her house. Putting her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture, she smiles. My heart-rate drops in half. Fucking Jersey. Thank God we have understanding neighbors. Living in the same place for twenty years has its benefits. I storm across the street, waving to her as I pick up the pace and jog over to the side of her house. Jersey’s there, his back pressed into her bushes, staring off into space. Invisible, my ass. There are two ways I can handle this. The first is tempting, where I grab him by the arm and drag him back home, lecturing him the entire way about giving me a damn heart attack. The other is more of a pain in the ass, but seeing him standing there with that ratty-ass cape over one shoulder and dirt smudged across his cheek is just too much. I’m left with no choice. I look away instead of manhandling him and stare off into the back yard. “Jeeeeerseeeeey? Where aaaare youuuuuu?” I walk right past him towards Mrs. Ludke’s back yard. He giggles, but I keep going. “Jeeerseeeyyy! I can’t see you if you’re invisible! You have to talk to me! I don’t want you to get left outside all day!” The evil part of my personality decides to join in the fun. I’m never one hundred percent angel, ever. “I’d hate for that lion that’s been roaming around the neighborhood to find you when he’s hungry. You know how much they like to eat little boys.” The leaves in the bushes rustle as I reach the gate leading to the backyard. “I’ll check this yard and then I guess I’ll have to call the police. And the animal control people, just in case the lion is nearby.” Little footsteps come up behind me, but I pretend to be busy with the gate latch. “Boo!” he yells, poking me in the back with a pointy finger. “Ack! Mother fucker!” I spin around and grab for him, but he’s too fast.

He takes off, shrieking the entire way, across the neighbor’s lawn and ours too before disappearing inside the house. I’m out of breath as I follow behind, half of my energy spent waving to Mrs. Ludke, the other half getting control of my heartbeat. Ten minutes later I’ve finally got him locked in my room with me and happy enough to settle down and let me work. “Tastes good,” he says, licking his lips. “Yeah. Yummy. Just don’t bite it. Put it on, lick it off. That’s how it works. That’s how the cool kids do it.” He lifts the grape chapstick to his lips. “Put it on …,” he smears it all around his mouth about ten times, “…lick it off.” The licking part is kind of nasty, but as long as I don’t look directly at him, I’m fine. My fingers fly across the keys as I finish up my report. All the while I’m working, I follow the rhythm set by my little brother … “Put it on … lick it off … put it on … lick it off…”

CHAPTER THREE THE BURBLING OF THE ENGINE outside jerks me out of my computer fog. Snatching the papers off my printer, I don’t even spare a glance at Jersey on my way out. “Stay here, turd breath. I’m going to see Teagan outside for a couple minutes.” “Put it on … lick it off ...” Two people are getting out of her Beetle by the time I get to the front porch. I fully expect to see her boyfriend with her, but instead am pleasantly surprised to see his younger brother, Mick. Holy hotness. I put on my coolest expression and add a little sway to my groove, slowing down my arrival so he can fully appreciate it. I know I shouldn’t be trying to catch his attention like that, but I can’t help myself. He makes me want to drop my panties right here on the sidewalk. I have a slight addiction to tattoos and bad attitudes, and he fits the bill perfectly. Plus, he’s gainfully employed, so that’s just a bonus. “Hey, Quin. You all done?” Teagan asks. I throw my arms around her and pull her into a hug, knowing she’d never do it if I left it up to her. “Yes. All done.” I draw back and hand her the papers. “It’s all in here, with a report and list of stuff all laid out. It should be really easy for him to see what’s going on. Then he can pay an expert to do it the official way.” I look over at Mick. “Hey,” I say, all nonchalant, like I have hot guys driving up in front of my house every day. No big. “Hey,” he says, a lazy smile coming over his face. “What’s up?” I shrug. “Nothing much.” Turning my attention back to Teagan, I smile again. “So, you off to your appointment?” I can ignore hot guys like they’re not there. Invisible hot guys. I can’t see you, Mick. I’m too cool for that. “Yeah. You want to come?” “Can’t. I gotta watch Jersey.” Teagan nods her understanding, but Mick laughs. “You watch that show?” “What show?” I’m momentarily confused, knowing I’m somehow being mocked but now sure how or why. Mick is about to answer, but then he’s suddenly distracted. His mouth freezes halfway open and his gaze shifts to focus on something behind me. Jersey’s voice comes over my shoulders. “Put it on … lick it off …” I roll my eyes as Teagan smiles. “Yo, Jersey, how’s it hangin’?” she asks. I look over at Mick, suddenly nervous about what he’ll think. I hate that I’m feeling this way, so it instantly pisses me off. Mostly at him but also at myself. I’ve been dealing with reactions to my brother for more years than I care to think about, and it never gets any easier. If anything, it’s tougher. I hate that the world is so judgmental, because there is no one on this planet with a bigger, squishier heart than my Jersey boy.

Jersey stops at my side, staring at Teagan. “Hi, Tea-Tea. I have chapstick.” “I can see that,” she says, battling to keep the smile from turning into a laugh. “Looks good on you, buddy.” “I have to put it on and lick it off. I can’t bite it. Sister says only assholes eat chapstick.” Mick snorts and Teagan turns around, suddenly interested in the neighbor’s lawn across the street. I grit my teeth to keep calm. “Go back in the house, Jersey.” “You can’t see me,” he says, staring at Mick. “I can’t?” Mick looks at me. “Is he talking to me?” “Don’t make fun of him,” I say, my anger hitting level-ten in an instant. Mick frowns. “I’m not.” “You can’t see me. I’m invisible,” says Jersey, stepping towards Mick. I grab Jersey by the arm. “In the house, turd basket, or I’m telling Mom.” “Mom’s a damn liar,” he says. Teagan is chuckling but she does a great job of keeping most of it controlled. I’m torn between laughing and crying, knowing Mick is standing there judging me and my brother and finding us lacking. I hate Mick for that. “I’ve gotta go,” I say, defeat and disappointment lacing my voice. “Come on, Jersey,” I say, taking him by the hand. “I want to talk to him,” he says, pointing to Mick. “He doesn’t want to talk to you, though, so come on.” I tug on his arm, but he’s stuck to the ground like a statue. “Hey, I never said that.” Mick steps forward, like he’s going to follow us. I lean towards him and drop my voice so Jersey won’t hear. “Hey, no offense, but fuck off, okay?” Mick leans away, his expression going dark. “No offense? Kind of hard to not take offense to that, don’t you think?” I close my eyes to get a grip on my anger. Jersey pulls his hand out of mine and walks over to Mick, taking his instead. “Come on. I’ll show you how to be invisible. You can use my chapstick if you don’t bite it.” Mick actually takes a few steps with Jersey before I intervene. “Hey! That’s enough, okay?” “Mick, I’m leaving,” says Teagan, giving me a hopeless look. “My appointment’s downtown at four-thirty.” “Go ahead without me. Rebel’s meeting you there.” Mick continues on towards my house. “What the fuck?” I say, looking from Teagan to Mick’s back. He’s getting closer and closer to my front steps. “I guess he’s going to hang with Jersey for a little while.” Teagan leans in and gives me a quick hug, which is enough to shock me into silence. She never ever does that. “I have to go. I’ll swing by in about an hour and pick him up if he’s still here.” “But … but … he can’t be here.” “Why not? Jersey invited him in to play. He’s going to show him the whole put-it-on-lick-it-off thing.” Teagan’s smiling again. “Would you quit that!” I finally yell. “Quit what?” she says, getting into her car. “Quit smiling and hugging me and shit! That’s not … normal! Not for you!” She starts up her car and pulls away from the curb. “Have fun!” she shouts as she disappears down the road. I stand out on my front walk, trying to decide what to do. It’s not like I have much choice, really, but it feels like I’ve just entered another dimension or something. A place where bad boys come over and

have play dates with developmentally challenged little brothers … little brothers who have to go to the doctor. “Oh, fuck me sideways. I forgot his appointment.” I run into the house, yelling for Jersey to get his cape off so we can get to the doctor’s office and hopefully talk our way into being seen, even though we’re two hours late for the appointment.

CHAPTER FOUR WE’RE SITTING IN THE WAITING room, the three of us: Jersey, Mick, and I. Any other doctor would probably punish us for being so late and either turn us away or make us wait until the last person left the place, but not this guy. Doc Harper is the most righteously awesome medical person I’ve ever met. He’s been treating Jersey since he was born and I hope he never retires. I’ll probably just show up at his house if he tries. Mick is sitting across the room from me, taking the chapstick from Jersey over and over and pretending to put it on and lick it off right along with him. I want to keep hating him for being nice and sexy at the same time, but that makes no sense. I’m not so confused that I don’t realize that. I also want to be mad about him being here, but he’s made that impossible. I’m starting to seriously doubt that he was mocking us earlier. What kind of guy bonds with a kid like Jersey and then goes to the doctor with him off the cuff like that? I pray he’s not a pervert, because damn. He is too hot for LA, if that’s even possible. I will kill him with my bare hands if he’s playing me or my brother, though. No amount of hotness is going to save him from that. “Tastes good, huh?” Jersey asks. “Yep. Tastes good.” Mick hands him the chapstick and glances at me before going back to looking at my brother. I think I scared him earlier with my bitch attack. He hasn’t talked to me since we were on the front lawn of my house. I sigh heavily, thinking how much I hate having to apologize for my mouth. It’s not the first time this kind of thing has happened, with me jumping to the wrong conclusion where my brother is concerned. But no one who’s lived a year in my shoes would blame me. Jersey’s been bullied, harassed, and even physically hurt by guys who don’t get him or his issues, so I’m hypersensitive to it now. It’s the main reason I give him so much shit myself. I guess it’s my way of helping to toughen him up for the real world. My mom has this irrational need to get Jersey self-sufficient and supporting himself by the time he’s twenty-one. She’s convinced she’s going to die young and leave her poor baby alone in the world to fend for himself, and no assurances on my part will sway her from thinking otherwise. It might have something to do with the fact that I threaten to put him in a home on a fairly regular basis, but she knows I’m kidding. I’d cut off my right arm for Jersey, that’s a fact. “Doctor Harper Harper Harper,” Jersey says, getting off the ground and standing up to meet the main man. “Jersey, Jersey, Jersey … how are you doing today?” “I got chapstick.” “I can see that. What flavor is it?” Doc Harper gestures for us to follow him into one of the exam rooms. He knows better than to have us wait in there. Jersey is pure hell to keep out of the tongue depressors and cotton balls; the waiting room is safer for everyone until the doctor is ready to see him. “Grape. It’s very grapey. Come on, Mickey Mouse, come with us.” Jersey holds out his hand for

Mick. Mick hesitates, looking from the doctor to me to Jersey. “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like,” Doc Harper says, giving me a knowing smile. “He’s not with me,” I say, holding up my hands at my chest and waving them back and forth. “He’s Jersey’s new BFF.” The doctor stops and frowns at all of us. “Nah, man, I know her,” says Mick, his face going a little red. “It’s not like that. I’m with her too.” He glares at me. “What?” I say, mystified as to why I’m on the shit list now. “That’s fine,” says the doctor, walking again. “If Jersey wants one of his sister’s friends to join us, I’m okay with it.” “I can wait out here, that’s fine,” Mick says, backing up towards his chair. “No! Come on, Mickey Mouse.” Jersey leans over and takes his hand, pulling on it really hard. Mick stops his retreat. I thank the stars that he knows enough not to fight Jersey on this. When the little turd gets something in his head, there’s not a whole lot that will get it out until he’s good and ready. There are times when we put our foot down and tell him no and then deal with the fallout, but the doctor’s office is not one of those places. I mouth the words, Thank you, at Mick as he walks by, but he doesn’t acknowledge me at all. I grit my teeth together to keep from following up my gratitude with a little F-U action. How dare he not be under my spell, forgiving me for everything I do wrong with just a bat of my long black eyelashes. What’s up with that? Once we’re all in the room with Jersey on the exam table, Mick standing in the corner of the room, and me in the chair, the doctor begins his examination. “So, Jersey, what’s new?” He feels Jersey’s skull through his hair. I have no idea why he always does that. Maybe he’s checking for bumps. The kid is pretty klutzy. “I got a chapstick and I’m not an asshole so I don’t eat it. See?” He holds it out in front of him, waiting to make sure the doctor is giving him his full attention. “I put it on …” He smears it all around his mouth. “….And then I lick it off.” His tongue comes out and gives the lower half of his face a bath. The doctor is used to Jersey’s b.s., so he doesn’t even crack a smile. “Interesting. Can I see that chapstick?” “Yes. And you can use it too.” Jersey hands it over. The doctor squints as he reads the label. “I’m not sure using too much of this chapstick will be a good idea for you, Jersey. Do you want to know why?” He hands the chapstick back. “Yes. I want to know why. I always want to know why.” “Because it has a lot of ingredients in it that might eventually irritate the skin on your face. And when you put it on your lips, it gets on your face too. Do you understand?” Jersey sits there silently, and I tense up when I see the mutinous expression begin to appear on his face. “Oh, man, that’s not good,” says Mick. “I got a rash from a chapstick once. I stayed awake all night scratching it. When I woke up the next day, I looked like a clown with a big red mouth.” Jersey whips his head sideways to look at Mick, his expression now closer to terror. “I hate clowns.” Mick nods. “Yeah, man. Me too. They freak me out.” “Clowns freak me out,” says Jersey, turning back to the doctor. “Here. You take it.” He gives him the chapstick. Doctor Harper puts it in his pocket. “I’m going to give you a special chapstick that you can use one

time after each meal, okay? Three times a day. That’s all. If you only use it three times a day, there will be no rash.” “Does it taste good?” “Not really,” the doctor says, frowning. “Is that a problem?” Jersey sighs. “No, I guess not. I like to lick things that don’t taste that good sometimes.” “Is that so?” asks the doctor, looking in Jersey’s ears and then checking his eyes. “Like what?” “I licked cat food once.” Mick looks at the ceiling, visibly controlling his laughter. I roll my eyes, knowing we’re about to get a list of all the times Jersey was left unsupervised. My mom leaves cat food out on the back porch for a couple strays. I wonder how many of these taste-tests happened while I was supposed to be watching him. “Cat food’s okay. I wouldn’t recommend you eat it very often, but it won’t hurt you.” The doctor turns on his little flashlight and shows it to Jersey. “Open wide.” Jersey opens his mouth and waits about two seconds before revealing more awful stuff. “I licked the floor in the kitchen. Mom said Sister has to make it so clean you can eat off it, so I did.” I drop my head into my left hand, knowing he had to have licked some seriously gross crap that day since I never clean as well as my mom wants me to. Time to up my game in the floor-cleaning department, I guess. “I don’t recommend any more floor-licking. Lots of germs on the floor being tracked in by dirty shoes,” says the doctor, banging Jersey’s knees with the little rubber hammer. “My turn!” Jersey yells, startling all of us. He holds out his hand for the mallet. “Just one time.” Doc Harper hands it over and waits. We all wait. Mick even stands still, not knowing what’s about to happen but obviously interested in finding out. Jersey holds up the tiny hammer in front of his face and turns slowly around the room. “Who needs their flexes checked?” “Reflexes,” I say. “It’s reflexes, not flexes.” “Mickey Mouse!” He slides off the table and walks over to where Mick is standing. With one fell swoop, he leans down and hammers the shit out of the poor guy’s knee. “Holy shii….” Mick says, leaning down and putting his hand on his leg. “Ha! Your flexes are working!” Jersey yells, smiling as he returns to his former spot. He puts the hammer in the doctor’s waiting hand and gets back up on the exam table. “We all good?” Doc Harper asks. “Yeah. Mickey Mouse is very healthy.” I cannot look at Mick. My stomach is burning with the pain of not laughing at him. He totally asked for it, offering to come to the doctor and lick chapstick all day. This’ll teach him to think before he acts all nice next time. “Okay, now it’s time for the questions,” says the doctor, taking a clipboard in hand. “You ready?” “I’m ready.” Jersey nods and focuses on the floor. “Go, team, go.” “What day is it today?” “It’s the day after Wednesday and the day before Friday which is Thursday. It’s Thursday all day long until midnight.” “Very good. Who are the people in this room with you today?” “Sister, Doc Harper Harper Harper, and Mickey Mouse.” “Is Mickey Mouse a person or a cartoon?” “Mickey Mouse is a cartoon in Disney and he’s a man over there in the corner and he likes my sister. I saw him looking at her with sparkling eyes.” “Oh my god,” I whisper. I stare at the floor, knowing there’s no way I can stop this freight train.

When Jersey gets on a roll, no one can stop him. No one who doesn’t want a giant tantrum on their hands can, anyway. I can hear the doctor’s smile in his voice. “Sparkling, huh? Sounds serious. Tell me how old you are.” “I’m twelve. I’m in the sixth grade. I’m very smart in a special way. I’m different, not less. Sister says I have half a brain.” My face flames red. I have the slight urge to explain but I don’t bother. This will just go down in the records as me being a questionable influence, once again. I’m used to it. “Uhhh … okay. And what are your plans for tomorrow?” “I don’t know for sure about anything except for one thing.” “What’s that?” the doctor asks. “I’m not going to lick that chapstick or that floor anymore. I don’t want a rash.” “Good idea.” “What about other things?” Jersey asks. I look up, not sure where this is going. Jersey has the doctor’s full attention too. “What other things?” the doctor asks. “What do you mean?” “If someone told me to lick something else, is that okay?” My heart stops beating and my throat goes instantly dry. I stand without thinking, reaching out for my brother. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mick straighten up. The doctor tucks his clipboard under his arm, his voice revealing none of the panic that I’m feeling. “Well, that would depend on what it was, I guess. You can lick pretty much any food item, but that might be the limit as far as I’m concerned.” Jersey looks off to the side, staring at the wall for his next question. “What about a cat poo? Would that be okay to lick?” The doctor clears his throat. “Um, no. That would definitely not be okay to lick. There are lots of bacteria in cat poo.” “Good,” says Jersey, getting down off the exam table, breathing a sigh of relief. “Cuz they taste pretty bad. I’m not going to do that ever again, either.” He holds out his hand. “I’m done now, Doctor Harper Harper Harper. Have a nice day.” After shaking the doctor’s hand, he leaves the room. The door remains open behind him. I stand there frozen in place, my mouth hanging open. We don’t even own a fucking cat. “I’m going to wait out there with Jersey,” Mick says, beating a hasty retreat. I wish I could run out there with him, but I know I can’t. After the door shuts, I swallow with difficulty and try to speak. “Uhhh, Doc … gah … uh …” He holds up a hand. “Listen … I know that no one in your family has asked your brother to lick … well, let’s just say … inappropriate things. But we need to keep in mind that he’s very vulnerable and still needs quite a bit of supervision. People take advantage of the weak.” My face burns a deep red. “I know that. We all know that. Believe me, we live with it every day.” “Hey, I don’t want you to feel like you have to watch him like a hawk, okay?” He bends at the waist a little and shoots me with his doe-brown laser beam eyes, making me want to cry. He’s too understanding to be a real doctor. “He needs to spread his wings a little and be out in the world on his own if he’s ever going to be independent. But let’s do this in baby steps, okay?” “I don’t see why he needs to be independent at all. I think you guys are nuts.” I grab my purse and throw it over my shoulder, disgusted with the conversation already. Jersey is way too vulnerable to be independent. I’ve watch for twelve years while he’s been systematically been bullied, hurt, and manipulated by evil kids. I can only imagine what adults would do to him out in the real world. “You don’t agree?”

“No. I don’t.” I’m more than irritated now. The holy mother of all cusswords is banging on the door of my mouth, begging to be let out. Man, it would feel soooo good, too. “And what would you have us do?” I throw up my arms. “I don’t know. Just … keep him busy and watched over.” “Who’s going to do that? Your aging parents?” “No.” “You?” I shrug, sticking my chin out in challenge. “Sure. Why not?” “Because I assume one day you’re going to want to get married and have children of your own.” “So? Jersey’s not going to stop that from happening.” I’m two seconds away from bobbing and weaving my head around in true home-girl fashion. Doc Harper has my back up now. He presses his lips together and sighs. “You say that now… but you cannot possibly imagine how difficult it would be to raise a newborn with Jersey in the house.” This is the first time I’ve ever been angry at the good doctor. I hate to think what he’s suggesting about my brother or me. I walk over to the door and put my fingers on the handle before delivering my final parting shot. “Actually, I can imagine. I’ve been taking care of that cat-poo-licker his entire life. For twelve years. I’ve wiped his ass after he’s shit his pants during dinner, I’ve dressed him in clothes he hates and gotten a black eye for it, and I’ve watched over him and kept him out of trouble more hours than I could ever count, except for I guess that one time he licked cat shit. He’s my brother and my responsibility. I’ll make sure he’s fine, regardless of whether he’s ever independent, you can count on that.” I open the door and step out before the doctor has a chance to respond. I’m too pissed to debate Jersey’s issues right now. I just want to get home and forget this day ever happened. My mom is going to blow a major gasket when she hears about what Jersey said. Mick is out in the waiting room listening to Jersey recite the capitals of all the states, nodding in appreciation even when he gets most of them wrong. “…And the capital of North Dakota is South Carolina. See? It’s tricky like that. You have to really try to remember, but you can do it, Mickey Mouse. You can do it. I believe in you.” “Come on, time to go home,” I say. I’m completely exhausted. All I want to do is go home and take a two-week-long nap. Jersey stands without a fight. “Come on, Mickey Mouse. Time for dinner.” “He’s not staying for dinner,” I say as we go out to the car. “He’s busy.” We get in the vehicle and I start it up, looking in the back seat to be sure Jersey is putting his seatbelt on. “Are you busy?” Jersey asks, looking sad. “Yeah, I’m pretty busy,” Mick says, settling into the front seat next to me. “Maybe another time, Jman.” I’m angry at his answer. Does it mean he’s regretting hanging out with my brother? Does it mean he hates me? Or is he really busy? Argh, I want this day to have never happened. Nothing with Jersey is ever easy. And no matter what Mick does, I’m going to assume the worst. I can’t even look at him. “Who’s J-man?” Jersey asks, confused. I can see his scrunched-up face in the rearview mirror as I reverse out of our parking space. “That’s you. J is for Jersey,” Mick explains as I pull out onto the main road. There’s a giant elephant in the car, namely the identity of the person responsible for the poo-licking, but I’d rather die than discuss it in front of Mick. I’ve decided that I’m glad he got the hint and said he couldn’t come to dinner. I can only take so much humiliation coming from my family for one day before I snap. And when I snap, it’s never pretty. Not that I care what Mick thinks. Maybe it would be good for

him to see me all snapped out. Then I could write off the errant thoughts of him naked as tiny brain aneurisms on my part and move on with my life. Twenty minutes later after a car ride filled with lists of state capitals, we arrive back at our house. I realize then that I forgot to bring Mick home. “Shit.” I rest my head on the steering wheel as Jersey gets out and sprints up the front walk and into the house, yelling the entire way. “What’s the matter?” Mick asks. “I forgot to drive you home.” I want to cry. I don’t think I can be alone with him now. Or ever for that matter. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call my brother.” He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. “No, I’ll take you.” “No, that’s fine,” he says, getting out of the car and turning his back on me. It probably should be a relief, but his refusal to allow me to take him home feels like a rejection and just pisses me off more. My brain is making no sense. First I hate him and never want to see him again and then I wonder if he might like me someday. As I watch him on his phone, I can’t help but wonder if the reason he’s saying no to my ride offer is because he really dislikes me or because he’s had enough of the Torres household to last a lifetime. Either reason sucks big donkey dong. Jersey appears out on the porch with my mom in tow. I get out of the car and rush up to meet them, my heart going way too fast. Screw caring about Mick and wanting him to like me. This cannot happen. “Hey, Mickey Mouse!” Jersey yells, leaving Mom with me on the lawn. “What’s this all about?” she asks. “Mom!” I grab her arm and squeeze it, talking low and fast. “Don’t let him stay for dinner! Tell Jersey no! Tell him Mick’s busy! Tell him we don’t have enough food! Tell him … tell him … tell him you’re dying of a dread disease and don’t have time to host guests for dinner anymore!” She smiles at me. “What’s gotten into you? Are you okay? How’d the doctor’s go?” “Mom! Are you even listening to me?! I’m serious!” Jersey walks up with Mick’s hand in his. “This is Mickey Mouse and I want him to come to dinner.” Mick holds out his hand. “Hello, Mrs …” “Torres. But you can call me Linda,” my mom the traitor says. I glare at her but she ignores me completely. In fact, the smile on her face says she’s enjoying this way too much. I would pinch her on the butt if Mick wasn’t looking right at her. “You’re welcome to stay, Mick. We have plenty of food.” “That’s okay. I was just trying to reach my brother to get a lift home.” She reaches out and takes his wrist. “Nonsense. You’re staying here for dinner and Quinlan can take you home after dessert.” “Quinlan?” he asks me as he’s being led away, an evil grin lighting up his face. I shake my head and give him the death-ray glare, mouthing every cuss word I know in his direction. All he does is smile. And then he has the absolute gall to wink at me.

CHAPTER FIVE I’M IN THE BATHROOM, SITTING on a closed toilet lid with my cell phone pressed to my ear. “Come on, come on, pick up the phone, Tea-Tea...” “Hello, sweetie cakes, what’s up?” I want to scream when I hear her say that. “What the fuck is wrong with all you people?” I say in a whisper-growl. “Well, that’s an interesting way to start a phone call,” Teagan says, a smile in her voice. “Since when did you start calling me sweetie cakes?” “Since today, I guess. You got a problem with it?” “No. But I do have a problem with everyone doing shit that I don’t expect, okay? So if you could just go back to being the old scowly grumpy Teagan for right now, that would be first-class. Seriously.” “Wow, who shit in your Wheaties?” “Good. That’s better. Mick shit in my Wheaties if you must know.” “Mick? Mick as in Rebel’s Mick?” “Yes. His little brother. The ass-kissing, hot sexy, liar, jerk face, … guy in my house right now, sitting down to eat dinner with my whole frigging family. That guy.” My mother’s voice comes in faintly through the wood of the bathroom door. “Quuuiiinlaaaan … diiiiinnnerrr!” “Fuck me sideways, it’s dinner time.” I rest my elbow on the counter and put my forehead in my hand. My head has suddenly become too heavy to be carried by my neck alone. “So, go have dinner,” Teagan says. “Stop acting all casual like that!” I yell, jerking my head off my hand so I can flap my fingers all over the place. “I can’t just go have dinner!” “Uh … am I missing something?” I bang my phone on my forehead a few times to get a grip on my temper. “Yes. I forgot to tell you about my shitcake of a day.” “Okay, tell me.” “You left Mick here and Jersey glommed onto him like stink on poo, and then Mick ended up following us to the doctor’s office where he heard all kinds of awful shit about Jersey doing shit he shouldn’t be doing and now he’s here for dinner too!” “Wow, you move fast. When’s the wedding?” “It wasn’t me! It was Jersey! And Mick! They’re in some sort of evil plan together to make me insane.” I huff out some air to push my hair off my forehead. “You won’t frigging believe what those two have been doing.” “Maybe he’s just trying to get laid. By you, I mean, not Jersey.” “You know what? That would be fine, because in all honesty, I do find him more hot than is probably legal. But this is not the way to do it. You do not get into my pants through mesmerizing my

brother. That’s just wrong.” I’m sad, because as self-righteous as I sound, I’m pretty sure that’s not Mick’s goal. He seems more interested in just goofing around with Jersey than even talking to me. “That sounded really wrong.” “Yeah, well, whatever. Jersey licked cat poo. Did I tell you that?” When Teagan stops laughing she responds. “What cat poo has to do with Mick getting into your pants, I’m not even sure I want to know.” “It’s a long story. It’s not connected. Anyway, I have to go to dinner.” “And Mick is there?” “Yes. He’s here. And I want to know all about your lawyer appointment but not now. I have to go murder my whole family first.” “Don’t murder them. Just pity them. And say hi to Mick for me. Does he need a ride home?” “Yes! Come get him now. I’ll box up his dinner.” “I’ll see you in an hour. Have fun,” she says, way too cheerily. “Payback can be a real bitch,” I growl. “I look forward to it.” She disconnects the call and leaves me alone on the toilet. “Quin, it’s time for dinner,” my younger sister says through the door. “Mom says come or you’re on dishes.” I leap up and throw open the door, reaching for the little turd so I can torture her until she cries uncle. She’s too fast for me, though, and she runs down the hall ahead of me, sounding like a herd of screaming elephants. “I’ll get you later, Shasta!” You’d never know she’s sixteen by the way she’s acting right now. Some things never change. I take a deep breath in and let it out, focusing all my energy on connecting with the calm, rational part of my brain. It’s been hiding for the last couple hours, but with enough effort, I know I can make it through this meal in one piece and without committing assault or battery against any of my loved ones. Putting my now frizzy hair up into an elastic, I follow my sister down the hall and into the dining room.

CHAPTER SIX I ARRIVE AT THE TABLE and find Mick sitting next to the only empty seat, the one I usually take. Acting like it’s no big deal at all, I sit down and put my napkin in my lap. I can feel the heat coming from his body near my arm and leg. Shasta and my other sister, Olympia, are busy whispering and giggling, glancing up at him every couple second. Idiots. My father hands me a big bowl of rice. “So, smiley face, tell us about the doctor’s appointment.” I keep my attention on the rice. Trying not to spill any of the grains helps me stay calm. “Well, let’s just say it was interesting and leave it at that.” “No, let’s just have the details,” my dad says, handing me the next dish with a stack of tortillas on it. “I talked to Doctor Harper Harper Harper and answered all his questions,” Jersey says. “He was nice. He’s always nice. I don’t want a rash. Clowns suck.” I hand Mick the rice and his fingers brush up against mine. My heart does a flip as I try to pretend like I don’t notice how warm they are or that just being next to him is making me crazy. I swear my legs start to tremble over the idea of my skin being on his. Ugh, I hate myself. “Did you see a clown at the office?” my mother asks. “No. Mick has a clown face with a rash,” Jersey explains. Everyone either nods or ignores him. Asking for explanations of his inner brain-workings are always an exercise in futility. “So, Mick, how long have you known Quinlan?” my father asks. He uses that special father-tone in his voice that says ever so much more than his words actually do. While his mouth asks about the extent of our relationship, his tone is saying that Mick better think twice about trying any funny business with his daughter. My sisters are back to giggling. I wish the floor would open up and just suck me into a giant sink-hole right now. It’s like I’m fifteen again. I hate living at home. I have to move out, like really soon. I wonder if my parents would let me take Jersey with me. “Well, not very long actually. I met her at my brother’s garage the first time and then again at a club a few weeks ago where I work. And her friend Teagan is dating my brother, so I see her around.” “A club, huh?” My dad has stopped serving himself. “And what kind of club would that be?” “Yeah, what kind of club would that be, Quin?” asks Shasta. “A strip club?” “Dad,” I drop my fork on the table, “could we not give him the third degree about my life? If you want to know what I’m doing when I’m not here, just ask me.” I don’t even going to look at my sister or acknowledge her comment. That’ll just throw gas on her teasing fire. Besides, I’m going to give her a nuclear wedgie later when Mick’s gone to straighten her out. “Hey, hey, no need to get all sensitive over it. I was just asking the boy a question.” Mick is looking at me; I can sense his gaze on the side of my face. But I can’t return the gesture. Our lips would be just inches apart and I’d probably do something really stupid with that kind of temptation so near.

“Let’s change the subject,” I suggest. “How was work?” “Same old, same old…” My father goes on to detail the latest drama at the electric company where he works, and it all turns into one giant droning sound in my brain. I’m casually eating a burrito, conscious of every movement Mick makes next to me. He’s not shy about digging in, a fact that’ll make my mom deliriously happy. She’s one of those people who equates food with love, which explains why my ass is almost an axe-handle wide. Thank God my actual waist is immune to caloric intake. My mother is responding to something my father said when Mick’s bare arm rubs up against mine. Deep breaths. It’s no big deal. Just act like nothing’s up. I keep eating, but then it happens again. And again. I can hear my heartbeat in my own ears. Is he doing it on purpose? Does he feel it like I do? He leans over and whispers in my ear. “Can you pass the hot sauce, please?” “Ew, hot sauce,” says Shasta. “I like mild salsa.” “Mild is for quitters,” Olympia says. The two of them commence a minor girl-slap fight, but Mick ignores all of it. He’s staring at me as he waits for me to comply with his request. Holy hot sauce. Breathe, Quin, breathe. I reach my arm out like a shot and knock the bottle over in my haste. “Oh, fuck,” I say as the cap flies off and lands in my sister’s plate. “Hey, language, Quinlan,” my mom says, frowning. My sisters high-five each other. Jersey’s tapping the bottom of his fork on the table to some rhythm only he can hear as he stares off into nothingness. “Sorry.” I hand the bottle to Mick. He wraps his whole hand around it, trapping mine against the glass container. I turn quick and open my mouth to complain, but he’s smiling and his mouth is just two inches from mine. “Nervous about something?” he asks, flicking his eyebrows up once. I yank my hand away. “No. Should I be?” I take a bite of beans, acting like I’m not having a heart attack right here at the dinner table. My family is so busy arguing about which is better, mild or hot salsa, that nobody notices I’m being freaked out and messed with by a true master player. Mick is just plain dangerous. I seriously underestimated his skills. “Maybe you should be. Depends.” His leg brushes up against mine, and I both hate and love the fact that I chose to wear shorts today. “Shut up,” I whisper under my breath. I’m about to give him a heavy dose of reality when his hand goes under the table and touches my bare thigh. “You’ve got great legs,” he whispers. Then in a louder voice, he says, “Quinlan, could you pass the guacamole?” He takes his hand off my thigh and uses his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Mrs. Torres, the food is amazing. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages.” “What? Are you serious? What are you eating?” she asks, totally falling for the charm that oozes out of every pore of his body. “Hot Pockets, I’ll bet,” says Olympia. Shasta starts singing a Hot Pockets song I’m pretty sure she made up since it involves mention of bodily functions. I want to hate him for what he’s doing to me and my entire family, but I have to respect him on some level. I’m pretty sure my mom’s about to offer to adopt him and my sisters are just turning into complete and utter fools in his presence. Thank God at least Jersey has found his happy, calm place. Dinner usually chills his gills and I’m glad tonight is no exception. “I eat frozen pizza and TV dinners, mostly. Life of a bachelor non-cook, I guess.” He shrugs like he

didn’t just invite himself to the next fifty family meals. Man, he’s good. “Well, you’re welcome here anytime,” my mom says, while my dad nods. Suckers. I drop my fork in frustration. It’s ridiculous how naive my parents are. Can’t they see he’s just working us over? “No, he’s not,” I say, a little sharper than I meant to. Everyone stops talking at the same time and looks at me. Jersey’s expression goes into the land of the lost. My sisters appear excited over the events that are about to unfold. Apparently, I’ve thrown down the gauntlet without even realizing that’s what I was doing. “Quinlan, what is wrong with you tonight?” My dad leans in and squints his eyes at me. “Are you feeling okay?” I throw my napkin on the table next to my plate, flustered and angry at myself and the current circumstances I’ve created. “I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little pissed that you blew off my best friend Teagan when she needed a place to stay and you’re about to adopt this guy right off the street without even knowing him. No big deal.” I leave the room in a huge hurry, knowing I just showed off the very worst part of my personality the one that speaks before thinking and the one that is sometimes stuck with the brain of a twelve-year-old girl. Something about Mick completely throws me off my game, and it’s freaking me out. Why am I an idiot whenever he’s around? Why can’t I just be cool? I storm off to my bedroom and flick on my stereo, flopping down on my bed, stomach-first. Smashing my pillow over the back of my head, I force myself to block out the sounds of anything but the music. I don’t even want to hear my own thoughts. I don’t know how much later I feel someone tugging on my foot. I roll over, ready to blast whoever it is, but I zip my mouth before I can. My mom is sitting there with her sad face on. I can never fight the sad face. “Sweetie, I want to talk to you for just a second.” “Fine. Talk.” I throw my pillow behind my head and punch it on the sides a few times to fluff it up. “You had a hard time at the doctor’s office today, didn’t you?” I sigh heavily but say nothing. I don’t need to burden my mom with that crap. She has enough on her plate. “What did he say? Is Jersey okay?” “Yes, he’s fine. It’s nothing. I’m just in a mood. My period’s coming or something.” “Mick seems nice,” she says, giving me a tentative smile. “Mom, don’t, okay? He’s not interested in me.” It makes me almost cry to say that. “He came with Teagan and Jersey snagged him and he felt obligated to follow through. That’s it. He’s not here for me or for him. He’ll be gone soon and you’ll never see him again.” She jiggles my foot some more. “I wouldn’t count on that.” She stands, but now she’s got my attention, so I sit up quickly. “What’d he say? Did he say something?” I bite my lip, wishing I didn’t sound so eager. “He said lots of things, but you’ve been too busy having a pity party to hear them. Come on down for dessert.” I flip over onto my side, hating that she’s right. “No. I’m too tired. Teagan’s coming to get Mick any minute. Tell him I said goodbye.” “You sure?” she says at the door. “Yes,” I say, not sure at all. I’m probably making a big mistake by being so rude, but my heart won’t let me leave my room. I’ve gotten my hopes up with guys before, but any of them that got close enough to be near my family never stuck around much longer after that. I’ve pretty much come to terms with the fact that I’ll never have a serious relationship with a guy until I’m grown and gone from this place. Thoughts

of rooming with Teagan float through my mind again. I’m still fantasizing about what color I’d paint my bedroom at her house when there’s another knock at my door. “Go away!” I yell. “I said I don’t want dessert!” The door pushes in and I turn over to blast the intruder with threats I fully intend to follow up on. They all go unsaid as I see Mick standing in my doorway, holding two plates with cake and forks on them. “Room service,” he says, coming in and putting one down on my side table. I sit up in a hurry, doing what I can to smooth the sides of my hair down. Rolling around on my pillow has done nothing good for my ponytail, which, I can tell by the poofs of fluffy, raggedy hair I feel above my ears, has gone rogue. Great. I look like the Joker now. “I’m not in the mood for dessert,” I say, swinging my legs over to the side of my bed. He sits down next to me, digging into his own piece. “I’d taste it first, if I were you. This is some good stuff.” He shoves a giant bite into his mouth and smiles. “You’re evil, you know that?” I ask. I can’t stop the smile from coming to my lips. “I’ve been called that before.” He shrugs. “At this point I’m taking it as a compliment.” I lean over and pick up my cake plate. “Why are you here, Mick?” I keep my eyes on my fork and cake, knowing that if I look at him, I’ll chicken out. “Just having some fun, some good food. Hanging out with friends.” A bite of cake freezes halfway to my mouth. “What friends?” He nudges me with his elbow. “Come on, man. Don’t be like that. We can be friends, can’t we?” My heart skips another couple beats. I shake my head as I eat my cake. “I guess.” Do I even want to be friends with him? I don’t know. It feels risky. Like, really risky, and that says a lot coming from me. “Good. I’m working at the club tonight if you want to come hang out. I’ll buy you a drink.” Another bite of cake disappears down my throat as I consider his offer. “Maybe. I’m not sure what I’m doing yet.” “Then come.” He nudges me again. “It’ll be fun. DJ Foxx is going to be there tonight. She’s awesome.” “She?” “Yeah. I’ll introduce you if you want. She’s from New York City. You’d like her.” “Oh, yeah? Why?” “Because. She’s tough.” I look at him to try and figure out what he’s getting at, but he’s too focused on his cake to notice. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His fork stops partway off his plate, headed to his mouth. “Nothing.” He’s trying to act all innocent, but he doesn’t fool me. But I’m not in the mood to hear all about myself right now, so I play along. “Whatever. Maybe I’ll see you. Maybe I won’t.” I don’t know if I can handle seeing him out at the club. It’s hard enough sitting next to him at a family dinner. When he’s in the club all dressed for the night, he’s too much. I know because I’ve seen it once before. And until his brother played super-asshole that night, I was ready to do a serious panty-drop just looking at him. He shoves the last of his cake into his mouth, stands, and pulls his phone out of his pocket. It’s then that I realize it was buzzing. I’d thought it was my pulse. Being near him is making my system go offline. I quickly smooth my hair down while he’s distracted with the phone call. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll be out in a second.” He puts his plate down on my desk and wipes his face off with the back of his hand as he slides his phone into his pocket. “Do I have anything in my teeth?” he asks, giving me a huge grin. I smile and point. “Yeah. Chocolate.”

“Where?” He leans in closer to me. “Everywhere.” I can’t stop smiling. He gets even closer. “Get it out for me.” “Go away,” I say, pushing on his shoulder. I don’t use a whole lot of force because honestly, I don’t want him going anywhere right now. I just caught a whiff of his cologne and he couldn’t be more charming if he tried. I think a little piece of me just fell in love with him. Today’s been a hell of a day. He moves so quick I don’t even see it coming. Once second he’s grinning chocolatey teeth at me and the next his lips have pressed into mine. A quick smooching sound and he’s gone again, back to standing in front of me. “See you around, Quinlan.” He’s through the door before I can get my shit together enough to respond. “Don’t call me Quinlan!” I yell at his back. Jumping up, I run to my window as Mick calls out goodbyes to my whole family. I can hear Jersey banging around and shouting with happiness. He’s obviously had too much cake. Rebel’s car is parked out front, but I can’t tell if Teagan is inside or not. Dammit. I don’t want to come across as desperate by texting or calling her as he’s walking out. He’ll totally know I’m going all girly on him and trying to analyze his every move, his every breath. Of course I am going to do that, but not yet. Not when he could find out that’s what I’m doing. I’m just going to have to stew for at least an hour before I call a meeting with Teagan and get her insight. I watch Mick walk down the sidewalk towards the car, admiring the way he moves and the way his lean frame fills out his clothes. His shoulders are broad without looking freakish. He’s smaller than his brother but oh so much sexier in my book. I totally want to see him naked after watching his butt in those jeans. My insides turn to mush as I imagine what it might be like to see him completely nude. To feel his skin on mine… I’m completely unprepared for him to turn around and catch me gawking. He grins and waves at me, walking backwards down the sidewalk. I scramble to grab the cord to the blinds. They fall halfway down before stopping again, and I scream with frustration as I catch him laughing at me. My face is totally on fire. Giving up on the blinds, I stumble away and drop back down on the bed. My cell phone is in my hand a second later and I set my timer. In T-minus thirty minutes, I will be calling Teagan and figuring out what the hell my next move should be and even if I should have a next move where Mick is concerned.

CHAPTER SEVEN I HEAR THE BUBBLY BEETLE engine outside as I’m brushing on another coat of mascara. Maybe I’ve gone too far, but what the hell. Might as well give Mick a really nice view of what he’ll be missing. I’ve already decided this is not going to work, whatever this is. Even if he was flirting with me and meaning it today, it won’t matter in the long run. I’m a party girl and that’s all I plan on being until I’m old enough that I have to stop wearing underwire bras and thong underwear. Teagan joins me in the bathroom and whistles as she takes in my reflection. “Damn, girl.” She looks down at her black dress. “I feel like a lumberjack now compared to you.” “Shut up. This dress is old.” “That dress should be illegal.” She stands next to me and leans forward so her face is just a few inches from the mirror. “Can you see my zit?” Turning left and right, her eyes never leave the spot below her bottom lip. “Yep. It’s like Saturn orbiting your chin.” Her head whips in my direction. “Seriously? You can see it?” I laugh hard enough to make my stomach burn. “No. But if you stare at it every time you go past a mirror it will be kind of hard to miss. Just relax. You used the green stuff first, right?” “Yes, jedi make-up master. I did what you told me before.” I sigh. No one appreciates all the time I’ve spent on Youtube watching makeup tutorials, not even the chicks with planetary pimples to hide. “You’re gorgeous. Go pick out my shoes, would you?” She snorts. “Yeah right. You mean go pick out the shoes you won’t wear.” “No, I’ll go with your choice this time, I promise.” “Lies. All lies,” Teagan says as she leaves the bathroom. I add a little blush to my cheeks. When Teagan is back, I glance at the first selection she brings for my approval or rejection. “Uh, no. I’m not eighty.” “Listen, these are your shoes, woman. If they’re old lady shoes, they shouldn’t be in your closet in the first place.” “I can’t throw shoes out. I have a condition. And besides, they’re good for interviews at banks and accounting firms.” “Since when have you gone to one of those?” “Never. But someday I will and then I’ll be prepared.” “Fine.” She pulls out another pair from behind her back. “How about these?” I bite my inner cheek, thinking about how those will make my legs look. Then I shake my head. “Nope. Not enough calf action.” “Calf action?” She stares at the shoes, dangling them up in front of her face. “I need something that will show my calves off. I have good calves.” She nods. “You do have good calves. Can’t argue with that logic.” She leaves once more and I take the minutes she’s gone to make sure every single one of my eyebrow hairs is where it should be.

My eyebrows are famous. Women hate me for having eyebrows like I do. It’s a cross I bear willingly, because someday these eyebrows are going to snag me a hell of a husband. I arch one up, practicing one of my patented moves. I can communicate entire sentences with these babies. “Okay, last choice before I retire from this lame job.” Teagan shakes a pair of Jimmy Choo knockoffs at me. “Calf busters. Thigh flexers. Butt lifters. You cannot go wrong with these suckers.” I snag them out of her hand. “You must be high. How am I supposed to twerk it out with those on?” Teagan rolls her eyes. “What … you’re going to start licking sledgehammers now, too? Shall I get the foam finger from your dad’s closet?” “Maybe,” I say as I go into my room. “Do you think it’ll fit in my purse?” She ignores the question because we both know I’d no sooner foam-finger myself than I’d twerk my ass up against a complete stranger. Twerking is for skanks, and I ain’t no skank. I pull out Old Faithfuls, the shoes that have never failed to get me all the free drinks I’ve ever wanted. I will be a dancing fool with these bitches on. Gravity has zero effect on my butt cheeks when I wear these. “Now these are shoes,” I say. “Learn well, my little tadpole, and someday you will be an awesome man-killer like me.” “Whatever you say, Yoda-of-shoes.” She bounces down onto my bed. “So, you excited about seeing Mick? He’s going to be there, you know.” Since Jersey came into my room and refused to leave before I could give her any of the scoop on Mick, she has no idea that I’m totally sweating her boyfriend’s brother. I’m not even sure I want to say anything to her about it now. It seems silly. I’m definitely PMSing. She’d understand, but she’s already got so much shit going on, I don’t want to burden her with my stupid stuff. I decide to act like there’s nothing to talk about. Besides, there really isn’t. I’m putting a stop to it tonight. My eyebrows will end this for me; I won’t even have to say a word, and Mick will know it’s over before it even began. “Come on,” I say, grabbing my tiny purse. “We can talk about all the fun stuff in the car.” I breeze past the family room where my parents are on the couch watching a movie. “Later, couch potaters!” I call out over my shoulder. “Not too late!” my father calls out after me. “Yeah, right,” I say under my breath. Curfews are for slackers. I consider any night I’m in before two in the morning to be a complete fail.

CHAPTER EIGHT ON THE WAY TO THE club in Teagan’s car, I finally get around to asking her about her life. It should have been the first thing I talked about when she walked in my door thirty minutes ago, but I was too wrapped up in worries about what Mick would think about my outfit to think straight. I’m going to blame him for my messed up priorities. “So, what happened at the lawyer’s office?” I ask. “Oh, shit! I forgot to tell you!” She whacks me on the arm. “They loved your stuff! Said it was awesome.” “Really?” I warm with the compliment. “Seriously?” “Yes. They wanted to know what firm you worked for.” “No shit.” My jaw won’t close. “No shit, I swear.” “Man, that is so cool,” I say, picturing myself with a trophy or a medal. “I’m the stuff. The shizzle stick. I should be on Oprah. Except she doesn’t have a show anymore, that wench.” “Yes, you are, and you should. When I told them you didn’t work for a firm yet, they said when you do work for one to let them know. Also they said if you want some side work, they could give it to you and then give you a reference when you go job hunting.” “Get the fuck out!” I’m so happy I’m not even worried about messing up my lipstick with my huge grin. “No, I will not!” Teagan’s grinning too. “I told them I taught you everything you know, of course.” “That goes without saying. What’d they say to that?” “They asked me about some shit on the spreadsheet you made and I had to confess I had no idea what the hell it was.” “Nice try, anyway. Props for that. You’ve got big lady balls.” “Yeah. Speaking of big lady balls, I’m about to kick someone’s lady balls into next year.” “Your step-mom?” “Yes. You would not believe the shit she’s pulling.” “Ohhh, yes I would. Having you kidnapped is pretty high up there on the lady-balls scale.” “She’s going to get away with it. There’s nothing connecting her to that stuff.” “That’s bullshit.” I’m instantly pissed. I’m still getting over the idea that I could have lost my friend to those assholes. I’ve never lost anyone I love, and the day I do it’s going to be more than awful. Like Jersey, I don’t take letting go of things I care about well. “Tell me about it. But …,” she turns onto the main road that will get us to the club, “…the attorney told me that they could probably put together a case that would get me back all those shares that went to my step-mother. It depends on what they can find when they start doing something they called … crap I forgot.” “Discovery?”

“Yeah. How’d you know that?” She glances at me for a second before putting her eyes back on the road. “I learned it in my forensic accounting class. It’s where they get access to the company’s records and stuff. Emails and memos and all that.” “Yeah. So they think based on what was on that thumb drive, that there will be stuff in there that implicates her in getting those shares kind of illegally or something. So if we can do that, then everything reverses. But maybe they won’t even have to go that far. She might settle for just handing my dad’s stuff back to me in exchange for me not suing her sorry ass.” “Holy doo on a stick. Does that mean you’ll own the company?” Imagining my BFF running a huge corporation would be funny if it weren’t so scary. Teagan shrugs. “I’m not really sure. I mean, I have no frigging clue how to run a Seven-Eleven, let alone a giant software company. But I could hire people to do that, right?” She looks at me, and for the first time, her expression is unsure. “Hell, yeah, you could. And you can sit in those board meetings at the head of the table and fly in on a helicopter and shit.” I grin with the idea of it. Damn, I would love to do that. I could just see us, walking in slow motion, the chopper blades making our hair flow around our faces like supermodels in a rock video. I’d definitely need to buy new shoes for that. “You could be the new CFO,” she says, smiling along with me. “I could definitely work there,” I say, getting excited about the idea. “You’d hire me, right?” “Of course. As if you’d have to ask.” “What’s the pay? And what are the benefits? Can I get medical and 401k? And I’d need coverage for Jersey too. He’ll be my dependent.” She laughs. “You’ll get the whole package, don’t worry. So what’s the deal with you and Mick?” And just like that, she bursts my bubble. “No deal.” I shrug and look out the side window. I feel like an empty balloon, sagging all over the front seat. “Could-a fooled me.” “How so?” I ask, still not looking at her. I’m cool. I can do this. “He spent practically the whole day with you. I hear he went to the doctor with Jersey and even had dinner at your place? He’s like the frigging crown prince of LA or something the way he’s charmed himself into your life.” My whole mood deflates. “Tell me about it.” Teagan pulls up to a stoplight and turns to look at me. “What’s wrong? Why are you so bummed? Was he rude? Did he fuck with Jersey?” “No, no, not at all.” I rush to explain because I don’t want her thinking something bad about the guy. “He was a total prince, like you said. Seriously. He was good with Jersey and my parents loved him. I think they’re ready to sign the adoption papers, actually.” “Fuck me. He’s usurped me as favorite friend of Quin, hasn’t he?” “Good word,” I say, smiling. “I got that app you told me about. That was the word-of-the-day today. I told myself I’d drink a shot of Southern Comfort if I could work it into a sentence before midnight.” “Cha-ching. Where’d you get the money to pay for said shot?” “Paycheck.” She’s smiling like a fool when she pulls away from the light. “Sleeping with the boss. Nice.” “Hey, I earned that money.” She smacks me on the thigh. “Don’t be hatin’.” “I know, I’m just messing with you. I’m proud of you, little tadpole. You did good.” I reach over and pinch her cheek. She hates when I do that.

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I? Stuff’s still up in the air with my dad’s company and the police and all that, but I think it’s going to work out.” “And you have Rebel. Don’t forget that part.” She says nothing. She just drives with a goofy look on her face. I love that she’s so happy, but it makes me just a little jealous. And then I hate myself for not totally embracing her moment and flying right along with her. “So, you guys are moving in together when?” “Next week. He’s convinced we need to find another place. Mick’s taking over his apartment to save money so we need to find somewhere else to live since the Golden Legacy is not an option. We’re going hunting this weekend. Luckily he’s paying for it until my crap is figured out.” “Oooo, I want to come hunting with you!” “You can.” She pulls into the club parking lot. It’s already packed and there’s a line around the door. Luckily we get a VIP spot right in front of the building, courtesy of the club’s part-time bouncer, Rebel. “I’ll text you when I know the details. I don’t think Rebel’s that interested in going, so we can do it together. He trusts me to do it.” I should probably be a good friend and continue the conversation, but my heart has started beating faster as my nervousness takes hold. I’m going to see Mick any minute now. I pray my fake eyelashes don’t start coming unglued. “You okay?” Teagan asks me. I realize she must have shut off the engine a while ago because it’s been silent for too long. “What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Where’s the foam finger?” “Seriously, you look like you’re about to walk death row or something.” I play it off. “Yeah, right.” Opening the door, I put my leg out. “Come on. Stop playing. I need to get my twerk on.” “Please don’t,” she sighs out. We skip the line and go right to the front. Several people who are waiting to get in start complaining, but when Teagan starts swapping spit with her main man, who tonight is acting as a bouncer for his friend who owns the club, they shut up pretty quick. That’s right, bitches. I have a VIP pass to the hottest club in LA. Check this. We step inside and my mood brightens considerably as the big beat from the DJ’s mix washes over me. It’s so heavy it feels like it’s guiding my heartbeats. BOOM-BOOM-DA-BOOM-BOOM. My hips move to the rhythm. “Let’s get a drink,” Teagan says, yelling to be heard above the din. “Okay! Shots!” Time to get this party started. I need to take the edge off my nerves. It’s taking every ounce of willpower I have not to scan the room searching for Mick’s blonde head. We make it to the bar and Teagan waves at someone down at the far end. My view of pretty much everything is blocked because I’m too short to see over all the heads. People are standing four deep at the bar trying to get drinks. My toe starts tapping, tapping, tapping. I’m pretending it’s to the beat, but it’s really just nervous energy trying to escape. When the bartender comes into view I almost have a heart attack. Mick. My tapping foot freezes in the up position. “Well, well, well! Look who’s here!” he says, smiling like a fiend. Oh shit. All my plans to act like he’s nothing to me and doesn’t matter start trickling away. One look. That’s all it takes. My eyebrows are no match for his charm and that frigging face of his. Dammit! “We need shots!” Teagan says, bouncing to the beat. “Southern Comfort!”

“Wow, you don’t mess around.” Three shot glasses are on the bar and filled in about ten seconds. Mick holds one up towards us. “Skal! To the hottest girls in the entire place!” I take mine like it’s no big deal and wait for Teagan to grab hers. I avoid meeting his eyes. “Cheers,” she says. “I’ll drink to that!” I say loudly, throwing my drink back and downing it with one big swallow. It burns all the way down and leaves a flowery aftertaste in my mouth. I make sure to keep my expression straight. “Uh-oh,” says Mick, winking at me. “What?” I ask, pretending like I don’t know what he’s talking about. He respects my cool alcoholic act. Points for him. “Ready for another?” he asks. He glances at Teagan, but I know he’s talking to me. “One more,” I say. “Then I need to go find me some man-candy to dance near.” There. Let him know I’m not here for him. He lifts an eyebrow but says nothing as he pours out another round for the three of us. He ignores the throngs of people shouting and waving at him for drinks. It makes me feel very VIP special, but I try to ignore that emotion. Teagan raises her glass and drinks the whiskey slowly. Her eyes roam around the room, making me feel like Mick and I are in our own little bubble. He lifts his shot glass in my direction. “Good luck,” he says, and then he slams his drink down this throat. “Good luck? What’s that for?” I ask, holding my glass out in front of me. His voice is strained from the alcohol. “Finding that man-candy.” “Oh, trust me, babe. I don’t need luck.” I swallow the drink in one go and put the glass down. “Come on, Tea-Tea. Time to bust a move.” I slide away from the edge of the bar. “Bye, Mick!” she says, as we walk away. “Bye, Mick,” I say, waving at him over my head but not turning around. I don’t hear it if he answers, and I refuse to turn around and check if he’s watching us walk away. I’m cool. I can do this. He means nothing to me. Nothing. At. All.

CHAPTER NINE AS WE GET TO THE dance floor, the beat changes and turns into something almost dangerous. If there are vampires here tonight, this is the song they’ll dance to, and since I’m a Mick St. John fan from way back, I consider this a good thing. I scan the crowd for men with pale faces as my body easily downshifts into the new rhythm. Teagan and I make our way to the center of the floor where we find a small pocket of space to get our groove on. Within seconds we’re approached by a couple of guys who dance in our personal space wearing jeans that show way too much testicle. I don’t even bother with the eyebrows. I turn sideways and ignore the one closest to me completely. A few seconds later he’s moved on to his next conquest. I say a prayer that the poor girl’s beer goggles aren’t on and totally fogged up. Teagan’s doing the same avoidance thing, but her wannabe date isn’t taking the hint so well. She sends up a silent SOS in the form of crossed eyes at me, so I put my arms over her shoulders and dance really close to her. “Bugger off,” I say, giving him the mean-eyebrow. He holds up his hands in surrender and then beats feet out of there. We collapse in giggles thinking we just scared him off the dance floor completely. Poor guy. Obvious amateur. There’s a game that’s played out here on the floor, and if you can’t play you just have to leave. That’s how I look at it. Besides, he needed to stop dancing. Strangling man-jewels like that could affect his ability to have kids some day. Not that a man like that should have kids, but hey … maybe he’ll meet a nice girl someday who will shop for him. Men can change. I think. The next guy to approach me is gone in seconds. I bust out the you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me eyebrow on him. I always use a slight lift with a frown mixed in for a man wearing skinny jeans and a torn cotton top. I’m pretty sure I shriveled at least one of his hackie sacks, but it had to be done because he was rubbing something up on me that I either had to eyebrow-away or cut off. It’s better for both of us that I went the less drastic route. The third guy who approaches is a whole other kind of animal. He kind of takes my breath away, actually. Wowzies. He’s tall, muscular, and dressed like he’s just walked off the page of a Paco Rabanne magazine ad. When he smiles, my panties send a direct signal to my brain: Take me off. Now. Holy lady-boner. Vampire, twelve o’clock. Maybe they’re real. Weeee! I don’t give him the eyebrow and I don’t turn away. He can stay. He can foam finger me if he wants to. He can even eat crackers in my bed. I smile to let him know we’re all good. I wonder if he’ll suck my blood right here on the dance floor. “I was a little afraid to come over here,” he says, leaning down and talking near my ear so I can hear him over the music. Oh, shit … he smells good too. There’s nothing like a freshly showered, shaved, and cologned vampire man to get me in a twist. “Really? Why?” I yell back. I could not possibly be cooler. My shoes, my eyebrows, my hipsway. Shakira has nothing on this action. “There’s a string of guys with broken hearts standing all around the dance floor.”

“Ha.” I turn around and dance with my back to him. He takes the hint and moves closer. We say nothing for awhile, letting the music speak through our bodies. The lights get flashier and the pace of the music picks up. I turn around and face him again. His right hand moves to my hip, and I make sure to move my body around a little extra so he can see how flexible I am. Hips don’t lie. “You from around here?” he asks. “Did you seriously just ask me that?” I say, laughing. My laugh is very charming right now. I’ve practiced in front of the mirror for years. He grins, revealing model-perfect teeth. I’m wondering now if he’s a gay vampire. This might just be a friend-dance thing he has going on. Men this pretty are almost never straight. Some of my happy fog dissipates. “I just wanted to make sure you’d be around for awhile.” “Charming,” I say. I’m impressed. He’s got good stuff in that arsenal of his. I’m thinking the chances of a gay man practicing pick-up lines on me are pretty slim. Happy fog fully engaged! “Want to get a drink?” he asks. I picture walking up to Mick’s bar with this guy and immediately fall into a panic. “No, let’s dance some more.” I put my hand on his arm. There are muscles under that shirt. Holy, holy. He’s probably too warm to be a vampire, but I’m not complaining. Warm flesh is good too. “What’s your name?” he asks, getting closer to me. Both of his hands are on my hips now. “Quin. What’s yours?” “Mark.” “Nice to meet you, Mark.” I feel like a complete dork saying that, but it’s the best response I can come up with. Words are failing me because my brain is battling visions of Mick and this guy. Their faces are melding together and I’m seeing Mick’s head on this guy’s shoulders. I back up to get out of his grip, flustered. Dammit! His hands fall away but he acts like nothing happened. “Nice to meet you too.” The lights drop and the music downshifts. It’s not a slow song, but it’s definitely sexier without the faster beat. Mark comes in close and I let him. As his hands slide over my hips to the small of my back, our bodies sway with the rhythm. BOOM—DUH-DUH—BOOM … I’m sweating and so is he. His shirt is starting to stick to his chest, and I can see the line between his well-formed pecs. He’s so much taller than I am, his waist is closer to my stomach than my hips, making it just a little awkward. But when I look up at him and see his good looks go dark under the fading lights, I almost feel like I’m dancing with a real live vampire, and there’s not much sexier than that. Someone bumps into me on my right, jerking me out of my Twilight sex-haze, and I look over in annoyance. No matter how crowded the dance floor gets, there’s still some etiquette to be followed, and part of that concept is the rule that says you’re not supposed to be an asshole and ruin a vampire love affair moment. After-work party, dead ahead. “Watch it,” I say to the dingbat blonde who’s bumping and grinding away with a group of girlfriends. She has her navy blue blazer rolled up to her elbows and her blouse untucked over her pencil skirt. “Watch yourself,” she says, lifting her arms above her head while she does an old-school, modified, vertical cabbage patch move. I have no idea why women like this think that staring all sexy-like at their armpits is attractive. She just looks like she’s checking whether her deodorant is working or not. I really should punch her lights out and put her out of our misery, but I’m wearing a dress and trying to impress this vampire guy, so I decide against it. I narrow my eyes at her to let her know how lucky she is right now. “Come this way,” Mark says, pulling me closer to the edge of the dance floor. I look over my

shoulder to make sure Teagan will follow, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Oops. I have no idea where she’s gone to, but I’m too ready to continue with this dance with Mark to worry about it much. She’s probably hanging out with Rebel, anyway. Those two are attached at the hip these days. The relationship is only three weeks old, but it’s like they’ve been together for a year. Rebel even talks like a normal person sometimes now. I’m moving in synch with Mark again when my eyes catch a complete lack of movement on the perimeter of the dance floor. Everyone else is bumping, grinding, and swaying to the beat, except for this one guy. Blonde hair, dark expression, thin but muscular build … shit. It’s Mick. I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel guilty, like I’ve done something wrong. Maybe even betrayed something between us. Suddenly, I’m afraid he’s going to think I’m with this guy Mark. I don’t want him to think that now, which is completely stupid because two seconds ago I was ready to sign up for the Mark fuck-me fan-club. But I can’t deny my own feelings. They’re there and mighty inconvenient. Nothing makes sense anymore. Panic sets in once again. I back away, but Mark grabs me by the waist and pulls me towards him. “Where are you going?” His smile is completely non-threatening and should have been sexy as hell, but all it does is irritate me. I put my hand on his wrist and push it down to detach him from me. “I’m good right here, thanks.” I step away again. “You sure?” he asks, moving towards me. He’s not being an ass, just persistent. Normally I’d like that in a guy, but right now it’s just damn inconvenient and mostly annoying. I feel someone standing against my back. “You okay, Quinlan?” Mick asks over my shoulder. My knees go weak at the close contact. The kiss he snuck from me comes back full force and my lips tingle with the memory. I am completely turned upside down inside. Now I can finally appreciate why Hellion is Mick’s nickname. He is raising hell with my system for sure. “Hey, buddy, what’s up?” Mark asks, lifting his chin in Mick’s direction. I turn sideways. “I’m fine, Mick. And stop calling me Quinlan.” I feel nauseated. Is it the drinks? Could two shots make me vom on the dance floor? And if I do lose it, will I ever be able to show my face in the LA club scene again? No, probably not. I’ll always be the girl who blew chunks on the dance floor. Mick looks down at me as if we’re the only ones in the whole place. My stomach does about ten flips and the music fades out like someone turned down the volume. My ears and throat burn with either near-vomit or my new Hellion-addiction. Neither one is good. “That’s your name, though. Your mom told me so.” He grins like he’s the king of the world. Like none of this is affecting him and I’m just some plaything he’s enjoying batting around. “Hey buddy, why don’t you go find another girl?” says Mark. “This one’s taken.” I frown, not sure how I feel about being in the middle of a cock fight. I do want Mick to go away, but only so I can get my stomach and brain back online. “I don’t think so,” says Mick, his shoulders going back a little. He’s fighting for me? What? What does that mean?! “Well, I do,” says Mark, drawing up to his full height. He’s got about four inches on Mick, at least. “Hey!” I yell, deciding then and there that I don’t appreciate being treated like a piece of meat. “Why don’t both of you back the hell off?” I turn and leave the dance floor, headed to the front door. I need to get some fresh air before I do something stupid. I finally get through the throngs of people hanging out in groups between the dance floor and the entrance. Rebel’s there but Teagan isn’t. “Where’s Tea?” I ask, wiping the sweat from the side of my face. I try to hide the fact that my hand is shaking. I’m pretty sure I’m suffering an overdose of adrenaline or something.

Rebel hands someone back his ID and ignores the next person in line to answer me. “I thought she was with you.” He stands up off his stool, his expression going dark. “She was. But then I got involved dancing and lost her.” Rebel presses something on his waist and speaks out into the air. “Mick, pick up.” He pauses and stares at the ground for a couple seconds before lifting up his head really quick and looking off into the distance. “Where’s Teagan? You see her?” A couple seconds later and he’s moving away from the door. “What? What’s going on?” I ask, running after him. He taps a big black man on the shoulder and gestures at the front entrance. The man takes over the ID checking spot as Rebel moves quickly through the crowd. I don’t waste any time, rushing to trail after him. When he moves too quickly, I grab ahold of one of his belt-buckle loops and get dragged behind. “What’s the matter?!” I yell, afraid of what his answer might be. “Probably nothing,” he says without looking back. He reaches the DJ booth and goes up the stairs to get inside. I have to stop at the top of the stairs because there isn’t enough room for me inside with Rebel and the DJ already filling up the small space. He scans the crowd below, looking for Teagan, and I do the same from my spot on the stairs. I see the office party chicks, the vampire I left standing off on the side of the floor, and Mick at the bar, but no Teagan. “Maybe she’s in the bathroom,” I say, leaving Rebel there without another word. My heart is in my throat with the horrible images that are bashing around in my mind. She’s already been kidnapped once, and I don’t doubt for a second that it could happen again. Maybe because the first time was so ridiculously unbelievable, it makes almost anything possible in my world. She’s been busy threatening her step-mother’s meal ticket for the past couple weeks through her attorneys, and that woman has already shown what she’s capable of. She’s desperate and not at all interested in going back to waiting tables for a living. I race through the crowd, pushing roughly past people and ignoring their cries of anger. One girl has the really bad judgment to slap me in the back as I go by, so I have to stop for a moment and give her a lesson in manners. I consider a right hook to the jaw, but don’t want puffy knuckles, so instead I go for a double boob-punch. She’s down and wheezing on the floor half a second later and I continue my sprint to the bathrooms. I burst in through the doors and scream, “Teagan! Are you in here?!” The smell of fake flower scents sprayed over turds wafts under my nose, making me almost retch. Adrenaline and ass-flowers do not mix well, apparently. I swallow with difficulty as I wait for a sign from my friend. A few girls standing in front of the mirrors turn around and stare at me like I’m completely crazy. I catch a glimpse of my own reflection and decide they’re really not that far off in that assessment. Normally I’d stop and fix my frizzy hair and mangled eyebrows, but I don’t have time. I cannot believe this is happening. I have to get out of here and find Teagan. I spin around and leave the bathroom, heading back to the bar. All the games I was playing with Mick are silly and stupid and gone from my head. Guilt assails me. Why did I leave her for that guy Mark? Why didn’t I just focus all my attention on the only person who matters in this entire building? Selfish, selfish, selfish. I hate myself so much. Tears come out and I’m sure they’re ruining my makeup, but I don’t care. As I push through the crowd, I feel the glue coming undone on one of my eyelashes, but I ignore it. Who cares about eyelashes? My friend has been kidnapped! I get to the bar and Mick is there, staring off into space. “What are you doing?!” I grab the edge of the bar and lean in, screaming in his face. “Call the

cops!” He frowns at me and holds up a finger in my face. My jaw drops open at his audacity. My best friend is probably on her way to being killed and he’s shushing me with a finger! I reach out to grab it with plans to break it in half, but I stop just as he begins to speak. “Okay, I’ll let her know.” He breaks out of his trance and looks at me. “Teagan is fine. She’s upstairs with Olga.” I’m momentarily speechless. Olga? Who the hell is Olga? I’m picturing a fat woman with a moderately heavy beard. My suspicions that Rebel and his brothers are somehow connected to the Russian mafia are heightened. They certainly look the part. And Olga? Oh, yeah. Something’s definitely up here. “Show me the stairs,” I say when I finally get my tongue working again. “You don’t want to go up there. Trust me.” Mick grabs a rag and wipes off the bar in front of me. He’s letting another bartender do all the work. Normally I’d be flattered to get all this attention from a bartender in a club, but right now all it does is annoy me. Mick is not helping. “Actually, I do want to go up there. Where are the stairs?” I look around, trying to figure out what direction to go in. “Fine, you want to go? Go. They’re over there in the corner. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He points to a spot just to the left of the entrance to the club just as he’s pressing something near his hip. “Rebel, she’s with Olga. Olga says you can chillax now and go back to the front door.” I rush away from the bar before I can hear the rest of their conversation. Whoever this Olga person is, she must run the show. I find the stairs in the purple black-lighted corner and use the railing to guide me and keep from falling. Everything is dark - the walls, the floors, the railing … only the lint on the carpet that is glowing from the purple lights shows me where anything is. As I get near the top of the stairs, a door flies open above me and Teagan appears. I don’t even need to talk to her to know she’s furious. Right behind her is a tall, blonde woman. I recall seeing her here once before, the first time we came to the club. It was the fateful day that Rebel took Teagan’s driver’s license away and started this whole thing with her. “Come on,” Teagan says, racing down the stairs towards me. “We’re leaving.” “Leaving?” I think I’m about to watch her go right by me, but she grabs my upper arm and drags me behind her. I have to grip both sides of the stairwell to keep from falling. My calf-shoes are not good ballet shoes, and I go from cool to fool in less than a second as I scramble to stay upright. “Hey, ease up! I’m about to break both ankles here.” Good thing I have strong butt muscles. They’re the only thing that save me from a hospital trip. “Sorry,” she says, letting me go. Her voice is full of the tears she’s about to let loose. “I have to get out of here right now.” “Okay, I get it, I get it.” I stand up straight and begin a more orderly descent. Rebel appears at the bottom of the stairs and Teagan stops suddenly. I bang into her and have to grab one railing with both hands again to keep from falling the rest of the way down. She barely sways forward at the impact, all her attention on her boyfriend. “Hey, babe. What’s up?” he says. I can hear caution in his voice, and I’m thinking he’s a pretty smart guy for being worried. “Get out of my way, Rebel.” Her tone is cold. It sends a shiver up my spine, so I can only imagine what it’s doing to her main man. I think he really does love her. “What’s wrong? What’d she say to you?”

“Just the truth, which is more than I can say for you.” Teagan continues down the stairs and pushes by him. He reaches out and grabs her wrist. “Where are you going?” he asks. He clamps his jaw down when he’s done talking and his facial muscles bounce around. He’s pissed or worried. If I were him, I’d be freaking. Teagan doesn’t usually get this upset this fast unless it’s something major. “I’m going somewhere you don’t need to worry about. Now let me go.” She jerks her arm out of his grip and continues towards the door. He looks at me and says nothing. He’s furious; I can tell by the storm clouds that have moved in over his head. They make me feel like I’m at fault for some stupid reason. He’s got mad guilt-trip skills. “Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t do anything!” I breeze by him, trying to keep up with Teagan. I have to take short, choppy steps to run in these stupid shoes. “Tell her to call me!” he yells at my back. I ignore him. He’s not my boss. And if Teagan tells me he’s done something really wrong, I’m going to tell her not to call him. Fuck guys and their games. They’re all the same. “Tea, wait!” I yell as she disappears around the corner. She’s moving way too fast for me to keep up in these damn heels. “Where are you going?” Mick asks, appearing at my shoulder as I get near the front door. “None of your beeswax!” I say, breathless with the unexpected exercise. “Call me!” he yells as I make it to the door. “Blow it out your butt!” I yell back, racing towards the parking lot. I really, really do not want to be left behind at this place, especially with all that drama back there waiting for me. And if Mick thinks I’m going to call him when my BFF is pissed at his brother, he’d better go check himself into rehab cuz he be smokin’ crack, yo.

CHAPTER TEN TEAGAN’S CRYING SILENTLY AS SHE drives down the street like a bat out of hell. “Where are we going?” I ask, not wanting to push her but also not real crazy about the direction we’re going. “Away,” she says, her voice wavering as she works to hold in a sob. “Away tooooooo … crack-whores-ville?” “Yes.” She shifts to a higher gear and presses the accelerator harder. “Okaaaay.” I pause as I consider my next words. I’m not sure that this is the best time to engage her in a conversation about what Olga said or did. “How about you pull into that Denny’s over there and we talk in the parking lot?” “I hate Denny’s. I’m not going there.” “You don’t have to eat. Just pull in.” I reach over and nudge the steering wheel. She huffs out an annoyed breath, but downshifts and swings the car into the lot. I have to brace myself against the door and dashboard to keep from being unseated. “Wow. Been practicing stunt driving long?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. “Shut up,” she says, rolling towards a space and turning off the engine at the same time. We coast into the spot and come to a stand-still. She jerks up the emergency brake and then puts her arms and forehead on the steering wheel. I rub her back, waiting for her to spill her guts. “He lied,” she finally says. “He lied about that … that … supermodel assbag.” “Olga?” She turns her head to look at me. “Who else would I be talking about?” “Sorry. Geez, lighten up, okay? I’m not the enemy here.” She turns her face to look at the floor again. “I know. I’m just … really upset.” She’s crying before the sentence is fully out. I grab her by the shoulders and pull her towards me. “Come here, Tea-Tea. Don’t cry on your steering wheel, cry on me.” She leans towards me like she has no bones left in her body. Her arms hang limply by her sides as she heaves out tear after tear and sob after sob. “Listen, I’m only in the Rebel fan club if you’re the president, so don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe you just misunderstood something. I mean, did he actually lie to you or did this Olga bitch do the lying?” Teagan sits up suddenly, wiping her face with her hand angrily. “No. It was a lie of omission. I asked him weeks ago whether he was ever with her and he denied it. But apparently, that’s a big fat fucking lie. They were together, Quin. Together. As in a couple.” “Wait a minute … I thought you told me he did admit to being with her. I’m confused.” “No, what I said was that he said he was just in some small thing that was nothing and was very

short and no big deal.” “Somehow I doubt those are his words. There are way too many syllables involved.” “You know what I mean! He says a lot without saying a lot.” I snort. “Says you.” “Quin! Whose side are you on?!” Her face is bright red, and I’m trying really hard not to fish around for a tissue to wrangle the snot coming out of her nose. “I’m on yours, of course.” I look away. “Gah, Teagan, wipe your nose. My stomach is a mess tonight and you’re making me sick.” She uses the back of her hand, which doesn’t improve my indigestion one bit. I get a text, and since the only people who text me at this time of night are pretty much in the car with me right now I look at my phone. Are you with Teagan? I don’t recognize the number, but I’m pretty sure I know who it is. I respond with my own text: Go away. “Who is it?” Teagan asks, wiping her nose again. “It’s Mick, I think.” “What does he want?” “He wants to know if I’m with you. I told him to go away.” Bring her to RW. Don’t let her go to that hole. “He wants me to bring you to Rebel Wheels. They don’t want you over at the Golden Tooth Legacy.” She huffs out a snort. “Like they can tell me what to do.” I chew my lip, trying to figure out how I can manipulate her into going to Rebel’s place. I’m with Mick. I don’t want her hanging out with the break-dancing alcoholics at her old apartment complex where she still has a place. “Listen, babe … don’t you think you’re better off in a safe place where kidnappers can’t snag your ass and punch your face off?” She hesitates and I hold my breath, waiting for her response. I’m worried I’ve pushed too hard and will end up hitching a ride home. “That’s not going to happen again. No one’s going to touch me. My step-mother knows they’re watching her.” “Let’s hope not. But just to be sure, I’d sleep a lot better knowing you have a wall of muscle between you and the bad guys, if you know what I mean.” “But that muscle is a liar.” “Only some of that muscle is a liar. You still have Colin, and if you ask me, he’s plenty of muscle all on his own.” I can still remember the pile of wasted human being that greeted us at the top of Rebel’s stairs, when he basically rescued Teagan from their asses. One of them was in a coma for a week and the other one had just about every bone in his face broken. Teagan sighs out long and loudly. “Fine. Take me to Rebel Wheels. But I am not sleeping in the same room as him. I’m sleeping on the couch.” “Good. I don’t want you sleeping with that turdle. He needs to come clean and tell you the whole truth.” “Damn straight,” she says, starting up her car and reversing out of the space. “I’m not putting up with any bullshit. I may still be poor and pretty much totally dependent on him for survival, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let myself get walked on. I’m not a friggin doormat.” She spins her car’s back wheels out as she takes off onto the main road. “Hell to the yeah, you’re not. And don’t shoot me for saying this, but I don’t think Rebel would expect or want you to be. Doormattage is not sexy.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I knew him pretty well, but now I wonder.” The rest of the ride to Rebel’s place passes in silence. I come up with no less than six conversation starters, all of which I abandon in favor of saying nothing. I want to believe Rebel didn’t lie and that this is all a big misunderstanding, because without his support, I really don’t know what my friend will do. I could probably get my parents to let her stay on our couch for a couple days, but after that I know they’ll tell me she has to go. Our house is just too freaking small and with Jersey there making everything ten times harder than it would be without him, having guests is just beyond my parents’ stress threshold.

CHAPTER ELEVEN WE PULL INTO THE PARKING lot of Rebel Wheels as the door to the main office flies open. A girl with long black hair comes storming out, and Teagan barely misses running her over. She screams in surprise and then glares at us through the windshield. “Watch where you’re going, you crazy bitch!” she screams. Teagan yanks her emergency brake up in one quick pull and throws open the door. “I know you didn’t just call me a crazy bitch.” The girl with the hair is no dummy. Even I’m scared at Teagan’s tone. She takes one look at my BFF’s angry expression and hightails it over to her white BMW. She’s in with the doors locked before Teagan even makes it around her Beetle. “That’s right!” Teagan yells at the back of the car as it roars past us. “You better run!” I look at Teagan and start laughing. Her hair is all over the place and one of her boobs is almost out of her dress. “What are you laughing at?” she says. “I’m not sure, but I think I’m looking at a very angry hooker.” I point to her chest. “Your fun bags are coming loose.” She looks down and takes a moment to stuff her boob back in her dress. “Better?” she asks, looking up at me. For the first time in an hour, she’s grinning a little. “Better.” I look at the entrance to the parking lot. The car is long gone. “Who was that chick?” “How the hell do I know? Maybe she’s one of Rebel’s old girlfriends who wasn’t a girlfriend.” I put my arm over her shoulders and guide her to the front door. “Don’t be like that. Come on, let’s go have a beer.” The incident with the Beemer girl has somehow let off some of the stress that was bogging us down. I’d send her a thank you text if I knew her number. “I’d rather have a chocolate milk,” Teagan says, pouting. “Fine. If you insist on giving my lactose intolerant behind diarrhea, then so be it. Chocolate milk it is.” “Ew. You can have a beer. I’ll have a chocolate milk.” “Okay, if you say so. But just know that I would sacrifice my digestion for your happiness.” She walks into the office ahead of me, waiting and locking the door behind me as I pass through. “Thanks. That means a lot. I’m not sure that anyone has ever made that pledge to me before.” We make our way upstairs and before we’re even to the apartment door, we can hear music booming out of Colin’s place. “I guess that was Colin’s date,” Teagan says, opening up Rebel’s door. “She didn’t seem very happy about it,” I say. “Maybe he kicked her out of bed.” We’re only in the room long enough for me to sit on the couch before there’s a knock at the door. A blonde head pokes itself in, and then two dark eyes are staring at me. “Teagan in here?”

I point to the kitchen. “In there.” Teagan comes out with a beer for me and stops when she sees Colin’s head. “What?” she asks, annoyed. “Hey, don’t shoot. I’m just making sure you’re here. Rebel’s worried about you.” Teagan says nothing, but her jaw hardens and her eyes narrow. “Tell Rebel to go punch himself in the junk,” I say, joining Teagan with a hard look of my own. “Wow. That’s pretty serious. What’d he do to earn a junk-punching?” Colin comes in the rest of the way as he types out a text. “He lied,” I say. “Quin, don’t say anything,” Teagan says, going back into the kitchen. I wait until she’s busy in the fridge before talking again. I use a low whisper so she won’t hear me. “He told her Olga was nothing, but tonight Olga told her differently when we were at the club.” “Oh. Shit. That’s not good.” Colin drops into an armchair next to me. “So what’s the deal? Is she super pissed or just kind-of pissed?” “Super. As in, she wanted to go sleep at her place tonight.” “Damn. What exactly did he say to her …? About Olga, I mean.” “Not sure. Something like it was nothing. Maybe they hooked up once or twice.” Colin shrugs. “I don’t think it was much more than that. I mean, I wasn’t around all the time, but I never saw anything serious.” “What are you guys whispering about?” Teagan asks, walking into the room with her chocolate milk. “The weather,” I say with a bright smile. “Tickle your ass with a feather?” “What did you just say?” she says, playing along with me. “I said, isn’t it particularly nasty weather we’re having?” Colin stares at us confused as we giggle like idiots. “Sorry. Time warp throw-back. What were you saying?” I look at him, my face the picture of maturity. He looks askance at me and then addresses his answer to Teagan. “I was saying that I wasn’t around all the time, but I never saw Olga over here as Rebel’s girl. If he told you she was nothing, I’d believe him.” “Of course you would,” says Teagan, dropping onto the end of the couch opposite me. “He’s your brother.” “Yeah, but if he’s being a dick, I’ll call him a dick. He’s never lied that I’ve ever known about.” “Well said,” I smile in respect. He grins back. “I’ve got a special way with words.” “So who was that chick that almost got her ass kicked on the way out of here?” Teagan asks. Colin looks first at the ceiling and then the floor. “Just some girl.” He gets up and helps himself to a beer from the fridge. I exchange knowing looks with Teagan. This is almost as interesting as analyzing Rebel’s statements to try and detect lies. When he comes back in the room, I get him with my laser-beam eyes and determined eyebrows. “Just some girl? Do tell. Where did you meet her? What’s her name? Do you like her?” He laughs once and takes a swig of beer. “You guys are bad.” “Bad? How so? We call it curious.” I lean towards him. “Tell us all your secrets. You cannot escape. Our will is strong.” He takes another drink before responding. “Her name’s Juanita and I met her at a club. We went out a couple times and then we stopped.” “Who stopped? You or her?” I already know the answer, but I like walking down the path anyway.

“Me, I guess. I mean, she wasn’t the right one. We both knew it, but she just kept hanging on.” “Oh, man. That’s harsh.” I cringe inside on her behalf. No wonder she was acting so crazy. “What? You think I should stick with a girl even when it feels wrong?” “No. I just can imagine what you did to the poor girl before you dumped her, though.” He frowns. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” “Wined her. Dined her…” Teagan adds, “Sexty-nined her…” Half his mouth goes up in a charming grin. “You guys are nuts.” I seriously want to hug him right now. He could not possibly be cuter. The door to the apartment opens and Mick is standing in the doorway, looking at all of us. He scowls when his eyes first land on me smiling my head off and then at Colin. “What’s up?” he asks, moving into the room. My smile slides down and I force myself to breathe slowly, focusing on managing my blood pressure. I don’t know what it is about this guy, but whenever he’s around I start losing it. It ticks me off that I can’t seem to control myself. I don’t want to like him, and I don’t want him to send my system offline every time he’s near. Too bad I’m not the one calling the shots up in my brain. Down, Hootchie, down! Control yourself! “What’s up with you?” Colin asks, finishing off his beer. When Mick moves towards the kitchen, he calls out, “Get me another beer, would ya?” “Get your own beer,” Mick says, coming back with a soda in hand. He sits down in the armchair next to Teagan, completely ignoring his brother. “You okay?” he asks. Colin gets up and slaps Mick on the back of the head when he walks past him, headed for his next beer. Mick’s expression goes dark, but he doesn’t go after him. He waits for an answer from Teagan. “I’m fine.” She focuses all her attention on her milk. “You gonna stay here tonight?” he asks. His voice has gone soft. My heart crushes for Teagan. She’s so lucky to have this family looking out for her. I almost feel replaced, and I try not to feel concerned about that. I probably shouldn’t worry; no way can these guys girl-talk like I can. “She can stay at my place,” Colin says when he comes back in the room. Using the bottom of a lighter to lever the beer cap off, he looks over at Teagan. “You can have the couch or the bed, your choice.” “She’s not staying at your place, Trouble,” Mick says. He looks at Teagan. “You can stay at mine if you want. I’ll just stay here. Or you can talk to Rebel and work it out. I know that’s what he wants.” She lifts her chin. “Well, I don’t really care what he wants right now.” “Okay, so you decide,” Mick says. “Where do you want to go?” Teagan goes silent for so long I’m starting to wonder if she’s fallen asleep with her eyes open. But then she speaks and startles me with her vehemence. “Here!” She takes a breath. “I’m staying here. And I’ll talk to Rebel, but not tonight. I’m tired. I’ll sleep on the couch.” Colin stands. “I’m out.” He looks at me. “You want to come over to my place for a second? I’ve got something to show you.” Mick stands too, scowling at his brother. “She doesn’t want to see anything you’ve got.” I look at both of them and don’t know what to say. Colin isn’t giving me the sexy look, so I really don’t think his goal is to make a move on me or anything. And when I look at Mick, he’s got that expression on his face I saw once before, when he was standing on the dance floor facing off with Mark. For some reason, it gets my back up. I stand, as cool as cool can be. “I’ll come over for a few minutes. After that I need a ride home,

though.” “I can handle it,” Colin says, his words smooth as silk. “Where do you live?” Ignoring Mick completely, I walk over to give Teagan a kiss on the cheek and hug goodbye as I answer. “Baldwin Hills.” “You’re not driving her. You’ve been drinking,” says Mick. He’s mad. He reminds me of my father. Protective. Bossy. “Two beers is nothing.” Colin goes to the door and holds it open. “Come on.” He looks over at Teagan and raises his palm towards her. “You good?” Teagan nods at him and then raises an eyebrow at me, but says nothing. I continue to ignore Mick, as difficult as it is. I want to look at him and explain myself. Maybe I’m hoping he’ll make me a better offer. But none comes and Colin is waiting, so I go. We get out into the hallway and he walks ahead of me. When he gets to his door, he looks over his shoulder and gives me a heart-stoppingly handsome grin. “I’m going to show you something I’ve never shown anyone else before.” I hesitate before stepping over the threshold. Looking back at Rebel’s door, I want to believe I see it opening. That Mick is on his way out to stop me. But that doesn’t happen, so I continue inside, shutting the door behind me.

CHAPTER TWELVE THE PLACE IS A DISASTER. I stop in the entrance and take it all in. Dirty dishes cover the coffee table in front of the television. Clothing is draped over all the furniture, most of it way past the stage of needing a washing as far as I can tell. There are art canvasses of different sizes leaning in stacks against the walls and what I guess to be an easel in the corner of the room nearest the windows with a sheet draped over the painting that’s underneath. Paintbrushes are standing in old coffee cans on the windowsill and there are multi-colored paint spatters all over the tarp that’s on the ground and even the walls nearby. It smells like a paint store in here. I could have sworn Teagan told me that she’d been in here before, but she never mentioned any of this to me. I make a mental note to discuss this with her, because if her powers of observation somehow missed all of this, I’m going to recommend she get a brain scan of some sort. “You want something to drink?” he asks, moving over to the stereo to turn it down. “Nah. I’m kind of drinked out right now.” I don’t tell him that I’m worried anything that comes out of this apartment is going to be contaminated by some rare and deadly virus. I lick my lips, suddenly very thirsty. That would be my self-torturing personality that likes to make me want exactly what I can’t have at the most inconvenient time. “Yeah, I’m done too.” He puts his hands in his back pockets. “So…” Grinning at me, he rocks up on his heels a little. “So…” I cock an eyebrow up at him, “…what’s this mysterious thing you want to show me? I hope it’s not your junk.” He laughs. “Nah, it’s not my junk. But we can pretend that’s what it was to make Mick crazy if you want.” I shrug. “Why would I care what he thinks?” My heart-rate picks up at the mere idea. Colin takes his hands out of his pockets and backs up towards the windows. “I don’t know. Kinda seemed like you cared.” “Nope, not me.” I put extra cheer into my voice to be more convincing. “He seems pretty worked up over your personal business. You sure there’s nothing going on there?” I cross my arms. He’s got the most devious expression on his face. “If you really think there’s something going on between us, why did you invite me over here?” I tap my toe impatiently. I don’t like being played. “Ah,” he says, taking the edge of the sheet and lifting it. “Sometimes life is dull. Maybe I like to liven things up from time to time.” I’m in the process of responding, but my jaw drops open and the words get hung up in the system somewhere between my frontal lobe and my mouth. For the first time that I can remember, art has made me totally speechless. I walk towards the easel slowly as he turns a lamp on nearby. “No! Turn it off,” I say a little too loudly, my arm flying out to somehow protect the vision I saw

from the harsh light of reality. He flicks it off and looks at me with a new expression on his face. A glance at him tells me he’s worried. “What do you think?” he asks. “I think I want to have your babies,” I say in a near-whisper as I step up to the canvas and stop. It’s about three feet high and two feet wide. I frown and take a few steps back in the direction I came from. My smile comes back. “Holy fucking wow.” “I’m going to take that as a thumbs up.” I look at him, recognizing his expression for what it is now. Vulnerability. The artist exposes his inner soul. “You are really amazing, you know that?” The words just pop out of my mouth. “Ten thousand fucking thumbs up. Seriously. Give me your sperm.” I point at the painting. “I want my children to have those genes. I’ll take it in a to-go cup if that’s convenient.” He grins bigger than I’ve ever seen him grin before. And there’s zero sexiness to it; all I see is joy. He looks like how I’ve always imagined the archangel Gabriel. “That’s why Mick didn’t want you over here. He knew as soon as you saw my junk you’d be mine.” I burst out laughing right along with him. It feels good to let all the stress of the night go like that. My eyes are drawn back to the painting and my laughter fades. “How did you do this? When?” I have never been able to fathom people with this level of talent. It makes me wonder what the holy hell he’s doing living over a car garage. He could be in New York City selling his stuff for a mint. He could at least afford a maid if he sold one of these once in a while. “You seriously need to get this into a gallery.” My gaze roams every corner of the painting and then the middle too. The image there on the canvas is Teagan, but then again not. She’s looking at something I can only guess is Rebel, because she has that serious goo-goo expression on her face. And for once she doesn’t look stressed or mad or worried about something. She looks older. Wiser. More mature, like maybe how she’ll be in ten years. I used to see her stress-free face once in a great while at school, but this summer it’s been completely absent. I guess I haven’t been around her and Rebel enough. I almost want to reach out and touch it, but I don’t because I wouldn’t want to put a single speck of anything but Colin’s touch on this miracle. “She’s so beautiful.” Now, instead of laughing, I feel like crying. “You captured the essence of my little Tea-Tea.” “Tea-Tea?” He leans over to look at the painting. “That’s not Teagan. That’s Mick.” For a second I’m stunned because he looks so serious. But then we both start laughing again. I cannot believe the amount of awesome brain chemistry I have floating through my system right now. I’m literally high on life, and it’s all thanks to Colin. I’m bent over, holding on to his shoulder so I don’t fall on the ground, when the door to his apartment opens up. Colin flicks the sheet down over the painting and stands up straight, causing my hand to drop back down to my side. I turn my head and see Rebel at the door. “What’s up?” Colin asks, all signs of humor gone from his face and his voice. Suddenly it’s like that moment of sheer joy between us never happened. “I need to talk to you for a minute. Let Mick take her home.” Now my humor’s gone too. Stupid Rebel. “I’m not riding with Mick, thank you very much.” “Then I’ll take you,” says Rebel. “And I’ll just talk to Teagan when I get back.” I narrow my eyes at him. Well-played turd-basket. I glance at Colin but his face is a mask of nothing. Since I know that putting Colin in a position of going face-to-face with his brother is a bad idea, I sigh out my defeat. “Fine. I’ll go with Mick.” I grab my purse off the couch and walk over to the door.

“But I’m not going to like it,” I say in Rebel’s face. He doesn’t answer me or even act like he’s heard me, and I have to draw up my big-girl panties to keep from bapping him upside the head as I walk by. I grip my purse between my fingers for extra insurance. When I get out into the hallway and the door shuts behind me, I stop. What am I supposed to do now? Go knock on Teagan’s door and tell Mick to take me home? Pffft. Like hell. Rebel’s not my father. Mick’s not my big brother. I do what I want, when I want. Fuck this place. I text Teagan as I’m walking down the stairs. I’m blowing this popsicle stand. Talk to you laters, taters. I grit my teeth as I push open the door and go out into the night. I can do this. I can get a ride back. I’ll just call a taxi or something. I chew on my lip as I make my way through the parking lot, my heart beating faster and faster the farther I get from Rebel Wheels. It’s frigging dark out here and the shadows are coming to life around me.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN I’M WALKING DOWN THE STREET wondering how long it’ll be before someone either pulls over and offers me a fiver for a BJ or shoots me in the back. Apparently, not long. A car slows down next to me and I squeak with fright, jumping off the sidewalk and into the weeds. A man’s voice comes at me as I kick at the soggy cardboard boxes that are tangling themselves around my feet. “Hey, sexy. Need a ride?” I spin around, grabbing my purse to keep it close and ready to let loose a string of nasty cuss words, when I recognize the car. It’s a bright red mustang, one I’ve seen parked at Rebel’s place before. Mick is in the driver’s seat. “Go away,” I say, getting my breath back and stepping onto the sidewalk. I walk as fast as I can in my heels. He drives along slowly next to me, his arm hanging out of the window and hugging the side of the car. “Come on, Quinlan, don’t make me beg.” He’s laughing at me, I can tell by the tone of his voice. “I don’t see what’s so funny. And stop calling me Quinlan. I’m not kidding.” “Quin? Please? I don’t like you being out here alone.” “I guess you should have thought of that before you acted so … stupid or whatever.” I’m worried he’s going to call me on my accusations, because looking back, I can’t really remember him acting stupid. In fact, right now my quickly sobering brain is telling me I might have been the one to act that way. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to blame him one hundred percent for it. I’m usually super cool when I’m not around him, so this is his fault, not mine. I cannot be held responsible for suffering from sex-brainitis. “I’m sorry,” he says, all traces of laughter gone. “Please forgive me.” “No.” I don’t know why I can’t say yes. I want to say yes. I want to get in that car and get a safe ride home from a nice guy who stole a kiss from me earlier today. But something makes me keep walking away from whatever he’s offering. I’m not sure if it’s because I think he’s playing me or because I’m afraid he’s not. The car disappears from my peripheral vision and a few seconds later the sound of a door shutting comes to my ears. I pick up my pace. Jogging footsteps come up behind me. I break into a high-heeled run. It’s not pretty. My purse is beating my ass, and my hair is turning into a giant dark frizzy helmet all around my head. Mick pulls up even with me. “I can do this all night. Can you?” I grab my purse off my shoulder and try to beat him with it as I run. He ducks and swings around to jog on my other side. I elbow him to try and shove him off the sidewalk.

He drops off at first, but then comes right up next to me again. A shot of adrenaline surges through me when I hear him giggle under his breath, and I shove him like a football tackle dummy off to the side. As soon as his weight leaves my shoulder, I know I’ve pushed him too hard. He loses his balance off the concrete sidewalk and trips on a pile of weeds and garbage next to it. He yells as he’s going down, and for a split second, he looks like Superman flying through the air. I stop and scream, my hands flying up to my face as I see him hit the dirt. “Oh my god!” I yell, jumping off the sidewalk and picking my way through the weeds over in his direction. “Mick, are you okay?” The guilt assails me. I cannot believe I just did that when all he was doing was joking around. Maybe I need to go to anger management class. He’s not moving or responding. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” I continue to tiptoe through the not-tulips. “Shit, shit, shit, why did I do that?” I get to his side and squat down, pushing on his shoulder. “Mick are you okay? Seriously, wake up. You’re making me feel really bad.” I’m not prepared for his sudden response. He flips over onto his back and grabs me by the upper arms at the same time. As the ground gets closer, I scream, not at all looking forward to wrestling in the grimy dirt that borders the side of the road here. Out of the corner of my eye I see something that looks suspiciously like a used condom and scramble to keep from touching anything but Mick. That ain’t no deflated balloon animal. I end up on top of him, my breath heaving out of my mouth and into his face. His hands are on my nearly bare ass because my dress has come up to gather around my waist. “Hello, gorgeous,” he says, like we’re just hanging out on the beach or something, having a good old time. “Mick!” I slap him on the chest repeatedly, frustrated with trying to beat him senseless while also trying to get up. “Dammit! Let me go, you ass monkey!” He’s laughing too hard to respond and his hands stay put. I finally get up on my feet, very unsteady, but mostly still dressed. I shove my skirt down to cover my unmentionables and adjust my purse so it’s slung across my body again. “You are a total penis, you know that?” I back up towards the sidewalk. “Hey, don’t go,” he says, his arm held out and his voice still full of his good humor. He’s still lying on his back. “I need to apologize.” I stop at the edge of sidewalk. “I’m pretty sure nothing you say will get me to forgive you for dropping my ass in the dirt with those condoms.” He stands up and looks behind him, his laughter gone. “Condoms?” “Yes. You have one stuck in your hair.” I storm off down the sidewalk, my mouth and nostrils twitching like mad as I try to hold in my smile of satisfaction. My last vision of Mick is him wiping and slapping away at his own head, trying to rid his hair of the imaginary condom. “Nice one!” he says when I’m about ten feet away. And then he’s next to me again. “I’m sorry, Quin. I’ll never call you Quinlan again, I’ll never scare your new boyfriends away again, and I’ll never do whatever else it was that pissed you off, ever again.” My pace slows but I don’t stop. “You cannot apologize for things you aren’t even aware of. Those apologies don’t count.” “I’ll be sorry for anything that makes you upset, I don’t care what it is.” He sounds so earnest, I can’t keep running away. I stop and face him on the sidewalk. “Mick, just what exactly are you after, huh? Just tell me. Let’s not play games anymore.” “Games?” His half-smile is almost enough to make me forget what I was trying to accomplish, but

not quite. “Yeah, games. You know, where you pretend to be after me, you play around, maybe you get me and then you blow me off for the next conquest. Let’s not go there, okay? I have one more year of school left and I have to work my ass off to do it right, and I don’t have time to get my heart messed with or broken, especially by the brother of my best friend’s boyfriend.” He stands there frowning at me for the longest time. When I’ve finally had enough, I hit him with my purse. “Ow, what was that for?” He rubs his shoulder, but doesn’t move. “For fucking with my head. Now, take me home.” I head back to the car as cool as I can, doing everything possible to walk straight and not look like a dirty hooker. A couple cars slow down before continuing on, so I’m not sure I’m doing a very good job of it. Mick comes up next to me and walks with me, but says nothing. My heart is burning in my chest. I’m not sure whether I should be proud of myself for putting it all out there like that or pissed that I acted like such an ass. I really want to call Teagan right now and ask her to psychoanalyze me over the phone so I can at least figure out which way is up. Being around Mick drops my IQ at least fifty points. I’ve stunned him into silence, and I want to think that’s a good thing, but there’s no denying how crappy it makes me feel. Why am I so against just having a good time with him and damning the consequences? When did I suddenly become the kind of girl who cares whether a guy sticks around or not? I must be seriously PMSing. It’s probably one of those really bad menstruation cycles where I could have a psychotic break and go stab a neighbor with a garden hoe or something and wake up not remembering anything the next day. Maybe I should sleep handcuffed to the bed. “What are you thinking right now?” Mick asks. I can feel his gaze on my face, even though I’m staring straight ahead. I keep walking without looking over at him. “You don’t want to know, trust me.” “I do, actually. Tell me.” “I’m thinking I need to handcuff myself to the bed tonight.” “Uhhh … okay. I guess I could arrange that.” I try to whack him again, but he grabs my hand and won’t let it go. “I wasn’t talking about with you, dipshit,” I say, trying not to smile. “Oh. With who then?” “Myself.” “Now that’s just kinky.” “Would you stop?” I turn to face him, still battling to keep the smile off my face. “Seriously. I know you’re a master player and I’m just not in the mood for it. I don’t have the strength to fight you off.” He steps closer, keeping our clasped hands between us. “So don’t fight me off, then.” I can feel his breath on my face. He’s had some alcohol to drink, but he’s not drunk. And now, looking into his eyes and feeling the heat coming from his body, I’m sure; he’s definitely making a move. The question is, what move is he making? I lose my smile. “Mick, you need to understand something about me.” “Okay, so tell me. I’m listening.” He moves just a fraction of an inch closer, and it makes me go hot all over in an instant. Sweat breaks out between my shoulder blades. Is it humid out here or is it just me? “I am not in a good place right now. Normally I’d be all over this … whatever it is … but right now … I can’t. My best friend is wondering what the hell is going to happen with the rest of her life, I have to figure out a way to become self-sufficient soon so that someday in the probably not-too-distant future I can have Jersey move in with me, and I have to graduate and get a real fucking job. That leaves me exactly zero

minutes in my day to get my heart broken. Do you get what I’m saying?” I want to cry right now. This totally sucks. I’m so lame. “We all have shit that needs to get done. That doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun at the same time.” “Maybe not for you,” I say, feeling bitter over my circumstances. Usually it just energizes me to think of all the things I’m going to do, but now all I feel is regret and unfairness at it all. Why can’t I just be a party girl who doesn’t give a shit about her future or her family? Just for one night, even? Mick responds. “Definitely not for me and definitely not for you either. How about you just give me a chance and we take it from there?” My new smile has a tremble to it. I’m afraid to hope for what he might be proposing. “Did you just ask me out?” He smiles back. “I think it was more me asking for permission to ask you out. I’m a little to scared to go right for the asking at this point.” “Permission not granted.” “Come to the movies with me tomorrow night. My treat. I’ll take you out to eat after at a really cool place.” “No.” “I’ll pick you up at six.” “No. I’m busy. Washing my bedspread … and stuff.” I have no idea where that came from. My brain has a tumor in it, apparently. “Okay, then, I’ll just take Jersey instead.” I yank my hand out of his, all my flirty happiness dissipating into thin air. “No!” I take two steps towards the car, beyond pissed. “See? This is what I’m talking about! You can’t ingratiate yourself into my family like that!” I feel like I’m about to lose it. If I don’t get a grip on myself soon, I’m going to be screaming and crying at the same time. Looney bin city. “Why not? I like your family.” “So?! Who cares! Go get your own family!” His face falls and he steps back, like I physically rammed into him or something. “Yeah. Okay. I got ya.” He goes over to the car, leaving me standing there on the sidewalk like the total asshole I am. God, I hate myself right now. What is wrong with me? “Mick, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” Who tells a foster kid to fuck off her own family and go get one of his own? Yeah. That’s me. I’m the dirtbag who someone should run over right now. He opens the door and gets in, starting the engine up. It rumbles to life as I stand outside his door. “Are you just going to leave me here?” I ask. I fully expect him to drive away and leave me in a cloud of exhaust, and I wouldn’t blame him for a second if he did. I’m definitely going to get a blue ribbon for biggest bitch of the night. He faces out the windshield, his expression serious. “Get in the car.” I want to stand there and beg for his forgiveness, but I don’t. Because I’m a coward, I do what he says instead and ride all the way to my house without saying anything. When he pulls up to the curb, I put my hand on the inside door handle and turn to him. “I really am sorry.” “Don’t worry about it,” he says, staring out the front window. “I got the message loud and clear.” I sigh and get out. There’s no point in trying to smooth this over. Besides, it’s for the best if he decides I’m a bitch and better left alone. The two of us getting together would only lead to heartache, and not just for me. I cannot imagine the pain Jersey would go through losing Mick when Mick decides he’s had enough of my nonsense. It would probably be worse than my own pain, and for that reason, I have to cut this thing off before it grows into something bigger and harder to end.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say as I go up the front walk towards my door, walking backwards. He drives away without a word, and my heart feels like it’s bleeding in my chest, it hurts so damn much.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN MY MOM STICKS HER HEAD in the door to my room. I can see her through a crack in my covers. “Teagan’s here, sweetie. She brought you lunch.” I close the crack made by my bedspread so I can’t see her happy face anymore. “Tell her I have ebola virus and to stay away.” I hear some whispering that includes Teagan’s voice. The door to my bedroom shuts. “Get up, you skanky ho. I have Taco Bell,” she says. I peek out of my covers. I have always been unable to resist the siren song of The Bell, and she knows it. I’d pretty much dive into a pool full of oh-my-god-those-are-not-Baby-Ruths for homedelivered Taco Bell. Dammit. Teagan has brought out the big guns. The fact that she barely has any money to her name tells me how far she’s willing to go for me right now. I resign myself to the fact that I have to respect that kind of dedication and eat every crumb of whatever she’s brought me. That’s what friends do for friends. I will just have to sacrifice. “What kind of Taco Bell?” I say. “Do you even need to ask?” she says with extreme confidence. “Meal deal number three … three tacos supreme with extra sour cream, a caramel apple empanada on the side, and a large root beer.” She holds the bag over my face. “Go ahead, smell those delicious meat byproducts. Try and resist my power.” My hand snakes out of the covers to snatch the paper bag out of her hand. Once my bounty is secure, I sit up, dangling the steamy goodness above me. “You had me at Taco. Sit down, would ya?” She takes a seat on the end of my bed. Once I’m fully upright, I reach into the bag. I hand her everything that wasn’t just described to me as part of meal deal number three and hold my hand out for one of the sodas she has in a cup holder. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.” She hands over the giant plastic cup with condensation gathering on the sides, and I rest it in a little pocket I make in my covers. Once it’s freed from the wrapper, I take a bite of the first taco and a long gulp of soda as a chaser. Holy awesome bad food. Yummy, yummy get in my tummy. Only after I’ve fully consumed that first taco do I begin talking. “So … what happened with Rebel?” I use some root beer to swish the meat grains from between my teeth. It’s some kind of miracle how the old T-Bell is able to provide me with meat the size and consistency of large sand granules like that. Respect, Mr. Bell, respect. She criss-crosses her legs and puts her bag in the circle they make. “We had a looong talk. I haven’t slept yet, as a matter of fact.” She smiles like the Cheshire Cat as she crunches away on a deep fried piece of what looks suspiciously like Styrofoam covered in cinnamon sugar. “Do I smell the scent of hot lovin’ on your clothing today, perchance?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow to give extra punch to my taunting. She kicks me through the covers. “Ew. No. I took a shower.”

“So what was his lame excuse?” I take a giant bite of taco number two that quickly turns into four giant bites when it starts to crumble in my hand. I have a personal goal not to let anything drop to the paper wrapper waiting below. I have this taco-eating down to a science, yo. She shrugs, fiddling with her straw. “I guess it all boils down to the fact that they had a brief thing going on where they’d have sex after work, but they never actually went out on a date and he never felt any spark with her. But she assumed it was a lot more and basically looked like an ass after it was all over after bragging that she was going to be the one to snag him forever.” “Wow. She was basing future marriage proposals on after-work sex and no dates?” “Apparently.” Teagan shrugs again. “And you believe him?” She sighs loudly. “I didn’t at first. But then I played back in my head the things Olga said and did and what I know about Rebel, and I decided that if I’m going to distrust anyone in this thing it’s going to be her, not him. He’s done nothing but be good to me from day one, so I have to believe he wouldn’t lie to me.” “Well … except for stealing your ID at the club that night.” “He did that to keep me close. He knew I’d come back for it.” The silly smile on Teagan’s face tells me she considers this romantic somehow. My memory of the event was much more of the annoyed variety, but I keep that comment to myself. I’m not going to be the one to stand in the way of her happiness. “Okay, fine. So your lovelife is back online. I’m happy for you.” “Are you really?” She puts her drink on her thigh. “Tell me the truth.” I scoot back so I can lean on my headboard. “Listen, if I thought he was messing with you and doing bad things, I’d say something. I don’t want you to get hurt, especially with all the other shit you have going on. But every vibe I get from him is good.” I shrug. “I think he really likes you a ton. Shoot, maybe he even loves you.” A spark of jealously flickers in my heart, but I stomp it down in a nanosecond, knowing shit like that has no place in a BFF relationship. “I just want you to be happy, and as long as he’s the guy making that happen, he’s on my good list.” She nods. “So what’s up with you and Mick?” I roll my eyes to the ceiling and take a long drink of my soda. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” I burp, and it turns out to be the perfect expression of the whole affair. Blaaaaapity barp! What a mess. “He gave you a ride home, right?” “Yes, he did. But only after making me act like a total fool.” “How’d he do that?” She takes a monster bite of her burrito and bits of refried bean ooze out of the corners of her mouth. “You have a serious problem, you know that?” I throw a napkin at her. “Whaaa?” she asks, letting more beans fall. I have to look away. “Seriously, I’m hung over. You have to stop.” “Maybe you should skip that empanada if you’re not feeling well,” she says, reaching over. I slap her hand away. “And maybe you should skip trying to get bitch-slapped into next week. Hands off the empanada, Tea-bag.” “Stop stalling,” she says, leaning away from me and wiping her mouth. “Tell me about Mick. What did he make you do?” “Mick is … Mick is …” I sigh. “Mick is too charming for his own good and I cannot deal with his ass right now.” “Why not?” “Because. I have to graduate and get a job and a house and adopt Jersey.” I don’t meet her eyes. Teagan laughs seriously at first and then with a confused tone. “Wait … what?”

My jaw goes off center as I wait for her arguments to come. I’m staring at the ceiling. I don’t want to see her looking at me like I’m crazy. “Seriously? You want to adopt your own brother? Is that even possible?” I finally look at her when I realize she’s not mocking me. “Not adopt him, but take him into my custody, yes. That’s my plan.” “But … that’s your parents’ job.” “Yeah, while they’re young and able to do it. But soon they won’t be and then it’ll be my job.” A lump develops in my throat as I picture Jersey and me all alone for the rest of our lives. I guess life could be worse, but it sure looks kind of lonely from here. It could be that the taco shrapnel all over my lap isn’t helping. I’ve obviously lost my touch with the taco-inhaling system I developed over about a hundred meal deals. “But that won’t be for another twenty years.” Teagan’s looking at me like I’m nuts now. And maybe I am, but that’s not going to change anything. “They shouldn’t be taking care of a kid in their seventies, okay? They got started late as it is. They need to be retired and enjoying grandkids, not chasing after a dumbass who eats chalk as soon as their backs are turned.” “I thought it was chapstick,” Teagan says. “Chalk, chapstick, cat turds … whatever. He sees it, he eats it.” She barks out a laugh. “Cat turds?” I sigh heavily. “Apparently, someone around the hood told him to lick a cat turd. I haven’t figured out who it is yet, but when I do, that person is going down to ass-kicking town, courtesy of my right foot.” “Yours and mine both.” She nods, dead serious. I love it when Teagan gets all badass for my family. It makes my heart sing. “You are the best BFF of all BFFs, you know that?” A real live grin finally lights up my face. Right now, in this moment, the future doesn’t seem quite as dim as it did thirty minutes ago. Maybe it’s because then I was under my covers replaying all the horrible things I did to Mick, but whatever. I love my little Tea-Tea. Rebel better treat her right or I’m going to unload on his ass. “Yes, I do know that. So are you going with me to the clinic?” I blink a few times, trying to clear the cobwebs from my brain. “Clinic? Did I miss something?” I sit forward suddenly. “Please tell me you’re not pregnant.” “No, don’t be stupid. But I do need to keep from getting pregnant, so I need more pills. I don’t have insurance yet, so I have to go to that public health clinic place where I can get them free.” “Oooooh. Okay.” I tilt my head. “Did we talk about this before?” I’m a little worried I’m losing my mind. This feels like a conversation I should have remembered. “Maybe. Maybe not. If I didn’t say it out loud, I know I thought it really hard.” She gathers up all her wrappers and shoves them into her empty bag. I throw off my covers, scattering my junk everywhere. “Oh, well, my bad, then. I should have read your mind.” “Sha. Damn straight. That’s what BFFs do. When can you be ready?” “Fifteen minutes.” I rush over to my dresser and start yanking various things out of the drawers. “Yeah right.” She leans over and shoves her bag in the trashcan before sliding her body up towards the headboard so she can lie down. “Wake me up in ninety minutes when you’re really ready,” she says as she places her head on a pile of covers and a corner of my pillow. When I turn around to tell her I won’t take longer than thirty minutes, I see she’s already asleep. I can’t help but shudder at the way the drool is already coming out of her mouth and pooling on my sheets. Ugh. I’m going to have to change them now. But that’s what BFFs do when their friends have make-up sex all night and then come bearing Taco Bell gifts. I will take the full ninety minutes to get ready so she

can be all fresh and sparkly for her trip to the birth control center, because I’m that kind of friend.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN WE’RE STROLLING UP THE SIDEWALK that leads into the health clinic to retrieve the no-baby pills when a familiar face comes walking out in the other direction. “Alissa, hey!” I say, fully expecting her to smile politely like she always does and greet me back. We were never really close friends or anything, but the two of us having the same major and her living in Teagan’s dorm had us crossing paths a lot over the last few years. She’s a lot more serious about life then either Teagan or I am, but that doesn’t stop her from always being polite. She’s a good girl like that. Alissa looks up at me, her eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. Her gaze drops to the sidewalk and she makes as if to go right by Teagan and me without a word. It’s then that I notice her belly. “Alissa?” I grab her by the arm as she’s about to walk past me like I’m a stranger with a bad haircut. “Don’t,” she says, pulling away slightly as she keeps on going. I stand there with my mouth hanging open as she walks away. “What the holy hell was that all about?” Teagan asks quietly, twisting around to watch her go. “Did you see her belly?” I say, just as softly. I don’t want Alissa to hear us talking about her. “Yeah. Holy massively preggers.” “I told you, right?” I look at Teagan. “That she was pregnant? The news was all over campus. But she’s a lot farther along than I realized.” “Yeah. It’s weird to see it. I mean, she’s so young, right? Talk about a statistic.” “Listen,” I say, something coming over me, “go in without me. I’ll catch up.” “Where are you going?” she shouts at my back as I turn and walk in the opposite direction. “BRB!” I yell. I don’t want to announce to the entire world and the small group of anti-abortionists always hanging around there that I’m going to go tackle a pregnant girl. About ten seconds later I’m almost caught up to Alissa in the parking lot. “Hey! Alissa! Wait up!” I yell at her rapidly retreating back. She stops at her car and uses the key to unlock the door. It’s an older model Toyota, too ancient to have an automatic key lock. I’m impressed at the shape the thing is in. It looks like a granny’s been driving it for fifteen years or something. When I reach the side of it, I lean back to see if there are any stuffed animals in the back window. Nope. That’s a surprise. “I’m in a hurry, Quin. Sorry.” She’s using her ultra polite tone, usually reserved for professors and people in the registrar’s office. She tries to shut the door after getting in, but I put my hand up to block it. “Where are you going?” “None of your business,” she says, her voice finally showing some annoyance. I had expected it sooner. I don’t know why, but something is making me harass a pregnant woman. I’m going to blame it on The Bell. I should have gone with the mild sauce, I guess. “I see you’re pregnant.” Boom. Conversation opener. I’z got skills. “Brilliant. I guess your contacts are working. Do you mind?” She finally looks up at me at the

same time that she grabs the inside handle of her door and starts yanking on it. But I’m too stubborn to move yet. I have more harassment to dole out. My body sways side to side with the movement of her attempts at shutting the door on me. “So I’m just wondering … if you’re like … I don’t know … seven months pregnant, what are you doing at a birth control clinic?” Her face turns a shade of pink that would be really cute if it didn’t have the tears along with it. I feel just a tad guilty for making it happen, but not enough to stop. I have a feeling there’s something big going on here and any girl who has to go to a clinic alone needs a friend as far as I’m concerned. “Bug off, Quin.” “Bug off? Wow. Them’s serious fightin’ words, Alissa. Are you sure you can back them up in your condition?” She pulls the keys out of her ignition and throws them onto the dashboard. “What do you want from me, Quin?! Can you just tell me so I can be on my way?!” She looks up at me with the perfect mix of fury and anguish in her expression. She’s like an angry nerd, and if it weren’t so out of character for her it would be amusing. I step closer, putting my hand on her shoulder and softening my voice, all the harassing tone gone. “I just want to be sure you’re okay, that’s all.” I give her my concerned look. “I’m worried about you.” I don’t know what I expected in response, but this isn’t it. She throws herself over her steering wheel and starts bawling like a baby. “Oh, shit.” I bend down and pat her on the back, a true-blue freak-out coming in a big wave over my head. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you upset. Shit!” I stand up and look around in a panic. Teagan is nowhere in sight. I scramble to get my phone out of my purse. My fingers fly over the keypad as I text like a mad woman. Gt ur az out here double time. Fuck! After about thirty seconds of me patting Alissa’s back and Alissa crying like I’ve just stabbed her in the heart, Teagan is by my side. “What took you so long?!” I whisper-yell at her. “What the hell did you do to her?” she asks, ignoring my demand for answers. “Nothing! I just told her I was worried about her, that’s all.” I keep patting her back, hoping it’ll help. Alissa starts blubbering and talking at the same time. “She didn’t … do … a-a-anything -ing -ing …. Baaaaaahhhhhh haaaa haaaaa!” And more crying ensues. Teagan and I look at each other, panic-stricken, now taking turns patting Alissa’s back. We have a pretty good beat going, but it’s not really helping. “Alissa, honey,” Tegan says, “you need to stop crying and talk to us. What’s going on? Are you upset about being pregnant?” Alissa’s cries turn into something not even really human-sounding at that question. I cross my eyes at Teagan and shake my head. “Nice. Good work, Tea.” “What? How am I supposed to know that was some kind of trigger word?” I point to the clinic. “Duh!” Teagan gives me her guilty dumbass smile. “Oh. Yeah. Boner ding.” I bend down to get my face closer to Alissa’s. “Alissa! Hey! You need to stop crying, okay? Someone’s going to call the cops on you for … disturbing the peace or whatever.” She quiets down pretty quick. “I can… I can… I can’t sto…. sto…stop!” She tries to breathe, but hiccups take over and then she starts retching. Teagan jumps back as I grab Alissa by the shoulders and drag the top half of her body towards the

open door. “Okee dokee, no vommy in the Toyota, okay-zees?” I hold her up while her body convulses with dry heaves. “Why are you talking to her like she’s two?” Teagan whispers. “Shut up, I don’t know why.” “Ahhhhhhh, gaaaaaah, mmmuuuuuhhhhh!” Alissa groans out between heaves. “Oh my god,” Teagan says in a low tone. “Pregnancy suuuuucks.” Alissa starts crying in the middle of her choking and heaving. “Okay, Tea-Tea. Time for you to go get us some water, k?” I lift an eyebrow at her. Unable to deny my power, she leaves with an eye roll, heading back into the clinic. I’m pretty sure she’s glad for the chance to escape. “Okay, Alissa,” I say, pushing her back into the car. “Time for you to get a grip.” She flops back onto her seat, her eyes closed and her face pale. “Jesus,” I say, squatting down and staring at her. Thank goodness she didn’t actually throw up; I don’t know what I’d do then. There aren’t any sticks around here I could poke her with and I don’t care how sad someone is; I will not ruin a good pair of shoes by standing in puke. “Alissa … do you need medication or something? Is that why you’re here? Are you diabetic? Do I need to shoot you up with something?” “No,” she whispers. “Just shoot me, period. With a gun and a bullet.” “Mmmm … no. Not today. I’m fresh out of murdering thoughts at the current time. Try me tomorrow, though, because you never know when they’ll crop up again.” I think of Mick and how badly I screwed up last night and decide maybe I could work up a good murdering rage without a lot of effort. Alissa’s sad voice brings me back to reality. “I don’t need any medication. I just need to go.” “Where are you going?” I ask, thinking this is a safe question. Wrong-o. She starts crying again. I don’t know what makes me do it. Maybe it’s panic. Maybe it’s all the meat byproducts I just consumed. It could even be the root beer, although I doubt it. I mean, what could be more innocent than a root beer? I slap her. Right on her sad little face. She stops crying immediately and her eyes fly open. After a few seconds of speechlessness, she opens her mouth. “Did you just slap me?” Her voice is in a really funny high pitch. I’m pretty sure all the dog-ears in a two-mile radius are perked up right now. “Yep, I sure did.” That’s right. Play it off like it’s no big deal, like you didn’t just assault a pregnant lady. “I’m pregnant in case you haven’t noticed!” she screeches. “Yes.” I put my hand on top of hers. “And you’re having some kind of nervous breakdown or something, so I was just trying to get you back on planet Earth. You’re welcome.” Her nostrils flare a few times and then she lets her head fall back against the headrest. She breathes out a big, long sigh and a sad smile creeps onto her lips. “I cannot believe I’m about to thank you for slapping me in the face.” “Don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t be the first.” She turns her head and opens one eye. “You slap Teagan?” “Regularly. She needs it and I’m pretty sure she likes it.” I shift to get more comfortable, resting one of my butt cheeks on the edge of her car’s running board. “So what’s up? Why are you so freaked out? Is it the whole pregnancy thing or is it something else?” She closes her eyes again and turns her head back to center. “What’s freaking me out? I think a better question is what isn’t freaking me out. That would be a shorter list.”

“Nah. The other list sounds more interesting.” She sighs loudly again. I think she’s not going to answer, but then she does. “I fucked up. Plain and simple.” “Wow. You just cussed.” In all the times I’ve ever been around Alissa, I have never even heard so much as a ‘dang’ pass her lips. Her shirts are always buttoned up to her throat and her pants never tight or sexy or anything but bland, bland, bland. A ponytail or simple hair clip describes the extent of her hairstyles. She’s every parents’ wet dream of a kid as far as I’ve ever been able to tell. And now she’s cussed. Oh, the slippery slope she’s on right now. I should probably warn her. “Yes. I’m doing a lot of things these days that I thought I’d never do.” “Oh, yeah? Like what?” “Like trying to get a late-term abortion at a free clinic.” She tries to smile but it quickly disintegrates into more crying and her face scrunching up into the saddest thing I think I’ve ever seen. I reach in and pull her to me as my heart breaks for her. She only makes it part way before her belly gets in the way, so I have to move into a half-squat to complete the hug. “Come here, sweetie, please don’t cry. I’m sorry I teased you.” My chest feels heavy and I want to cry right along with her. This is one of those moments where I realize my life is pretty damn good in comparison to the shit other people are dealing with, and I hate that I’m ungrateful for it most of the time. “I don’t know what to do!” she wails. “I’m stuck. I’m stuck with this…. with this… with everything. I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with everything and nothing!” My eyes fill with tears at the hopelessness I hear in her voice. Panic takes over my mouth. “You’re not stuck. You’re not stuck. No one is ever really stuck when she has friends.” “Friends? Friends?!” Her voice is rising again, so I grip her harder and start patting her on the back, really fast. It’s almost me whacking her at this point, but I don’t stop. “Yes. Friends.” “I don’t have any friends!” She struggles to get free. Pushing me away, she slams her back into her seat again. “The people I thought were friends are long gone, believe me.” She stares out of the windshield, bitterness taking over her tone. “The only person I have left is her.” I look out the front window. “Her? Her who?” There’s no one out there except for the a-holes with signs harassing chicks going into the clinic. Alissa looks at me like I’m the dumbest girl on the planet, which is probably perfectly appropriate seeing as how that’s who I feel like right now. “Her. Her!” She points to her belly. I can’t help but smile through the tears swimming in my eyes. I don’t know why, but it’s not until that moment that she called her baby ‘her’ that it really hits me what’s going on inside Alissa’s body. “It’s a girl?” “Yes,” she says, sounding like she’s about to fall asleep. “It’s a girl.” She closes her eyes and leans her head back once more. “Can I go now?” “Nah. Nope. Nyet. Nien. Fuuuuuck no.” She lifts her lids and looks at me. It kind of freaks me out how undead she looks with her pale skin and red-rimmed, glazed-over eyes. “Why do you care what I do or where I go?” I stand up to get the circulation going in my legs. Shrugging as I struggle for the answer, I look for Teagan. Thank all that is holy, she’s coming out of the building with a bottle of water in her hand and her phone to her ear. “I don’t know, Alissa. I guess I see you sitting here looking like a lost sheep and I feel the need to shepherd you somewhere.” “Just let me go. You have Teagan.” I frown down at her. “I don’t have Teagan. Teagan and I are friends because we care about each other. And it looks like you could use one of those. You know … friends?”

“It’s too late for that,” she says, reaching over to grab her keys off her dashboard. “I have to go.” I point to Teagan to get her attention and then point at the passenger side of the car and make a twirling signal with my finger. When I yell, “Hijack!” my BFF jumps into action, bless her little stinkin’ heart. “What are you doing?” Alissa yells, as I push the seat lever and shove her seat forward a couple inches. Mindful of her belly, I only go far enough to be able to squeeze through the space and dive into the back seat. The passenger door flies open and Teagan jumps in, yelling, “Hijack alert!” She pretty much sings it with glee. We get busy high-fiving each other over our awesome car-jacking skills as Alissa indulges in another good cry over her steering wheel.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN TEAGAN’S ON THE PHONE WITH Rebel and I’m driving Alissa’s Toyota. She’s asleep in the backseat. Apparently, being carjacked is exhausting work for a pregnant person. I keep checking her in the rearview mirror to be sure she’s still breathing. So far, so good. Teagan hangs up her phone and drops it into her purse. “What’d he say?” I ask, glancing at her before going back to looking out the windshield. “He says she can stay with us until we figure something out.” I grin. “Sweetness. Now we just need to figure out how I can wrangle a spot in the apartment for myself and we can live together as one big happy family.” Teagan is looking at me, but I just keep my eyes on the road. I don’t want her making me get all gooey. “You don’t mean that,” she says. “Nah.” I play it off. “I’m cool with the ‘rents. Who’s going to keep Jersey off the cat turds if I move out?” “He’d be fine without you,” Teagan says, censure in her voice. “He’s not your responsibility.” “Anyway, what is the plan for her?” I ask, moving the topic away from my brother and me. I’m way better at dealing with other people’s problems than I am with my own. “I have zero plan. This is all on you, babe,” Teagan says. “I’m up to my asshole in lawsuit stuff and police reports and my father…” She stares out the side window, and I look over in time to see her throat moving up and down. She’s holding back tears again. She’s been doing that a lot since her father died. I wish she’d let me into that hard candy shell she has wrapped around her heart. I make myself feel better by reminding myself how much Rebel is doing that for her. And I love her too much to be jealous over it. I just want her to be happy again. I reach out and pat her leg a little. “Are you saying you’re out completely?” I ask, steering the conversation away from her dad. “Because I kind of need your help on this one.” “No, I’m not out. I’m just … I don’t know.” She sighs. “I’m in. You can count on me.” She looks over and squeezes my arm. “Do my face,” I say, leaning towards her. She obliges me by pinching my cheek. I love it when she does that. It makes me feel adorable. “What about your new place?” I ask. She and Rebel were supposed to be house-hunting. I hope me getting Alissa into the mix won’t ruin that. I know how much Teagan was looking forward to it. “We’ll just get one with another bedroom. No big.” I love that Teagan is so cool about stuff like this. I’m not sure that Rebel is; he hardly says anything to me. But I do know that he’d do pretty much anything to make Teagan happy, so I’m not going to worry about Alissa imposing on them for a little while. Besides, it’s not forever. Her baby must be due in … maybe three months? Two months?

“Who’s the father?” Teagan whispers. Her voice is so light I almost can’t hear it, but since I’ve been wondering about that question myself, it’s not too difficult to understand where she’s coming from. I shrug and mouth the words, ‘I don’t know.’ Alissa moves around and moans a little in the back, shifting to get comfortable. Teagan looks back at her. “Is she going to have the baby soon, or what?” “No, ding-dong. She still has a couple months to go.” “How do you know?” “Because. I still remember my mom being pregnant.” I put on the turn signal so I can pull into Rebel Wheels. As we enter the parking lot, the door to the office swings open and Rebel comes out. He stands in the doorway, staring at his girlfriend. Her face lights up like someone threw a giant light-switch on inside her head. I can practically see beams of light coming from behind her damn teeth. I roll my eyes at how goofy she is. “Man, play a little hard to get, would ya?” She ignores me and leaps out of the car, running over to jump on Rebel. I avert my eyes when she wraps her legs around his waist and his grip around her back tightens. After getting out, I push the seat forward to release my captive-slash-passenger. “Okay, Alissa. Home, sweet home. Come on out and meet your new roomies.” Alissa sits up slowly and blinks her eyes a few times. “Where are we?” She looks around in confusion. “Not the best part of town, but a nice place to live in nonetheless. Come on, chickie. Up and at ‘em.” She gets out kind of awkwardly, but by using my shoulder is able to stand up straight outside the car. “Rebel Wheels,” she says, staring at the sign. “Teagan’s boyfriend is Rebel. He’s the strong, silent type, so don’t expect any stimulating conversation out of him. He lives above the shop in an apartment with Teagan. For now you have their couch, and soon when they move out, a bedroom of your own.” Her chin quivers. “Nope!” I point at her face, panic seizing my heart. “No crying!” “I can’t stay here,” she says softly. She swallows a few times and seems to get control over her emotions. I frown at her, trying to scold her into not being silly anymore. “Of course you can.” She shakes her head. “I can’t be a burden.” I sigh loudly, letting my annoyance pay her a visit. “Being a burden is making me worry about your pregnant ass. You told us your parents kicked you out, right? Or did I imagine that?” “No, you didn’t imagine it. They did.” “And the dorm is closing for the summer for painting and roof repairs, right?” “Yes.” “And you don’t have any money for a hotel anymore…” “Thanks for that reminder of how much my life sucks,” she says, finally looking at me. I grin big. “You’re welcome. Now, follow me.” I take her by the arm and part-lead, part-drag her over to the entrance. “Teagan works down here in the office. Don’t touch her files or she’ll eat your fingers off.” We pass through the office and go over to the stairs. “This is the inner sanctum of muscle car awesomeness. Don’t touch anything in here or Rebel will chew your butt out and since he hardly ever talks, you can imagine how devastating that would be.” At the top of the stairs I point to the two doors in the upper hallway. “That first door is your place. That second door leads into the lair of the dragon. Do not even go near there. Do not talk to the dragon. If the dragon tries to engage you in conversation, do not respond. And whatever you do, do not, under any circumstances, look the dragon in the eye.” I give her

my serious eyebrows. She looks scared. “The dragon?” The door to Colin’s apartment flies open and he steps out into the hall, dressed in workout gear with earbuds dangling from one ear. His muscles couldn’t be any more out there for us to enjoy. I roll my eyes. He knows exactly what he’s going to do to any woman or gay man seeing him at that gym. Alissa looks up and her expression goes from surprised to shocked to goo-goo, all in about two seconds. I yank on her arm and speak in a growling whisper. “I told you not to look at the dragon!” “Who’s this?” Colin asks as he walks up to us. He’s all effortless charm, giving Alissa the kind of smile that stops hearts. He is so dangerous. I’m seriously worried about her going into labor right now. If she sees his painting skills, she’s done for. I put my shoulders back to assert my position of power. “This is a young lady who does not wish to talk to you.” I push her towards Rebel’s apartment and assert myself between them. I hope to block her view of his glory so she doesn’t do something stupid and fall in love with him. She already has enough on her plate, and I’m pretty positive guys like Colin are not into pregnant girls. Alissa looks quickly at the ground, her face so pink she looks like she’s about to burst into flames. “Hello, young lady who does not wish to talk to me. I’m Colin.” As the door is shutting in his face, thanks to the quick maneuvers of my right heel, Alissa answers. “Nice to meet you too … Dragon.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN I DON’T KNOW WHY I expect my life to be easy peasy. Nothing ever goes as planned. “Who’s this?” Mick asks as I walk into the family room with Alissa next to me. Arranging my face to look as cool as possible, I gesture to the couch. “Go ahead and have a seat, Alissa. Rebel and Teagan will be right up.” She looks at Mick with a tiny smile and then follows my orders. “Mick, this is Alissa. Alissa, this is Mick. He’s Rebel’s brother.” Mick walks over and holds out a hand. “Nice to meet you.” “You too,” she says, giving him what looks like a very limp handshake. “Can I get you a drink of water or something?” he asks. “Sure,” she says. “That would be nice, thank you.” He turns towards the kitchen and frowns at me when he’s no longer facing Alissa. “Can I talk to you for a sec’, Quin?” I shrug. “Sure.” Alissa’s already been through enough crap for one day. I don’t want to make a scene in front of her by arguing with Mick, so I follow him. Besides, I still need to apologize about twenty times before I’ll be able to comfortably live with myself again. Might as well get that party started. He’s reaching into a cabinet above his head when I get to the kitchen. “You wanted to talk to me?” I ask in a low tone so Alissa won’t hear us. “Yeah. What’s she doing here? She’s pregnant, right?” “Very observant of you. Yes, she’s pregnant. And she’s here temporarily until she can get her own place.” He turns on the water. “What about the father?” “We’re not sure what the deal is with that yet, but her parents have shut her out and all her other friends have abandoned her. She’s alone.” He shuts the water off abruptly, looking at me like he doesn’t believe it. “Why?” I shrug. “I haven’t given her the third degree yet, but if you have one of those really bright lamps I can shine in her face, I could get started right way.” He frowns at me. “Are you ever not a smartass?” I act like I’m seriously considering the question. After I few seconds, I answer. “Nope. Never.” He grins. “Good. I like smartasses.” With just that one smile he deflates my fighting mood. I put my arm out to stop him from leaving the kitchen. “Mick, just let me apologize before you go out there.” “For what?” “For saying that awful thing I said to you last night. It was inexcusable.” He shrugs, his face going a little dark. “No big deal.” “No, it was a big deal. It is a big deal. I’m going to have nightmares for a week over it. I’m an asshole. You should know that about me up front. I have a disease called speak-before-think-itis and it’s

obviously not in remission right now.” “I’m over it,” he says, moving into the family room again. I’m left standing in the kitchen knowing that he is most definitely not over it. And who can blame him? It was heartless and cold. One of my not-so-shining moments for sure. I’m standing there chewing on my lip and stewing in self-hatred when he pops his head back into the kitchen. “You could make it up to me, if it’s really bothering you.” Rescue party! Sweetness! “Oh, yeah? How?” “Dinner. Movie. Tonight. Otherwise, I’m probably going to lie in bed all night thinking about what you said. I might even cry over it. But you could distract me from all that by going out with me and keeping my mind off things.” “You’re a bastard,” I say without anger. “Yes or no? I have water to deliver to a parched pregnant girl.” “Fine. Yes. But I’ll meet you there.” The last thing I need is Jersey attaching himself again. Knowing Mick, he’d invite the little turd along. “Meet me there? Where?” “I don’t know where. You tell me.” “End of your driveway. See you there at seven.” He disappears before I can argue. I stew in the kitchen for a few minutes until I hear Teagan come in. Putting my own issues on the back burner for now, I join the group so we can all weigh-in on Alissa’s situation. Everyone finds a chair or a part of the couch before silence falls over the room. Tick-tock … tick-tock … tick-tock. I can literally feel myself aging. Teagan’s eyes begin to cross, Rebel is staring holes into Alissa’s stomach, and Mick is very interested in the ceiling. Holy awko taco, I can’t take any more of it. “Sooo … Alissa. You’re pregnant. How far along are you?” “About seven months,” she says before taking a sip of her water. She keeps the glass up by her face. I think she’s hiding behind it. “Do you have a doctor?” Mick asks. “Yes. Kind of. I go to a clinic.” “Where are you going to have the baby?” I ask. When everyone looks at me like I’m crazy, I explain. “My mom had all that stuff planned out way before the end of her pregnancy.” “I don’t know. I really don’t have any plans,” Alissa says. She sounds embarrassed. “Do you have insurance?” Teagan asks. “Having a baby’s expensive at the hospital, right?” She looks to me for confirmation, as if I have all the answers. I nod sagely. I don’t want to lose my position as insurance expert. “I have basic insurance, but I don’t think it covers everything.” “What are your parents saying about all this?” Mick asks. Aaaaand cue the tears. I roll my eyes at him. “Honestly, Mick! Do you think she’d be here sleeping on Rebel’s couch if they were being supportive?” He stands up. “How the hell do I know? I didn’t even know she was taking the couch! Jesus, would you get off my back already?” I stand up to face off with him. “Use your brain! How about that for a plan, huh?” Alissa’s wailing gets louder. Teagan jumps up. “Okay! Assholes … leave the room!” I put my hands on my hips and glare at Mick. “You heard her. Out.” “I’m including you in that group,” she says, looking at me. “You and Mick, beat it. Wait out in the hall or in my office.”

My jaw drops open. “You can’t be serious.” “Go work out whatever shit you have going on between you, or else,” she says, pointing at me. “I am not playing. You are my best friend and he is Rebel’s brother. You don’t have to like each other but you do have to be nice. Now go.” I stick my bottom lip out as my eyebrows crinkle up and descend down to my eyelids. “That is so unfair. You have no idea what’s going on here.” “Whatever. You can yell at me later.” Teagan crosses her arms. “Go, or I’m gonna give you the biggest titty twister you’ve ever had before in your life.” My hands fly up to protect the bubbly jubblies. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Try me,” she says, holding out her pinchers. I move around the front of the chair and through the space made by the coffee table. “Fine. I’m outta here since you’re going to get all abusive on me.” Mick is already at the door, holding it open for me. I don’t trust my boobage to the free air until he’s closed it behind me. “She’s really tough when she wants to be,” Mick says as we move down the stairs into the garage. “I’m already making my plans for revenge.” I’m fuming over being dismissed so easily. How are they going to figure out what’s what without all my pregnancy knowledge? Mick seems completely unconcerned. By the time I get to the bottom of the stairs and sit in my own steam for a few seconds, he’s standing in front of an engine, staring down at it. I walk over to be near him, curious about what he’s looking at and finding the space far away from him very lonely. As I get closer, I feel warmer. He’s like a pair of flannel pajamas or something. “So, what do you think?” he asks, still staring at the engine. I stop next to him and take a moment to consider all the metal parts and hoses stuck every which way. Adopting my most serious tone, I answer him. “I think this four-eleven is pretty tight. You should restore it.” I have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. “And what exactly is a four-eleven?” He’s acting as serious as I am. “You don’t know?” I ask, like he’s the dummy. “No. Educate me.” I shake my head. “I think you better go back to mechanic’s school. Everyone knows what a foureleven is.” “I never went to mechanic’s school,” he says, grabbing a tool and reaching into the engine somewhere. I can’t see where his hand is, but he’s cranking on something. The muscles of his arms bulge and ripple with the effort, making my mouth go a little dry. “How’d you learn how to do all this?” I ask, waving at the engine. “Trial and error. Rebel. Books.” “Books? You read books to learn how to repair cars?” “Sure.” He pulls his arm out and looks at me. He doesn’t seem very happy. “What …? You think I can’t read?” “No, of course I don’t think that. I just didn’t think there were books about repairing cars. But I guess that’s stupid, isn’t it? There are books for everything these days.” Being near Mick is once again making me stupid. Maybe I should start wearing tinfoil on my head when he’s around. He points to a bookshelf covered in dirty, very old looking books. “A company called Chilton makes manuals for every car there is, pretty much. Tells you how to fix everything on the car.” I go over to the shelf and pull one off. “Seriously?” I open it up and see a page with a weird engine part on it. “Alternator,” I say out loud. Looking up at him, I see him in a new light. “You know how to fix alternators?” It sounds very impressive since I don’t even know what one is or what it does. “Yep. I can repair old ones or install new ones, depending on what the customer wants.”

“You’ve got skills,” I say, nodding in appreciation. Hot and good with his hands. Down, Hootchie! Down! “Yeah, I’ve got skills.” He leans back into the engine. “Too bad they’re not skills like doctoring or engineering.” I sense a note of something in his voice I can’t quite put my finger on. Jealousy, maybe? Regret? “Being a mechanic is cool,” I say, meaning my words with everything I have. “My dad works at the power company. He’s an engineer, but his job sounds boring compared to yours.” “Really?” Mick glances at me before going back to cranking his tool. “Yeah. I guess once you get up in the ranks, it becomes all paperwork and administrative stuff. He doesn’t get to do the things he likes anymore. As a mechanic you get to do the cool stuff every day.” I look around. “Hell, you can even own your own place and call all the shots.” I look back at him. “My dad could never do that. He’s stuck.” Mick pulls his tool out of the engine and puts it down, using a nearby rag to wipe his hands off. “I guess that’s true.” He nods at the driver’s door of the car. “Hop in there and turn the engine over, would ya?” I look at him and then the car. “Are you sure?” “Yeah, just turn the key.” I get in gingerly and shut the door, hoping I’m not about to blow the engine up. This car looks expensive. Teagan has told me how much they go for once they’re done being restored. “Just turn the key?” I stick my head out the window, trying to see around the hood to Mick’s face. He leans out to see me, smiling. “Yeah. Just turn the key.” “Don’t blame me if she blows,” I say, going back in the car and turning the key very slowly. I jump a little when the engine roars to life. “Take your foot off the gas!” Mick yells. I yank my foot back and accidentally turn the key off at the same time. I sit there feeling foolish as the sounds of footsteps come from the side of the car. Mick’s torso comes into view through the window. He bends down and puts his face right next to mine. “Do I make you nervous?” I look out the windshield and try not to smile. “No. I’m perfectly calm, thank you very much.” He leans in and takes my right hand, lifting it to put it over the key. “Your foot’s off the gas, right?” “Yes.” I try not to react to him being so close and touching me, but it’s impossible. His hair is tickling my nose and he smells so good. I want to lean forward three inches and bury my face in the back of his neck. But I don’t, because I know he’s a hellion and I don’t have time for that kind of foolishness in my life. He makes my hand turn the key. The car comes to life again, but this time with something more like a purr going on under the hood instead of a roar. He pulls his hand back but doesn’t come completely out of the car. “See? That was easy. Maybe you just need my guidance to get it right.” “Pffft. Yeah right. That’ll be the day.” I look right at him, amazed at how those green eyes of his can make my blood pressure go through the roof. “I’m a good teacher,” he says, pulling his head out of the car. His voice goes all sexy-like. “I could show you some things.” My jaw drops open a little. He has some nerve being so hot with me right now when it’s taking everything I have to keep my hands to myself. Time to bring him down a notch or two. My eyebrow goes up on its own power. “I’m not so sure about that.” He stands up. “What? You know how to tune-up a car?” I lean over towards the window so I can see his face. It’s the picture of innocence.

“Tune up? What are you talking about?” “I’m talking about car repair. What are you talking about?” He smiles evilly. I open the door and catch him in the knees. He bends over and walks backwards, smiling through his surprised pain. “Ow, shit …” “That’s it,” I say, my good humor and all this sexy talk getting me riled up. He backs up, limping, holding his hands up in front of him. “Wait, wait … what?” He looks behind him to be sure he’s not going to trip. When he turns back he’s laughing at me. “Slow down! I’m going to trip and bust my ass.” I start running at him but not in time to catch him. He sees me coming and does some kind of jumpup-spin-around maneuver and is out of the garage before I can even get to the office. I reach the entrance to the business and stop at the door, trying to figure out which way he went in the parking lot. I’m grabbed from behind, strong arms wrapping around my body like a big vice. Dammit! Foiled again! I scream with laughter and fright as Mick swings me around and around out in the parking lot. “Stop!” I shriek, gripping onto his forearms that are wrapped around my waist. “I’m going to barf!” “Cry mercy!” he grunts out. “Cry mercy and I’ll let you go!” “Fuck that!” The world is spinning, spinning, spinning… I hold out as long as I can, but when the butterflies in my stomach turn into angry bees, I cave. “Mercy! Mercy! Ow, Mercy! I’m dying! Help!” He stops and drops me to me feet, breathing heavily. “Good. Glad you finally … came to your senses.” He’s struggling to catch his breath. I scramble around to fix my hair. Fool has my ‘do all over the place. “Payback’s a bitch, you know.” I try to kick him but he jumps to the side and I miss. “See you tonight,” he says, leaping towards me and pinching my butt before running back into the garage. I stay outside. Everyone will be safer with me cooling off alone. “You’re going to be sorry you did that!” I yell into the open space. “I’m pretty sure I won’t!” I smile as I think about our upcoming date. As much as I want to regret saying yes and be mad at him for what he’s about to do to my heart, I just can’t. Maybe this broken heart will be worth having.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN TEAGAN IS ON SPEAKER-PHONE as I put on my makeup in my bedroom mirror. “So, what did you guys finally decide to do with Alissa?” I ask, putting on my eyeliner. I’m going with the smokey-eye look tonight. I figure since this will probably be our one and only date, I might as well play it up right. Mick is going to be speechless with lust. I wonder if I’m going to leave him hanging or indulge a little. Talking about Alissa kind of makes me lean in favor of not. “She’s going to stay here until further notice. She doesn’t want to talk much, though, so it’s kind of frustrating.” “What do you mean she doesn’t want to talk much?” I smudge the liner under my right eye. Perfection. I grin all vixen-like at my reflection. Mick is so going down. “She won’t say anything about the father or what his reaction is to the whole thing, so I have no idea if he’s even in the picture or knows what’s going on. And she says very little about her parents, other than they’re ultra religious and she’s now considered the spawn of satan or something.” “Whaaaat?” I pause in the middle of doing my other eye. “Well, those are my words, not hers, but that’s the gist of it.” “What kind of parents reject their kid when she’s about to have a kid of her own?” I shake my head as I take in the reflection of my bedroom around me through the mirror. I know for a fact my parents would never abandon me like that. I should probably be nicer to them. I vow to myself in that moment to take Jersey to the park tomorrow for two hours to give them time to do stuff I don’t like to think about as it relates to my parents. Ew. Parents having sex. Ew again. “Terrible parents, that’s who,” Teagan says. “Assholes of the highest degree.” “Maybe they’ll change their minds,” I say, doubting people like that are capable of such a feat. “I don’t know. Anyway, we need to get her maternity clothes. She’s busting out of her pants. I’m not sure if you noticed it or not but she’s wearing her normal jeans with the zipper down and a rubber band holding the button to the button hole.” “No, I didn’t notice any of that. She had that big old shirt on over it. Do you want me to see if my mom has any of her old stuff? I mean, it won’t be trendy or anything but there aren’t any rubber bands involved, at least.” “Yeah, that’d be great. And Rebel said the business could donate some money if she wants to go shopping, but I’m pretty sure she’ll say no to that. She’s freaking out about hand-outs and charity.” “I get that, but still … she has to think about her baby.” I finish up my other eye and give myself a double eyebrow-raise in the mirror to check the effects. Mick, you are in so much trouble. Putty. You will be putty in my hands. “I hear ya.” Teagan sounds distracted. “So how is Rebel dealing with all this?” “What do you mean, ‘all this’?” “Well, first he falls in love with a girl who hijacked his office, then he moves in with her, and now

she has a pregnant buddy on the couch. Seems like a lot to deal with.” “Yeah,” she sighs, “you’re right. I should probably blow him tonight, huh?” I giggle. “Yeah. Sexty-nine all the way.” “You’re mocking me.” “Who me? Nah. I’d never do that.” I throw a kiss at the mirror. “Rebel is actually fine with it. He and Alissa had a long talk.” “What?” I slam my mascara down, my happiness evaporating. “Now that’s just total bullshit.” Teagan laughs. “Why?” “Because he has said maybe ten words to me the entire time I’ve known him and now he goes all chatty bitch with Alissa? Why? Because she’s pregnant, that gives her some sort of special pass into his super secret, private, silent man-world?” Teagan’s still laughing. “Shut up,” I say, taking my mascara back in hand. Mick is going to be here any minute. I need to let this rejection slide off my shoulders so I can focus on the man-killing I have ahead of me tonight. Maybe it’s a terrible plan, but if I’m only going to be with Mick once after we both decide it’s a terrible idea that we be together, I’m going to make it count. All this smokey eye stuff is convincing me that playing it safe is a silly, stupid idea. I’m only going to be young once. One of these days I’ll be old and pregnant and wishing I’d had more fun when I could have. “Are you seriously jealous of an unwed pregnant girl?” Teagan asks, jerking me out of my mindwandering. I pout. Hearing the words sobers me up pretty quickly. “No. Not exactly.” “Good. Because that would be seriously wrong of you. Now go and finish up with the eyebrow grooming. I have blow jobs to hand out.” “Ew. And how did you know I was about to do my eyebrows?” I look down at the toothbrush I use for just that operation. “Because, you’re obsessed with those things. I’m surprised you haven’t named them yet.” “Actually, I have. Vixie and Trixie.” “Oh, God. You are disturbed. I have to go. Be good. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” “Well, that leaves the playing field wide open doesn’t it?” I pause. “Get it? Wide open? Get it?” She burps loudly and hangs up without another word. I sigh with happiness as I stroke my right eyebrow with the toothbrush. I love my best friend. Someday I’m going to live right next door to her so I can harass her all day long. She doesn’t know this yet, but I’d love to see her stop me. My dreams of forced neighborly relations are interrupted by the doorbell. I drop my toothbrush in a panic. My heart is beating way too fast for this event and it pisses me off. I whisper to myself as I gather my purse and shove things into it. “Just relax. It’s Mick, not Obama.” He’s early. He must be as anxious as I am. A big boom hits my door and I open it to find Jersey standing there. At least this time he didn’t fall. “Who’s there?” I say, looking right at him. “It’s me, Sister. Can’t you see me?” “No.” I reach out a hand and start patting him sloppily all over the face and head. “Is that you, Jersey-boy? Take your invisible spell off. I need to give you a kiss goodbye.” “I’m not using it, silly. See?” He lifts his eyebrows and grins. I lean over and kiss him on the side of his face. “Some of that invisibility dust must still be on you. Only thing I can see is your fat little cheek.” He puts his hand in mine and we walk down the stairs together. “Are you leaving?” he asks. “Only for a few hours.”

“Where are you going?” he asks, looking up at me with sad eyes. “Just to the movie and dinner. You can wait up for me if you want.” “Okay. I’ll play with my action figures in your room.” “Do that. But don’t pull any of their heads off because that’s weird.” “Only assholes do that,” he says. I mess up his hair. “Yep. Only assholes behead their dolls.” I lean down and kiss him again. It strikes me that I don’t have to lean so much anymore. My little bro is growing up. Maybe that should make me happy, but it doesn’t. It makes me worry. “Bye, turd basket,” I say. “Bye, Sister turd basket.” Jersey leaves me and runs up the stairs, no doubt to dump his entire box of toys onto my floor. I won’t let it piss me off this time. I feel like he’s slipping out of my life with all this growing up stuff. Maybe seeing Alissa pregnant and alone has me going all soft. Jersey won’t mind. He loves the attention. It makes me smile to imagine the look on his face when I get down on my butt to do a Han Solo war. He loves Han Solo wars. I open the door and stand there with a frown on my face as the man before me smiles. Does. Not. Compute. Brain meltdown commencing… “What are you doing here?” I finally ask. “Mick asked me to pick you up for him. He got hung up at work.” Colin grins at me like only Colin can. I cock a hip and stare at him some more. He looks way too happy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there’s trouble-making afoot here, but his explanation makes sense and I cannot imagine what kind of prank he’d be pulling by picking me up for his brother, so I walk outside onto the front porch. “Okay. If you say so.” I shut the door behind me. “Where are we going?” “Just come with me,” he says, walking down the front walk with his hand at the small of my back. “It’s a surprise.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN COLIN IS DRIVING IN A direction I’m not familiar with. “So what’s the deal? What was so important at work that Mick couldn’t pick me up?” “Car has to be delivered tonight. Last minute thing.” Colin seems distracted. He’s focusing really hard on the road which makes me suspicious. He’s usually way more interested in charming pants off, or at least trying to. I take my phone out of my purse and stare at the screen. No messages. Wouldn’t Mick have texted me if he were going to be late? I look over at his brother. I guess not. Maybe Mick is one of those antitechnology people, so he used old-fashioned personal interaction to send his message. “When will he be done?” I ask. “Soon. Probably real soon.” I remain silent for a few more minutes as Colin navigates the streets. It’s just too weird to be in a car with him driving and me not knowing our destination, so I can’t keep my mouth shut for long. “Where are we going exactly?” “You’ll see.” My phone buzzes in my hand and I turn it over to look at the screen. Before I can move my finger to see the whole message, Colin snatches the phone and drops it into the side pocket of his door. “What the … Colin?! Give it back!” I go from confused to pissed in half a second. “Just give me two minutes without interruption and it’s all yours.” He pulls up to the curb next to a big building. We’re in a ritzy part of town I don’t generally go to. “That is seriously fucked up,” I say, both angry and nervous. “Why did you take my phone?” Sweat breaks out under my arms and I start to shake a little. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m mad or scared. This whole situation is just … weird. He puts the car in park and shuts off the engine. “I just need your undivided attention for five minutes. That’s it. I promise, you’re safe.” He takes my phone out and puts it in his front pocket. I back my chin up to my neck. “Safe? What the hell does that mean?” Okay, now I’m shaking from fear. This is wrong. I can feel it. It was stupid for me to just get in his car. He’s a felon for shit’s sake! I don’t know him at all! Colin stares at me and the hard lines of his face along with the tip of a tattoo I can see coming up to his neck from his chest over the top of his shirt are adding up into something I never fully appreciated before. Trouble. There’s a reason he’s known as Trouble around town, and it’s definitely not because he’s a choirboy. Gah! I am such a stupid asshole! “You kidnapped me, didn’t you?” I slap my hands down on the seat. Anger is way better than fear. I’m going to go with that emotion instead. “I cannot believe this! Kidnapping is not supposed to happen in the real world! It’s bad enough it happened to Teagan! This is not a club I want to join! It’s not even civilized, Colin!” He frowns at me like I’m the lunatic. “I didn’t kidnap you, don’t be ridiculous.” He gets out of the

car and comes around to get my door. “Just come inside and then I’ll bring you to Mick.” I glare up at him as he stands in the open doorway. “He didn’t tell you to get me, did he?” “Could you please come inside with me?” Part of me is saying I should shut the door and lock myself inside. Another part is telling me to run, run, run for a populated area. But the look on his face is speaking to another part of me; the part that sees a vulnerability there and nothing at all that looks like trouble. “If I come with you, are you going to rape me?” “Do you really think I’m capable of something like that?” “Not before, but right now, I’m not so sure what you’re capable of. This is kidnapping. I wouldn’t have called you a kidnapper before.” “It’s not kidnapping. Jesus.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I just wanted to show you something without anyone else seeing it.” “Is it your junk?” He laughs and growls at the same time. “No, for God’s sake, it’s not my junk. If I wanted to show you the money I would have done it a long time ago.” “I’ve only known you a few weeks,” I say, almost ready to put my foot outside the door. “Like I said. I would have shown you a long time ago.” His sexy look is back and it’s not scary at all. I swing my legs out and hold my hand up. “Help me out of this stupid kidnapping mobile. It’s too low to the ground.” He takes my hand and acts like a complete gentlemen helping me out and shutting the door behind me. Maybe I should be more nervous about the death march I’m probably about to take, but I’m not. I’m kind of excited about what might be behind the curtain. Or the door, I guess. He’s leading me to the door of a building. For the first time since our arrival, I notice what the place is. “This is an art gallery,” I say. “Yes, it is. You’re very observant.” “Shut up.” I step up over the curb and stop in front of the door. “Are you seriously taking me to look at art? Is there such a thing as a kidnapping date?” “First of all, it’s not a date. And second of all it’s not a kidnapping. And third of all…” “Third of all, my ass. I’ve been kidnapped. Don’t try and take that away from me.” I step up to the door and wait for him to open it. “What, is that like earning some kind of medal? To be kidnapped?” “Well, I’ll tell you what … when I get back to the real world and I tell them about how you threw me in the car and I fought you off with my bare hands and handed you your ass on a platter, it’s going to be.” “You’d better not tell anyone that,” he says grinning. “Rebel will kill me.” “I think it’s Mick you’re going to have to worry about. He’s supposed to be my date tonight.” Colin pauses with his hand on the door. “I don’t give a shit what that little asshole thinks.” I frown at him. “What’s the deal with you two? Why all the bro-hate? You guys are blood. What happened to brotherly love and all that stuff?” “I don’t like what he does or what he stands for, so let’s just leave it at that.” “Oh, no, no, no, no, sir, we are not going to just leave it at that.” I cross my arms. “Tell me the details. I’m drooling here.” “After I show you the money,” he says, smiling and opening the door. A blast of air conditioning hits me in the bare arms, making me get goosebumps. “I knew it. You’re going to show me your junk in here, aren’t you?” I step into the bright interior, trying to keep my eyes on him and not trip in the entrance at the same time.

“Nah.” He lets the door swing shut behind him. Leaning down so he can whisper in my ear, he says, “I’m going to show you my heart and soul.”

CHAPTER TWENTY “COLIN!” AN OLDER WOMAN SAYS in a very smokey voice. She’s just on the border of sounding like a frog; one thousand more cigarettes and she’ll be there. “So nice of you to come. Please, please, come in and meet our guests.” My jaw drops open as I take in the scene around me. All I can think is, Damn, good thing I did the smokey eye look tonight. Every single person in the art gallery is wearing black … every single person except Colin and me, that is. He’s in jeans and a t-shirt and I’m in my red top and bedazzled blue shorts that cost me a chunk of babysitting change. I would fit in perfectly at a date consisting of dinner and a movie with a hot mechanic. Here, I look like the cleaning crew. I sigh, knowing I either need to slink around in the shadows or just own this thing. I decide on the latter and raise my chin just a fraction of an inch. The cigarette lady smiles at me indulgently. “And who is your friend?” “This is Quin. She’s my brother’s girl and my biggest fan.” I’m too shocked to respond. He’s nervous, that much is clear from his voice. And the fact that I’m his biggest fan after only seeing one painting is not only an honor, it also makes me sadder than I can remember being in a long time. “Quin, this is Barbara. She’s the lady who put on this show for me. I finally answered her calls after you came to my apartment and told me I should.” I shake her hand kind of numbly. “So nice to meet Colin’s number one fan. Did he tell you how I found him?” I shake my head, still unable to speak. “Oh, it’s a great story. I saw his graffiti work downtown and tracked him down through some very questionable characters and harassed him until he caved. You would not believe the people I had to interrogate to get that far.” Her gaze sweeps the room as she keeps ahold of my hand in her cool boney one. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to duke that title of biggest fan out with a few people who are here tonight, though.” She lets me go to squeeze Colin’s arm. “Darling, you are a hit. A hit! I already have four pieces sold and the night is still way too young.” She pulls on his forearm. “Come with me. I want to introduce you to a few people.” I move to the left, thinking I’m going to let him go as I look at the paintings that are placed along the walls, but Colin has other ideas. He grabs my hand and drags me along. I try to look graceful getting back on balanced legs. “What are you doing?” I ask, running on tiptoes to keep up. My heels make clop-clop-clopping sounds on the marble-tiled floor. He pauses to lean down and whisper in my ear. “Do not leave me with these vultures!” I’ve never heard him scared before. It’s freaky. “Fine.” I say under my breath. I’ll be a superhero if I must. I really wish I had my phone right now, though. Not only would I text Teagan to tell her I’m okay, I’d also be taking some serious pictures and video. There are several people standing around drinking

champagne in front of Colin’s paintings. All of the canvasses have lights shining from the ceiling on them, showing them off so well it’s like they’re alive or something. Several of the onlookers are pointing and nodding heads as they discuss the work. We arrive at a group of people standing in a circle and Barbara introduces Colin. I am apparently dog meat, since I don’t get a mention. And then the fawning begins. They ask him questions, tentatively at first and then more enthusiastically as his answers come out in short, simple sentences devoid of emotion. He’s playing the weirdo artist perfectly. I know he and Rebel aren’t blood brothers, but obviously some of Rebel’s attitude about minimalist talking has worn off on him. I think part of the attraction from this crowd is coming from the fact that his paintings have so much emotion, but he himself displays so little of it. Still waters run deep and all that junk. I squeeze his hand and step closer to him. “Loosen up,” I whisper at the back of his head, before looking around the room again. I feel him visibly relax against my arm. Now his answers come more smoothly and he sounds not quite as uptight. There’s a redheaded guy standing nearby on his phone. Glancing at the side of Colin’s face, I see that he’s otherwise occupied, now at ease with this group of fans. I whisper something about getting some champagne and leave his side. As soon as I’m close enough, I grab the ginger guy by the elbow. “I need to use your phone,” I say, steering him away from Colin. Looking over my shoulder, I verify that he’s not paying me any attention. “Who are you?” the man asks, annoyed. “Your worst nightmare if you don’t let me call my friend.” I snatch the phone out of his hand. There’s a photograph of one of Colin’s pantings on the screen. “Hey,” I frown at him, “can’t you read?” I point to the sign on the wall right next to his face. NO PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE ARTWORK, PLEASE. “Dick.” I give him another frown for good measure and delete the photo. “I’m with gallery security. I’m going to let you stay here tonight but only after I delete your photos.” The guy looks around nervously and I have to work really hard to keep my smile inside. When I’ve deleted five photos of Colin’s work and one really weird picture of a cat wearing a tiny mustache and sombrero that is wrong in more ways than I can count, I type out Teagan’s phone number. Thank God I never figured out how to put it in my speed dial and memorized the damn thing. She answers in one ring. “Quin! Where are you? Mick is looking all over the place for your dumb ass.” “Listen, I don’t have much time. I’m at an art gallery downtown with Colin.” “You’re where? Doing what? With who?” “You heard me. I need you to come down here with Rebel. Do not bring Mick. I’ll deal with him later.” “What the fuck, Quin! He’s worried and now he’s going to be pissed. What am I supposed to tell him?” “Tell him I’m fine, that there was a bit of a misunderstanding, and that I’ll go out with him in just a little bit. I just need to finish up here.” “Where is here?” I look around, trying to find some sort of identifier. The ginger is staring at me. “Dude. Stop looking at me like that. Your white eyelashes are freaking me out. Where are we?” “Are you on drugs?” he asks. “No. Where are we? What’s the address here?” “You seriously don’t know where you are? And you expect me to believe you’re not high? You’re not security, are you?”

I roll my eyes at the man and leave him standing there. At the front of the room by the door I find a stack of cards with the gallery’s address on it. I rattle the number and street off as the ginger comes to my elbow. “You’re not fooling me,” he says. “Don’t even think about running out that door with my phone.” “Teagan, come now. I’ll see you when you get here.” “But! … I don’t get it!” she yells. “Just come! And bring your muscle!” I hang up as the ginger is reaching for my arm. “Touch me and I’ll tie your dick in a knot,” I warn, stepping back while holding his phone out at arm’s length towards him. He snatches it from my hand. “You need to learn some manners.” “And you need to learn how to match your clothes better. Plaid and stripes do not match, okay? And redheads should not wear orange. It’s just … wrong. And so is dressing up your cat like a tiny Mexican musician, for the record. Get a life dude. One that doesn’t include torturing animals.” “I don’t torture animals. Ginger likes it!” I bark out a laugh. “Your cat’s name is Ginger?” “Yes. She’s named after Ginger Rogers if you must know.” I don’t even know who that is, but I don’t need to. This guy is a freak. I leave him standing there and grab two flutes of champagne off a tray before going back to Colin’s side. I feel like a total ninja with my undercover phone moves until he turns around and glares at me. “Who did you call?” My eyebrows go up. “What? Who? What are you talking about? Me?” One of the women standing in front of him puts her hand on his forearm and steps closer, asking a question that seeks an answer she clearly could care less about. All she wants is to get a whiff of his Colin-ness and honestly, it’s just kind of sad to watch. “I’ll be over there looking at the paintings,” I say, rolling my eyes and leaving Colin to the cougars. As I stroll across the floor and stop at the first piece, I’m struck by how light and happy it seems. The one of Teagan was beautiful, but there was this tinge of darkness to it. I thought it captured her perfectly and assumed it was his signature look, but this painting tells me otherwise. “He’s very talented,” says a man’s voice behind me. I turn around and find a guy in a black turtleneck and a matching eye patch behind me. I believe it’s his partner next to him, judging by how close they’re standing to one another. “Do you know him?” the other guy asks. He’s wearing a similar outfit but without the eye patch. “He’s just this big mystery. Came out of nowhere I hear.” “Yeah, I know him.” I smile, feeling all devious inside. Time to bring home the bacon, baby. This is Colin’s ticket out of the garage and my little chance at a wisp of revenge for the kidnapping. “He’s ex special-ops. Big time assassin.” I nod several times, my serious eyebrows going strong. “Whaaaat?” The pirate patch guy hunkers down and whispers. “Are you serious? Oh my god, that is so sexy.” He looks at his friend and then over their combined shoulders to Colin and his group of admirers. “Look at him. The minute I laid eyes on him, I knew he was dangerous.” “You mean eye,” says the second guy, sounding bored. “The minute you laid an eye on him, not eyes.” One-eye slaps his friend. “Don’t be cruel. I have a disability.” “You poked yourself in the eye with an eyelash curler. I’d hardly call that a disability.” He looks away and mumbles, “Although I might not argue about the disabled part…” The pirate leans in towards me. “Has he killed a lot of people?” “Just a couple of somali pirates, a dictator, and a few serial killers. He got out of the service and pulled a Dexter. It’s the painting that finally got him away from all that violence. Now he volunteers at

the local no-kill shelter.” I don’t know where any of this is coming from, but I’m not fighting it. Here, in this gallery, I am in a dream world where anything goes. Anything at all. I am unstoppable. I leave the pirate and his friend to contemplate that bit of awesome and move on to the next few paintings. Two girls are looking at one and smiling. They’re checking Colin out over their shoulders too as they sip champagne. “Too much,” says one, as I walk up. “I know,” I agree, giving them a knowing look. “I can’t believe he was in the Olympics too. I mean, so much talent in so many areas.” “The Olympics? Really?” asks one. “What was his event?” I freeze, my brain scrambling to pick a sport. “Water polo.” They frown at me. “Water polo? Is that even an Olympic sport?” “Of course it is. Don’t be silly.” I go for the big distractor. “And you should see him in that bathing suit.” I wave my hand under my face. “Seriously. I mean, get out the fan, ladies, know what I mean?” They both look over at him, no doubt imagining him in a Speedo, and then we’re all fanning ourselves. “You are so lucky,” one of them says to me. “Who, me? Nah, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s totally free and available.” I gesture in his direction. “Tortured artist. Have at him.” Oh, revenge has never tasted so sweet. Twenty minutes later when Teagan walks into the gallery with Rebel in tow, I have almost completed my mission. The group standing around Colin could almost be termed a mob at this point. “What in the holy hell on wheels …?” Teagan is looking around the room, her face a mask of confusion. Rebel is staring at the wall and then his brother, his face going red. I walk over quickly to douse the flames. “Before you freak out on him and whatever, I just want you to know that he’s very sensitive about his art and I’m pretty sure this is the first time he’s let anyone in the public see it, so you should be aware of that.” I look at Rebel, giving him my serious eyebrow look. “I mean it. Do not make a scene in here.” Teagan gives me a funny look. “What?” “Well … that might be unavoidable,” she says. Rebel’s jaw twitches. “Why?” I look from one to the other. They both look guilty. “What did you do?” I ask, my voice wary. Teagan looks towards the door. My heart stops beating for a few seconds and then rushes to catch up. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything to Mick.” “He might have followed us,” Teagan says, her head pulling into her shoulders like a damn turtle chicken. I smack her on the arm. “I told you not to say anything to him!” The door flies open and Mick is there in the entrance. He’s ready for a fight and everyone in the room can see it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE MICK WALKS IN, HIS EASY glide unmistakable for the warning it carries. He’s on a mission. He looks right at me and freezes for a few seconds, his jaw muscle twitching and his expression going cold. It makes me want to disappear. Where is Jersey’s damn magic cape or spell or whatever it is that makes him invisible when I need it, anyway? “Is he here?” Mick asks, talking to the Rebel, his eyes scanning the space for his brother. “Yeah. Just relax.” Rebel shifts Teagan gently over to his left, freeing up the other side of his body where Mick is standing. Teagan puts her hand on Rebel’s arm. “You’re not going to fight in here, are you?” He shakes his head. I can see why Teagan is so gah-gah over him. He really does look like her long-time crush, Dolph Lundgren, and he’s totally taken control of the situation without even doing anything yet. “Colin!” Mick yells out into the room, making me immediately question my assessment of who’s actually calling the shots in his family unit. Usually Rebel is the one at the head of the clan, and I’ve never heard Mick sound so commanding. If this weren’t such a terrible situation, it would probably turn me on. Okay, so even though it is a dire situation, it’s turning me on, but I’m going to try and ignore that part of my personality. Everyone stops talking and turns to face us. Aaaaaaand my bedazzled denim shorts suddenly feel a lot less sexy than they did thirty minutes ago. The crowd in the corner of the room parts and Colin steps out from the middle of it. “Mick.” He nods and says nothing else. His gaze takes in Rebel and the rest of us. He looks casually tough, ready for a throw-down of epic proportions and not one bit scared of or worried about it. It’s funny how a bunch of turtle-necked art patrons had him quaking in his boots, but now a fight with Mick is like nothing to him. He’s just going to throw some fists around and destroy some stuff. Same shit, different day. No big. I hate that I made that call to Teagan. Bad things are going to happen now and it’s all my fault. I should have waited. It’s like I somehow betrayed Colin, even though he’s the kidnapper. How he’s able to make me feel that way without a single word, I’ll probably never know. Something about these guys at Rebel Wheels … they have superpowers where women are concerned. Damn them and their stupid beautiful faces. Barbara comes from the group and stands at Colin’s elbow. “Is there something wrong, darling?” She looks up at Colin and then over at Mick and Rebel. I’m pretty sure there’s a sparkle in her eye. The woman is demented. She should be worried about her gallery being turned into a wrestling arena but instead I think she’s seeing this as part of the night’s entertainment. Looking around the room, I’m pretty sure the rest of the guests are feeling the same way. For a moment, I wonder if maybe we should let them duke it out. His paintings will probably be worth more … the ones that survive, anyway. Mick moves across the floor and our little group moves right along with him. He stops in front of

his older brother. “You kidnapped my date. What the hell is wrong with you, man?” “She came willingly.” Mick looks at me. “Is that true?” I gape at Colin before gathering my thoughts enough to answer. “No, that’s not true. Not exactly…” My face turns red when I realize that I could have left at any point. And yet, here I am. “How not exactly?” Mick asks. He sounds so cold, it makes my lady parts shrivel up. Holy raisin hoo-hoo. Ouch. My gaze shifts from Mick to Colin and then Rebel. The entire place is so quiet, I can hear the pirate whispering to his partner in a high-pitch voice across the room; he’s obviously very excited about this little family squabble. I don’t know what to say. I can tell Mick I was kidnapped and start a fist-fight. I can say I wasn’t, lie and break his heart. My brain tries to function with the opposing forces pulling it apart and the only thing that will come out is animal noises. “Errrrmm … duuhhh … seeeee … gaahhh …” “That’s what I thought,” says Mick, one second before he takes a lightning fast swing at Colin and lands a punch on his jaw. Mass pandemonium breaks out as Rebel jumps in the middle of them and tries to stop the fists from flying. Teagan and I are yelping like little laps dogs as we skitter out of the way. I end up standing in front of the nearby painting with my arms and legs open wide, flapping them around and doing a damn fine imitation of a demented hooker doing an upright snow-angel as I try to protect the painting from damage. Teagan looks like she’s about to help me until the painting with her face on it catches her eye. She wanders off in a daze towards it and leaves me there to keep the artwork nearby from being destroyed. Rebel is as silent when he fights as when he is doing anything else. A few grunts come out as Colin punches him in the gut, attempting to hit Mick but missing. Mick gets two more right hooks off on Colin’s face, opening up his lip and making his nose bleed before Rebel’s in the way again. It’s like Mick is possessed, the way he keeps going at his brother. If it weren’t so sickening it would be impressive. Talk about determined. I thought I held the corner on that one, but no. I was wrong. Again. Is there a Yorkie in here somewhere or did I just bark again? Apparently, my contribution to the mess is to keep yelping. The rest of the gallery patrons might as well bust out some popcorn the way they’re staring and pointing. Anytime one of the fighters gets too close to someone in black they add some squealing to the mix. It’s not until Colin finally stops holding back and hauls off and hits Mick in the gut that the fighting finally stops. Rebel grabs his gasping youngest brother by his t-shirt and drags him outside. Mick stumbles the entire way and goes down on his knees just beyond the door. Barbara glides over to hand Colin a towel she snagged from one of the champagne-bearing waiters. He snatches it away from her as she tries to help him and turns his back on her. The ruder he is, the more she seems to like it. The smile on her face is nearly blinding. I’m pretty sure there are dollar signs in her eyes. Gazing around at the crowd and seeing them still watching the performance, I’d say she has every right to be feeling the glow of cold hard cash. These people are actually excited about buying art from a criminal. I feel like I’m in a movie or living in another dimension. Nothing makes sense. What am I even doing in an art gallery, anyway? That right there is pretty messed up in and of itself. Teagan runs over and grabs me by the arm, snapping me out of my fog. “Come on,” she says, almost growling. “But … but …” I look over at Colin, hating that he’s being left behind by everyone he cares about. He catches my worried expression and waves me away as he wipes his face off, turning his

attention back to his adoring fans. I feel terrible that his entire family is outside and he’s left in here with all these weirdos dressed for a funeral. It’s not fair. He just wanted someone to listen to him, to pay attention to something that means something to him. Why does that have to be so difficult and painful? The circle of people who’d been talking to him before Rebel and Mick arrived closes in around him and I can’t even see him anymore. I let Teagan jerk me out of my melancholy moment and follow her out to the parking lot. I feel like I’m walking into a courtroom, about to face judgment as I approach the red mustang with Rebel and Mick standing next to it. Mick is still partially bent over, holding his hand lightly over his abdomen. I don’t know why I feel guilty about his pain, but I do. My allegiance is torn in half. Do I stand up for the guy who had to struggle to find the strength to show anyone his paintings, who also has the balls to fight off his family and be left alone? Or do I condemn him as the man who kidnapped me without regard for his brother’s feelings? And how did I end up in the middle of all this shit, anyway? All I wanted to do was have one night of drunken debauchery. Life is so unfair. I walk up and stand in front of Rebel and Mick. They both look at me and my heart sinks into my shoes.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO “TELL US WHAT HAPPENED,” REBEL says. His face holds no expression; I cannot tell if he’s for me or against me, so I assume the worst. It makes it hard for me to speak. I swallow with effort and finally begin the story after a couple false starts. “I was waiting for Mick to come get me, and then Colin showed up. He said he was there for Mick because Mick was going to be late.” Mick hisses out an angry breath, addressing his brother. “I fucking told you.” He shifts his attention to me. “Why’d you get in the car with him? You know he’s full of shit.” My back goes up in defense. “No, I don’t know that, actually.” I look at Teagan for support, but all she’s doing is seeing how close she can get her damn eyebrows to her hairline. “Don’t look at me,” she says. Disgusted with her playing the pansy, I glare at Mick. “Colin has never been anything but a gentleman with me.” “Except for the fact that gentlemen don’t kidnap people,” interjects Teagan. “Oh, so now you’re joining the party,” I say, throwing my arms up. She backs up so I can’t slap her like I want to. “I’m just calling it like it is. Don’t get mad at me.” I sigh loudly. “Fine. Kidnapping isn’t cool. But I don’t see it as a kidnapping.” “Typical,” says Mick, obviously disgusted. “No. Huh-uh,” I say, holding out a finger. “Do not go there.” “Go where? You’ve fallen for his bullshit just like every other chick before you.” He rubs his stomach first and then his chest, wincing. I look at my best friend, battling for control over my emotions. “Tea, you need to hold me back before I hurt a person.” “That person?” she asks, pointing to Mick. “Yes! That person!” I turn back to him. “Why is it so hard for anyone to understand that I do not like Colin that way? Yes, I like him as a friend, okay? He’s is a nice person … at least he is to me. And he’s incredibly talented, and I’m not afraid to say it or compliment him on it. But … does that mean I want to run around naked and do the junk-a-dunk with him? No, it doesn’t.” I’m fuming. My hands are on my hips and it’s possible some spittle came flying out of my mouth to land on the car’s windshield with that last sentence. I ignore Teagan’s giggling off to my right. “Let’s take a walk,” Rebel says, holding out his hand for his girlfriend. “Yeah, let’s do that,” she says, taking his hand and leaving me with Mick. I can hear her snorting with laughter as she walks down the sidewalk. Traitors. I feel abandoned, but I don’t blame them for taking off. This is just a mess. An embarrassing mess. I watch their backs like I’m really interested in their departure because I’m afraid to face the guy I kind of screwed over tonight. I feel terrible about everything. It’s all my fault. I’m a sucker for a closed-

off guy with a nice ass. Colin played me like a frigging violin. How pitiful is that? “Why’d you get in his car?” Mick asks in a much more controlled voice. It’s no longer accusing. Now it just sounds sad, and that’s what gets me to turn around and finally face him. “I believed him when he said he was doing it for you. I know I shouldn’t have, but I did. I’m just … stupid, I guess.” “You know we don’t get along.” “Actually, I know you guys act like dicks to each other, but I have no idea why or to what extent this … problem between you goes.” I throw up my arms again, but with a lot less force. “How was I supposed to know he was being ridiculous? I don’t know you guys that well. Now I do. Now I wouldn’t get in his car a second time.” My arms sag at my sides. “But I guess it’s too late for that, huh?” I’m on pins and needles as I wait for his answer. This thing, whatever it is between us, never had a chance. We’re a non-starter. Fate keeps getting in the way of anything happening. I should probably quit trying or caring, but looking at him makes that impossible. He is so damn attractive with his messed up hair and bad-boy, usually joking attitude. I seriously think we could have so much fun together if fate would just let us give it a try. As I stand there admiring everything from his shoes to his eyebrows, his face gradually turns a funky color and his expression of sadness turns to one of confusion. “What’s wrong?” I ask as he starts to sag to the side a little. “Uhhhh, fuck,” he gasps out, his hand sliding down the car before catching on the handle. I leap over and grab him to keep him from falling down to the curb. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I yell in his face. I didn’t mean to, it just comes out in my panic. His eyes are only half open and now his skin is downright gray. “I think I got fucked up inside,” he whispers. “Take me to the hospital. It hurts bad.” “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” I whisper as I try to prop him up. He’s frigging heavy. Jamming my shoulder under his falling armpit, I keep him from going to the ground. “Move … a little … over … to the … right …” I grunt out, getting him past the door enough to open it. Using a backhand maneuver on the handle, I get it open and then push him inside. He drops onto the seat and screams in pain. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I scoop his legs up and get them in, trying to ignore the rest of his complaints so I can get this done. “Where are the keys?” I ask in a panic once I have him fully inside the car. I’m sweating everywhere, and for the first time in my life, I do not care that my hair is frizzing to the moon. “In my pocket,” he says. His voice is way too weak. “Get them out!” I yell. I can’t seem to keep myself from screaming right in his face. “Can’t,” he says, his fingers flopping around near his right front pocket. “Oh my god,” I say, crouching down and putting my hand into his pants. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe this is happening.” “Feels good,” he says with a slight grin on his face. “Shut up, perv.” When I jam my fingers in deeper into the pocket his happy expression disappears. “Please don’t jerk me around. It hurts my guts.” “I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears coming. Fighting to keep them at bay, I grunt to get my fingers moving in the right direction. I can feel the edge of the keyring, but it’s against his thigh, stuck there in a crease of the denim. “You have to move your leg!” I say, whisper-screaming at him. “I can’t reach it!” He adjusts his body to slide down the seat a few inches and that’s all I need to get the keys out. “Yes!” I yell in triumph as they come free. I hold them up in the air and shake them like a mad woman with a messed-up dinner bell. “Teagan! Rebel! Come on! We have to go! To the hospital!” I wait for their responses, staring down the sidewalk in the direction they went in. “Teagan?! Rebel?!”

Nothing. I got nada. Fucking crickets give a shit about my problems and that’s it. I bend down and put my face near Mick’s, trying to use a calm voice. I’m not sure that I pull it off. “They’re gone. Of course now is the best time I can think of to go off and have sex in the bushes or whatever it is they’re doing. Idiots. I’m all you’ve got unless you want me to get Colin. I can call 9-1-1 …” “Let’s go,” he says, cutting into my list of suggestions. “They can ride with Colin,” Mick says, his voice a whisper again. “I need a doctor, fast. No time for 9-1-1…” For a moment I wonder if I should ignore his orders and go inside and tell Colin what’s going on, but then I quickly decide against it. For one thing, he’s the one sending Mick to the hospital, so he’s probably not on Mick’s favorites list right now; and second, I can just imagine how awesome it would not be to see Colin arrested at Mick’s bedside for assaulting his own brother. Fucking men. How did I get in the middle of this mess? I run around the other side of the car and jump in, slamming the door behind me. “Okay,” I say, sticking the key in and turning over the engine. It roars to life, and when I press on the accelerator experimentally, it rocks the whole car side to side with the revving power. “Whoa. Holy horses under the hood,” I say, rubbing the steering wheel on the side, up and down. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a tad scared. I don’t have a whole hell of a lot of control over my body right now; I’m too freaked out. This car is way more powerful than Teagan’s Beetle or my dad’s Buick. “Be careful,” he says. “The pedal is sensitive.” “You just leave this to me,” I say, patting him on the leg with fake bravado while I check the rearview mirror for Teagan and Rebel. A few experimental honks on the horn get me nothing but a few responding honks from other cars passing by. Putting the car into drive, I look out into traffic using the side mirror. “You sure you’re ready?” I ask, glancing over at Mick. “Put your seatbelt on.” “Just go,” he says. I take a few precious seconds to brake and put his belt on for him when he doesn’t comply. He complains the entire time, but I figure with the way my luck is going, I’ll get in a wreck and kill him on the way to getting him healed. Better at least try not to do that. Now with the car back in drive, I try to press the accelerator easy-does-it, but the car has different ideas. It peels out away from the curb and we’re gone, my head flying back like it’s going to break right off my shoulders because there’s no headrest for it to fall against. I use the steering wheel to hold on for dear life. “Oh shit … I’m gonna die,” Mick says, finishing up with a moan of pain. His body lists to the right. “No, you’re not. You’re gonna be fine,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster, all considered. My eyes facing forward again, I pat him on the leg with one hand while the other one holds onto the skinny, hard steering wheel. The car rumbles down the street with the roar of a thousand angry horses. I swear people eight neighborhoods over can hear this damn motor gunning away. Lights and buildings and other cars fly past the windows as I try to remember which direction I need to go in order to get to the hospital. Wind batters what’s left of my hair-do into a rat’s nest and pushes tears out of my eyes and past my temples, into my hairline. My sense of direction has abandoned me. Not that there was much sense there in the first place, but at least I used to know north from south. Now I could be heading in any one of the cardinal directions and wouldn’t have a clue which one it was. Flashing red and blue lights in my mirrors cause my heart to leap up into my throat. Instead of stopping for the man in blue, I accidentally press on the gas. “Eeeeep!” As the car surges forward and I realize my mistake, I jerk my foot over to the brake. All I need to do is add running from the cops to my list of bad ideas for the night; then I’ll definitely be a shoo-in for Asshole of the Year. I press down hard on the rectangular pedal beneath my foot.

The car squeals to a near-stop. Mick’s body flies forward until his seatbelt catches him and locks him in place. “Holy, fuck that hurt,” he groans out. I’m about to apologize, but when I catch a glimpse of the grill of the cop car almost upon us, I panic and hit the gas once more. I can only imagine what Mick would do if I got his car rear-ended. We fly forward again, leaving the cop car behind in our dust and smoke. Mick’s back hits the seat and he yells. “What the hell are you doing?” He pants a few times before continuing. “Oh, fuck, that hurts. I think I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. You’re killing me. You and Colin are in this together, aren’t you? You totally planned this.” “No, you’re not gonna die!” I scream, one eyeball on him and one on the rearview mirror. The blue and red lights are getting closer. “Holy shit, he’s going to ram us.” “Who’s going to ram us? The cop? Don’t be ridiculous!” He throws his right hand on the door and the left onto the dashboard, bracing himself. “Ooohhhh, Gooood, I’m dyinnnnggg…” The hood of the cop car is leaping forward, right at our back end. Panic makes me go faster. “Pull over!” a voice says loudly. The cop is yelling at me through a loudspeaker and the entire surrounding neighborhoods can hear him. “What should I do?!” I scream. I spy a corner up ahead that I think I can take and lose him. “Stop the car!” Mick yells. “Pull over for crissakes!! What do you think you are? A fucking bank robber?” “But what if he hits us!” I scream. “You’ll die!” I’m really not sure where any of this is coming from. Apparently I’ve fallen into a Bruce Willis movie. Die … something. Die Because You’re An Idiot. Is that one out yet? “Just pull over,” he begs. “I’ll do anything you want. Just pull over.” His head lolls over to the side and that’s what does it; that’s what makes me snap out of my action-movie fog and realize that this uniformed man in the flashy-light car who I’m afraid might smash into us might actually be able to help the beautiful boy who’s dying next to me. I pull over and stop with a squealing of tires and a lot of burned rubber. Throwing open the door, I struggle with my seatbelt. I accidentally try to get out without making sure I’m out of the restraint first, and the belt yanks me back inside. My legs fly up and I flash everyone on the left side of the street as the leg of my shorts gapes open. “Stay in your vehicle!” the voice commands over the speaker. “Fuck that!” I yell, wrestling with the seatbelt. “Emergency!” I throw the belt out of the way finally and stand up outside the car, waving my hands in the air like I just don’t care. “Emergency! I need an ambulance! Emergency!” I run on tiptoes towards the cop car, my shoes making me sound like a herd of clydesdales in a Budweiser commercial. “Get back in your vehicle, ma’am!” comes the voice, sounding angry now. I wave his words off, still running. “Shut up! Stop yelling at me! Emergency! My friend is dying! Help me!” As soon as I pass the headlights of the cop car, I realize my mistake. Now I can see the man at his car. “Stop right there! Do not move!” The police officer has his arms propped up on the top of his open door and his big, black deadly gun is pointed right at my chest. I want to stop. I really do. But I can’t help the fact that my nervous system has a short circuit in it somewhere and that this minor electrical problem combined with really high heels and an uneven paving job on the street equals uncontrolled forward movement. I watch in slow-motion horror as my body is propelled forward, the cop’s finger pulls back on the trigger, and then an incredible amount of pain smashes me in the chest and blossoms out to consume every

single square inch of my body. Everything goes white with blinding pain and then, blissfully, my world goes black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE BEEP… BEEP-BEEP… BEEP… MY vision is blurry. I hear voices murmuring next to me. A sheet. A white sheet. There’s a white sheet over my face. There’s a white sheet over my face? THERE’S A FUCKING WHITE SHEET OVER MY FACE! OH MY GOD! I’M DEAD! I scramble to get away from the light. No light! No tunnel! Fuck you, tunnel, I’m not coming in! “No!” I yell, fighting the gauze between the worlds. “I’m not dead! I’m not dead! I’m not dead yet, fuckers! I’m not going! I’m not ready! I’m too young! I haven’t even tried anal sex yet!” Strong hands grab my wrists and hold me still. Do angels wrestle? Am I about to be part of an otherworldly smack-down? “Quin, relax. You’re not dead. You’re just stupid.” I freeze, no longer fighting the archangel Gabriel or whoever it is that has me in an iron grip. Recognition dawns. “Who’s that? Teagan?” “Open your eyes, dipshit.” She’s laughing at me, I can tell by her tone. “They are open,” I say, squeezing my eyes tight together. “Oh.” My lids are already together. I use my fingers to pry them open. Bright light hits my eyeballs and I squint to try and see through the haze. I guess it wasn’t a sheet there. Heh-heh. Did I say anal sex or was that just a bad dream? “Where am I?” I finally ask. “You’re in the hospital,” Teagan says. She leans over so I can finally see her face. She’s smiling. “Stop doing that,” I say, frowning. “I almost died.” I’m pretty sure that’s the truth, too. I feel pain everywhere. “No, you didn’t,” she says, practically laughing. “Now, Mick … yes, he almost bit the big one.” My hands grab my covers in an attempt to throw them to the side. The pain in my chest stops me. “Oh, shit,” I say, breathing heavily through the agony. “He shot me, didn’t he? That cop. Do I have a hideous scar? Do I need a heart transplant?” I’m afraid to look down. “How long have I been out? Has it been days? Weeks?” I cringe as I wait for the answer. Maybe I’ve been here a year in a coma. I reach up to touch my hair and then my eyebrows. “How bad is it?” Tegan is laughing too hard to answer me. She snorts like a pig, and unfortunately she’s sitting too far back for me to slap now. Rebel comes into view from behind a curtain. “She okay?” he asks her. “I’m fine, other than the fact that I almost died of a gunshot wound to the chest. I’m suing, you

know. You can count on that.” Rebel has the nerve to laugh. Two chuckles and he’s gone behind the curtain again. “I’d really like to know what’s so funny about me being shot. I mean, what the fuck? Am I being punked right now or what? And where are my parents? Please tell me you told them what happened. They must be worried sick.” Teagan takes me by the hand. “They know. They were already here and then they left.” She hands me her phone. “Call them and talk to them if you want.” I snatch the phone away. “Not before you explain what the hell happened after I was shot. In the chest. With a gun. And a bullet. Where’s Mick? Is he okay? What was wrong with him?” Teagan pulls the chair closer and takes my hand slowly petting it. “Babe, I hate to burst your superhero bubble, but you weren’t shot.” “Bullshit,” I say, struggling with my hospital gown. Some idiot put the damn thing on backwards. I can feel it’s open in the back but I can’t see my chest because the material is in the way. Teagan takes my hand and stills it. “You were tazed, babe. Tazed in the chest. With a taser.” I stop trying to yank my hand away. “Tazed?” That sounds a lot less sexy than being shot with a gun. “Yes. You got a couple prongs embedded in your skin and about a thousand volts sent through your body, but that’s it. No bullets. No blood. You’re going to live.” She tries to hold in a snort and ends up burping instead. “That was nice. Thanks for that.” I flick imaginary burp shrapnel off my cheek. “You’re welcome. Mick’s fine too. He had a ruptured spleen from the fight. They took it out and sewed him up.” “Can I see him?” I ask, my voice going weak. “I don’t know…” Teagan sighs. “Are you sure you want to?” “Of course I’m sure. Don’t be ridiculous.” Now she’s got me all pissed off again. “Why would you say that?” “Because … I guess Rebel and I were thinking that maybe you had something going on with Colin and maybe you don’t want to rock that boat.” “Jesus, Tea, sometimes you make me want to rip your head off with my teeth.” “Really? That’s kind of violent.” She doesn’t appear scared. “Do you not know me at all? I mean, can’t you tell? I don’t like Colin like that. He’s like … a brother.” “A brother.” She clearly doesn’t believe me. “Yes. A brother. Okay, so he’s good looking and charming and talented. But he’s not Mick.” Her eyebrows go up. “He’s not?” “No.” “What’s that supposed to mean? Not being Mick … That doesn’t make sense.” I realize I’ve said too much. I’m not even sure it makes sense to me, so I don’t know how to explain it to her. “I don’t know. Whatever. Forget I said it.” “No way, Q-Baby. Tell me what’s going on. Come on, I know you’re stressed about your brother and all that. We need to talk.” “You have enough on your plate,” I say, refusing to give in to her puppy dog face. “What’s going on with your case? Anything new?” “I did get a call from the lawyer today which is a super big deal since it’s the weekend, but I’m not sharing until you share first.” I’ve seen that expression on her face before. She can be very determined when she wants to be, just like me. I taught her well. And to be honest with myself, I’m getting tired of being so confused about my

own feelings. Talking to her usually helps me sort them out, so I go ahead and cave without a fight. “Mick is different. I don’t know how else to say it.” I toy with the edge of my sheets to hide my nervousness. Even just talking about it makes me go all frizzy fuzzy whacky inside. “I hardly know him, so it sounds ridiculous, but he just has something special about him. A confidence. An air of class, even though he’s standing there in a t-shirt and jeans and has grease under his fingernails. I like him, even though I don’t want to like him and even though I think liking him is a really dumb idea.” She nods sagely. “I know what you mean.” “Right?” I lower my voice, eyeing the curtain that closes me off from the door to the room. “I mean, what’s with these Rebel Wheels guys, anyway? Do they have superpowers?” She smiles. “Maybe. So what are you going to do about it?” “About what?” “Mick.” I roll my eyes. “Nothing.” I’m all of a sudden depressed. Welcome back to the real world. “What do you mean, nothing?” “Nothing is what I mean. I’m doing nothing. Nada. Zip. Look what’s already happened! I agree to go out on one date and now we’re both in the hospital and his brother’s probably on his way to jail again and my parents are going to freak like nobody’s business. My life is over. I might as well become a nun. Do they still have those? Where do I sign up?” “First of all, Colin is not going to jail. Mick told them some stranger punched him. And second, your parents are a little freaked out, but I explained that you were rushing your date to the hospital and that the cop misunderstood, and they got it. Okay? They’re on board. The cop told them the same story, so you’re good.” “That’s a pretty cool cop.” I frown, not sure I believe my good fortune. “I’m not under arrest when I leave?” “No, you’re not. He knows Rebel and Mick and Colin too. His name is Dickerson.” I’m still frowning, my memory conjuring images of his car’s grill almost on our ass. “More like Dickweederson,” I say, pissed he got the drop on me. Who shoots a girl in bedazzled shorts and heels who’s yelling Emergency!? He should at least be demoted or something. “Seriously.” I smile at Teagan’s easy agreement. “Are we good?” I ask, holding up my hand. She weaves her fingers in with mine. “Yeah, we’re good. Always.” “So what’s next?” I ask. “When can I leave?” “Maybe later today.” “What’s the date?” I ask, looking towards the window to try and gauge the time of day. It’s covered in heavy drapes, making it impossible to see anything outside. “It’s Saturday.” She looks at her phone, turning it in my hand so she can see the front of it “Ten o’clock in the morning. You’ve only been here overnight.” “And Mick? Is he okay, really?” “Yes, he’s really okay. He’s out of surgery and everything is fine. He’ll go home in a couple days.” “I hope he has insurance,” I mumble, feeling responsible for his injuries. “He does, thanks to me. I set it up two weeks ago, thank God. His kicked in before mine since he’s been there forever.” She pats me on the hand. “Do you want to see Mick, now?” “Will they let me?” I ask, sitting up a little. I can feel my hair plastered to the back of my head. I wonder if I’ll have time to buff up my look before I see him. “Oh, I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” she says, smiling all evil-like. I frown at her. “I suddenly don’t trust you for some reason.” An angelic look takes over. “I can’t imagine why not.” She gets up from the side of my bed and

pushes the curtain next to me all the way to the wall. Looking over at the bed next to me, she says, “Yo, home boy. Wake up. Quin says she wants to visit.” My jaw drops open as I take in the patient under the sheets not five feet away from my left arm. Mick’s lids are closed, but I swear I can see his eyeballs jiggling underneath. You are so going to fucking die, I say silently to Teagan. She wiggles her fingers at me and grins broadly. “Toodle-oo! Your parents should be back in about an hour. They went to get Jersey from Saturday school so he could visit before lunch. Have fun, kids.” She and Rebel leave me in the room alone with Mick. He opens his eyes and stares at me as the door shuts behind them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR MY HEART IS BEATING SO hard it feels like it’s ready to leap out of my chest. Thank goodness I don’t have one of those bleeping monitors attached to me. Mick does, so I can tell he’s not as nervous as I am. “Hi,” I say, more eloquent words failing me at the moment. “Hi.” “How are you feeling?” I want to touch my hair again to try and gauge how awful it is, but I don’t dare call his attention to it. Instead, I take a piece of my sheet and start folding it into a tiny accordion. Keeping my fingers busy takes my mind off the mess I’ve made of my life recently. “Lighter,” he says. I pause in my folding and look over at him. “You feel lighter?” “Yeah. Seems like I left an organ behind in the operating room.” I smile a little. He’s making jokes. That has to be a good sign, right? “Does it hurt?” I ask. Guilt. Oh, the guilt! “Not as much as the car ride over did. I’ve got good drugs right now.” His words come out sounding tired, maybe a little bit slurred. “Sorry about that,” I say, my face flushing with the memory of our trip. “I guess I wasn’t very smart about the whole thing.” More and more and more guilt. Will it never end? “What whole thing?” It’s a loaded question and we both know it. I hate how a simple stare from him can turn me upside down like this. I sigh with the burden of my stupidity. “With everything.” “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Colin’s a dick.” He looks up at the ceiling, turning his head away from me. That hurts more than anything he could say. I feel well and truly rejected with just that simple movement and those few words. But I’m not ready to abandon all efforts to make this right. He’ll never want to go out with me again, sure, that’s fine; but I can’t let him keep thinking his brother’s evil. The least I can do is try to fix that issue. The problem is, I have to attempt to explain it in a way that it might make sense, but I’m not sure I can pull it off. “I saw his paintings the other day and they just blew me away. I told him he should get them into a gallery, that he’d sell the hell out of them.” “He never lets anyone see his stuff. Just one of them, the one he gave Rebel. But I guess he showed you.” “He’s very sensitive about it, which I can understand.” I shrug. “I guess he figured I didn’t matter so much. It’s different showing a stranger than it is showing a family member. He obviously puts a lot of himself into it emotionally and you guys aren’t the most open family in the world.” Mick gives a wry smile to the ceiling. “Understatement.” “Of the year,” I say. “I think he had this gallery lady harassing him for a while, and maybe with me jumping on the bandwagon he finally decided to try it. I don’t know. He didn’t say anything to me about

it, he just showed up at my door and then took me over there. The cards at the door said it was opening night. I’m pretty sure he planned to bring me back to Rebel Wheels or to you when he was done showing me.” “Why you, though?” Mick asks, looking at me again. “Why did he take you?” “Maybe because I’m the one who told him to do it and I’m not family?” Mick laughs, but it’s not a pretty one. “Yeah, right. Or maybe it’s because he wants you.” Anger heats my chest. “If I could get up from this bed right now, I’d punch you right in the stitches.” “Guess I’m glad you can’t get up.” His voice is flat. “Seriously, Mick. He doesn’t feel that way about me.” “Bullshit.” He glares at me. “Anyone would. And you’re completely naive if you don’t get that about him or yourself.” I throw my sheets back. “That’s it. Float like a butterfly bitches and sting like a bee, cuz I’m coming over.” I swing my legs out of the bed as Mick’s eyebrows move up. “Should I ring for the nurse?” he asks, not even flinching at my threats. I’m sitting up, contemplating the ringing going on in my ears when the main door to the room glides open slowly. A small head appears with a tuft of messy dark brown hair on top of it in the crack.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE “SISTER? ARE YOU IN HERE?” the little head in the cracked-open door says. I narrow my eyes at Mick and whisper, “You got lucky.” He’s smiling when I call out to my brother. “In here, Jersey. Just open the door.” The door opens a little farther and his head comes in more. “Sister?” His face swivels around, taking in all the details. “This is a hospital room,” he says, talking to Mick. “Yep.” “You’re not Sister. You’re Mickey Mouse.” “Yes, I am. How’ve you been, J-Man?” Mick holds up a hand for a high-five. Jersey comes the rest of the way in, completely ignoring me. “I’m good. I got to leave Saturday school early. This place smells funny. I saw a doctor and a nurse and a dead body.” He stops at the side of Mick’s bed and gives him a high five that makes Mick wince with pain. My mother comes in, her arms loaded down with flowers. She peeks through the colors and greenery and smiles tremulously. “Hi, baby. How are you feeling?” I don’t know what it is about seeing my mom when I’m sick, but it always makes me suddenly lose ten years off my life and maturity level. Tears rush to my eyes and nothing I can do short of smothering myself with the pillow will stop them from falling. “Hi, Mommy. I’m fine … Bwaaah haaaa haaaa!” I crumble into a mess of blubbering and attempts at explanations. “Shhhhh, shhhhh,” she says, rushing over to put the flowers on the table and take me in her arms. She sits next to me on the side of the bed and rocks me as she pats my back. “You’re fine, baby, you’re fine. See? All fine.” Jersey looks over, his expression suddenly frightened. “Sister? Why are you crying?” His eyes get shiny with tears. It snaps me out of my pity party like a switch flicks off a light. I sit up straight and pull out of my mom’s embrace, wiping my face. I ignore Mick completely. “Nothing’s wrong. I was just sad for two seconds and now I’m not.” I take a deep breath and then smile hard. “See? Happy face.” I point to my mouth. Jersey comes over and puts one hand on each of my cheeks. He stares into my eyes and examines me closely. “Your sad face makes me have a sad face. Mommy says you’re a hero.” I grab his head and pull it towards me so I can kiss him on the nose, ignoring the pain it causes my chest. “Mommy is misinformed, I think, but that’s okay.” I smooch him loud and juicy and he drops his hands from my face. “You can use my cape,” Jersey says, reaching into his pants. “Uhhhh …” I’m too stunned to stop him, and within seconds I’m holding a very warm, blue satin cape that I’m pretty sure was stuffed in his underpants. “Why do you have your cape in your pants?” I ask. “Jersey …” My mom is shaking her head, giving him the guilt-trip look. It never works on him like

it does on me, lucky bastard that he is. He has some sort of parental force-field I’d kill to have in my armory. “I put it in my pants so you could have it,” Jersey explains, leaving me to go stand by Mick again. “I told him to leave it at home,” my mom says. “I thought he listened.” She’s glaring at the back of his head. I can’t help but smile through the remainder of my tears. “He’s very stubborn.” She raises eyebrows at me. “I wonder where he learned that.” I nudge her with my arm. “Stop. Where’s dad?” “He’s in the cafeteria. They have pecan pie.” She rolls her eyes. She doesn’t need to say anymore. My dad is a fiend for the stuff. He’ll even skip football for a chance at a slice. My mom looks over at Mick. “So … sounds like you kids had an exciting first date.” I cringe and squeeze my eyes shut. “God, Mom, could you please not go there right now?” “What? What’d I say?” She’s all innocence except for the shitty grin on her face. The door opens and my dad walks in. “Thank God,” I mutter, standing up at the side of the bed. I have some nasty-ass hospital socks on, but nothing’s going to stop me from getting a hug from my dad. He’s my rock. “Baby girl. Look at you,” he says, arms open. I meet him halfway, again not able to keep the tears away. “Hi, Daddy.” He’s sniffling too. “I thought you were really hurt, bad girl. You had us very worried.” He reaches down and smacks me on the butt. “Don’t ever do that to us again, you hear?” I nod, unable to respond with words. He pushes me away and holds me out at arm’s length. “You okay in there?” He reaches up and taps my forehead. I nod again. “Yeah. Pretty much.” I sniff hard and use the back of my hand to wipe my face. I can’t even imagine what Mick’s thinking, but I don’t care right now. I just want to be smothered in parent-love. Ain’t no medicine around quite as powerful as that, as far as I’m concerned. “That’s a pretty dress you’re wearing,” he says, looking down to my knees. “Did you get it on sale or maybe at a vintage shop?” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “Shut up.” I’m suddenly hyper aware of the fact that my gown is open in the back and I’m ass-end towards Mick. I reverse and re-align my rear-end to the other bed, positioning myself next to my mom again. “I’m going to burn this thing as soon as I have my own clothes back.” I look around. “Where are they, anyway? Where’s my purse?” My mom pats me on the arm. “We have all of it in a bag in the car. I’ll bring you some clean things later when they discharge you.” I scoot back up onto the bed, ignoring the twinge of pain in my chest. “Good. Think flannel. I’m going to spend the next week in bed.” “Teagan said something about your school project being picked up by the law firm she’s working with?” my dad says. “Oh, really?” I try to play dumb, but I’m pretty sure my parents aren’t falling for it. “Yes, I think your plan of sleeping for a week isn’t going to work out so well,” my mom says. “Teagan told us you have an appointment with her lawyer and his partners Monday. They want to talk to you about the work you did.” She lifts an eyebrow at me and I feel completely and totally busted. But I’m not going to let on because I don’t have all my strength yet to deal with the ‘rents. I need all my faculties to negotiate myself out of corners like that. “Oh, really?” I say, smooth as buttah. “Huh. She didn’t mention it. I’ll have to call her later.” I look at Mick. “So, you guys probably didn’t think you’d be seeing Mick again so soon, huh?” I nod my

head, trying to get them to pick up the ball and run with it. “He’s looking better already,” my mom says, getting up and walking over to his bedside. “How are you feeling, Mick?” “It’s Mickey Mouse,” Jersey says from the other side of the bed. I can’t see him because he’s on the floor. “I’m better,” Mick responds, “thanks to your daughter.” He doesn’t look over at me, but my face flames red anyway. “I hear she drove like a bat out of hell to get you here,” my dad says, pride flavoring his voice. I smell smoke. My face is now officially on fire. “That’s actually a very good description of her driving,” says Mick. More smoke. I’m going to spontaneously combust. I scan the room for a fire extinguisher. “We’re just glad she got you here in time. Sounds like it was serious. How did it happen?” My mom asks. “Fire!” I yell, my voice way ahead of my brain. “What?” my father asks, chuckling as he talks. “Are you okay, sweetie?” I inhale loudly. “Either I’m about to burst into flames or there’s a fire around here.” My mom lifts her head at the same time my dad does. They look like two dogs sniffing the air. “Jersey! Where are you?!” My mom yells, running around the end of Mick’s bed. She gasps and dives towards the floor. “Put that down!” Jersey comes flying into view as my mom yanks him off the floor. A small lighter flies out of his hand and lands on Mick’s bed. My mouth drops open as a wisp of smoke comes up from the floor where Jersey had been. “What the hell?” my father roars as he joins my mother. Then he’s stomping the floor, his elbows flying up to his sides like he’s doing some kind of crazy chicken dance. “Goddammit, Jersey, you can’t set the damn hospital on fire like that! There are sick people in here! You want to burn the place down? Jesus Christ!” Mick’s mouth is open, but he doesn’t seem worried. In fact, he looks more amused than anything. He hasn’t moved anything but his head. Jersey’s struggling to get away from our mom. “I’m just playing a game, Dad!” He thrashes around some more, doing the sandbag move he perfected as a toddler, where he makes his legs go completely limp and his body twice as heavy. Trying to hold him up when he does that is impossible. Down to the floor he goes with a thump. “No, sir,” says my mom, grabbing his leg as he hits the ground. “No, sir, no sir, no sir. You are staying right here with me.” “I wanna be with Mickey Mouse!” Jersey yells. “I wanna be with Mickey Mouse! Let me go! Let me go, asshole!” Everyone freezes. You could hear a pin drop in the room. But since there are no pins, we listen to Jersey’s ragged breathing instead. My mom straightens up and glares at me, abandoning her efforts with Jersey. “What?!” I say, probably too loudly. “What’d I do?” She points at me. “You’re the one who taught him that filthy language.” “Bullshit. Dad did.” My father’s eyes bulge out of his head and his hands fly up in surrender when my mom twists around to give him the dagger-eyes. “Hey … he didn’t learn anything from any of us he hasn’t already seen on TV. You know that, Viv. Just relax.” She throws her hands up to rest on her hips. I roll my eyes, knowing the poodle is about to hit the fan. Cardinal Rule #1 with my mom: Never

EVER tell her to relax. “Don’t you dare, George. You know very well that Quinlan runs around the house all day with asshole-this and asshole-that and fuck-a-box-of-fuck-this and fuck-a-box-of-fuck-that. Her mouth is pure gutter talk.” I’m laughing silently with my mouth completely open. My mom never cusses like that. It would be awesome if it weren’t so awful. Mick has slid a pillow out from under his head and put it over his face. It’s shaking with his laughter. My embarrassment is back, full force. “Mom, holy shit, would you chillax?” I say. “We have someone else in the room with us right now and about a thousand more right outside that door.” My mom slowly turns in my direction, her voice going dangerously low. “Did you just tell me to chillax?” I cringe, pulling my head as far down into my shoulders as I can. Stretching the sheet up to my nose, I finally answer. “Maybe?” She breathes in once. Twice. And then a third time, before she answers me. “Okay, fine. You all want me to chillax? To relax?” She twists her head around, making it look a little like some kind of alien is inside her trying to get out. It’s very creepy. I’m on pins and needles waiting for her next move. “Fine. I’m relaxed. And. I’m. Leaving.” She pushes my father out of the way and exits the room. We all remain silent for the longest time. Nobody moves for what seems like forever. Then Jersey stands and smiles at Mick. “Mommy’s gone. Time to party.” My dad snorts, coughs to hide it, and turns away. We both know where he learned this line. I’m embarrassed that I’ve been so careless about what I’ve said around my little and very impressionable brother. “Jersey, come here,” I say, holding out my hand. He comes over and takes it, his expression softening. “You know you’re not supposed to say stuff that makes Mom mad like that.” “She got mad at me.” “Yeah, but you were lighting the hospital on fire. That’s not cool. Only assholes light hospitals on fire.” “I don’t want to be an asshole.” “Well … then … don’t call Mom names and don’t play with fire. I’m pretty sure I already said this to you a couple times.” “But fire is fun.” I yank on his hand gently to make sure I have his attention. “No. Fire is dangerous. Fire hurts people. It can burn you and melt your skin right off like butter. Do you understand?” He nods, but I see a flare of defiance in there. It makes me sigh. This will not be his last fire. Not by a long shot. “If you want to play with fire, you have to wait and only do it with me or Dad, okay? Promise me.” “I don’t wanna.” Jersey looks over his shoulder at Mick who’s come out from his pillow hiding spot. Thankfully he’s not laughing anymore. Mick gives Jersey frown. “She’s right, J-Man. Fires are really dangerous sometimes. It’s not a game.” Jersey sighs out heavily. “Fine. I’ll wait for you or Dad. Or Micky Mouse. I’ll wait for him.” My father walks over and puts his arm over Jersey’s shoulders. “What do you say we go find Mom and apologize?” “I don’t want to. I want to stay with Sister.” Jersey takes my hand and squeezes it. I pat him on the fingers and fake a huge yawn. “Oh, man, I am soooo tired. I think I’m going to take

a nap so I can get better and come home tonight. I hope someone bought me some pizza or something.” Jersey yanks on my hand, making jabs of pain shoot out from my chest. “We can get pizza, right, Dad?!” He looks up at our father with shining eyes. “Yes. Pizza night sounds like an excellent idea.” My dad leans over and kisses me on the head. “I’ll come back for you later. Doc says you should be able to leave around six tonight.” “Don’t forget my clothes,” I say at his back as he’s leaving, my brother in hand. “Flannel. Gotcha.” I look over at Mick. “Better make it jeans and a t-shirt.” I don’t want him to have to keep seeing me at my worst. “And a brush! Don’t forget a brush and a toothbrush too.” My dad waves absently over his shoulder as he gets a tight grip on Jersey. “See ya later, alligator.” “After a while, crocodile,” I say quietly as the door shuts behind him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX THE SILENCE STRETCHES OUT LIKE a rubber band between Mick and me. The pressure is mounting to the point of being unbearable, but he seems untouched by it. The only sounds in the room are the beeps from the heart monitor over Mick’s bed, and it’s back to counting out a normal rhythm. I lie there staring at the ceiling, my mind rushing from memory to thought to memory and back again, a thousand miles an hour. Everything is a jumble and I have no idea where to go from here. Do I talk about our date? The weather? Colin? Teagan and Rebel? The court case? The price of tea in China? The eternal question of what exactly it is that the fox says? Because I’m pretty sure it’s not ‘a-hee a-hee a-HEE’. Mick saves me from trying to figure it out by talking first. “Your family is awesome.” I look over to see if he’s joking, but he has an easy smile on his face. “Are you serious? They’re insane.” “They’re fun.” “Mick. My brother just tried to light your bed on fire.” “Nah, he was just playing.” “Keep telling yourself that,” I say, smiling. Talk about a good sport. Man, anyone else I know would have called the cops on that little shit. “I never had a family like that.” His voice is small. Sad. Maybe wistful. I frown, not sure why he feels that way. I’ve seen him with his brothers. “Colin’s family. Rebel’s family. Teagan told me you had a mother … a foster mother. Right?” He sighs before answering. I wait what seems like a long time for his reply. “Colin is my older brother, but we spent a lot of years apart. He was put into the system first and then my mom had me later. I was with her for a couple years before they took me too.” My heart squeezes uncomfortably in my chest for him. I’ve never had to worry about things like this in my life. I might have a brother who lights shit on fire and licks cat turds when our backs are turned, but I’ve never had to doubt the security of my home or my bed or my parents’ dedication to my health and upbringing. Even now with my mom seriously pissed at me, I know she’d lay down her life for me, no questions asked. I never stopped to think about people like Mick who don’t have that. Maybe in passing, but not seriously. It never struck me how sheltered my life has been until now, right here in this hospital bed. I feel small and stupid. “Why did they take you away?” I ask. “Drugs. She was an addict. She tried to get clean, but she always hooked up with the wrong guys and then she’d start using again. She was a mess.” “You say was. She’s better now? Or … not alive?” “I assume she’s dead. I haven’t seen her since I was little kid.” My emotions are all over the place. Sadness. Horror. Anger at the injustice of it all. “That’s awful,” I say, because it is. I could not imagine my parents doing that to us. I hope I haven’t insulted him by

saying that about his mom. “Yeah, it was. But Emily raised me up right and I had Rebel looking out for me and sometimes Colin too, so it wasn’t all bad.” He looks over at me. “I’m a real catch, huh?” The vulnerability I see behind the cocky smile is devastating to my heart. It falls into a million little pieces and I rush to put it together. For both of us. “You are a catch. Where you come from doesn’t matter. Well, it matters, but not like that. Not like you’re saying.” “I don’t get it,” he says. “I know. I’m all messed up in the head.” I close my eyes and open them again, trying to get it all straight in my brain. Gesturing with my hand seems to help, so I wave it around over the bed as I speak. “I’m saying that who your parents are, how they treated you, that doesn’t say anything about who you are. Not to me, anyway. It’s what you do with yourself later that matters. And I see you working hard, being a good person. You helped Teagan get her job there at Rebel Wheels and you’ve been very supportive.” My arm drops to my side once more. “Teagan got her own job there. That was all on her.” “She told me you were helpful and I believe her. And you’ve been nothing but nice to me.” He looks at the ceiling again. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you.” Misgivings climb into my brain and start poking me, prodding me, making me doubt everything I thought I knew about his good intentions. “What do you mean?” The mood in the room goes dark. “Never mind.” He turns his head away from me. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m pretty tired. I think these drugs are hitting me pretty hard. Would you mind shutting the curtain for a little while?” The hurt goes deep. Ugh. Rejection. Fuck that shit. I’m angry all over again, just like that. “How about if I just arrange for a room switch? Or I could go wait for my parents out in the waiting room, give you a private room all to yourself.” He looks at me again, pissed. “Don’t be like that.” “Don’t be like what?” I say innocently. “Like all hot and cold? All nice and then all assholey? Why would I do that?” He rolls his eyes and it seems like he’s not going to respond. But then he looks at me and does. “When I asked you out, I was just interested in having a good time, okay? No offense.” “So?” I back my head up, playing off the hurt. “That’s why I agreed to go too. Good times. Nothing wrong with that.” God, this sucks. My heart is literally aching. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! “You know what I mean.” He sighs with either frustration or disappointment. I don’t care which it is. Now he’s insulted me. I feel stupid and used and naive as hell. I really hate feeling that way. His hurtful words have put me on the offensive and I am so going to take him down a notch or two. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. You think you’re the only one who likes to have a good time, no strings attached? Hellion? You’re the only one who likes to party? Well, sorry to disappoint you, but you’re not. And you might be cute, but you’re not marriage material, okay? That’s why I said yes when you asked me out. All I wanted was a fucking good time and now you’re turning it into something stupid.” My face is on fire again. There’s no smoke this time, but I guess that’s because Jersey isn’t in here with the lighter anymore. If it’s possible to die from humiliation, it will happen to me right … now. Riiight … now. Now. Now would be good. Aaaany time. Death? Grim reaper?

Are you there? Nope. I’m still here. Still embarrassed as hell. Dammit. “You don’t mean that,” he says. “You’re not a party girl.” Embarrassment is slowly morphing back into anger, and I’m not going to fight it. I’m way better with angry than I am with that other icky emotion. “Screw you, you don’t know me. You think no girl can resist your charms, is that it? Colin’s not the only lady killer in the family, is that what you’re trying to say? What? Is this some kind of fucked-up competition between you two? How many girls you can sleep with in a week?” “No, don’t be stupid.” “Oh, so I’m stupid now too. Excellent. Go ahead. Don’t stop now. Why don’t you talk about my hair too while we’re at it. Frizzy, right? Fine.” I turn on my side away from him. “What …? No. No. I didn’t say anything about your hair.” He mutters and then starts talking normal again. “What …? Wait … how did that just happen?” “What?” I say, pouting. Angry. Sad. Hurt. Offended as hell. God, I’m so stupid! When will I ever learn? “You’re doing this on purpose,” he accuses. “I’m doing what on purpose?” I refuse to turn and look at him. “You’re trying to make me think I’m crazy. Putting words in my mouth and meaning into my words that isn’t there.” “Whatever. Go to sleep. You’re tired, remember?” “No, I’m not going to sleep right now. I want to finish this.” I flip over all of a sudden. “Well, by all means, then, finish it! Don’t let me stand in your way. What was that you were saying? That I’m naive? Stupid? Thought the wrong things about our little socalled date?” “What?” He looks honestly confused, but I’m on a roll. “Let’s get something straight, okay? Whatever your intentions were, it doesn’t matter now. The fates have spoken. You wanted to have a good time with me, I wanted to have a good time with you, but it didn’t work out. It’s not meant to be. And even if it was, I’d reject it. I would say no, okay? I don’t have the time or the room in my life for any guy. Not you and definitely not Colin.” I hit the bed with my fist. “Game over. Game over before it even started.” I throw back the covers and stand next to the bed. “Where are you going?” he asks. I grab the curtain and yank it hard. It flies towards the middle of the space between us, blocking the view I have of him and the whole front half of the room. “Go to sleep,” I say, disgusted with the whole conversation. “I can’t. I need to talk to you. You don’t understand.” “Oh, I understand. I understand completely.” I roll over and put my pillow over my head to block out his voice. Muffled sounds make it through, so I respond. “I can’t hear you. I have my pillow over my head, so just go to sleep and leave me alone.” The sounds stop and I relax just a fraction. I’m almost to the point of dozing when I feel someone touch my arm. I go ballistic, throwing the pillow back and sitting up. “Don’t touch me, asshole!” I yell. Teagan is standing there with her face frozen in a mask of complete and utter shock. “Oh. You’re not Mick.” “No, I am not.” Her eyebrows are up in her hair again. “Ready to go?”

“God, yes,” I say, flinging my sheets back and getting out of bed. “Where are my clothes?” “They’re in my car. I wanted to check if you were ready before I brought them up.” “Where are my parents?” “I told them I’d come get you. They’re at home. You sure you’re ready?” “Yes, I’m definitely ready.” I storm out of the room, Teagan trailing behind me. “But your ass is hanging out,” she says, coming up behind me as I move down the hall. I clutch at the flapping material. “I don’t care. Just get me away from him before I … before I …” God, he’s so frustrating. I can’t even talk anymore. A lump fills up my throat, threatening to choke me. Teagan puts her arm around my waist, effectively securing my gown closed and giving me the support I desperately need. “Don’t worry, Quinlan. Everything’s going to be fine. You’re not alone in this.” I cry all the way to her Beetle.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN I’M SOBBING AND I CAN’T seem to stop. “I fucked up, Tea. I fucked up. I fucked up.” She’s driving and patting me on the leg, the shoulder, the head, the face. “Shhhhh, babe, just relax. You are so on your period right now.” “I’m not, I’m not … I fucked up. I said some seriously mean shit in there.” I keep replaying my own words in my head and I’m thoroughly disgusted with myself. My mouth just got away from me or something. I don’t know why I keep letting that happen. It’s like I’m in self-destruct mode or something. “I need you to get your butt together. Alissa’s at the apartment and she’s already freaking out about every little thing. I can’t have her freaking out over you too. Seriously. Get those lady-balls out of your purse and put them in your panties, just for a few hours.” “I can’t. I suck. I suck. Just bring me home.” “Really?” She stops the car at the traffic light and looks at me. “You want to go home now instead of my place?” “No. Yes. No. Take me home.” I breathe out heavily and lean back against the seat. “My mom is pissed at me. I was a shit to her too.” Teagan does a massively illegal u-turn and heads the opposite direction. “We’ll go to your place first, get you cleaned up, you can apologize to your mom and then we’ll go to my place.” “What’s so urgent about going to your place now? Can’t I go next week?” I seriously do not want to see any of those guys at Rebel Wheels ever again. “Colin wants to talk to you. I think you should hear him out before he lets his mind wander too much and gets too worked up over everything that happened.” “No. I’m done talking to that ass-monkey. He got me in big trouble. He almost killed his brother.” “Mick started the fight, so no one is blaming Colin for that. Colin held back and got his face punched about five times before he swung one time.” “That was one hell of a swing, though.” “Yeah, well, he has anger management issues. He’s working on it.” “Pfft. Better work harder.” I stare out the window, letting the scenery buzz by without paying it any attention. Since when did my life become so ridiculous? This summer was supposed to boring. I was going to knit scarves for shit’s sake. We pull up into my driveway and no one comes out to greet me. “God, this sucks,” I say, staring at the front door. Not even Jersey is coming out. He always waits for me to come home. “It’ll be fine.” She’s texting on her phone. “Is Rebel expecting you back?” “Yes. I’ll just walk you in and then come back later.” I make my way up the front walkway slowly. My feet feel like they have cement boots on them. “Come on, slow-poke.” Teagan pushes me along. “Maybe I’ll just go to your place,” I say, stopping at the front door.

“Nope. We’re here now. Go take a shower, get on your cute jeans with the hole in the knees and call me. I’ll come get you.” I turn the handle of the door. “I’m an asshole, Tea. You should just cut me loose right now.” She leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. “You are my best friend and you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. Now go.” She puts her hand over mine and turns the handle, pushing the door in when the latch releases. “SURPRISE!” The sound of a group of what sounds like fifty voices hits me full in the eardrums. And then a puff of shredded paper smashes into my face, blinding me when some of it nails my eyeballs directly. “Hello, Sister!” Jersey screams, jumping into my arms. “You’re finally home!” I bury my face into his nasty, stinky hair and smile so hard it hurts my face. I have to spit pieces of Jersey-made confetti out of my mouth but that doesn’t diminish my happiness one bit. I think it makes it bigger. My parents come up and put their arms around all four of us. Teagan tries to step away, but they pull her in too. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I say, trying not to cry, trying to be an adult and apologize without the drama. “You’re forgiven, sweat pea. I’m just glad you’re home.” So much for being an adult. I fall into a mess of tears and snot and all the other attractive things that come along with a full-on emotional breakdown. Teagan hugs me hard before detaching herself from the love pile-on. “You are so on your period right now,” she says into my ear just before pulling away and walking to the door. “Later, Torreses! I’ll be back!” “You can’t stay for pizza?” my dad asks her. “Nah. Maybe I’ll have some leftovers.” She shuts the door before my mom can hound her into staying. Jersey and my dad leave me for the kitchen after a few more tight squeezes all around. I walk armin-arm with my mom and follow behind them. “You’re not mad at me?” I ask. “Maybe a little. But I’ll get over it.” “Mom?” I pause, stopping in the hallway. We’re the only ones there, the rest of the family already swarming over the pizza boxes ahead of us in the next room. “Yes?” She reaches up and moves my hair over my ear. “How did you know that Dad was the one guy for you? I mean, was it perfect right from the beginning?” She gives me a sad smile, the wrinkles around her eyes going deeper. “No, it wasn’t. I suppose some people have that kind of relationship, but with your dad and me it was fits and starts. Nothing has ever been easy in our life together.” “Are you sad about that? Do you regret it?” I search her eyes for honesty. She’s not joking or messing with me, I can tell. She looks tired, but happy. “Not for a second.” She hugs me to her tight. “Your dad is the best thing that ever happened to me. Look at the wonderful children he gave me.” I snort over her shoulder. “Yeah. One that cusses like a sailor and another one who lights hospitals on fire.” “Guess what boring is,” she says. “What?” I’m confused. “Guess what boring is,” she says again.

“I don’t know. What’s boring?” “Boring. Boring is boring. Who wants a boring life?” “Me?” “Bullshit,” she says. “Only assholes want boring lives.” I laugh and cry until I reach the pizza. Then I just inhale cheese and pepperoni like it’s going out of style, all the while surrounded by the love of my ridiculously not-boring family. There’s only one tiny little thing missing from this picture, but I don’t spend a whole lot of time thinking about that one little thing. No use worrying about parts of my life I cannot change. I have a future to get to, starting when Teagan shows up later to pick me up.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT A LONG, HOT SHOWER DOES a little bit of good for my mood, although it doesn’t fully restore it. I don’t think that’s even possible at this point. There’s too much unresolved in my life and too many unanswered questions about my near future. But at least the horror that was my hair is now gone. I’m sporting long, smooth locks with a light curl to them instead of a helmet o’frizz. I use the straightening iron to get every last bit of crispiness out of my dark, kinky hair. As ridiculous as it sounds, I want to try and fix things that can be fixed. My life is a mess, but my hair? … Not so much. At least I have that going for me. I just wish I could care about my eyebrows too, but I don’t. I keep looking in the mirror and wondering what Mick sees when he looks at me. It makes me sad when I realize it’s probably nothing special. “Hey, ho,” says Teagan, walking up the hallway and stopping in my doorway. “Hey, ho,” I say back, pulling a cardigan over my arms. “Time to make like a baby and head out?” “No, time to make like a hockey player and get the puck out of here.” I take my purse from the bed and sling it over my shoulder. “You sure this is a good idea?” I ask as we head out the front door. I’m so not looking forward to going over to Rebel Wheels right now. The only reason I’m going at all is for Teagan. I don’t want anything I’ve done to get between her and her man-meat. “Yes,” she says. “Definitely. I’d rather we just get everything worked out and out in the open. Then we can start fresh.” When we slam the doors shut on the Beetle it sounds like we’re closing ourselves into a tin can. I wonder why I’ve never noticed it before. My life has gotten dimmer today. There are no silver linings only clouds. Gah, I need to have sex or something and get some spark back into my life. This is lame. As Teagan pulls away from the curb, I remember something about her case that came up when my mom was visiting me in the hospital, and I’m happy for the distraction my wandering brain has provided. “My mom said that you and I have an appointment at the lawyer’s office Monday.” “Yeah.” Teagan glances at me before going back to looking at the road. “I hope that’s okay. I told them you’d come.” “Yeah, it’s fine. But what do they want from me?” “They want to talk to you about your report again. I guess the lawyer for my step-mother has contacted them with some kind of settlement offer and they want to be sure they understand everything they’re looking at.” My depression has been replaced by nervousness. Goody. “Don’t they have an expert they’re paying who can do that?” “Yes, but I guess there’s something about how you did it that they like. Just say you’ll come. I’ll treat you to lunch after.” “Sure, no problem.” I shrug, staring out the side window. “No big deal, right?” I should be more excited about the opportunity to talk with a fancy legal team about my work, but I just can’t get there. I’m

seeing Mick in that hospital bed, over and over. His disappointment. His sadness. His anger at me. Ugh. Neither of us says anything for a little while. I let the high pitched buzzing of The Beast’s engine mesmerize me as my brain wanders through my memories. I keep picturing Mick’s face, going gray and pained as he collapses outside his car. My heart seizes up in my chest as I picture him not being here on this earth anymore. I’m so glad I got him to the hospital on time, even though it involved me getting electrocuted. “Are you okay?” Teagan asks. We’re sitting at a stoplight. “Yeah. I’m fine.” I look over and give her the best smile I can manage. “Bullshit.” She puts the tiny shifter into first gear and pulls out into the intersection. “No, I’m fine. Really.” “It’s Mick, isn’t it?” “No.” I try to act like her guess is stupid. “Colin?” “No! Jesus, not Colin.” I shake my head, suddenly angry for no good reason. “Geez, okay. No need to have a frigging cow.” I smile without humor. “You are so old school sometimes.” She grins. “I know, right? Rebel said Mick was having a cow the other day and I made myself memorize it. I swore I’d use it at least five times before next weekend.” “Rebel said have a cow? I don’t believe that.” I shake my head, trying to picture it. “You made that up.” “No, seriously. He’s funny.” “I’ll just have to trust you on that,” I say, not sure I believe her stories. She’s too in love to know what’s what with that guy. “How’s Alissa doing?” I ask, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. Luckily, Teagan takes the hint and runs with it. “Fine, I guess. She keeps to herself. She hasn’t left the apartment. All she does is read.” “I guess that’s good.” The surroundings become familiar as we get closer to Rebel Wheels. “Has she said anything about who the father is?” “No. And I’m not pushing her either. I don’t want her to run away because she thinks we’re going to strong-arm her or anything.” The way she says that makes me look over. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means, just chill-out when you’re around her. Go easy. She’s seriously freaked out over the pregnancy or her parents or whatever. I’m not sure what the source of her mood is, actually, but she’s messed up.” “Fine.” I try not to be offended by what she’s insinuating. “I can be chill.” She pats my leg. “I know you can. Now don’t pout.” “I’m not pouting.” “Yes, you are. Oh, and good news … Colin’s going to make a ton of cash from that show.” “Really? How much?” Now there’s a tiny ray of sunshine. Some good will come out of this mess. “I’ll let him tell you.” She pulls into the parking lot and shuts off the engine as she rolls into the space by the front door. “I hate surprises,” I say, getting out of the car. The pain in my chest from the taser is almost nothing now, but I cringe anyway. All my efforts at gaining pity are wasted, though, since Teagan’s not looking at me. Teagan leads the way through her office and up the stairs to Rebel’s apartment. I look down the hall uneasily at Colin’s door, but it doesn’t open. As I walk into Rebel’s place, the first thing I see is Alissa sitting on the couch with an e-reader in her hand. She glances up and says, “Hi,” before going back to her book or whatever it is she’s looking

at. “Hi. How are you feeling?” I ask. “Good.” She doesn’t even look up this time. Alrighty, then. I look around and suddenly notice she’s not the only one in the room. Colin is in the far corner and he’s staring at me. I’m instantly nervous, breaking out in a cold sweat. I can feel my hair wanting to frizz. Dammit. “Hi, Quin. Thanks for coming over,” he says. My eyes narrow and some anger slips back into my heart. Mick is lying in a hospital room right now, lighter in the organ department because of him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks. His voice is cautious. Calm. Way cooler than mine. “No.” I grip my purse strap hard with both hands. Teagan warned me about making a scene with asking Alissa questions; I’m pretty sure making a scene includes causing one in her general vicinity too. “Quin, go talk to him. Please?” Teagan is not playing. She sounds tired and sad. I blow a gust of hot breath up onto my forehead. “Fine. Talk.” I stare at a spot over his head. I can’t look him in the eyes right now. I feel guilty for some stupid reason. “I’d rather do it at my place,” he says. “Bad idea,” I say. “Do it here.” “If you guys don’t mind, maybe it would be better if you did it over there,” says Alissa, suddenly coming out of her book stupor. Her face is all pinched and snooty-looking. My mouth drops open. What the …? How dare she? What … she’s here for a day or two and suddenly this is her place and she’s calling the shots? Teagan sees my expression and comes rushing over. “Yes, what a good idea. Go on over to Colin’s place so we can just relax over here. Without all the noise and stuff. Right? That would be good, right?” Teagan frowns at me and then gives me a huge fake smile that stretches from one ear to the other across her face. Her earlier lecture about not upsetting Alissa comes back to haunt me. “Fine. I’ll go out to the hallway.” I leave the room without looking at anyone, refusing to acknowledge Teagan’s attempts at making it up to me with smiles and a thumbs-up sign. I’m totally going to slap her ass later for this one. And Alissa … boy when she’s done being pregnant, she’s going to hear it from me. I’m not out there alone for long. Colin joins me, but he moves past me and goes to his door. “I told you, out here. I’m not going in there.” I grab my purse strap with both hands again and squeeeeeeze. “That’s fine. I just want to get something. Be right back.” I stand there tapping my foot and breathing angrily. Huffs of air come out and my eyes roll to the ceiling and then all around. I’ve worked myself up into full-on panty twistage by the time he comes back out. Thing is, I can’t actually see him. There are too many damn yellow roses covering his face. My heart drops into my abdominal cavity and the anger that was previously burning up my brain disappears to be replaced by a thin trickle of dread. My hands leave my purse strap and flop to my sides. “Oh, shit, Colin…” Words fail me from that point. “Don’t be mad,” he says, stopping in front of me. He lowers the bouquet so I can see him again. “I just got these as an apology and a thank you. They’re yellow. The lady at the shop said they’re for friendship.” My hand moves up on its own power to touch one of the flowers. Its petals are cool to my fingertips and satiny soft. “This was a really stupid thing to do.” I don’t sound very convincing, even to my own ears. Taking the vase from him, I bury my face into the blooms and inhale the luscious scent of the roses. “No one has ever bought me flowers before except my mom, and that was just today.”

He grins. I can see his happy, relieved look through the stems. “Well, you deserve to get them. Especially after what you did for me. I sold eight pieces last night. Eight. I made more at that gallery show than I have the last year working here.” I drop the flowers lower so I can see him better. “Colin, I didn’t do anything. I just told you that you were talented. You did all the work. You’re the one.” “No, you told me you wanted to have my children.” I back up a step, my heart filling completely to the top with a dense cold. “You know I didn’t mean that literally, right?” Dread is seriously heavy. I feel like I have a lump of steel sitting in my chest. My mouth has gotten me into trouble before, but this right here would be a whole other level of awful. “Yeah, of course,” he says, his tone all light and airy, like I’m not in the middle of dying right in front of him. “That’s not what I meant. The point is, you kind of just dropped your whole Quin-act. You were you for a few seconds in my apartment with me. And in that moment, you were totally honest. You got what I was seeing when I did Teagan’s portrait. You got it. You got me.” He puts his hand over his heart and his voice is filled with such passion and excitement, it stuns me. I’m shaking my head. “I don’t understand. Are you, or are you not, telling me you’re in love with me?” I feel sick as I wait for his answer. Please say no, please say no, please say no… He grins. “Yes, I do think I love you. But not like that.” “Wow. That was ever so much clearer. Thank you.” I glare at him. He puts his hand on my shoulder. It’s heavy and warm. The thing that costumed my heart with coldness is beginning to thaw. “I mean, you’re very special to me. Even though I hardly know you, I feel like I really do know you. And you remind me of someone very, very important to me.” He pauses as his eyes go suddenly red. “She used to fix things. She fixed everything. But she’s gone now, so I thought I lost that forever and that shit would always be broken … wrong in some way. But I guess I kind of feel like I got it back in a way or I’ve got a second chance. So thanks. Thanks for being honest with me. Thanks for being … you. Thanks for fixing the unfixable.” He moves his hand to the top of my head and musses up my hair. “Hey! Watch the ‘do, man!” I yank my head away from him. I have both hands on the flowers, so my hair is left to fend for itself. I suddenly feel like I’m ten years old again. I don’t have an older brother, but I’m pretty sure this is what it feels like to have one. “Sorry. Want me to take those from you?” “Yes,” I say, heaving the roses in his direction. As soon as my hands are free I pat my hair down. “Come on. You can keep them in here to enjoy.” He heads back to Rebel’s apartment. “Are you going to apologize to Mick?” I ask to his back. He freezes. “No.” His good mood has vaporized into thin air. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist on that,” I say, liking this new power trip he’s put me on. I am the Queen of Trouble. Has a nice ring to it. “I’m not going to do that,” he says, turning around. I move closer so that our faces are only a few inches apart. “Yes, you are, actually.” We’re busy glaring at each other when Rebel comes up from the stairway. He stops in the hall and watches us. I turn to face him and feel my face go red as I take in his expression. He looks angry. Disappointed. “What are you doing?” he asks Colin. “Nothing.” The cocky, devil-may-care attitude is back full-force. “Just carrying these in for her before I go to the gym.” “Actually,” I say, taking the vase from Colin, “he’s getting ready to go over to the hospital so he can apologize to Mick. Because if he doesn’t, I’m not going to be coming around here anymore. I don’t hang with cowards.” I glare at Colin.

“I almost killed him,” Colin says, his words only for me. Some of the attitude has slipped away. “Exactly. Go fix it.” I pull open the door, my eyes still on Colin’s. “It’s not fixable.” “Everything is fixable,” I say. “Everything. Didn’t you just say that to me like less than a minute ago? Stop expecting someone else to do it for you and do it for yourself.” He clamps his lips together and says nothing, but the accompanying glare doesn’t bother me in the least. “Talk to you later. Oh, and make sure you give me back my phone before you go.” I walk into the apartment and put the flowers down on the coffee table. Finally, everything doesn’t suck.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE ALISSA STARES AT THE FLOWERS as if in a trance. I’m distracted from her zombie act by Teagan coming out of the kitchen with three glasses of ice water in her hands. “Wow. Those are impressive,” she says, putting the glasses down on the coffee table and touching one of the flowers. “These are from Colin, for me.” I take her by the elbow and bring her back into the kitchen, trying to be mindful of Alissa’s delicate condition. “They’re just a friend thing,” I whisper when we’re out of earshot. “I pulled that friend card out and used it immediately, too.” “How so?” she asks, also whispering. “I made him go to the hospital and apologize to Mick.” Teagan lifts an eyebrow. “Is that a good idea?” “Of course it is.” I start to doubt myself immediately. I guess he could decide to pulverize a few more of his brother’s organs. That would be bad. Teagan pulls her phone out of her pocket and texts out a message. A few seconds later an answer arrives with a beep. “What’s it say?” I ask, trying to look at the screen. “Rebel’s going with him.” We both sigh out in relief. “Phew. That was awesome,” I say, feeling like I just ran a 5k. “Holy brain chemicals.” “Come on. Let’s discuss strategy,” Teagan says, going out into the living room. Alissa is there, back to reading. She doesn’t even acknowledge our presence as we take up the two armchairs nearby. Teagan jumps right in. “Monday our appointment is at nine in the morning. Bring your report and anything else you can think of that will help.” Alissa looks up from her book but says nothing. I feel a little self-conscious with her staring, but forge ahead anyway. “Do you want me to do anything else with it? Look over the numbers more? I could probably do some digging on the companies that are listed in the financials. Maybe there’s more stuff to find online.” Teagan shrugs. “I don’t know. What do you think?” I shrug too, not sure it would be worth my time but willing to do pretty much anything she needs. “Why would you be doing anything with financials?” Alissa asks. Teagan and I look at each other. I’m not sure who’s supposed to answer that, so I say nothing. I don’t trust myself not to tell her to mind her own damn business. I don’t want to be blamed for her water breaking all over the sofa. “Before my dad died, he sent me some financial data that indicates some bad things were happening at his company. Some people tried to take that data from me a few weeks ago and now we’re in the process of figuring out exactly what we have on our hands and what we should do with it.”

“But how does she know anything about it?” Alissa’s pointing at me. “Who’s she?” I ask, annoyed as hell. “The cat’s mother?” Teagan and Alissa both stare at me like I’ve lost my mind. I don’t like being a shadow in a room. Now I know why my grandma used that expression all the time whenever one of us pointed at her and referred to her as ‘she’. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not sitting right here,” I say. “Sorry.” Alissa’s apology doesn’t quite make it to her eyes. “Why would a law firm want Quin to do anything with financial records?” I have to stare at the wall to keep from strangling a pregnant girl. That’s the level of frustrated I am right now. I’m a walking lethal weapon with a hair-trigger temper. I breathe in and out very slowly, once, twice, three times, reminding myself silently that pregnant women can be serious beeyotches sometimes. My mom was hell on wheels from month two to month nine, and then my poor baby brother came out with an oxygen-starved brain thanks to fate and stupid doctors, and look where we are now. Breathe in. Breathe out. By the time I have my brain back online, Teagan’s almost done with her explanation. “… and so she needs to be there to go over it one more time.” Alissa is nodding slowly. “Well, I could help too. I’m a finance major.” She looks over at me nervously and then at Teagan. “If you want, that is. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.” Teagan is way cooler than I am. She smiles. “That’s very sweet of you, but I think we have it covered. They also have an expert accountant involved, so what Quin’s doing is just a quick review of her analysis. No big deal. We’ll be in and out in thirty minutes.” Alissa shrugs, picking up her e-reader again. She’s already looking at the screen when she responds. “Just let me know if you want any help.” Maybe she’s suggesting I would need help, but I’m not going to let it bother me. I know I kicked ass all over those records and no one could have done the work better than me, not even stick-up-her-butt Alissa. She’s smart, I’ll give her that, but she’s not as dedicated as I am. No one is. I turn back to Teagan. “I’ll work on them tonight to refresh my memory at least. If I find anything else, should I just bring it?” “Yeah. That would be good.” Teagan leans over and grabs the remote control. “Anyone up for a movie?” She points the tiny black box at the television. “Sexy, funny, sad, or action?” She looks at Alissa and then me. “Action, all the way,” I say, knowing that with the way things are going and the mood in this room, anything else would be dangerous. Crying pregnant woman equals bad. “How about we do a little Die Hard action, hmmmm?” Teagan asks, selecting a movie from a list. I slouch down in my chair. “Classic. Bring it on. I do loooove me some Bruce Willis.” I let my worries about law firm meetings, yellow roses, and the failure to launch with Mick fade away and be replaced by smoke, guns, fire, and testosterone-filled scenes of the stone-faced awesome that is Bruce Willis. There will be plenty of time for me to fret over my heart and messed up life another day.

CHAPTER THIRTY I TRY REALLY HARD NOT to grind my teeth in frustration. Leaning over to murmur in Teagan’s ear, I school my expression to remain fake-interested. “I thought you said we’d be out of here in thirty minutes.” She grins and answers me through closed teeth. “I have no control over these guys.” Teagan failed to mention that we were attending a mediation today. This isn’t just a meeting to discuss my report. The attorneys for the step mother are on the telephone and a mediator person is in the other room, talking to them and then coming in and out of this meeting room that we’re in to negotiate. As far as I can tell, they’re getting nowhere. Speak of the devil, the guy who’s acting as the referee in this mess walks back into the room. “Okay. I have a response for you. As you know, you’ve asked for the initial public offering of the company to be delayed until the issue of share ownership is resolved. I recommended to the acting CEO that they do so.” He pauses to make sure we’re all paying attention. He’s like a fucking theater actor the way he stands there moving his bushy eyebrows around and clasping his hands together. Just when I think he’s about to bust out a ‘To be or not to be…’ soliloquy, he says, “But they have declined to take my recommendation.” All the attorneys in the room either sigh heavily or swear. “What does that mean?” asked Teagan. “How can they go ahead with the IPO if they have this lawsuit coming from me? You said that all pending lawsuits would have to be resolved before they went public.” I reach over and put my hand over hers. She’s clearly upset, and I don’t blame her. All this stuff is ridiculous. The main attorney looks at her and leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Generally speaking, that is the case. Investors do not like the threat of litigation hanging over the company. If the company were to lose any pending suits, it’s the investors who would end up paying in the form of reduced value of the company and therefore reduced value of the shares they bought. So for that reason, most IPOs do not take place until all threats of litigation are at least managed.” He turns his attention to the mediator. “Did they offer up any explanation for their thought process on this one?” “Unfortunately … yes.” He looks over at Teagan for a second before completing his explanation for the lawyers. “Apparently, they are of the opinion that because the information received by Ms. Cross was confidential, and because she was not entitled to receive that confidential information, it cannot be used as evidence in any case against them.” “That’s fine, we’ll just get discovery in pre-trial. Problem solved,” says one of the lawyers. “Not so fast,” says the theater-major. “What they’re claiming - and I’m not vouching personally for their ability to prove this, but you must consider that it’s possible they will convince a judge of this - is that the documents that were put on that thumb drive by Mr. Cross were attorney work product and not subject to discovery.”

“Bullshit!” says the youngest lawyer in the room. “That is complete and utter bullshit and you know it and they know it!” The main lawyer holds his hand up at the other rowdy one and addresses the mediator calmly. “Is there anything they said that gives you reason to believe they might be able to make this work?” The mediator looks at the floor, drawing out the silence on purpose, I’m sure of it. He clasps his hands behind his back and rocks up on his heels as he looks at the ceiling next. Teagan and I are squeezing the crap out of each other’s fingers as we wait for him to deliver the goods. “Well?” asks the young lawyer. Apparently he doesn’t have the patience for theater. Thank God for that guy. I give him a smile that he nods acknowledgment of. “I don’t want to mince words,” the mediator says, casting a glance over at Teagan. She and I share a WTF look. “By all means, don’t. We need to know,” says the older lawyer. “What did they say?” The mediator sighs. “They are saying that Mrs. Cross, the acting CEO, had been in the process of having her husband declared incompetent before his death, and that the financials that were being drafted up and the memos that went back and forth were for the legal team she hired to manage that process.” “Incompetent?” Teagan says, sounding lost. “What does that even mean?” Her question probably sounds stupid to these lawyers, but I know exactly what she’s getting at. Her father was the smartest guy I’ve never met. The lawyers around the table share stunned and confused looks. Only the main guy seems non-plussed. “Is there any medical evidence to support this claim?” he asks. “It appears as if there might be.” The mediator looks at Teagan. “I’m sorry, Miss. I know this probably comes as a shock to you.” Teagan stands. “Are you trying to tell me that my father was somehow looney tunes, and that he wasn’t capable of running his business anymore or something?” I stand next to her, my legs too jumpy to manage sitting anymore. I feel like running until I drop. Fight or flight? Why, yes, thank you. I’ll take flight, please. “Yes, it appears as if that’s the case,” says the main lawyer. He sounds tired. “Do they have medical records?” “Yes,” says the mediator. He’s lost most of his pizzaz. “Fully documented incidents of confusion, mistakes made, and other behaviors very out-of-character for him.” “I talked to my dad once a month. There was never anything wrong with him,” says Teagan. Her vehemence trails out near the end, and it makes me grab her wrist and fumble around until I can get her fingers to weave in with mine. “Come on, Teagan. Let’s go,” I say. I’m afraid we’re both going to start bawling if we don’t get the hell out of here. “We need to give them a response,” the older lawyer says, standing up. Everyone around the table follows his lead. I feel like I’m at a funeral with all these suits around us. Teagan opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. When her chin starts to tremble, I start talking. “You can tell them that we know better and that we are not going to put up with their bullshit any longer. We have the evidence and we know Mr. Cross was more than competent, and if he wasn’t, it was something they did to him.” I look at Teagan. “Right, Teagan? They can take that lie and shove it, right?” Her bottom jaw juts out as her eyes fill with tears. “Yes,” she finally croaks out. “Right.” I look around the room as I tug her towards the door. “You can tell that Mrs. Cross that we’re coming for her. Are you guys prepared to do that?” I address my question to the head guy. “Do you think Teagan has a chance?”

“I cannot say for certain, but their explanation needs looking into before we make any big decisions.” “Fine. You look into it and call Teagan when you’re ready. I’m going to do my own stuff on the side.” He tilts his head at me. “Your own stuff? What, pray tell, might that be?” “You don’t need to worry about that part of it. Just do your job. Please.” I pull Teagan the rest of the way out of the conference room and stride down the hallway, dragging her along next to me. I have to put my shoulder into it because she’s turned into a human sandbag. “I can’t believe it,” she says, her voice mostly a whisper. “I can’t believe she would do something like that.” We are out the front door before I feel comfortable answering. I stop and look her in the eyes. “What I said in there about your dad, I believe. But they can’t just pull stories like this out of their assholes without some kind of evidence. This isn’t television. Judges don’t fall for that shit. Something was up with your dad, so we just have to find out what it is.” We start walking again. “My dad was healthy and smart and totally with it,” Teagan says, her tone defensive. We reach her car in the parking lot and I stop with her at her door. “You don’t believe that one hundred percent,” I say, testing the waters. I don’t want her flipping out on me, but I need her to be truthful. “Yes, I do.” “No, you don’t. I heard you hesitate in there and here now, too. Tell me what you’re thinking.” I put my hand on the door so she can’t open it. She sighs heavily and swipes the back of her hand over her eyes. “Fine. The last time I talked to him he sounded weird.” “Weird how?” “Weird weird. Like, not confident anymore.” She shakes her head in frustration. “Never mind. It’s stupid.” I turn her by the shoulders to face me. “No, it’s not stupid. It’s your dad. Tell me what happened.” Tears come out and slide down her cheeks. She doesn’t bother to wipe them away this time. “He was just … out of it. He’s never out of it.” “Details, Tea-Tea. Details.” “When he called me, he sounded drunk. But not drunk, you know?” “No, I don’t know. Explain.” I feel like I’m talking to my brother right now. I try not to get mad at her for it. “Just disoriented. Frustrated with himself. And he told me he loved me.” “You didn’t tell me that before.” I know how weird that must have been for her. “He’s never said that, has he?” “No, not that I could remember. I didn’t say anything about it because it was embarrassing. My dad never lost his cool, never drank more than one drink, never said anything at all mushy. He was just … him. The boss. The guy who paid the bills and made me come home every summer to be bored out of my mind. He wasn’t a mess, which is what he sounded like that day. I just wrote it off as a bad dream or something.” I put my hands on her cheeks. “You are not responsible for what happened to him.” She bursts out bawling. Crash! Hammer goes boom on that nail head. “I should have called a doctor!” she wails. “I should have gone to see him! I should have called him back!” “Stop it!” I shout in her face. And then I continue more calmly. “Stop freaking out over something

that’s not your fault. When did he call you? Can you remember?” She shakes her head. “It was weeks before he died. It wasn’t just before it happened.” I grab her by the shoulders and squeeze, giving her upper body a little wiggle to get her attention back on me. “Listen, there’s nothing you could have done. He had a heart attack and he passed away, which is awful, I know that and you’re right to be sad. But if there’s anything that they did, those assmunching company stealing I-don’t-want-to-say-the-word-I’m-thinking kind of people, we need to figure out what it was.” I can’t say the word murderers in Teagan’s presence. She’ll lose what little cool she has left and probably run out into traffic. She nods through her tears. Again, I’m reminded of Jersey. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Rebel.” I take her keys from her and put her in the passenger seat. Once she’s buckled, I drive back to Rebel Wheels, keeping one eye on the road and the other on my friend. She’s fallen into a trance. I text Rebel at a stoplight just a few blocks away from our destination and tell him to meet us outside so at least I won’t have to try and carry her in. I’ve never seen her look so devastated. I’m worried sick by the time we get to the Rebel Wheels parking lot.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE REBEL, COLIN, AND MICK ARE all standing outside waiting for Teagan’s arrival. As soon as she sees that wall of gorgeously muscled badassery, she starts crying all over again. I can’t help but be a little stunned by the picture they make myself. Get in my panties, boys. Holy, holy. As soon as Rebel opens the door and scoops his girlfriend up into his arms, my brain goes back to normal function. Mick is here. There will be no sexy talk, so sexy thoughts, and no sexy sex. We are just friends because our favorite people are in love. That’s it and that’s all. Ten-four, over and out. “What in the hell are you doing out of the hospital?” I ask, slamming the door shut. I sound mad, but I’m not. I’m worried. What if his stitches rip and his guts fall out? How will I save him then? “They let me out. Colin gave me a lift.” I raise an eyebrow at the mess of Trouble standing next to Mick. I suppose I should be happy Colin didn’t manage to murder his brother on the way home. “That was nice.” Colin gives me a half-grin that has zero happiness to it. “I’m a nice guy. What can I say?” I feel a tiny bit bad that I pulled my power card out on him the other day and made him go apologize to his brother, but I refuse to regret it. They’re standing here side-by-side and that’s a lot more than they were doing a few days ago. Who cares if Colin holds it against me? He’s a butthead anyway. “How do you feel?” I ask, stopping a couple feet away from Mick. Totally awkward moment. My armpits immediately start pumping out the sweat stink. “Pretty good. Better than I expected.” He gestures at the front door with a flick of his head. “What’s going on with her? Bad meeting?” I shake my head. “The worst. You guys wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” “Want to get a beer and talk about it?” Colin asks. Mick frowns at him. “Running away again?” “Shut up, dick,” Colin says, his mouth twisting into a scowl. “What’s that all about?” I ask, confused. “Pregnant girls make him nervous,” Mick says, obviously happy to be teasing his brother. “He’s worried he might be the father.” For a second I believe him, but then when Colin’s jaw twitches and he stands up straighter I recognize this for the harassment it is. Colin growls. “Better shut your fucking mouth unless you want to lose a kidney along with that spleen.” Mick laughs. “Touch me one time and see what happens.” He turns to me, completely unconcerned for his welfare. I’m guessing he’s on some pretty powerful drugs right now. Either that, or he’s secure in the idea that Rebel will personally pound Colin into the dirt if he so much as lays a finger on Mick. “He’s right, though,” Mick continues. “Let’s go get a beer and you can tell us all about it.” “It’s not even lunch time,” I say, following Mick over to the red mustang parked on the back side of

the lot. “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he says, looking at me over his shoulder. He gets into the car gingerly, his arm muscles bulging as he lowers himself carefully into the driver’s seat. I wait for Colin to climb into the back seat before joining Mick in the front. “Are you sure you should be driving?” I buckle my seatbelt, trying to block out the memories of being with him in this car and me driving like a lunatic. I never ever want to do that again. “Nope.” He grins and guns the motor. We roll out of the parking lot with Mick smiling like a loon. “Freedom!” he yells, pounding the steering wheel a few times before turning on the radio. A heavy dance beat starts pumping out of the speakers. My butt can’t help but twitch a little on the seat. Man, I could totally work off some steam twerking in the comfort of my bedroom right now. Too much stress is making me crazy. I’m only partially satisfied with my dancing situation and then the song is over and we’re pulling a parallel space outside a nondescript black and brown building. We’re at a dive bar that I normally wouldn’t be caught dead inside. Only a few cars are parked in the lot next door, so I’m more than a little surprised to find the place half full of people when we walk through the door. “What are all these people doing here at this time of day?” I ask as we make our way to the bar. Colin motions at the bartender, twirling his finger over all our heads. Less than a minute later, we all have cold mugs of beer in front of us. Nobody answers my question. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’m just here for the man candy I came with and maybe some ideas. I need to help Teagan out of this mess. I cannot stand seeing her so helpless. “Welcome to my home away from home,” says Colin, taking a big swig of his beer. I look around in disgust. “You can do better, Colin. Seriously. Ew.” Mick leans over and says, “Don’t be so stuck up.” My jaw drops open and I stare at him. How rude. “What?” he asks, all innocence. “You just called me stuck up!” “So? You act like you can’t have a good time in a dive bar.” He shrugs, completely not caring that he just used break-up words with me. He’s so lucky he’s not my boyfriend. I snort. “Sha. Right. I could have a good time anywhere. I could have a good time in a garbage dump.” Good work, Quin. That was sexy. I battle not to roll my eyes at my own self. I am so losing my touch. “Sounds interesting,” Mick says, just before taking a long swig of his drink. “Are you supposed to be drinking while you’re on that pain medication?” I’m going to go ahead and forgive him for calling me stuck up. He’s definitely on drugs. “Probably not.” He takes another swig and nods at someone across the room. I look over to the same spot and see a girl standing there who forgot to tuck her boobs into her shirt before she left the house this morning. She’s giving Mick one of those bring-your-dick-over-here looks, but he’s not moving. I have to admire his ability to play hard to get. She’s not the ugliest girl in the world and she is pretty much offering up, at the very least, a titty fuck with that get-up she’s wearing. I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy to do it in the bathroom too; he wouldn’t even need to go outside first. I groan inwardly as her stance shifts and her expression goes first to frustrated and then to determined. This chick is about to give in and break the number one rule of bar flirting: Never ever be the one to come over. I shake my head as she starts to move in our direction. Dumb ho. “So what happened at the meeting?” Colin asks. He puts his empty mug down on the bar and signals the bartender for another. I still haven’t taken a single sip of mine. I have an issue with beer for brunch, I

guess, but at least I have something to do with my hands, which is better than slapping stupid faces of bimbo girls. Hannah Hootersville is here now, running her fingers all over Mick’s chest as she talks softly to him and smiles like a dingbat. I can’t take any more of it. Ten seconds and I’m ready to snap. “Are you blind?” I ask her leaning over and saying it loud enough so that Mick and Colin can hear too. She frowns at me, all her flirting happiness disappearing like a puff of smoke. Her hand freezes on Mick’s boob. “No.” “Oh.” I shrug, looking around all casual, acting like I didn’t just pull the pin and drop an insult grenade on her head. “Why would you ask that? Do I look blind?” I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess it was the way you were reading Mick’s chest like he had braille all over it or something. My bad.” I give her a tight smile and then go back to facing Colin. “So, yeah, it was terrible …” Before I can get any more of my story out, something hits me in the shoulder. My eyes bug out as I turn to see what the hell is going on. Hannah Hootersville is standing there, ready for a fight, her legs spread a little apart and her small hands fisted at her sides. “Did you just hit me?” I cannot believe this girl would be so stupid. “Yeah, I just hit you.” She flips her dried-out, scraggly, fake-blond hair over her shoulder and sticks her flubbery chest out. “What are you going to do about it?” I shrug before shoving my beer into Colin’s chest. “One word.” My fist flies out and pops her in the chest. “Boob punch!” My hand sinks in about six inches before coming into contact with her ribs. Good thing silicon boobies are tough. She bends over, grasping at her chest with both arms. “That’s two words, you bitch!” she squeals. “Whatever!” I yell back, taking a step towards her as she backs up. Colin jumps in front of me, blocking my progress. Mick reverses away from our little group, holding onto his stomach. I immediately feel awful as I see the scene unfolding around me. I forget the girl completely. “Holy shit, Mick, I forgot about your stomach. Are you okay? How’s your spleen?” I come towards him with my hands held out. He continues to back away, his hands held up in a defensive position. “I don’t have a spleen anymore, remember?” He half laughs, but it sounds like it’s laced with pain. “Just keep those weapons away from me right now, okay? I just got out of the hospital, and I don’t want to go back in anytime soon.” My hands fly to my face. I just assaulted a chick in a shit bar. I’m a monster. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Colin shows up behind me and I turn around to find his face near my shoulder. He’s way too happy. “What are you smiling at?!” I shout, reaching around to smack him on the shoulder, my concerns about being a monster disappearing just like that. He ducks a little but keeps up the grinning. “That was awesome. Did you see that, Mick? Chick fight … over you!” He laughs. “Hilarious!” Mick scowls at him as my face flames red. “I was not fighting over Mick.” “Yeah, whatever you say.” Colin walks back to the bar, leaving me standing in front of Mick. “Mick, I’m sorry I messed up your date.” My entire body sags. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m obviously losing my mind.” He drops his hands and steps closer to me. “Just let it go. It’s no big deal. She’s a leech and I’m glad she’s off me.”

“Really? Cuz I thought I was picking up on that vibe and so I just acted on it. But if you tell me I was wrong, I’ll hate myself forever. I’ll go apologize.” “No, you weren’t wrong.” He sighs. “Get me a beer, would ya?” “Here,” I say, taking the one nearest me off the bar. “This one was mine. I think. I don’t want it.” He takes it and looks around to see if anyone else is claiming it. “You probably shouldn’t have anything to drink right now,” he says. “No, you’re right. Save me from myself,” I agree, urging him to drink with my eyes. “Bottom’s up,” he says, lifting the glass at me first before taking a very long series of drinks. He drains the mug in seconds. “Wow. That was impressive … in an alcoholic olympics kind of way.” He laughs. “Silver medalist. Colin’s always getting the gold ahead of me.” We both look over and watch him drain what might be his third beer. “Why is he like that?” I ask quietly. Mick stands next to me as we watch him joke around with the bartender. “He doesn’t deal with losing people very well, and he’s lost a couple.” “Everyone does eventually,” I say, getting a lump in my throat as I imagine my parents leaving this world. “Yeah, and most people get over it. Colin doesn’t. Ever.” “That’s sad.” “Yeah. That’s why I don’t totally hate him, you know?” We turn and face each other and Mick continues. “I get why he’s angry all the time. He’s alone.” “But he has you. And Rebel.” “We know that, but he doesn’t. He’s always on the outside looking in. That’s what he thinks, anyway.” “Maybe you should be nicer to him,” I say, loving that Mick and I are standing so close now and that I can smell his beer breath as it hits my face. I totally want to swap spit with him right now. “He’s too much of a dick most of the time. He drives people away.” I chew the inside of my cheek, wondering why this feels like it applies to me. “Your hair is pretty,” he says, taking a lock of it in his hand and running his fingers down it. I’m too shocked to speak at first. Where in the hell is this coming from? “Did you do something different to it?” “I … uh … yeah … I, uh … brushed it.” He laughs, dropping my hair. “And usually you just … what? Don’t?” “No. Yes. I mean, I have frizzy hair so…” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for my answer. I sigh. “Can we talk about something else please? My hair is boring.” “Fine. What do you want to talk about?” He signals the bartender for another beer, and Colin joins us when it’s delivered. “You guys wanted to know what happened in the meeting, right?” I ask. They both nod. I take a big breath, collecting my thoughts so I can give them the highlights. “Okay, so … apparently, Teagan’s step-mom is saying that her dad was bonkers or whatever before he died and that she was in the process of having him committed or something, so all that data that he sent Teagan was confidential legal stuff she didn’t have a right to have. So it can’t be used in a lawsuit against them.” “What? That doesn’t make any sense,” says Mick. I love how he’s getting all defensive over it. It’s exactly how I feel, and now I know I’m not alone. “I know. But the lawyers said that maybe that bitch could convince a judge it was true. And Teagan

says the last time she talked to her dad on the phone, he sounded really out of it. Like drunk. But he never ever drinks.” I look at them, wondering if their minds are going where mine is. “So what’s the next step?” Mick asks. I bite my lip as I consider whether to say out loud what I’m thinking. It’s nuts. It’s stupid. It’s none of my damn business. I am not Rambo, even though I can lay out a mean-ass boob punch when necessary. “Out with it,” says Mick. He looks over at his brother. “I don’t know why anyone’s calling you Trouble these days. That should be her nickname.” I hit him lightly with the back of my hand on the arm. “Hey, watch it. How do you know I’m planning any trouble? I haven’t even said anything yet.” “I know that look on your face, that’s how. That’s what you looked like right before you got brainfried with that taser.” He nods at his brother before turning his attention back to me. “Go ahead. Tell us.” I cross my arms over my chest. “No. Forget it. You’re not invited.” Colin leans in and talks softer. “I want to be invited. Tell me.” Colin’s eager-beaver act earns him a punch from Mick. Colin pretends to wind up to hit him back, but then he stops and smiles. “You’re lucky.” He points in his brother’s face. “I owe you one, punk.” I breathe out a sigh of relief when Mick just shakes his head and looks me expectantly. “Fine, I’ll tell you guys, but only because I don’t think I can pull it off myself.” I reach out and take Mick’s left arm and Colin’s right arm, drawing them nearer to me. “Come in closer. I don’t want anyone to hear.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO “YOU’RE NUTS,” MICK SAYS. “NO way you can pull that off.” “Let’s do it,” says Colin, holding his chest and rubbing it a little as he lets out a burp. I lean back to stay in the safe zone. He’s drunk way too much carbonation for my comfort. “I’m in.” Colin holds up a hand and gives his brother a challenging look before smiling way too big at me. “We’ll keep the handicapped dude on the bench. It’ll be just you and me. Bonnie and Clyde.” I smile and high-five him back. Tag-team teasing Mick is way too much fun. “Fuck that. Neither one of you should go,” Mick says. “First of all, Rebel’s going to tell you no way. We have a schedule and those cars need to go out. And second, it’s a bad idea. Just bad all the way around.” “We can be up and back in two days,” I say, my words coming out hurried. “We’ll go Friday morning and be back on Sunday.” I’m bouncing on my toes, praying Mick will change his mind. “Come on … what do we have to lose? Nothing! It’ll be fun.” “You better not say anything to Rebel about it,” says Colin, pointing a warning finger at his brother. “This isn’t his decision.” “And it’s not yours either,” Mick says. I can’t tell if his admonishment is for his brother or me. “Hey, if we want to help a friend, we can help a friend,” I say. I brush away any misgivings that try to hammer their way into my bubble of awesome planning. I am so going to do this, with or without them. “You’re not going to help Teagan if you go up there and get busted.” Mick is shaking his head. “Busted for what? Hanging out? Asking a few questions? Drinking some beers?” I roll my eyes. “Don’t be a lame-ass. Come with us.” He looks off to the side, shaking his head, his expression a mix of emotions. I’m pretty sure I see anger, frustration, and worry there. Maybe a tad bit of jealousy too. I’m going to go ahead and work that angle. “Or not. You know Colin and I can share costs so it won’t be a big deal. We can grab a couple double beds in a hotel somewhere, right, Colin? We can do it cheap.” “Sure thing. We don’t need two beds, though,” Colin says, wiggling his eyebrows at me. “Fuck that,” says Mick, jumping back into the conversation. “I’m coming, but not because I agree it’s a good idea. I’m just going to keep you out of trouble.” He’s looking at me, not his brother. I smile. “Do you mean that literally? Because if you do, just … ew.” “What?” he looks at me, mystified. Colin and I laugh. He mumbles his last sentence. “Keep you out of … Trouble … oh, shit. That’s wrong. That’s just wrong.” Mick grabs a beer off the bar, but I can see the smile he’s hiding behind his mug as he takes a drink. “Okay, so we leave this Friday,” I say, feeling very proud of myself. I am not going to just sit around and let some asscheese take my best friend’s father or business from her. Those lawyers aren’t

doing crap. It’s time for someone to do something real for a change. I don’t mind taking a risk for Teagan. She’s my best friend and she’d do the same for me. So what if it’s a little harebrained? I can’t just do nothing. I ignore the thoughts niggling at the back of my mind that are telling me I’m biting off more than I can chew, that I’m doing something completely out of character for myself, that I could very well be doing stupid things just because I’m trying to prove a point - what that point is and who I’m proving it to, well, that’s a complete unknown. And besides … it doesn’t matter. I’m going to put my conscience in a timeout for the next seven days. After that, it can come out and berate me all it wants. Until then, I’m a free agent, baby. And I’m about to have a little fun and take a few names while I’m at it. Colin hands me a full mug of bubbly yellow awfulness and raises his in the air. It hovers in the space centered on the three of us. “Here’s to fighting crime.” We all touch glasses. Someone’s beer sloshes out onto my hand. “Here’s to keeping your asses out of trouble,” says Mick. “And not out of Colin’s dumb ass, but actual trouble … the kind people go to jail for.” He glares at me. “Here’s to making things right,” I say, refusing to acknowledge his bad fortunetelling. Just before I take a drink from my mug, I finish my thought. “And here’s to raising a little hell along the way.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE ALISSA HAS HER NOSE UP in the air and is blinking her eyes. “Like I said. Either you take me with you or I tell Teagan what you’re doing.” I huff out a burst of annoyed air, hoping Teagan and Rebel won’t get home prematurely from their house-hunting trip and catch me getting ready to kick a pregnant girl’s ass. “God, this is so ridiculous. You’re pregnant!” I gesture at her belly with disgust. It’s not that she’s ugly or anything, it’s just that I cannot believe someone carrying a baby around inside her thinks joining our adventure would be a good parenting move. I can’t be in the middle of that bad decision. “So?! Pregnant doesn’t make me handicapped.” “Uh, yes it does.” I roll my eyes in Mick and Colin’s direction, but it doesn’t do any good; neither of them will look at me or her. She hikes her backpack strap up higher on her shoulder. “Whatever. I’m packed and I’m ready to go and I know you are too. So let’s do this.” I glare at Mick. “This is your fault.” “How is it my fault?” He finally looks at me, throwing his hands up in the air. “You were the one blabbing every day this week about our plans. Just cuz she was sitting there staring at her damn book reader thingy doesn’t mean she’s deaf.” “Exactly,” Alissa says, very satisfied with herself. “So I know everything you have planned, and I’m totally on board.” She changes her attitude in a flash, downshifting into pitiful pleading. “Please, Quin? I really want to help Teagan. She’s doing all this for me and all I’m doing is spongeing off her. I want to do something to contribute. I want to help her get her life back. Let me do this. I could be very helpful, I promise.” The pregnant pleading is getting to me. Round bellies are like Kryptonite. I try to harden my soul and adjust my tone to make it meaner. I need her to hate me so she’ll just drop this nonsense and go away. “No. You’ll just slow us down.” Instead of scaring her, I think I accidentally gave her false hope. She sounds way too excited. “No, I won’t, I promise. I’m perfectly healthy and everything is fine with the baby. And I’ve been in drama club for six years. I can totally pull anything off you need me to.” “What do you think, Colin?” I look over my shoulder at him. I know what he’s going to say, so I’m using him to bolster my arguments. No one can stand having Colin angry at them. She’ll run to the bathroom crying. “I think it’s a bad idea,” he says. He won’t look at either of us. Something very interesting on the ceiling has his attention. I think it’s a speck of lint. He’s so not intimidating when he does that. “Who cares what you think?” Alissa says, the venom in her voice hard to miss. I laugh without humor. “Whoa, pregnancy hormones … have any of those, maybe?” I’m hoping if I point out the obvious, she’ll see the error of her ways and stay home with her nose in another book. She puts her second arm through her backpack straps. “Say what you want. I’m going, and you

can’t stop me.” “Wanna bet?” I say, walking towards the door. I really, really don’t like being strong-armed by a pregnant girl wearing argyle socks. The three of us are nearly all the way out and the apartment is almost closed up again when her voice comes through the crack in the door. “I’ll tell! I’m calling Teagan now!” “Goddammit!” I growl in a very loud whisper, shutting the door not quite all the way. “She’s going to fucking blow this before we can even get it started.” I give Mick the angry eyebrow. “This is your fault.” “My fault? How is this my fault?” “You’re the one who’s been all nicey-nice to her. She probably likes you.” I hate that a spark of jealousy flames to life over that little observation. He’s not mine. I don’t have any claim on his fine ass because my life sucks massive donkey dong at the moment. He snorts. “Bullshit. And you’ve been nice to her too. I saw you putting her feet up yesterday and making her tea.” “Yeah, but I didn’t rub those swollen feet, now did I? Unlike some people…” Colin jerks his head back to us at that bit of news. “Dude, you rubbed her feet? What’s wrong with you? You like her? She’s fucking pregnant.” Mick is disgusted with both of us. “No, I don’t like her. Not like that. But she’s pregnant and she has sore feet. Besides … she doesn’t have a contagious disease, Colin.” Colin’s chest puffs out. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You know what it means. You avoid her like she has the plague or something. Why are you being such a dick about her, anyway?” I put my hands out and place one over Mick’s face and one over Colin’s, smooshing their noses in. “Shush. Stop talking. I’m about to have a bitch attack and you two are likely to get seriously injured.” I sigh out heavily and let my hands slide off their chins. “Listen … wait out here. I’m going to go in there and talk to her woman-to-woman and explain to her very calmly and rationally how it’s not appropriate or helpful for her to come. Then we can leave, just the three of us.” Mick laughs once. “Yeah. Okay. Let us know how that works out for ya.” I ignore his mockery and go back into the apartment. I’m strong. I’m powerful. I can handle this pregnant chick with her shirt buttoned up to her neck and her pony tail pulled so tight she looks Chinese. Pfft. Walk in the park, bitches. Alissa throws her phone up to her ear and says, “Oh, hello, Teagan? Hi, this is Alissa.” “Get that stick out of your butt, Alissa. I know she’s not on the phone.” I drop into the armchair across from the couch. She’s standing in front of it, the coffee table between us. She lowers her phone and puts it into her backpack. “I’m going with you guys,” she says in a softer tone as she lowers herself down into the cushions behind her legs. “I need you to not go with us,” I say, also trying to go a little softer than I feel right now. Honestly, I just want to body slam her like I do with my younger siblings sometimes when they don’t listen, but her pregnancy makes that kind of difficult. I’ve never viewed being pregnant as having a superpower, but I’m starting to come around to that way of thinking. “Please?” she says, “You don’t understand.” And then the tears come. I thought I could hold out. I thought I could stand up to whatever argument she had up her sleeve. I thought I could be a badass mofo and put this tubby, swollen-ankled twat monster in her place. I was wrong. All her crap comes pouring out in a mess of tears and mucus goo and I don’t even want to know what else.

“I have nothing and no one!” she wails. “I’m powerless and penniless and completely without a compass in my life! There’s only one person in the entire world who cares about me right now and you’re going to help her and I need to do that too! I need to matter! I need to know I’m worth something … that I count! What kind of mother sits down on the sidelines while her hero is being dragged through the mud?! I can’t be that kind of mother! I have to do the right things and make up for this … this …” She can’t finish. There’s too much goo. Too much emotion. I grit my teeth over and over, trying to keep feeding the anger that was helping me stay strong and thereby keeping her out of our plans. Her coup de grâce is too much, though. I’m powerless to stop this freight train of awful as she continues to spew words that are too pitiful to hear. Her tone becomes suddenly very soft. Very clear. Very resigned. “The father of my child threw me away like a piece of trash. I need to know that I stand for something. That I am worth having around.” The camel’s back? Yeah. It’s broken. That last straw was just a tad too heavy. I jump to my feet, pacing back and forth in front of the low table between us. “Fine. You want to go? Fine. You want to get in trouble, maybe get arrested and have your baby in jail? Fine. Fine! You’re the parent, not me! You’re the one who will be setting a terrible example for a brand new baby! You’re the one who will have a black mark on her life for all of eternity!” She stands and smiles. “Yes. I agree to your terms.” I stop and put my hands on my hips. “Those. Weren’t. Terms! They were dire warnings meant to scare you off.” She tosses her pony tail over her shoulder. “I don’t scare off. Not anymore.” I leave the room and go back out into the hallway because I don’t trust myself not to say the wrong thing. “So, we ready to go?” Mick asks, his smile back full force. I glare at him and say nothing. I’m five seconds away from slapping someone and his cheek is mighty tempting. Damn, he is too cute for words. Hey … maybe if I did that he’d grab me and push me into the wall and start kissing me all over … My fantasy is interrupted by a nightmare on spindly yet swollen legs. Alissa joins us in the hallway. Mick raises his eyebrows at me and then follows me down the stairs into the garage. When we get outside a few seconds before Alissa and Colin, he leans in and whispers, “I thought you were going to handle her.” “I did. She was in drama club forever. She can help us.” I can’t look him in the eye. “She cried, didn’t she?” I huff out an annoyed breath. “Yes. Fuck me, she cried all over the damn place.” “And the fact that she bragged about her drama club membership didn’t make you at all suspicious of those tears?” I watch her coming out the door, Colin behind her with a sick expression on his face. Alissa is walking over to Mick’s car, her chin held up and her eyes full of determination. She’s acting tough and confident, but I’m seeing something else now. “Nah,” I say, for the first time thinking maybe this was the right thing to do, to let her come along. “She’s not acting.” “Okay, if you say so.” Mick chuckles. “Man, you are too easy.” I freeze on my way over to the car. “You did not just call me easy.” He turns around to walk backwards, his hands held up in front of him. “Who me? Never. That’s the dead last word I’d ever use to describe you, actually.” I walk fast to catch up to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, my heart picking up the pace a little. His expression is pure devilry and I love it.

He opens the door and gestures for me to get into the passenger seat. “You know exactly what I mean,” he says, waiting for me to get in. I stop when we’re almost nose to nose, the door between us. “I’m not difficult.” “You don’t think so?” he asks. His eyes are dancing with humor. “No, I don’t.” I’m close enough that I can see sparse patches of beard stubble on his chin. I want to reach out and touch one of them and pet it, but I hold back. Touching him even once would be a mistake. I don’t think I’d ever come back from it. “Well, you sure as hell ain’t easy,” he says, gesturing to the interior of the car with his chin. “Get in.” Something about him makes me want to challenge everything he says. I should just do what he’s telling me to do, but instead, I give him some shit. “Make me.” A thrill shoots through me at my challenge. I think he’s going to just say something back, give me some shit, but instead he moves. And he does it so quickly, it sends my heart into overdrive as I realize I just became prey. I squeal as I leap sideways to get away from him, jumping into the passenger side of the car and sliding over the leather bench-seat away from him. He leans in and grins. “That’s what I thought.” And then he’s gone and the door is shut between us. He smiles all the way around the front of the car, clearly proud of himself. Way too proud, if you ask me. That cocky smile fuels me into action. I can’t stand that he got one over on me. Leaning over to reach the steering wheel, I lay on the horn just as Mick is passing the front grill of the car. He jumps about a foot into the air and the smile disappears off his face for a few seconds as he tries to figure out what just happened. I’m still laughing when the four of us pull out of the parking lot and head out to the highway.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR I DON’T KNOW WHY I’M surprised to find that Mick and I like the same kind of music. And, oh my gspot, does he have a great voice. He can sing anything. When we do a duet of Pink’s Just Give Me A Reason, my panties pretty much melt right off me. I’ve never sang with a guy before and it’s almost to the point of being intoxicating. The whole thing of Mick and me being a really bad idea and a non-starter is going right out the window. Music is a seriously powerful aphrodisiac. My mind is going into all kinds of dark places. I’m ready to demand that he pull over into a rest stop so we can do it in a bathroom when Alissa leans over into the front seat. “Pee stop. I have to pee,” she says. It’s a sign. I was thinking Mick and I could do it at a rest stop and now Alissa needs a rest stop. I squirm in my seat as I imagine getting all hot and heavy with Mick in less than five minutes. Could it really happen? Should it happen? Would he be into it? Is there something seriously wrong with me that I’d consider getting busy in or near a nasty public restroom? Maybe, but I don’t care. I’m too turned on with my duet-induced fantasies and just looking at him sitting not two feet away from me to think properly. I glance over and all I can see of his face is his right cheek, but even so, he is too sexy for words. His strong hands curl over the steering wheel, and a tattoo of a skull peeks out from under his shirt sleeve. His leg muscles strain the material of his jeans, and I really, really want to know what’s going on underneath it all. I am seriously sick over this guy and all he has to do to infect me is sing a frigging song. Oy. “Side of the road?” Mick asks Alissa. “Ew. No. I need a toilet. I’m pregnant, okay?” I roll my eyes. “How often are you going to pull that card?” “As often as I need to.” She leans back into the back seat and I know she’s smiling in selfsatisfaction. “I need to go too,” says Colin. “Take the next exit.” I turn around and play frown at him. “Do you need a toilet too?” He looks out the window. “Yeah. Whatever.” I turn back around, very unsatisfied with his answer. All the spark is gone from him. It’s like riding around with a corpse in the back seat. A corpse and a pain-in-the-ass, high-maintenance, pregnant chick. We all end up using the facilities and then Mick disappears around the back of the small building that houses the toilets. Curious what he’s up to, I follow him, finding him about twenty feet away staring out into an area heavy with trees. “What’s up?” I ask. He doesn’t answer, so I keep going, getting closer to him with every step. “Are you okay? Is she making you nuts? Are you finding your happy place out here?” I draw even with him and nearly have a heart attack when he jumps to life and grabs me around the

waist. My hands go up to his chest to fend him off, but I’m not pushing too hard. “What are you doing?” I’m out of breath and I haven’t even moved yet, really. I don’t want to move. Maybe he read my mind in the car. Maybe he wants to get busy out here too. “Gotcha,” he says grinning. He leans towards my face. I do a half-backbend trying to evade him. I’m more confused than anything. How is it possible we’re both thinking the same thing at the same time and no one is there to stop us or shoot us or try to run us over with a car? What’s the catch? “What are you doing?” I ask, trying to gain some time to get my head sorted out. He leans back. “Trying to kiss you. It’s not going very well, though.” My jaw drops open as I stare at his face. This can’t be real. I wonder if I should pinch myself awake or just go with this dream. I hope I’m not drooling on his car while I sleep. “What?” He looks uncomfortable. He lets me go with one hand and swipes at his mouth. “Do I have something on me?” I quickly reach over and pinch my hand. It hurts. Yay! Relief washes over me. I’m awake. He’s real. This is happening. “No, stupid, you don’t have anything on you.” Except me. I grab the front of his shirt and twist it in my hands, shaking him a little when I have a firm grip. “I’m just … ergh.” He leans over and gently slides his hand back around my waist again. “Is that a good ergh or a bad ergh?” His face is getting closer as I stand straighter and he leans more into me. I can feel the front of his waist pushing into mine and something is getting bigger and harder between us. I can’t help but push up against it a little. “I think it’s a good ergh,” I say, my voice mostly breath. He’s going to kiss me. I tremble just the slightest bit with anticipation. The warmth of his arms and hands seep through the thin material of my shorts and t-shirt. As we come together, his fingers slide up my back and pull me to him. My heart feels like it’s about to beat itself right out of my chest cavity. Our one and only other kiss was a playful thing. This one is not. His lips come to mine softly at first but then become more insistent. His warm tongue is there too, sliding along with mine, touching my lips, my teeth, anything that gets in its way. It’s hot out here in the woods. Really hot. My nipples go hard and I press into him farther, reveling in the feel of his body up against mine. A loud horn honking just behind us, makes us both freeze in place. With our lips still pressed together, Mick says, “I think we’re being paged.” I smile, a slight breeze washing over my hot skin, making me shiver just a tiny bit. “I think we are too.” I can’t come up with anything sexier or cooler to say. I feel like a complete goof. I suddenly realize that I’m actually making out with a guy behind a bathroom. Could I be any lamer? He smashes his lips to mine and gives me one last, loud kiss before pulling away. “Come on. Time to go fight crime.” I push him away, trying to act all casual even though my heart is going too fast and I’m anything but chill. “Stop saying that. We’re not fighting crime. We’re just doing some recon.” Don’t trip. Whatever you do, don’t trip. “Yeah, right.” He walks slowly, waiting for me, staying by my side. I’m afraid he’s going to take me by the hand and turn me into a complete and utter loon as I stutter and flutter and go all red in the face, so I stay far enough away that he can’t. It’s torture to want him to touch me like that but know I can’t let it happen. I need to keep it together, not let this simple kiss get the best of me and turn me into a flaming idiot. There’s nothing less sexy to a guy than that, and I really want him to find me sexy.

This whole thing is probably a bad idea, I know this, but that isn’t going to stop me from pursuing it. I need to play it right and not mess it up. Mick and Meeee, sitting in a treeeee, k-i-s-s-i-n-geeeee… We get back to the car and he hesitates before getting in. I stare at him over the roof while my door remains shut. Words come flying out of my mouth without any forethought or planning on my part. “Thanks for kissing me.” I instantly feel beyond stupid over the fact that I can’t seem to control my mouth - not when it wants to kiss Mick or when it wants to say things that should probably just stay in my head. “Thanks for kissing me back,” he says. The expression on his face is more adorable than I can stand. Maybe it’s not so bad that my mouth runs away from me sometimes. I open the door and get in before it can do anything else and blow this moment between us. “We all good?” I ask, twisting around to see Alissa and Colin. They’re each looking out opposite windows. Colin doesn’t acknowledge me, but Alissa nods silently. “Okee dokee. Off we go, then.” As Mick leaves the parking lot, I pull out a Slim Jim and dangle it in front of his face. It stays stiffly out in front of his nose for a few seconds but then starts to bow down, going limp in my hand. I bounce it a few times for effect and it taps his nose. “Want one?” He takes it from me, smiling just before he rips off a big chunk with his teeth. “Don’t mind if I do.” We’re both grinning like fools as we drive north on the Pacific Coast Highway. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, but I’m looking forward to the next time we can catch a stolen moment with no one looking. I wiggle with the anticipation. I’m totally going to touch his junk.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE AFTER SEVEN HOURS ON THE road, my ass feels as flat as a pancake. Maybe not even a full pancake. More like a crepe. Alissa and I stand at the front of the car, discussing our game plan while I shake it out and fluff it back up to its badda-boom glory. The guys are inside the car, because Alissa said they look too suspicious. She also claims that there’s nothing more non-threatening than a pregnant girl, but I beg to differ. She’s somehow managed to work everything to her advantage and get exactly what she wants from three fully grown adults who used to think they were in charge of their lives, and she hasn’t even broken a sweat getting it done, either. She’s a monster in pregnant lady clothing. Alissa was allegedly too tired most of the way here to discuss our plans, but since we arrived in San Jose, she hasn’t shut up. Turns out, it was better to wait like she suggested and get to know the lay of the land first. Now we can follow someone from a distance without looking like maniacs since we kind of know the streets a bit. I hate to admit it, but so far, having her along has been a bonus. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have had my kiss. The kiss. The one I can’t stop thinking about. Just looking at Mick through the back window gets me all aflutter. “Okay, so now what?” I ask. Without waiting for her answer, I continue. “I say we wait outside and watch people leaving, and follow the ones who look like they’re going for a drink.” “And how are you going to do that?” Alissa asks. “Watch and learn, grasshoppah.” We lean on the car and watch people filtering out of the building. It’s six at night, which we all agreed would probably be the time the lower-level employees would be leaving. Now we just have to hit the lottery and find the one person in the whole place who will spill the beans. “Watch for anyone wearing tight skirts, low-cut tops, or heels way too high for comfort.” After several older looking single ladies and a few single men exit the building, a gaggle of chicks walks out giggling and holding onto each other’s arms. They fit my profile to a T, probably in their late twenties or early thirties and definitely dressed for picking up guys. They’re the perfect age and profile to have jobs that include gossiping. Awesome. I grab Alissa’s arm in excitement and shake it back and forth as I hop on my toes. “It’s them!” I whisper-squeal. “It’s them!” “See you at The Pit!” one of them says loudly to a youngish guy in a suit walking out after them. His tie is loose and the top button of his shirt undone. He waves sloppily in their general direction. “Yeah.” He’s too busy texting to do more than that. “Bingo,” I say, calming myself and narrowing my eyes at the girls so I can take in more details. They all pile into an SUV together. It’s black with four doors but too far away for me to see much else like the make or model. I push Alissa ahead of me, around the side of the car. “Get in, get in,” I say, all excited that my plan is working out so far. Success is almost within my grasp, I can practically feel it. “No need to rush me,” she says, getting my hands off her back by turning sideways. “We know where they’re going. You heard them, right? The Pit.”

“Yeah, but what if they change their minds? Come on, we don’t want to lose them.” I open the door and pull the seat forward so she can get in. It would probably be nicer to let her sit in the front, but there’s no way in hell I’m not sitting next to Mick. Besides, Colin is being such a dode in the back seat … no wonder Alissa was mostly comatose on the way over. He’s about as much fun as a wart right now. Maybe he can put her to sleep again. “What’s the deal?” Mick asks. “They’re going to The Pit,” I say, unable to keep my breath from coming too quickly. I feel like I just ran two miles. “Where’s that? It’s not around here. We didn’t see any bars called The Pit,” he says, frowning in the rearview mirror at his brother. “So?” I buckle my seatbelt. “Come on, what are you waiting for? We can look it up on my phone if you really want to, or we could just follow them and go there and find out first-hand.” “Isn’t there something closer?” Mick asks. “Why would they go so far away?” “How am I supposed to know?” I wave at his keys. “Come on, come on. We’re losing time here. They’re in that black SUV over there that’s leaving the parking lot.” Mick turns the engine over and reverses out of the space. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” he says, staring out the front windshield. “Shush,” I say, my eyes glued to the SUV. “You’ve had a bad feeling since before we even started this thing.” The SUV is going really fast, and I watch the speed gauge on Mick’s car nervously as it continues to climb. “Careful,” I say. “I don’t want to get pulled over. It’ll ruin everything.” “The Pit is like ten miles from here,” says Alissa, looking at her phone. “I have the phone number. Do you want me to call and get directions?” “No,” I wave her off. I pat Mick’s shoulder. “Just drive. Follow the car and we’ll get there.” Alissa puts her phone into her backpack and rest its on the seat between her and Colin. He glances down at it and then at her before staring out the window again. I shake my head at them. They’re so uncomfortable in each other’s presence it’s almost funny. Even seven hours in a car together hasn’t done anything to fix it; in fact, it seems worse. I turn around and let that stupid stuff fall out of my mind. With every mile that slides by, I’m feeling pretty full of myself and supremely confident. We are so going to make this happen and save Teagan’s ass! I’m the queen of badassery all the way up until we pull into the driveway behind the SUV and see the sign on the outside of the giant building. “What the …” I stare at is as we cruise by, my mouth hanging open in surprise. Colin leans forward and smiles for the first time all day. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Let’s go do us some recon.” He’s out the door before I’ve even touched the handle of mine, pushing the seat forward and smashing Mick against the steering wheel during his escape. Mick looks over at me as his face is leaning on the horn cover. “Any other great ideas?” he asks. I refuse to answer. I have a plan to put into action, and I’m not going to let anything like a silly old strip club keep me from getting this job done.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX ALISSA AND I WAIT TEN minutes in the car before following the path already laid by Mick and Colin. We don’t want anyone inside to know we’re together, thinking one of us might get lucky if we find a lonely soul inside just waiting for someone to unload all their unhappy work feelings on. There may also be some reticence on their part over the whole issue of walking in the front doors of a strip club next to an obviously pregnant girl. She didn’t look any more excited about it than they did. “Maybe you should wait in the car,” I offer, feeling a little bit sorry for her. “Heck no. I’m not going to sit out here with all the creeps and perverts while you’re in there getting all the glory.” “Glory? Are you kidding me?” All my pity disappears. Poof. Gone. She shakes her head, chagrined “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just … I want to help. And I can’t help by steaming up the inside of Mick’s windows.” I don’t like the way that sounds, so I take her by the hand and pull her along with me. “Fine. Come on then. Let’s get this over with.” I really wish I’d worn something sexier. Something tells me I’m going to stick out almost as much as Alissa will. “What are we going to do exactly?” she asks, for the first time not sounding so sure of herself. “We’re going to go in there, strike up conversations with people who work at the software company, and find out what we can about Teagan’s father. Simple corporate espionage, no big deal.” “Okay.” Alissa hesitates as we arrive at the front door. It’s painted bright red and we can hear music beats pumping out from behind it. “But how do we do that?” she asks. “I have no idea. I figured I’d just wait until inspiration struck.” She takes a deep breath. “Okay. So here’s hoping inspiration strikes us both, then.” She squeezes my hand and then lets it go. I take the door handle and pull, trying not to cringe as the sounds of stripper music and the smells of sour spilled alcohol wash over us.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN IT’S MOSTLY DARK INSIDE, FLASHING lights of every color occasionally lighting up a corner or a table. The stage is empty and the only thing visible on it is a pole. There’s a spotlight above it, shining down, reflecting off its metal surface. “Wow,” says Alissa, “so this is what a strip club looks like.” She nods as her eyes scan the room. “IDs, ladies?” says a man off to my right. I glance over and find a really old man sitting on a stool. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep. His very sad mustache droops almost as much as his eyes do. A very round pot belly completes his très sexy look. We walk over and produce our driver’s licenses. He hands them back and gestures to the inside of the club. “Enjoy yourselves. Hands off the girls. Well drinks are half price until ten.” I swallow the sour spit that suddenly appears on my tongue. “Ew. Like we’d feel up a stripper,” Alissa says. “Do girls even do that?” I shake my head. “I have no idea. Maybe.” I look around the room for Colin and Mick but can’t see far enough into the space to see much of anything. “Let’s go to the bar,” Alissa says. “I need a juice or something. I think my blood sugar is low.” I glare at her as I hesitate. “Are you serious? Are you having a medical issue right now? Right in the middle of our recon mission?” “No, I’m not having a medical problem. I’m having a thirst problem. And I’m hungry. I’m eating for two, you know. I haven’t eaten since lunchtime.” Instead of making a scene and pointing out how many times I tried to talk her out of coming with us, I bring her over to the bar. A semi-hot guy with too much muscle for my taste and a leather vest that would have been better left in the eighties pours me a beer and Alissa an orange juice. “Yuck. It’s concentrated,” she says, her face scrunched up and her nostrils going out sideways. I can’t help but smile. “Did you seriously expect a strip club to serve you fresh-squeezed orange juice?” She stares down into the glass. “I guess not.” I take a sip of my beer and look around the room again. There are dark corners all over the place, several created by strategically-placed booths and walls between them. I can only imagine what’s going on in them since the only thing I can see clearly from where I’m standing is the stage and a few tables around it. I’m about to suggest we cruise the floor when the lights blink on and off and then a voice comes out over some speakers somewhere. “Gentlemen! Ladies! Get your seat in the front row because we have a special treat for you tonight. All the way from Orlando, Florida … put your hands together for our special guest dancer Kiki!” Music blares out of the speakers next, mostly beats and some techno rhythm. I think it’s a song from Nine Inch Nails, but I can’t be sure; it’s been re-mixed or something. I can’t not look at the stage at this point. I don’t even know who this chick is, but I want to see what

all the fuss is about. The seats around the pole are already full in seconds and guys are standing around behind them, pulling money out of their wallets as they get ready to pay out for the hootchie. “Oooo, it’s a show,” says Alissa, sipping her orange juice through a tiny bar straw. “I’ve never seen one of these before.” A guy nearby glances back and then does a double-take when he sees her belly. She winks at him and he turns around quickly. I laugh. “Well played, pregnant lady. Well-played.” “Hey, some guys think pregnancy is sexy.” She shrugs, going back to making out with her straw. “I’m pretty sure no one in here does,” I say, scoffing at the very idea. I wonder if pregnancy can make a women clinically insane. I know for a fact it at least makes them delusional. A woman appears on stage and the music becomes more recognizable. Yeah. Definitely Nine Inch Nails. She’s wearing a business suit outfit with a very short pencil skirt and pearls around her neck. She even has big, black-framed glasses on. I think she’s supposed to look like a conservative librarian of some sort, but there’s no way she could pull that off. She’s way too tall, way too pretty, and way, way too sexy. I feel like a toad in comparison. I nervously look around the room for Mick. If he sees her anywhere near me, I’m done for. The first words of the song come out of the speakers: You let me violate you. “Oh my god,” Alissa says. “She is amazing. Do you see her? She hasn’t even taken her clothes off yet, and look … they’re giving her money!” “Come on,” I say, taking her by the elbow and dragging her down the bar. “Let’s go find some people to talk to.” She’s calling way too much attention to us the way she’s pointing. I get to the end of the bar and stop when I see a table mostly around the corner from a wall that lies between us and the far end of the club. The girls from that office we were waiting outside of are all there, sitting around a few tables pushed together. At that same table are faces I recognize. Mick and Colin. And they’re both smiling and laughing and holding mugs of beer. My lips pinch together like I just bit into a lemon. “Oh, goody. They’re doing recon,” says Alissa leaning into me and yelling in my ear. “Now we can just watch the show.” She turns back around to face the stage. “Can you see that Kiki girl? Those guys are too tall! They’re blocking my view!” Several of the tall view-blockers in front of us turn around, because it’s impossible to not hear her. One of them doesn’t turn back after realizing she’s pregnant. He sees her belly and smiles. It’s beyond creepy. I put my arm over Alissa’s shoulder, pretending to be jealous or something. I use my best eyebrow moves on him, signaling that he needs to just move along. It doesn’t work. His smile gets bigger. “That guy is staring at us,” Alissa says. She steps closer to me. Now we’re touching rib to rib, hip to hip. “Yeah, no shit. Creeper alert.” I can almost see the gears grinding away in his head. As he turns more fully around, ready to make his move, I shake my head. It’s the least I can do to give him advance warning. Anyone with a brain would see my signal and stop or continue past us, pretending like he wasn’t going to come over and talk to us. But not this guy. Mister Brainless stops right in front of Alissa and puts his hand out. I grab his wrist before he makes it all the way to her belly. “Don’t even thing about touching her, dude.” He frowns, but lets his hand drop. “You’re pregnant, huh?” he asks, taking a swig of beer from his bottle. He’s got a really old-looking black heavy metal t-shirt on and saggy jeans. His stomach has seen way too many beers over his lifetime of approximately thirty years. “Yes, I am. You’re very observant,” she says, her sarcasm hiding beneath a polite exterior.

“It looks good on you.” He nods, letting his eyes roam from her face down to her belly then lower. “Ew, God, get a life,” I say, pulling her away a little. Her feet stick in place and I find my arm slipping off. “Thank you,” she says, smiling genuinely now. “That’s very sweet of you to say, even though I know it’s not true.” I roll my eyes. Jesus H Christ on a friggin sesame seed bun, she’s feeling flattered by a prego-perv. What’s next? A marriage proposal? He nods his head with his lower lip stuck out in appreciation. “Oh, I mean it, all right. You’re beautiful. Stunning. Your face is glowing. You’re going to be a great mom, I can tell.” His hand comes out for another touch and Alissa doesn’t act like she’s going to stop him. I grab her by the arm and pull her back so he misses. I lean over and whisper loudly into her ear. “Hello! Earth to Alissa! Perv alert!” She shakes me off. “Stop, Quin. He’s just being cute.” “Cute? He’s just being cute? Gah. I think I just barfed in my mouth a little.” I look nervously over at the table with Mick and Colin at it. I’m out of my league with this turd basket hitting on Alissa and her encouraging it like that. I have no idea how to step between a delusional pregnant person and a deviant freakazoid without hurting someone. This operation requires way gentler skills than I possess. “Is there a problem here?” I get a little light-headed with the relief that passes through me. “Colin. Hi. Yes. Alissa was just saying how much she misses you.” I point to her and the guy. He looks up, and the weirdo’s face falls when he sees Colin there. Alissa scowls. “No, I wasn’t. Go back to your table, Colin.” She turns back to her suitor. “You were saying?” Colin looks at me in confusion. “What’s she doing?” I throw up my hands. “I don’t know! Ruining my plan! Going AWOL! Flirting with disaster! Suffering from pregnancy-induced psychosis! Take your pick.” I cross my arms, too disgusted to think straight. “I hope Mick is getting some good info right now because this is turning into a total bust as far as I can tell.” “Yeah, he’s doing fine.” Colin leaves me and moves over to stand on Alissa’s other side. He doesn’t say anything, he just stares at the guy who can’t keep his eyes off Alissa’s belly. I’m impressed by Colin’s completely cool attitude because all I can do is shiver at the whole thing. I notice as the guy holds his bottle in front of him that his fingernails are chewed so far down, they have dried blood on them and sores on the sides. Holy murderer molester cannibal guy. No way can I let Alissa go anywhere with this dude, not even over into a booth. Thank God Colin is here because I’m not sure I can take the guy down. He’s got at least fifty pounds on me, maybe more. The molester finally comes to the realization that Colin isn’t leaving. He breaks his gaze away from Alissa and looks right at him. “Dude, do you mind? I’m trying to have a conversation here.” He gestures with his bottle at Alissa. “Yeah, actually, I do mind.” Colin’s arms swing gently at his sides. I see it for the preparedness that it is. He could throw a spleen-crushing punch in a split second if necessary. I breathe easier for the first time in many minutes. Alissa looks up at him, her chin going out and her eyes getting all squinty. Fuck! She’s going to blow everything! I rush over to diffuse her anger. “Hey! Alissa! Look! Your juice is almost gone!” She looks at me and then her glass, some of her anger being replaced by confusion. “So?” “So, your blood sugar. It’s low. That’s not good, you know what the doctor said.” “Quin, I’m fine.”

“Come to the bathroom with me.” I cross my legs to look convincing. I do my eyes too just to be sure. She’s a drama chick and all, so I have to give her the works. “No, I don’t have to go.” “But I do.” I take her by the arm and drag her with me. “Be right back!” I say, over my shoulder. “Why are you doing this? I was just talking to him,” she says. I stop when we’re far enough away that he won’t take it as an invitation to follow us. “I am saving you from being molested by a complete and total loser, Alissa. Trust me, you do not want to encourage him.” “I’m a grown woman, Quin. I can take care of myself.” She jerks her arm away from me and backs up. “You are a total dipshit, actually, and I am not going to be responsible for you losing your baby.” The words are out before I can stop them. Oopsy. Her face goes mutinous. “You’re despicable.” She turns around and leaves me there. And now I really do have to go pee. “Fine!” I yell at her back. “I’ll go to the bathroom myself!” I grumble all the way in there, locking myself in the farthest stall from the door. This place smells like ass, and I can’t stand to do anything but quickly pee standing up before I’m ready to run out again. But voices come in along with a burst of loud music, and they’re giggling. I pause with my finger over the lock. “OMG, he is so cute. Did you see his eyes?!” Another voice chimes in. “Did you see his tattoos? Oh my god, when he lifted his shirt and showed us that heart over his heart?” She pauses to gasp. “I almost had an orgasm. Right there in my chair, I swear to god.” “Roxanne, you are bad,” the other voice says. “What’s his name again?” “Mick, he said.” She sighs like a little girl in love. “Mick. Could he be any sexier? No, I don’t think so.” My face goes red. She’s talking about my Mick. She desperately wants her face slapped and she doesn’t even know it. I lean my forehead on the door to try and collect myself. He’s doing recon. He’s helping Teagan. He’s doing exactly what I asked him to do. Do not get jealous, idiot. “I’m going to take him into the corner and give him a little somethin’-somethin’,” the lovestruck girl says. Roxanne. I hate that name. I’m going to end this now. I’m going to go out there and tell her all about herself and explain how my Mick wants nothing to do with her and how she doesn’t have a single chance in hell at getting him into any dark corners. He’s mine, mine, all mine and nobody else’s. I lift my head off the cold steel door. It’s silent in the bathroom. I strain to hear sounds of the faucet running or girls planning sexy time in the corners of the club, but there’s nothing and no one there. “Shit!” I fumble with the door, trying to get it open. It won’t budge. “No, no, no, no, noooo!” I whine, wiggling the metal until a piece falls off in my hand. My mouth gapes open. “Holy shit, no! This is not happening!” I jiggle the piece that remains on the door, trying to fit the broken piece back in. The rest of the lock falls out and hits the floor, rolling off into the nearby stall. I grab the top of the stall door and jump, trying to see over the edge of it. Total fail. “Dammit! Too short!” Curse my defective DNA! I can’t see! Where did they go?! Is she putting her hands in Mick’s pants while I hang out with the stink-ass toilet seat? “Help me!” I yell. “Someone open the door! I’m locked in this shit hole!” No one can hear my cries for rescue over the sound of the music and happy crowd. I grab my purse from my shoulder and fish around for my phone. I want to cry when I come up

empty. “Dammit! It’s in the car!” My voice has gone up into another octave. I cannot believe I am trapped in a bathroom that smells like sweaty construction worker asscrack while a ho-bag in a polyester mini-skirt steals my man. I bang on the door over and over, giving it a couple good punches too while I’m at it. All it does is shake in its frame. I’m still stuck. Powerless. Trapped. I look down at the floor. The space under the door beckons. I chew on my bottom lip as I survey the situation. If I squeeze myself pretty flat, I could probably get under it. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh God.” I really don’t want to do this. The floor is beyond dirty. I don’t even know what color the tiles are supposed to be, but they’re gray right now. There are smears. There are things. I don’t even know what things, but there are things. Viruses for sure. Germs. Things worse than germs. Smells … ugh. I can’t. I can’t. Laughter comes through the door. I picture the girl in the mini-skirt dropping her head back to laugh at something witty Mick has said and him leaning forward and kissing her throat. “Wait! Mick! Don’t do it! I’m coming!” I yell, just before I drop down onto my knees in the stall.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT I’M HALFWAY OUT OF THE stall on my belly, feeling like a total dirty toilet-snake slithering around, when the bathroom door opens and the loud sounds of the crowd and the music come blasting in. I look up at an amazonian woman wearing heels and jeans standing not very far from my face. She looks familiar, and I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s a supermodel who dates George Clooney. “Uhhh …” I try to play off the fact that I’m wallowing in strip club toilet stink at her feet. “Heh, heh. Hi.” She lifts an eyebrow and stares at me. I’m immediately impressed with her skills. And I thought I was awesome at speaking without talking. She’s like an eyebrow ninja or something. I wonder if they taught her that in supermodel school. “Do you need some help?” she asks, coming a step closer. “Yeah,” I say, pressing my palms into the floor. I’m going to sterilize them with fire later. “The lock broke while I was inside.” She bends in half and puts her hand down where I can reach it. I cringe. “I’m not sure you want to touch my hand right now,” I say, hesitating as I lift my fingers off the floor a little. “Trust me, everything washes off with a little soap and water.” I lean on her strength and work my way the rest of the distance past the door and stand. I let her go when I’m sure I won’t fall. We walk over to the sinks together and turn the water on side-by-side. “Thanks,” I say. “That was very cool of you.” “Don’t mention it.” She loads up with soap from the dispenser and washes her hands as she looks in the mirror. “It’s flawless,” I say, smiling as I take in her reflection. “No need to worry.” She glances at me before going back to her hands. “What’s flawless?” “Your face. Your hair. Everything.” Okay, I’m fan-girling right now and I don’t even know who she is. I’ve never been around someone this pretty before, though, so I can’t be blamed for my stupidity. If she wants to date me, I might say yes. She has that much power. I’m just not sure how I’m going to get around her girl parts, though. Those will be a problem. She gets a sour look on her face and goes back to the water without responding. “Did I say something wrong?” I ask, shutting off the faucet in front of me. I’ve left a layer of skin in the sink with all my scrubbing, but I’m not complaining. I’ll have to burn my clothes later. “No, it’s fine. Thanks.” “Do you not like it when people say nice things to you?” I’m standing there, kind of stunned by the idea of hating compliments. I could take a bath in them and never get tired of it. She sighs heavily and then leans on the sink, drying her hands with a paper towel. “I hear it all the time. It gets old. I’d rather people just ignore it and me sometimes.” Recognition dawns when she faces me more fully. “You’re the stripper!” I point at her, like she’s a

freak animal at the zoo. I can’t help it. “You were awesome!” Her smile isn’t very happy. “Yes. I’m the stripper.” My face falls. “I’m sorry. That was shitty. I’m an asshole.” I look at the door. Escape looks pretty good about now. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks for coming to the show.” She turns around to leave and I follow behind, hoping I can ease some of the sting of my earlier words. “Do you make a lot of money doing something like this? Is that why you came from Florida?” Oh, yeah, Quin. That was way better. Why don’t you ask her if she turns tricks on the side too while you’re at it? “Yes, I do make good money and I have friends out here. But I don’t recommend this line of business if that’s why you’re asking.” She opens the door and the sounds are back. “Have fun.” “I wasn’t asking for that reason. Not really. But thanks for the advice!” I watch her perfectlyshaped butt leave the stink-hole of a bathroom and disappear into the crowd. Man. If I could have a butt like that and the eyebrows I was born with … even George Clooney would be mine. As my eyes adjust to the darkness again, I suddenly remember what was so awful in my life that I had to climb through sludge to get to it. Mick! Crap! Where is he? There’s a group of people dancing off to the side of the stage that draws my gaze. I didn’t know that anyone but girls about to take their clothes off danced at strip clubs. And then I recognize the mini skirt. Ugh. All of the office girls and possibly a few others that got caught up in the action are now dancing around Mick. He’s in the middle, somehow managing to groove with every single one of them at the same time. My heart starts to burn and I feel nauseas. Ow. I rub my chest a bit. Jealousy is painful. I’m standing sucking my cheeks in and contemplating my next move when Alissa appears at my side. Colin is a few paces behind her. “Where have you been?” she asks, annoyed. I look at her as my fishy-face falls back into normalness. Jealousy moves over for annoyance. “Stuck in the bathroom, thank you very much. You totally abandoned me and I got locked inside.” I go back to staring at Mick. I can’t stop drooling over his easy moves as he turns and dips and bobs with the rhythm of the music and twelve bouncy, barely-contained boobs. “Oh my god, how did you get out?” She doesn’t sound very concerned. More like amused. “I had to crawl under the door, if you must know.” I can’t help but brush at my clothes again for about the tenth time. I swear I smell ass on me somewhere. Alissa doesn’t say anything. I look over and find her laughing. “You’re a dick,” I say, taking a step towards Mick. She grabs my arm and pulls me back. “What are you doing?” “I’m going to get Mick. It’s time to go.” “No, you’re not. Get back here.” She’s pretty strong for a pregnant girl. “He’s doing just fine. Leave him alone.” I yank my arm away when I’m next to her again. “How would you know?” “Because, Colin told me what they were talking about before they were dancing. He’s getting all kinds of info. Those girls are getting drunker with every minute that goes by and they like to talk.” “It’s not worth it,” I say, watching a girl grind her lady-parts up against Mick’s leg. “He’s sacrificing too much.” She snorts. “Oh. Yeah. He’s really sacrificing, all right.” My mood sinks down into darkness. Mick is totally into it; I can tell by his expression. And besides, hips don’t lie. He’s moving his like he’s in an Usher video. And he’s Usher. Double triple shit basket. “Yeah. I guess it’s not much of a sacrifice to dirty dance with six girls named Holly Hooter, is

it?” “Seven. There are seven Holly Hooters whatever. Come on. Let’s go have a drink. I have an orange juice with your name on it over here.” I follow her back to the bar, refusing to watch Mick over my shoulder. He’s only doing what I asked him to do and I can’t blame him for doing it well. Besides, what did I expect from a guy nicknamed Hellion? It’s pretty sad that I was picturing him being my boyfriend not an hour before. He’s not boyfriend material. He’s a party boy and I’m just a family girl. It would never work between us. I take a long pull of orange juice from the straw. I’m going to drown my sorrows in Vitamin C. “What’s wrong?” Colin asks, moving up on my right. “Nothing. Just a mood. I’m tired. I want to go home.” I get my pout on hot and heavy. It feels a little bit better to wallow in self-pity. Woe is me. My life sucks a bag of dicks. “We’re staying in a hotel, I hope,” he says. “Can’t we just go?” I whine. “You can drive, right? You slept for half the trip.” “Want to know a secret?” he asks, his voice lower and closer to my ear. “Yeah.” I’m suddenly intrigued. I love secrets, especially when they come from secretive people. “I was faking.” He looks over at Alissa. “Why?” I keep my voice low too. We’re both staring at her as she sways to the beat and stares at the stage. “Because. She freaks me out.” I bark out a laugh. “What’s so funny about that?” “She’s friggin’ pregnant. She has, like, zero powers over anyone.” “Like hell she doesn’t. She’s like Wonder Woman, Cat Woman, and Kick Ass all rolled into one badass chick. I completely fear her.” I can’t stop chuckling. He’s twice her size and an accomplished felon. She’s a valedictorian cheese stick. “Thanks for that, Colin.” “Thanks for what?” He’s mystified. “For cheering me up. Come on. Let’s go wait for Mick out in the car.” Colin joins me without a word of complaint. I nudge Alissa on the way by. “Come on. Party’s over, round girl.” “But that girl was just about to take her top off.” She’s pointing at the stage with her glass. I take the juice from her hand and put it on the bar. “You can buy a boobie magazine if you need to see some of those or I’ll flash you mine if you really want. Come on.” She frowns on her way out, walking next to me. “I don’t generally like boobs, but they were good dancers. I’m going to try some of that pole dancing stuff when we get back. I’ll bet it’s good exercise.” Colin’s jaw drops and his face goes white. If I’m not mistaken, he’s also broken out in a cold sweat. As we go out into the parking lot, I have to hold my stomach to keep from vomiting I’m laughing so hard.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE BY THE TIME MICK STUMBLES out of the club, I’m the only one still awake. Or I’m the only one not fake-sleeping, anyway. Alissa is snoring so loud I find it hard to believe Colin is really as dead to the world as he appears. Mick comes up to my window as I pretend to not notice he’s there. “Hey,” he says against the glass, fogging it up a little. “Can I come in?” “What’s the password?” I say. I’m annoyed that he’s so happy. Shouldn’t he feel dirty selling his body for secrets like he has? He looks up nervously at the door to the club. “Uh, hurry up and let me in before those chicks come looking for me.” I have two ways I can go here. I can leave him out there to sweat all those boobies, or I can let him in and take him away. He looks at me with those darkly shaded green eyes of his and then his body kind of leans forward a little and his tattoo flashes at me from under his sleeve. I grab the handle of the door. Screw making him feel bad for doing what I asked him to do. He needs to be in here with me, not out there with the boobies. “Fine. Get in.” I peek up through the crack I made in the door at him. “But on the other side. You’re not driving.” He frowns at me. “It’s my car.” “You’re drunk. Go around.” He rolls his eyes and makes like he’s about to argue with me, but then the door to the club opens and a few of his girlfriends spill out and start scanning the parking lot. He disappears from view. “Mick?” I whisper loudly. “Where are you?” I get no answer until the passenger door opens and he crawls in from the ground. I smile. “You look like I did about two hours ago.” “What?” He folds his legs in and goes into a ball on the front seat so he can reach over and pull the door shut without sitting up. “Never mind.” I turn the keys in the ignition and shift the car into reverse. I try to keep my face completely passive when Mick puts his head in my lap. “Get over on your side,” I say, cool as can be. Inside my heart is racing way faster than it should be. It’s going to blow my cool cover, making me have to breathe all hot and heavy. Relax. He’s just playing around. “No I can’t go over there yet, wait until we’re out. I have to lie low.” He’s grinning up at me. Next thing I know, his left hand is sliding under my calf and his right hand is going behind my back. “Mick!” I slap at him as I try to turn out onto the road. “Hands off.” I kind of mean it because I don’t want to wreck the car, but I really don’t mean it. I love his hands on me. It’s for sure a really bad idea, but so what? I’m a happy girl when Mick touches me, and that’s just a fact. I’ll hate myself later.

Right now I’m just going to play the game. “I can’t,” he says, oozing charm. “You’re too cute.” “Cute? Boy, you must wanna die.” I brush his hand off my leg. I try, anyway. It goes right back to where it was two seconds later. It’s driving me wild to feel his rough, callused hands on my shaved leg. Thank God I did two passes with my razor in the shower. There will be no stubble between me and his touch, no sir. Yay, three cheers for Gillette! “Sexy. You’re not cute, you’re sexy. Is that better?” I nod. “Yeah. I like that better.” “Beautiful,” he says. “Now you’re laying it on a little thick,” I say wryly. I’m scanning the road for hotel signs. “Where are we going, gorgeous?” I’m starting to get suspicious. Why is he suddenly all happy-handsy on me after dancing with fifty girls? I wiggle my legs and push him off at the same time. “Stop. I’m trying to drive. I need to find a hotel.” “A hotel?” He sits up and slides over closer to me. “What a great idea.” A wave of beer breath flows in front of my face. I don’t hate it. He’s pushing into me, trying to kiss my neck, making me lean towards the door too much. I jab him with my right elbow. “Do you mind? Get in your seat and put on your seatbelt.” My brain is warring with my heart. I don’t know if I’m happy or mad all of a sudden. I want to believe he’s all turned on because he saw me and not because he was getting lady parts rubbed all over his body and spelunking into boogie cleavage caverns five minutes ago. “Are you mad about something?” His voice has lost some of its sexy purr. “No. I’m just tired. And annoyed.” Shit. That last part slipped out. “At me?” I sigh heavily. “No. At myself. Would you help me find a hotel, please?” He points off to the right. “How about that one?” I shake my head as we pull into the parking lot. I’m blind obviously. I almost drove past a glowing yellow sign that can be seen a half-mile down the road. Mick has my brain in a spin-cycle. “Want me to go in?” he asks. “No, I’ll do it. You’re drunk. They’ll probably turn you down once they smell your breath.” “I’m not drunk. I’m just buzzing. Come on, I’ll go in with you.” He’s out the door before I can protest. I grab my purse off the seat and join him at the front of the car. “So, what’s our story, then?” I ask. He drapes his arm over my shoulder as we walk towards the front doors of the reception area. “How about … we’re a young couple looking for a place to make sweet, sweet love …” I jab him in the ribs again. “Seriously. Stop.” I can’t help but giggle at him, though. He’s making me nervous. I can totally picture his naked chest right now, and it’s making me want to leave a pregnant girl out in the car while I get busy. We get to the doors. “Just let me do all the talking,” I say. He nods. “Sure. Absolutely.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Mick, I’m dead serious. Do not say anything.” He gets all businesslike. “I’m dead serious too.” He frowns and only sways a little on his feet. I roll my eyes. “This should be interesting.” We go inside and a sleepy clerk welcomes us to the Super 8. “And how many are in your party?” he asks. “Four. We need two double beds.” I nod. “Actually, we need two separate rooms,” Mick says. “Double beds in each.”

My head jerks to the side. “Mick. I told you …” I give the clerk a fake smile before going back to Mick with a lower tone. “I don’t have the money for two rooms.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a wallet, dropping a credit card on the counter with a flick of his wrist. “My treat.” His smile has way too much going on. Seconds ago he was joking around and silly. Right now he’s anything but silly. He’s sexy. He’s mostly sober. And he’s very, very determined. Oh boy. I laugh nervously. “Ahhh … ha, ha … okay, then. He’s paying.” I try to smile at the clerk, but my mouth doesn’t want to cooperate. Instead, the poor guy gets my constipated expression. He doesn’t seem very impressed about it either. His lip curls as he runs the credit card through his machine. When he’s done, he looks at the front of it. “Okay, Mister … Mikhail Ivanov … the charge will not be put on your card until you check out. If you leave without returning the key, we will charge the room rate plus ten dollars for the key deposit.” “Fine.” Mick takes the card and puts it back in his wallet. “We good?” he asks me. I nod. I don’t know why knowing his name is making me unable to speak. His real name is Mikhail. Why did I not know that? A shiver goes up my spine. It’s the kind of shiver that usually comes right before I start taking clothes off. My face turns red at the idea. Mick walks out of the lobby with me clicking alongside him in my heels, acting like nothing’s up. I try very hard to mimic his cool exterior. “So,” I say as we walk back to the car. “Alissa and I will take room two-oh-eight and you and Colin can have two-ten.” Breathe. Breathe. You can do this. Just because he asked for two rooms it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He’s just being generous, probably. He doesn’t say anything, and I feel the need to fill up the silence. “So, did you get some good recon for us at the club?” “Yep.” I look over, but his face is turned the other direction. I can’t read his expression when I can’t see it. Dammit. We get to the car before he turns back, and by then I have to get our passengers up and out or it’ll go all awkward between us again. I open the driver’s side door and lean in. “Come on, sleeping beauty, time to go inside and go nighty-night. Get your bag.” I push the seat forward and jiggle Alissa’s knee. “Come on, round girl. Bed time.” She’s in a fog all the way to the room. Colin carries her bag for her and I walk with her using my shoulder for her support. I’m afraid she’s so tired she’s going to trip in the parking lot and break her water or something, and that will definitely not do. I have a best friend to save tomorrow as soon as we get back. Hopefully Mick came up with the goods tonight. Mick grabs the key from me as I’m trying to put it in the door. “I’ll get it for ya.” He pushes the door open and holds it there so I can get Alissa inside. I sit down with her on the end of the bed and remove her arm from my shoulders, letting her drop back onto the mattress. Her belly is sticking up like a small mountain over the top of her, and it does not look comfortable. I roll her onto her side and she curls up into a ball. Colin throws her bag inside and stays out in the hallway. The sound of it hitting the floor jerks my attention in their direction in time for me to see Mick yank the key out of the door and hand it to Colin. Colin looks down at it in confusion. Mick strides into the room and holds out his hand for me. I just look at it. “Say goodbye,” he says. “Oh.” I use his hand to stand up. “Goodbye, Mick. Thanks for all your help. You can tell us what you learned tomorrow over breakfast, I guess.” I feel a little deflated knowing I’m not even going to get a

goodnight kiss. I’d been so sure that was doing to happen. I’m terrible at reading him. Beyond terrible. I try to shake his hand, but I can’t because he lets it go too fast. And then he’s bending over and sticking his head under my arm. “What the…” I have no time to react. One second, the floor and ceiling are where they’re supposed to be, and the next they’re all switched around. Everything is spinning, spinning, spinning until I’m on his shoulder with my hair hanging down towards the floor and his butt in my face. “Mick! What are you doing?! Put me down!” I beat on his back with my fists, but he doesn’t listen. “Your spleen! Your surgery!” “See you tomorrow,” Mick says to his brother as he walks by with me hanging over his shoulder. “Don’t wake us up too early.” His strong arm is clamped over my legs, keeping them in place. I try to kick but get nowhere with it. “Oh, no, man! Come on! Don’t leave me alone in here with her!” I catch a glimpse of Colin’s stricken expression as Mick walks outside the room and spins me around so he can put the second key in the other door. I kick my legs from the knee down back and forth, halfway laughing and halfway screaming. “Put me down you neanderthal!” A sharp crack on my butt cheek from his free hand makes me scream louder. And then I laugh. I cannot believe the balls on this guy. I am so going to put him in a figure-four when he lets me go. No way in hell is this going to go down like he thinks it is. Aw, poop. Who am I kidding? It’s so going to go down like he thinks it is. Squeeee! I’m loving every second. I don’t struggle nearly as hard as I could. “Jesus, Mick. Keep it down.” Colin leaves the hallway and walks into the other room, shaking his head the whole way. The door closes behind him with a soft click. I don’t hear any sounds of complaint coming from Alissa, and I’m sure she has nothing to worry about. Colin will probably sleep in the bathroom he’s so afraid of her. Mick gets the door to our room open and walks inside, holding onto my legs with one hand and my butt with the other. He kicks the door shut and then stands still. “You going to behave?” he asks. “No.” I’m breathless and excited and totally amped up on adrenaline. “What do you mean no?” “I mean that the minute you put me down, it is on.” A shiver of anticipation runs through me. I have no idea what my threat really means, but I mean it anyway. Something big is going to happen here tonight. I can feel it in my bones. I can feel it in the V-box too. “It’s on?” “Yeah. It’s so on. You are going down.” The blood is rushing to my head and making it feel like it’s on fire. I’m panting and I don’t know if it’s because of my compromised circulation or the excitement of having a sexy, tattooed, caveman mechanic take me into a hotel room by force. “That’s what I was hoping for.” He jerks his whole body forward, effectively propelling me off his shoulder backwards to fly through the air facing the ceiling. I land on the mattress of the double bed with my arms and legs out spread-eagle, and he comes jumping after me.

CHAPTER FORTY I’M SQUEALING WITH LAUGHTER FOR about three seconds before his mouth is on mine and the sound is cut off. I downshift right into moaning, growling, and basically going nuts. And I’m not the only one, either. We’re rolling all over the bed, shoes and clothes are flying off, and both of us are battling to feel as much of each other’s lips and tongues as possible. “You are so beautiful,” he says, his words coming out with big puffs of air onto my mouth and face. A niggling of doubt enters my mind and I stop moving. I hold him a little away from me. “Are you sure it’s me you’re talking about?” He pauses and frowns in confusion. “Yeah, I’m sure. Why’d you ask that?” “Because … I’m worried you’ve got your beer goggles on and that they were fogged up by about ten office chicks who were rubbing their hooters all over you in the club.” “Pffft. Right. None of those girls can even touch you. Not even close. And I’m not drunk. I know exactly what I’m doing.” He leans in and kisses my neck, licking and sucking his way down to my chest. My heart and brain accept everything he says without question. It only takes me three seconds to completely obliterate all images of those girls and the stuff that happened in the club. Not only does he look and sound super honest, but I’m about as turned-on as I’ve ever been in my entire life. Boom! Goodbye jealousy and hello future orgasm! His hand squeezes my breast and he grinds into me. Holy shit. “I want to see you without your shirt on,” I gasp out. His shirt is somewhere in the covers, but we’re too tangled for me to figure out where I stop and he starts. I can’t see enough of him and I’ve been picturing what he might look like for weeks. He jumps off the bed to undo his pants, and I stare at his amazing chest. He’s all lean muscle, and his two tattoos are just barely visible in the light coming from the bathroom. There are three small pink scars around his abdomen where his surgery was done. “Are you okay? With your surgery?” I ask. I’m worried I’m going to hurt him rolling all over over the bed like this. “I’m fine,” he says, and I have to agree with him one hundred percent. When he drops his pants and I realize he’s not wearing anything underneath, my hand flies up to my mouth. “Oh my god,” I say, my eyes bugging out. Holy Babe Ruth alert. Is that a dick or a baseball bat? “What?” he asks, laughing a little as he looks down. “You are … amazing,” I say. Words are failing me. He is not proportional at all. His frame is way too narrow to carry around equipment like that. “Wow. That’s probably the sexiest compliment I’ve ever gotten.” He moves towards me, his junk waving in the breeze. I squeal, scrambling back and pulling the sheets up to my chest. He freezes partway over me. “What’s the matter? Are you scared?” I peek out over the covers, still in my bra and bottoms. “Maybe. You’re too big.”

He grins all evil-like. “No such thing.” He’s pushing his face into my neck, forcing kisses on me and making me get goosebumps all over. And then the covers are gone and the cool air hits me as he yanks the sheet away. I squeak with surprise and excitement. “Get your clothes off, girl. I need to get inside you.” My heart flips over. No beating around the bush with Mick, I guess. Hand over the hootchie and no one gets hurt. “You do it,” I say, pulling his face to mine. I cannot get enough of his mouth and it’s way safer if he just doesn’t talk and kisses me instead. His hands don’t waste any time. They’re all over me fumbling around and then suddenly I’m naked too and we’re lying side by side pressed together. He squeezes my breast as I throw my leg over his waist. His hand slides down to press into my ass, bringing us together. Everything is moving too fast for me to think straight. He’s pressing the tip against my opening before I suddenly wake up to reality. “Wait! You need a condom!” Holy cold shower. I’m panting in relief and fear over the near miss. The last thing I want to do is end up like Alissa. “I already put one on.” I put my hand down there because I figure it’s got to be a lie. Is is possible to be so in another world during foreplay to miss something like that? Apparently, yes. “Oh. Damn. You’re good.” And we’re back on again. I can’t help the huge sigh that escapes my lips as he starts to penetrate me. I whimper as he pulls back and then squeak when he goes in again. I’m hanging on for dear life, biting my lip as the pressure builds. He’s too big. It hurts so good. He pushes me over and I’m on my back, spreading my legs to take him in more fully. We’re both moaning. Once he’s all the way in, buried to the hilt, we roll over again and now I’m on top. I stare down at his gorgeous face, taking in the serious expression, his dark green deep-set eyes, the hair that’s been pushed all over the place with our wrestling around, the tattoos standing out in relief against his lighter skin. I’ve never seen a guy look so incredibly hot in all my life. And he’s moving underneath me, making me feel things that I’ve never felt before. I can’t help but pick up the rhythm and move with him. “You feel so good,” he says, his voice low. His nostrils flare and his jaw goes strong as he grips me by the hips and pushes up into me. His muscles bulge and ripple with every movement. I touch as many as I can reach with my fingertips, reveling in their smooth power. I move my hips down lower, taking all of him inside me. “You were right,” I whisper. “It fits.” Barely. “Fuck yeah, it fits. Fits you perfectly. You were made for me.” His words send a secret thrill through my heart, like an electric current. I had no idea it was possible to adore someone and want to screw his brains out at the exact same time. Love and sex have never been intertwined for me before this moment. If I weren’t on the precipice of having a seriously amazing orgasm, I’d probably be freaking out about that right now. But there’s no time for that nonsense because I’m about to blow. I’m going up and down, riding him like I’m in a rodeo, and he’s meeting me thrust for thrust. He starts yelling out of control, and it makes me feel like a warrior badass, totally slaying his ass. And then something hits me from inside like a locomotive. It comes from somewhere deep in my center, something he pulls out of me that completely blindsides my conscious thinking mind. I start yelling because the feeling won’t be contained with silence and good manners. He’s hanging onto my hips and ramming himself up into me as I bounce down and hang onto his forearms. Then he’s yelling along with me and I’m suddenly flipped over onto my back without warning. My legs flop around

behind his back as I go temporarily blind and just ride him from underneath. I sink my teeth in his shoulder and my nails in his back as the darkness rushes over me and I explode from the inside out. He goes stiff and jerks several times, yelling near my ear. I just hang on for dear life. I can’t feel my legs anymore and the sweat is pouring off us and pooling in the hollow of my stomach. And then his heavy body collapses on mine with a loud slap! I can feel the thrumming of his heart against mine and the pulsing artery going down the center of his stomach where we are pressed together. The sound of my own pulse fills my ears, and the hotel room that used to be filled with our shouts and growls is now dead silent but for my blood pounding away. “Fuck me,” he says in a near whisper, sounding exhausted. “Gold medal, babe. Gold medal.” I grin lazily because it’s all I can manage, even though I’m deliriously happy inside. “Did I just compete in the sex Olympics without knowing it?” “No. There’s no competition.” He leans up enough to kiss me square on the mouth before pulling out and flopping over onto his back next to me. “I need water. I need air,” he says. I turn over on my side and put my hand under my head, propping it up under my elbow. I suddenly have tons of happy energy surging through me. “What’s the matter? Too much for ya?” He shifts his head the slightest bit to look at me and lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t make me come over there,” he warns. A shiver runs from my hoo-hah up to my heart. “Why not?” He leans over and slides a thick finger into my swollen wet folds. “Because,” he says, putting his lips up to mine, “I’ll have to fuck you into submission.” I am not ashamed to say that I rode that finger all the way back to the point where I started screaming last time. I don’t know how many more minutes pass before I finally fall back onto my side of the bed, but I am considerably less sassy now than I was before. He’s a little scary with how easily he sends me over the edge. Is it possible to have a heart attack from orgasms? Maybe I should take an aspirin or something. He’s looming over me. “You like that?” His grin tells me he already knows the answer. “Don’t get cocky,” I say, lifting one eyebrow. It’s a pretty weak lift, but it’s enough. He knows I’m not playing. “Never. You’re too dangerous to get cocky with.” He kisses me on the nose. For some reason, that one simple move makes me go all gooey inside. Now I just want to marry his stupid ass and have his stupid babies too while I’m at it. I am really way too easy. I should probably leave, but instead, I wrap my leg around him. “What?” he asks, watching my face. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I say, reaching up to trace a line from his temple to his chin. “I just like you, I guess.” “You do?” He smiles, like I just gave him a present or something. “Yeah, I do.” “I like you too, you know.” My heart burns with happiness. “Is that so?” “Yeah. That’s so.” He leans over so he’s lying on top of me, but he keeps his weight up on his forearms. “How much do you like me?” I ask, feeling silly but still wanting to know the answer. I feel like I’m in second grade again. Check yes or no, Mick. “A lot.” He nuzzles my shoulder. “A lot?” “Yeah. A lot, lot.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into me.

“I can’t breathe all that well,” he says, his voice muffled in my hair. “That’s okay,” I say, sighing with happiness. “You don’t need to breathe right now. You just need to lie here and kiss me some more.” “That’s going to be difficult if I suffocate,” he says. His hands move to tickle my ribs and I let him go immediately. “Ohhhh, ho hoooo, is someone ticklish?” he asks, sounding way too excited about the prospect. He’s on his side now, moving his fingers from one of my ribs to the other and then up into my armpit with a feather-light touch. I try to slap him away. “No. Stop. I’m not. I’m not.” He grabs one of my hands and puts it above my head. “Keep this one here,” he says, his voice going serious. I stare at him as he grabs my second hand. “And keep this one over here.” I’m lying with my arms above me, pretend handcuffs holding me fast. I start breathing heavier with anticipation, anxious to see what’s going to be next. My lady parts are tingling. “You have to keep your hands there until I give you permission to let them go.” I squirm. I can’t help it. I even giggle a little. “What are you going to do?” I ask as my blood pressure spikes up. The anticipation is killing me. My voice is almost all breath. The expression on his face is pure devilry. I want to eat him alive, he’s so sexy. He trails his finger around both of my nipples, first one and then the other. They stand at attention and beg to be sucked, but he just keeps moving his finger around. It goes up to my mouth where I suck it for a second before it trails downward. As he goes past my belly button and moves it lower into my folds again, he leans over and begins to lick my left nipple. I gasp with pleasure. He’s only touching me in two spots with barely any pressure, but I’m going insane. I moan. “Mick, please...” “Call me by my real name,” he says, whispering darkly before nipping me. I squeak with surprise and my face burns with passion and a feeling of real danger. This is insane, the way he’s making me react. I don’t even know who I am right now. “Mikhail,” I whisper. I can’t get the word out louder than that. God, why is his name so sexy? That’s so stupid! It’s just a name! “What do you want me to do? Tell me.” I can’t say it. I feel too vulnerable. He’s got his hands on me and I’m held captive with invisible strings. I move against his touch as his finger goes deeper inside me. “Say it,” he taunts, right next to my ear. His tongue flicks my earlobe before he goes over to my other breast. I can feel his chest on me a little and I strain to get closer to him. “What do you want?” he asks again. “Just say it and it’ll happen.” “I want … you. Mikhail, I want you...” “You want me to…?” He’s driving me insane. I know he knows what I want, but I also know that he won’t give it to me until he hears it. He is in complete control, and I should rebel against it and hate it but I don’t. I love it too much to play that game. I am totally digging this whole master and servant thing. I grit my teeth, take a big breath, and then just go for it. “I want you to put that big goddamn dick inside me again and fuck me senseless.” A big whoosh of air leaves my lungs along with the stress of saying those words out loud. “Jesus. Did you have to make me say it?” He chuckles low in his throat as he climbs on top of me. “Your wish is my command,” he says, right before he slides into me.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE I’M NOT SURE IF WE slept. Maybe I caught a few winks here and there, cuddled up in Mick’s strong arms with my head on his chest, but when I see a few rays of sun coming through the window, I know it’s time to get going. Colin and Alissa are going to be getting up soon and they’re going to come over here and bang on the door and expect to see two messy beds. I don’t want to ride back in that car for seven hours with them knowing what we did. Talk about awko taco. I’m too vulnerable right now to deal with teasing or conversation about it. I need to know exactly where Mick’s head is first. I don’t want to be the only one mooning over our love affair, as brief as it might be. I’m not a total amateur at this stuff. Just because we fit together like puzzle pieces, it doesn’t mean we’re suddenly in a relationship. As much as I might want that to happen, it takes two to tango, and I don’t know if Mick ever does anything but the bump and grind on that dance floor. I get up in all my naked glory, feeling like the queen of sexy time, and go over to the bed that hasn’t been touched. I get busy pulling the top cover off and messing up the sheets. “What are you doing?” Mick asks in a sleep-roughened voice. I shake the top sheet out and then twist it all up. “Making it look like we didn’t go at it like sexcrazed rabbits last night.” He sits up on the side of the bed nearest me, rubbing his face. I look over and my heart stops beating for a few seconds. His hair is standing on end and his face is covered in patchy beard stubble, but he could not possibly be more adorable. I think I’m falling in love. My heart spasms painfully in my chest. Oh shit. This is going to hurt. “What?” he asks, rubbing his head and looking up at me. “Bad hair day?” I shake my head, holding back weirdo tears that threaten to ruin the moment. Be cool, Quin. Be casual. Do not go all needy on him. “Good hair day, actually.” My voice sounds all wispy, but I can’t help it. He lifts an eyebrow and stands. And then he makes his way slowly around the bed. Now I know what a small rabbit feels like when the eagle soars above and the shadow falls on the ground around him. Trapped. Danger. “What are you doing?” I ask, moving around the bed to get away from him, trying to act casual about it but probably failing. “You look good in the morning,” he says. A glance down at his waist tells me he’s got morning-wood-itis in a big way. It’s almost painfullooking. I should probably help him with that. No. Wait. Be cool. Colin and Alissa will be over any minute. “Go away, Mick. I have to take a shower.” “Not yet you don’t.” He’s almost at the end of the second bed and I’m up near its headboard. A strange fight or flight instinct comes over me and I debate which way to go. “Climb up on the bed for me,” he says, gesturing at the pillows.

“What?” Confusion throws off my instincts and has me just standing there. “You heard me. Get up on the bed there. Might as well make this bed really look used, right?” He stops, his dick waving as its heavy weight continues to move. Back and forth. Back and forth. I get all tingly just looking at it. “What are you going to do?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. My heart is beating like crazy. “Hands and knees,” is all he says. I’m shaking, but I am all-in on this game. Hell to the yeah, I am. Screw people figuring out what we did last night. Screw taking a shower. And screw fake-messing-up this bed. Let’s do this. I climb up on the bed and get on my hands and knees. Mick gets up behind me and turns me around so I have my head up near the pillows. After a five-second condom pause, the tip of his dick is up against my folds, pressing in, sliding up and down to get slippery, and then pressing into me again. I can’t see him. All I can see are pillows and the headboard. I’m already sweating and trembling, just over the idea of him taking me this way. I love that he just grabs control and tells me what’s going to happen. I’ve never been with a guy like that. Every other experience has been fumbling around in the dark with a guy I could care less about and me calling way too many of the shots. A feeling of my body stretching uncomfortably pulls me back into the moment. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I say, my mind going a little la-la. I am no longer in control of my mouth. “Why not? You like it, right?” He pushes into me a little more. I know there’s a lot more to go, though, and I’m already panting like a damn dog. “Yes, I do like it.” I moan louder as he goes in a little bit farther. He’s got his hands on my hips, and he’s using his thumbs to pull me open wider. He slides in more and I push against him, trying to hurry the process. My breasts swing below me in the rhythm that he sets from behind. He pulls away. “Uh, uh, uh … just be patient.” I reach up with one hand and hold onto the headboard. “I’m not a patient person,” I say, almost growling. He leans over and pushes more of himself into me while his hand reaches around and his fingers go to my clit. My body’s response is instantaneous, surprising me. I buck and push back into him hard, taking him into me as my insides spasm with the beginnings of an orgasm. Already? What the … He’s pounding into me now, somehow figuring out that it’s exactly what I need. I scream. Over and over, and yeah, it’s not a cute sound, either. It’s possible the cops will be called out for a suspected murder, but right now all I care about is getting this orgasm monster out of me. Mick is yelling like a man gone wild right along with me. When I lose all sensation in my legs, I collapse into the bed on my stomach. He lands on top of me, never missing a stroke. His hand is under me, still touching me down there while he pounds into me from behind. I lift my ass as high as I can to feel it all and take him into me completely, and then five seconds later it’s game over. Exactly twelve strokes more and I am a puddle of goo under a man who feels like he weighs eight hundred pounds. I try to breathe around the pillow. “Hello. Hello? Gah, trying to breathe here.” He reaches up and yanks the pillow out of my mouth. My hair moves over to cover my face. “Thanks. I think,” I say, trying to blow a hole into the hair-curtain that is making it almost as hard to breathe as the pillow was. Mick hears me and comes to my rescue, which is great because I seem to be suffering from some sort of temporary paralysis. I can’t move anything but my mouth. “Better?” he asks me, after moving my hair gently over to the other side of my head.

I smile, my eyes closed. “Yes. Better. Thank you.” He pulls out of me and lands on his back next to me. “You are something else,” he says, breathing out long and loud. I open my eyes, and the first thing I see is him lying there staring at the ceiling. “If you say so.” I do a push up, my arms finally working again. “I’m going to get in the shower.” “Yeah, me too,” he says, sitting up on the side of the bed. I stand next to my side of the bed, looking at his back. “Can I go first?” “No.” He stands up and walks into the bathroom without another word. I’m left in the room with my mouth hanging open. This does not compute. Did we or did we not just have about six hours of solidly awesome sexual moments? Where’s the tenderness? The smiles? The cute teasing? The conversations about what we’re going to name our future babies? Half a second before string of cuss words fly out of my mouth, Mick’s head appears from around the corner. “Are you coming or what?” “I thought you said …” “I said you can’t go first. You have to go at the same time. Come on. Chop chop. We have a road trip to finish and I’m starving.” The silly crooked smile that appears on my face stays there through pretty much the whole shower, only slipping away temporarily when I gasp, shout, scream, or otherwise react to Mick putting his hands, tongue, and home run hitter all over my body. God, I love this guy.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO WE’RE IN THE CAR HEADED back south and I can’t stand that Mick is on the other side of the car as me. I’m trying really hard to play it cool, but I can’t help but sneak glance after glance at him. He’s dead gorgeous and I’m completely infatuated with him. Maybe I’m wrong or just dreaming, but he seems to be suffering the same sickness as I am. He catches me looking at him about twenty times, but only because he’s doing the same thing. If the goofy grin on his face looks anything like the one I think I’m wearing, there’s no way we’re fooling anyone. “So what’s the deal?” Colin asks. “What did you find out last night?” I blink a few times, getting all that sexy stuff out of my head so we can focus. “Well … a couple of those girls worked in places that didn’t really have a whole lot of contact with Teagan’s dad. But one of them was his assistant, so that was good.” I grab his arm and squeeze it. “What? Are you serious?” “Yeah, I’m serious.” His shit-eating grin is enough to send me through the roof. “Why didn’t you say anything last night?!” I shout. I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. I scramble around in my purse looking for my phone. “I was kind of otherwise occupied if you recall,” he says, giving me the look. My face flames red. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Alissa says. “What did you guys do last night? What did I miss?” I hear a light slap and then Alissa says, “Hey!” Two seconds later she says, “Oh. Okay. I get it. Never mind. Don’t answer that question.” I can’t turn around. My face is totally and completely on fire. I look down at my phone instead. I’m pretty sure there’s smoke coming out of my ears. I’m temporarily distracted from my sex life problems, though, by the ten missed calls on my phone. “Oh, shit,” I say, pressing the green button. My heart is in my throat and I feel the blood draining from my face. Every call I missed was from my parents. “What?” “My parents. Something happened. I missed ten calls.” “Maybe they’re worried about you,” Alissa says. The phone rings and rings. No one picks up. “They knew I was coming up here. I told them it was for an interview for an internship. They wouldn’t worry about that. Something’s wrong, I know it is.” I feel like throwing up. Why did I check my phone last night? What’s wrong with me? I dial my mother, father, and the house phone over and over. All I get is voicemail. I stare out the window, not even noticing the scenery or cars going by. I have a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something is very wrong. Tears gather in my eyes and then just fall. I’m too numb to wipe them away. We’re just outside San Jose when my phone rings. I answer it as soon as it starts to buzz in my

hand. It’s my dad, and I know as soon as I hear the tone of his voice that it’s bad. “Quinlan. It’s Dad. Where are you?” “I’m just outside of San Jose. What’s going on, Daddy? What’s happened? Is someone hurt? Is it Jersey?” “Can you come home?” “Of course, I’m on my way. What happened? Please tell me.” I’m begging and crying, but I don’t care what anyone thinks. I feel like I’m about to have a stroke. “Your brother and your mother have been hurt. They’re both in the hospital. I’d rather wait for you to get here to discuss the details. I have to go because the doctor wants to talk to me.” “Wait! Dad, wait! What hospital?!” “Cedars-Sinai. I have to go, sweetie. I’ll call you back.” And then he’s gone. I stare at my phone for the longest time. It’s only Mick’s hand on my arm that brings me back to the real world. My ears are ringing with white noise. It makes it hard to hear anything else. “What is it?” he asks. He looks ready to cry with me. “My mom. Jersey. They’re in the hospital.” My throat hurts like I just swallowed broken glass. I can’t say anymore. Mick swerves off the highway, taking a section of the road going to the right. “What are you doing, man?!” Colin shouts. “She needs to get home!” “I know that! A plane will be quicker.” I look at Mick, lost and confused. “A plane?” “Yeah.” He pats me on the leg and then puts both hands on the wheel. Looking in the rearview mirror, he talks to his brother. “Colin, call Virgin America or Alaska airlines. Get us two tickets to L.A. out of San Jose.” I sit in the passenger seat like a statue, too stunned to move. Too stunned to think. All I can picture are my mom and Jersey, hooked up to machines, on their way to dying while I’m on my way to the airport. Why am I going to the airport? I’m only half conscious of getting to the terminal and accompanying Mick to the ticket counter and then to the plane. I guess Colin and Alissa have taken the car somewhere because they’re not with us, but I can’t worry about them. I’m too afraid that I’m never going to see my brother or my mother again.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE THE MUFFLED CLICKS OF MY heels on the hospital hallway floor keep time with my rapidly beating heart. I can see the room where my brother is being kept, up ahead. I’m going to see him first because he’s in worse shape than my mom and because I know he’ll be scared. We’re in the burn ward, dressed in gowns, masks, gloves and shoe covers. I feel like I have cotton stuck in my ears the way all the sharp edges have been taken off the sounds in this place. Mick is beside me, holding my hand, just like he has been since we buckled our seatbelts on the airplane. I reach the doorway and stop, dropping Mick’s hand and taking a deep breath. I can’t let Jersey see me freaking out. “It’s going to be fine, babe. Just relax.” Mick is rubbing my arm. “Want me to come in or stay out?” “Stay here first. I’ll come get you in a minute.” I can’t breathe. I’m starting to hyperventilate. The hallway is spinning. “Babe. Get a grip.” Mick is shaking me by the upper arms. “Jersey is going to be upset if he sees you upset. Calm down.” I nod. He’s right. He’s completely and totally right. I grab him in a neck-strangling hug before going in. “Thank you,” I say, letting the tears fall for a few seconds. “Thank you for getting me here so fast.” “Go,” he says, detaching me from his neck. “Come get me later if you want. I’ll be right here.” I take a deep breath and school my features to be normal. As normal as they can be, all things considered. It’s not every day that your little brother lights your house on fire and nearly burns himself to death. I walk inside and try not to let my shock and horror show in my expression. Jersey’s neck and left arm are completely swathed in thick bandages. Some of them look yellow and I hate to think they started out white, but I’m pretty sure they did. His eyes are closed and his face looks sunburned. “Jersey?” I say, moving closer to the bed. One of his eyes flutters open followed by the other soon after. “Sister?” His voice sounds very rough. The beeping of machines in the background makes the whole thing that much more horrible. “Hi, baby bro. What’s up? What are you doing in here?” I reach the side of his bed and move the covers, searching for his other hand, the one that’s not wrapped in bandages. I find it, but am dismayed when I see the nasty IV needle sticking out of the back of it. I hold onto his pinkie finger because it’s the only one without tape on it. “I got on fire,” he says. I have to concentrate really hard not to bawl at that simple statement. “That’s what daddy told me. He told me you got on fire at the house.” “Yeah.” Jersey just nods his head. A tear plops out of each eye and runs down his cheeks. “Well, I’m just glad that you’re okay, turd basket, because if you weren’t okay, I was going to have

to kick some serious butt somewhere, I can tell you that.” “I hurt mommy,” he says, his lips quivering. “Shhh, don’t get upset over that. She’s going to be fine, I promise.” “No, she’s not. She’s gonna die.” I frown at him. “Boy, do you want me to come up on that bed and give you a knuckle sandwich?” “No,” he says, his voice as pitiful as I’ve ever heard it. “I don’t like knuckle sandwiches.” “Good. Because if you talk about my momma dying or any other stupid shit like that, that’s exactly what you’re going to get.” I nod so he knows I’m serious. I stroke his finger. “Does it hurt a lot?” I cringe again looking at his bandages. “Yeah,” he sighs out softly. “A lot, a lot, a lot. I’m melted.” “Melted?” I want to laugh, but I’m afraid he’s serious. “The fire melted me like a butter. I’m melted like a butter, just like you said.” I shake my head, unable to speak. My lips tremble with the effort. “Hey, buddy.” Mick’s voice comes from the doorway and saves me. He completely and totally saves me from losing my mind. I look over with tears of gratitude streaming down my face. I can’t look at Jersey again until I clean myself up, so I move away from the bed and let Mick come over. “Mickey Mouse. I see you, Mickey Mouse.” I have my back to them, wiping away at the stupid tears that will not stop coming out of my head. “I see you too. Good thing you don’t have that invisible stuff on today.” “I burned the house down,” Jersey says. “I guess I’m an asshole.” “Well, yeah. You might be an asshole for doing that. But it’s not a big deal. You can get a new house.” I smile bitterly. My poor kid brother. He’s going to wear that asshole name tag for a lot of years over this one. He’ll never believe me telling him he’s not one. He’s not so disabled to be oblivious to reality. It’s going to take a lot of work to help him through this, and not just physically. I don’t even know what his physical injuries look like, but I’d be willing to bet they’ll be only half as bad as the mental ones. I sigh heavily as I consider what this means for our whole family. A knock at the door brings a woman in a pantsuit carrying a briefcase. “Mrs. Torres?” she says. “Miss Torres, yes.” I immediately don’t like the looks of her. “Hello.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Kelly Stratton from DCFS, Department of Children and Family Services.” My blood runs cold as I take her hand and shake it reluctantly. “I think you’re in the wrong room.” She smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “No, I’m in the right room. I’d like to talk to your brother’s next-of-kin about the incident.” “The incident?” Mick moves over to stand at my side, and I’m very glad for his presence. I’m afraid I’m about to bitch-slap a bitch. “The incident where your developmentally disabled brother was left unsupervised and burned your house down.” Mick puts his arm around my waist and pulls me into him squeezing me hard. “I think this is something that needs to be discussed outside this room and not with Jersey’s sister, but his father, don’t you?” asks Mick. I’m shaking with anger. “Yes. Outside. Not in here.” “Of course,” the woman says, all cool and calm like she’s not an asshole. “Happy to.” She leaves the room, clearly expecting us to follow.

“Mick, if I have to go out there and look at that woman for a single second, I am going to strangle her with my bare hands.” He puts his hands on either side of my face and kisses me ever so gently on my lips. “I know. I’m going to go out there and send her away. You just stay here with the little asshole and make him as comfortable as you can.” My mouth drops open and I part laugh and part cry. “Asshole?” “Yeah,” he says, half his mouth quirking up in a smile. “Only assholes light fires, right?” I nod, pressing my lips together as the tears fall. He brushes them away with his thumbs before tilting my head down and kissing me on the forehead. “Go give him hell. I’ll be back in a few.” I watch him walk out the door and then lift my eyes to the ceiling. Yo, God? Budda? Allah? Mother Nature? Buehler? Anyone? Buehler? If you’re up there, listening to a girl who never gives you the time of day, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for bringing Mick to me and for not letting my brother kill anyone. I owe you one.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR MICK AND I ARE HOLDING hands under the conference table at the lawyer’s office. Teagan is on my other side, holding my other hand. Rebel is at work, unable to get away from the huge workload that was made worse by our road trip and then Mick’s subsequent focus on me and my family. A lot has happened in a week, not the least of which is this head-to-head with the lawyers. “So tell us exactly what this so-called secretary said to you.” The young lawyer speaking to Mick looks very happy but the older one, not so much. “She said a lot of things, but mainly that Teagan’s dad was fine up until the last couple months before he died and then he just kind of went downhill fast.” “Downhill in what way?” the lawyer asks. Teagan squeezes my hand hard. Mick responds. “Getting absent-minded. Nauseated. Sweaty. Disoriented. Chest pains.” “Sounds like heart attack symptoms,” says the older lawyer. “Not really. It went on for weeks, not just days. But that’s not the worst part.” Mick looks at Teagan, and I know what he’s about to say. I let go of his hand and cover mine and Teagan’s with it. She knows what he’s about to say too, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. “Tell us.” Now the older lawyer is leaning in too, less skeptical or mad or whatever he is. “I guess he was kind of a grade-a dick to his employees for years. But at the end, when he was really sick, he was working late with his assistant and he made a joke.” “A joke?” The lawyer looks confused. “How is that relevant?” “He told her that if he ever kicked the bucket under suspicious circumstances, someone should check to see if his wife was poisoning him.” The room goes silent but for the ticking of a clock on the bookshelves. It has a heavy brass case and a swinging pendulum inside. It looks expensive with lots of little shiny parts to it. I’m mesmerized by the movement. Back and forth, back and forth. My best friend’s world is falling down around her ears and that thing is just going to keep on going and going and going. “That’s a little hard to believe,” the lawyer says. He looks a little stunned. “There were other rumors.” Mick sighs. “That his wife and her brother were out to get him. That they were always scheming and planning behind his back. I’m not sure that any of it can be backed up, but maybe that poisoning angle could be.” He looks around the room, and I want to hug him for looking so hopeful. He’s my hero and Teagan’s too. The lawyers look at each other and exchange a few words in low tones that I can’t really hear well. I’m too busy trying to read Teagan’s mind and make sure she doesn’t lose it right here in the office. When she first heard the news she almost took Rebel’s apartment apart. He had to restrain her in his human straitjacket arms until she stopped freaking out. None of us blamed her a bit. Alissa had to leave the room she was crying so hard and Colin snuck out to his apartment. Only Mick and I stayed and it was a very long night.

“Well, it’s a long shot,” says the head lawyer, “but I think it’s worth checking out.” “You do?” Teagan sits up, her voice clear for the first time all day. “Yes. Here’s why … generally speaking, when a person has suspicions that a spouse is trying to kill him, strong enough that he voices those suspicions to a co-worker or family member, it’s generally not a joke. They do often believe what they’re saying. There are many cases of this on the books. And sometimes they’re correct. His suspicions combined with the fact that he was acting so strangely with a manifestation of several physical symptoms says that there was definitely something not right there. Maybe it was just the stress and poor health. But his medical records are clean up until a few months before he passed. Hopefully it was just bad luck and bad habits catching up to him. But I think we should spend the money on looking for some facts. We can hire an investigator that we’ve used successfully in the past if you approve the expense.” I look at Teagan. “Can you afford that?” “They’re taking an I.O.U. from me.” “But you only make, like, fifteen bucks an hour. That’ll take forever to pay off.” I look at the lawyers for confirmation, but they say nothing. They’re zombies looking at me like they want to taste my brain or something. “They’ll be paid when I turn thirty and get my trust fund opened up to me.” I nod sagely. “Ahhhh, I see.” I narrow my eyes at them. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that they’re not so willing to help a starving student unless she has future bucks to pay their bill. “Then I guess we just need to see what we can find out, right?” I pat her hand. “Yes.” She nods at her lawyers. “Go ahead with that. How long will it take?” “A few weeks. Maybe longer. Depends on what he finds.” Teagan stands. “Are we done here?” “Yes. We’ll call you when we have any information.” The main lawyer comes over and holds out his hand. “Just hang in there. We’ll get to the bottom of this and then we can move forward with the suit or settlement.” Teagan shakes their hands and I wave on the way out. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go get some cotton candy ice cream.” “You going to bring some to Jersey?” I nod, sobering up to the reality that is my life now. “Yes. And then I’m going to go house-hunting with my dad. Not yay!” Mick stops outside the office door next to me. “You want me to go with you?” “Nah. I know you have to get back to work.” I pause long enough to give him a hot and heavy kiss. Only Teagan clearing her throat behind me reminds me we’re not in a hotel room with no one watching. I pull away with a slight flush to my cheeks. “See you later?” he says, brushing his fingers along my jaw before letting them drop. “Yeah. Later.” He pinches my butt as I walk away in the opposite direction as him, and I pretend to be mad about it. “You are so goofy,” Teagan says, getting into her Beetle. “I know,” I say, sighing with happiness. She doesn’t start the car right away. She looks over at me, a sad smile in place. “I’m happy for you guys. I really am. I just hope he doesn’t screw it up.” My heart sinks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She starts the car. “They don’t call him Hellion for nothing.” I grit my teeth to keep from responding. She’s not in a good place right now, so I can’t hold her kind of sharp words against her. Best friend asshole pass … delivered.

All the way over to the ice cream store and then back to my parents’ temporary rental house, I stew in her words of warning. Mick would never screw this up. He likes me. I think he might even love me. I have nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. I just wish I could believe that with all my heart, but the fact is, I just don’t. I haven’t known him long enough to know all his secrets and I know nicknames like Hellion aren’t given to guys who always do the right thing.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE knocked on some wood earlier today when I was thinking Mick was all perfect and awesome and totally in love with me. Yeah, right. I am such a fucking idiot sometimes. It’s eleven o’clock at night and he’s AWOL. He hasn’t returned any of my calls, and a quick trip over to Rebel Wheels reveals that he’s not at work either. Jersey asked for him all night and no amount of reassurances on my part that he’d show up would satisfy him. After he had about two hours’ worth of fits, he finally fell asleep exhausted and in pain. I’m ready to kick some major boyfriend ass. I tried for hours to keep Teagan out of my mess, but I can’t stand it any longer. I call her number and tap my foot while I wait for her to pick up. “Yo, ho. What up?” “Nothing. Do you know where Mick is?” “Wow, abrupt. Um, no, I don’t know where he is. He’s not with you?” “No. I expected him all night, but apparently he was too busy.” “Oh.” I wait for the rest, but there is no rest. “Well?” I say, annoyed. “Well, what?” She’s acting way too innocent. “You just said ‘Oh’ like there was more to say, but you said nothing after.” “No, it was just an ‘Oh’. That’s it.” “Please stop fucking with me Tea. I can’t take it. You know I’m under a lot of stress. Just tell me what’s going on.” She sighs. “He got called in to work at the club.” “And you’re just telling me that now?” “I thought he’d be at your place by now. I didn’t realize it was for all night. Don’t get mad at me.” “I’m not. I have to go.” I’m about to hang up, but I hear her voice. “What?” “I said, don’t go flying off the handle and losing your shit on him, okay? This is all new for him. He needs time.” “What?” Now I’m pissed. “You think I’m some kind of clingy bitch or something?” “No, no, not at all. It’s just … Rebel has told me a lot about Mick and his history with DJ Foxx and all that, and I just think that this stuff with you is a bigger commitment than he’s ever made before and he needs to ease into it so it’s not so overwhelming. That’s all. No big deal.” I can hardly breathe. I inhale and exhale a few times slowly to contain my anger. “DJ Foxx? Do you mean that chick spinning discs at the club?” “Yes. Mick told you about her, right?” “Nope.” I want to punch something but the only thing available is air. I swing a few times anyway, but it’s not very satisfying.

“Oh. Well. That sucks that I just said something, then, doesn’t it?” “Might as well let the cat’s ass out of the bag too while you’re at it.” I sit down on the stairs, waiting for the death blow to my best-ever relationship. “Listen, it’s no big deal. They just dated for a while and now they’re not.” “A while? How long is a while?” “Mmmm. A year maybe?” Her answer is barely a squeak but I hear it loud and clear. “Gotta go. Talk to you later.” I hang up before she can say anything else. And then I turn my phone off so I can’t talk to anyone for the rest of the night. I hate the world and I really despise Mick right now. All I can see in my head is visions of him and DJ Twatbreath twerking it out on the dance floor. It makes me want to vomit. My heart feels like it’s shattered into a thousand pieces, maybe more.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX I SPEND AN HOUR TRYING to cook up excellent break-up scenes in my mind but nothing is working. Every scenario ends with me having a broken heart and Mick being an ice-cold d-bag. I can’t stand not knowing what’s happening to my life as it unfolds behind my back. It only takes me thirty minutes to get dressed and made up, ready to break some hearts on the dance floor. I hate games. Ain’t nobody got time fo’ dat. My dad is dead asleep, exhausted from taking care of my mom and Jersey, so I leave a note on the kitchen counter in the house we’re renting and take off. I’m at the club in less than a half hour, walking through the door like I own the place. That’s right, y’all. I got my butt lifters on. Gravity cannot touch my jiggly parts tonight. The beat is familiar. This DJ Twatmonster or whatever her name is sucks. She just plays the same crap over and over and hopes nobody notices. Well, guess what cooter-breath! I noticed! I scan the dance floor, the bar, and the empty DJ booth, but I don’t see anyone I recognize. I chew my lip as I consider what my next move should be. “Hey there, gorgeous,” says a familiar voice. I turn around and see Mark standing there, the sexy Paco Rabanne magazine model. I can’t help but smile. It’s so nice to see a familiar face when I’m this stressed out. “Hey there, Mark. What’s up?” He and I give each other a quick kiss on the cheek. “You remembered my name. That’s a good sign, right?” “Absolutely.” I keep smiling. He’s like a life preserver for me right now. “Feel like dancing?” he asks. “Sure. Lead the way.” I allow him to guide me to the floor, and together we find a spot under the flashing lights. I try to stay interested in what he’s saying about the weather or some stupid shit, but I’m too busy looking around, wondering if coming here was a mistake. Maybe Teagan was wrong. Maybe Mick’s not here. I’m going to feel really stupid if he’s at my house right now waking up my dad. Guilt sneaks in, slithering like snake up my leg. It’s almost made it to my chest, ready to strangle me around my neck when I spot a familiar face. Grrrr. Asshole alert. Mick’s in the booth with DJ Fuckface and they’re wrapped around each other way too tightly for my taste. Chest pains. I have seriously bad chest pains. “Are you okay?” Mark asks, following my gaze up to the booth above us. “No, not really.” I try to sound bright and in control, but it comes off as slightly insane instead. “That your boyfriend up there?” he asks. “Not anymore,” I say, grabbing him by the arms and moving in closer. Mark takes the hint and smiles. His hands are on my waist when a loud voice comes over the speaker. It’s Mick. I grind my teeth in annoyance.

“Come on, bodies on the dance floor, show us what you got! Touch the ceiling, touch the sky, we’re gonna make you jump tonight!” Everyone around us starts hopping up and down like a bunch of crack-addicted kangaroos. There’s no way that Mark can hold onto me, and I either have to let the crowd take me with them or risk being battered about the head and shoulders. Boing! Boing! Boing! I jump to keep my skirt from going up without me. Mick’s voice comes over the loudspeaker again. “And now, let’s do this, swingers! Your partner’s boring! Find another one, on your left! Saaa-wing it!” The guy to my right suddenly grabs me and swings me around in a big circle. I scream along with about fifty other girls as we’re whirled around the dance floor first by one guy, then another, and then another. I lose Mark in the madness. I have a brief reprieve while my next partner scrambles kind of off-kilter, trying to grab me, and I use the two seconds of freedom to look up at the DJ booth. Mick is up there staring down at me. “Asshole!” I scream. But he can’t hear me. The music is way too loud and the crowd way too rowdy. I have to get out of here before I kick someone in the junk. I dodge my upcoming dance partner and elbow people out of my way as I struggle to the edge of the dance floor. Strong arms grab me and I start kicking, until I realize who it is. “Oh, shit, Mark! I’m so sorry.” “Yeah,” he grunts out, setting me down on the ground just off the side of the dance floor. “Just my nuts. Don’t worry about it.” He’s bent over halfway, his hands resting high up on his thighs. I pat his back, feeling super guilty. He was my rescuer and I nutted him. Damn. Tonight is just not my night. I glance up at the booth and Mick is no longer there. He’s coming. “Listen, Mark, I have to go. It was nice seeing you again.” He waves me off without looking up. I run toward the front door, making it into the warm summer air with a sheen of sweat covering every inch of my body. I’m almost to my father’s car when I hear someone shouting my name. “Quin! Quinlan! Wait!” I scramble for my keys. “Fuck you, Mick!” I yell without even looking. His footsteps slapping on the concrete make me drop my keys on the ground. It’s like one of those horror movies where the girl can’t get the keys in the lock in time and the pressure builds and builds. “Dammit!” I scream as he pulls up next to me, breathing like he’s just run a mile. “Where are you going?” he asks, putting his hand on my arm. “Don’t touch me!” I yell, jerking away. “What’s wrong?” He sounds clueless, and all that does is make me angrier. “Nothing! Nothing at all. And now if you don’t mind, I need to go.” I finally get the stupid key in the lock of my father’s ancient Buick, but Mick’s hand on mine stops me from going any further with my escape. “I don’t understand what’s going on here. Did I do something wrong?” Tears burn my eyes. I finally look at him, so angry I want to slap him across the face. “Wrong? Only if you consider cheating or lying wrong.” He holds his hands up and backs away a step. “Whoa, what?” “You heard me.” My words lack the steel they had earlier. His reaction is not what I was expecting. Denial? Yes. Anger? Yes. But this … this … confused act? No. “Let’s start from the beginning,” he says. “What did I lie about?” “You can lie by not saying anything.” “About …?”

“About your girlfriends. Girls you are with when you’re sleeping with me. I don’t do that whole threesome thing.” “Threesome thing? Wait … I never asked you or even hinted around about you and me inviting a third party along. What’s up with that?” “You know what I mean.” “No, actually, I don’t.” “That girl. DJ whatever. DJ Fluffanutter.” “DJ Foxx?” “Yes!” I throw my hands up and let them come down to slap my thighs. “DJ Foxy woman! That girl you dated for like a year!” He doesn’t answer right away, so I go back to feeling justified. “We broke up,” he finally says. He’s way calmer than I am. “When? Just now?” I’m tapping my foot on the ground. I can’t help it. All this nervous energy has to go somewhere, and it’s not going on his dick no matter what he says. “No, like three weeks ago.” I pause. “You kissed me before that.” “Hence the break up.” He has the decency to look embarrassed. “See, I was going to break up with her sooner, but we just kind of kept hanging on for no reason. After you’ve been with someone a while, it gets easier to just stay, you know?” I shake my head. “No. I do not know.” The truth is I never liked a guy enough to be sad when we broke up. I was always relieved. “Well, for me, that’s how it was. But then I saw you at the club with Teagan that first time and then I saw you again…” He shrugs. “What? Am I supposed to believe that you broke up with DJ Snatchypants because you got the hots for me when you first met me? Please.” I roll my eyes. “Ridiculous.” He moves closer and I back up. My butt runs into the car. “I didn’t break up with Sheila, which is her real name, just because I saw you. I was already going down that road. But then when you came in and started doing that thing you do, being who you are, I knew I had to be free. Just in case some day I might be able to convince you to go out with me. I didn’t want to be tangled up with her still.” I’m trying really hard not to be flattered. “And what was that hug I just saw? Up in the booth.” I nod at him. Busted. “Didn’t think I saw that, did ya?” “Breaking up isn’t easy sometimes. She’s still upset. It was just a hug.” “Looked pretty hot to me.” “Not any hotter than your dance with that guy.” Now it’s my turn to explain. I know this. But I can’t make myself do it. My chin goes up a fraction of an inch. He puts his hands on my upper arms and moves in closer. Maybe I’d try to escape his touch if I had any more room to maneuver but the car has me trapped. I’m not that upset about it, though. I like the way he makes me feel. And I cannot deny the honesty I see in his eyes. “I’m not perfect, not by any means. I drink too much sometimes, I get loud, I start shit, I like to fight every once in a while just for the hell of it … but I like you. I like your family. I mean … I love you guys, you know?” I swallow the lump that appears suddenly in my throat. “You just said the L-word.” “Yeah, I kind of did, didn’t I?” His smile could not be more sweet or more charming than it is right now.

“You have really bad taste, you know that?” “Why would you say that?” he asks. I raise an eyebrow. “You know we’re a bunch of irresponsible assholes who light shit on fire and lick cat turds when no one’s looking, right?” “Sounds like a house full of hellions.” I snort. “You got that right.” “Seems like I could fit right in.” The ice surrounding my heart is melting fast. “Maybe. If you play your cards right.” “How about I start by making sweet, sweet love to you in the back seat of that hot Buick of yours?” I burst out laughing and he joins me a half-second later. “Is that a no?” he asks. I’m holding my stomach it hurts so much. I hang onto his arm for support. “Stop. Seriously. It’s killing me.” He puts his arm around me and pulls me towards the club by his side. “Fine. If you won’t let me make sweet, sweet love to you in the back seat, at least come dance with me.” “Can I twerk it out on your junk?” I say when I can talk properly again. “Yes, absolutely.” “Will you foam finger me?” He smiles. “If that’ll make you happy.” I swing around and jump up into his arms, straddling his hips. “I accept.” He pushes his lips into mine and gives me a dizzying kiss as he keeps walking. I’m happy to stay in this position for another hour, but apparently he has other things on his mind. “Move in with me,” he says against my mouth. Right out of the blue. Bam. Lightning hits me dead in the chest. I freeze as his words sink in and his walk slows to a stop. My legs slide down from his waist slowly and my feet touch the ground. “What?” My heart is doing gymnastics in my chest. I’m not sure I heard him right. I want to think I did, but it’s just too ridiculous to believe. “Let’s just do it. Let’s just move in together.” He’s smiling. He sounds really happy and wild and ridiculous. “It would be so much fun.” I laugh for a second and then stop when I see his expression. “Fun? Are you serious?” “Dead serious. Move in with me. I’m going to take Rebel’s old place when he and Teagan move out and you could be there with me. I’ll pay the rent. You can just be there and do your thing.” It takes a while for the words swimming around in my head to come out. “That’s me and you, like, twenty-four seven, Mick.” My ears are hot, and a ringing, buzzing sound will not go away. I think I’m about to explode. “Yeah. Twenty-four seven. You and me.” He pulls me to him tighter as he stares down into my eyes. I feel like crying with happiness, confusion, and fear, all at the same time. No one has ever asked me to move in with them before. I’ve always been the one asking and getting rejected. “I … I … I don’t know what to say.” So many things are rushing through my mind. My parents. Jersey. School. Teagan. Alissa, even. Responsibilities, duties, demands on my time and my life. “Just say yes.” His words are so simple, his smile so beautiful. And that face of his. Oh, God… I give myself a mental shake. Fuck all that other stuff. I adore this guy. Why wouldn’t I want to be with him twenty-four seven, especially when we fit together so well? It’s not like I’m going to disappear off the face of the earth just because I live at a different address.

“Okay, yes. I’ll move in with you.” He picks me up and spins me around until I’m dizzy. And just like that I fall in love with a Hellion.

EPILOGUE NOTES Want to know what happens with the lawsuit against Teagan’s evil step-mother? With Jersey and Quin’s mom? With Alissa’s pregnancy? Curious about whether true love waits for Rebel’s brother, Trouble or maybe even Rat? I sure hope so! Look for resolutions to all of these issues in the remaining novel of the REBEL series. Book 3 TROUBLE will be published December 31, 2013 or sooner. Join my mailing list to get an announcement on the day it goes live!

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Want to get an email when my next book is released? Sign up here: http://eepurl.com/h3aYM ABOUT THE AUTHOR Elle Casey is a prolific, New York Times and USA Today bestselling American author who lives in Southern France with her husband (who sometimes wears a kilt), three kids (who never stop moving), Hercules the wonder poodle (who sleeps next to her side for every word typed), Monie the bouvier (who also never stops moving), and a few other furry creatures (don’t ask). Her favorite things are red wine, pretty much anything with sugar in it, and sexy books. If she has all three around her at the same time, please do not disturb … the writer is busy creating. In her spare time she writes new adult and young adult novels (you can find her Women’s Fiction work under the pen name Kat Lee.) She publishes about one novel per month and has been accused of being a cyborg for her ability to consistently turn out captivating stories with characters that stay in readers’ heads long after the book is closed. She neither confirms nor denies this accusation.

A personal note from Elle … If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving positive feedback on Amazon, Goodreads, or any book blogs you participate in. More positive feedback means I can spend more time writing! Oh, and I love interacting with my readers, so if you feel like shooting the breeze or talking about books or your pets, please visit me. You can find me at … www.ElleCasey.com www.Facebook.com/ellecaseytheauthor www.Twitter.com/ellecasey

Want to get an email when my next book is released? Sign up here: http://eepurl.com/h3aYM OTHER BOOKS BY ELLE CASEY *= Coming Soon NEW ADULT ROMANCE Shine Not Burn By Degrees Don’t Make Me Beautiful Rebel Hellion Trouble* Trainwreck* Hold Me Down* YA PARANORMAL ROMANCE Duality, Volume I (Melancholia) Duality, Volume II (Euphoria) YA URBAN FANTASY War of the Fae: Book 1, The Changelings - FREE! War of the Fae: Book 2, Call to Arms War of the Fae: Book 3, Darkness & Light War of the Fae: Book 4, New World Order Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 1, After the Fall Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 2, Between the Realms Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 3, Portal Guardians My Vampire Summer My Vampire Fall* Aces High (co-written with Jason Brant) YA DYSTOPIAN Apocalypsis: Book 1, Kahayatle Apocalypsis: Book 2, Warpaint

Apocalypsis: Book 3, Exodus Apocalypsis: Book 4, Haven YA ACTION ADVENTURE Wrecked Reckless

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I always make sure to acknowledge my readers first, because without all of you, I wouldn’t be writing for a living. I appreciate your enthusiasm for my work and the time and money you spend enjoying it. THANK YOU! To my A-Team, Margaret, Craig, and Theresa … thank you for your help in getting my books out the door quickly and done well. I don’t know what I’d do without you! To the fans who take the time to reach out to me with kind words of support and encouragement, thank you. You’ll never know how much it means to this writer. Sometimes there are days that writing is difficult, and it’s you all who make me keep going. I have to acknowledge the online retailers who make my work available to the public. They include Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Kobo. Writers and readers alike all benefit from their investment in technology and their search to fulfill reader desires. A special thanks to Lael. You make my writer life so much easier! I sincerely appreciate your support and efforts on my behalf. To a few fellow authors who take time out of their busy days to chat with me, give me feedback, and otherwise act as my online buddies. Mimi Strong, Cassia Leo, Catou Martine, Scott Cramer, Devon Hartford, CM Stunich, Geoffrey Wakeling, L.G. Castillo, PT Michelle, Hugh Howey, J Gordon Smith, Oliva Rigal, and many others. I’m so glad to have ‘met’ you!