“Stop, you ass**le!”
Oh, who was she kidding? She was never going to catch this guy. He was twenty feet from the curb leading to the woods. She was at least fifty and her lungs were burning.
But then, as he neared the corner, a figure stepped out of the shadowed walkway and knocked him flat. Just pow! a solid strike and the thief hit the ground. Flat on his back. She could hear him moaning from here.
“Yeah!” Quinn cried. Mr. Big Fists was getting a kiss for this.
With tongue.
But then her savior pulled out a gun. He pointed it at the thief and cocked the hammer.
Quinn skidded to a stop. “Holy shit.”
A step forward brought the gunman into the light. Short blond hair, fierce expression. Tyler.
The guy on the ground was scrambling back. “You’re crazy, man! It’s a frigging iPod! You’re—”
“Shut up.” Tyler held a lit cigarette in his free hand. He put it to his lips and inhaled, but he didn’t lower the weapon. “Give it back to her.”
The thief—thin and filthy and not much older than she was—
shoved her iPod across the concrete. He’d probably scraped the crap out of the case.
She didn’t move to take it. She couldn’t take her eyes off that gun. Her breathing felt too quick.
She should be running now, right? Saying thank you? What the hell was happening here?
Tyler jerked his head toward the road. “Get out of here, punk.” When the thief didn’t move fast enough, Tyler made a threatening move. The kid fought for his footing and ran, his feet scraping pavement.
Quinn kind of wished she could swipe the iPod and tiptoe away.
Tyler slid the gun into a holster at the small of his back and took a long drag from his cigarette. “You going to take that or what?”
Her iPod was on the ground right in front of his boots, and Quinn really didn’t want to get that close. She remembered the burning pain of his palm on her forearm. She remembered Nick telling her that Tyler had roughed up Becca.
Then again, Becca sure hadn’t thought he was scary enough to warrant telling Quinn about it.
“Come on,” said Tyler, a dark smile on his lips. “If you don’t have music, I can’t enjoy the free show anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
His eyes flicked at the woods across the street.
Screw him. She turned her back and started walking. “Go to hell.”
“I think maybe a thank-you is in order.”
“I think maybe a f**k you is in—”
“Would you take the stupid iPod?”
She whirled, hearing him right behind her. He was closer than she was ready for, and her breath rushed out of her chest.
In his hand was her beat-up iPod.
She hesitated, then took it. She wanted to fling it at him, but pride wilted in the face of practicality. It would take her forever to gather enough money to get another one. The case was scratched but unbroken, and the screen lit up when she pressed the button.
He didn’t move back, and she finally had to, lest he think she liked being this close to him.
Tyler took another draw on his cigarette. The glow lit his cheeks and turned his eyes haunting. “Scared of me, baby girl?”
“Are you aware you sound like a douche bag?”
He laughed, blowing smoke through his nose. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
“None of your business. Have another cigarette?”
His eyebrows went up. “You want one?”
No. She didn’t. She’d only ever smoked once. But she had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do and she needed something to do with her hands before they started shaking.
She gave Tyler a look. “Yeah. You have one or not?”
He pulled a pack from his back pocket and shook one free.
“Do you have a lighter?”
“No. Don’t you?”
He gave her half a smile, then put the new cigarette to his lips. He inhaled slowly, and after a moment the end glowed red and burned. A fresh burst of nicotine hit the air. Then he pulled it out of his mouth and held it out to her.
Quinn stared despite herself. “Gross.”
And somehow a little sexy, but she’d put his gun to her head before admitting that.
He cocked an eyebrow. “You were sitting next to a Dumpster last night, and now you’re afraid of a little spit. Jesus. You want it or not?”
His voice was full of derision, but challenge, too. Scared of me, baby girl?
She took the cigarette out of his hand and put it to her lips.
For a second she was worried she’d do the moronic thing and explode with coughing, but she inhaled slowly, letting the warmth travel into her lungs. She expected it to taste nasty, but it didn’t.
“Why are you out here with a gun?” she asked, easing the smoke out. “Isn’t that against some law?”
He looked vaguely affronted. “I have a permit, and I’m protecting my property. No, it’s not against some law.”
“This strip mall is yours. Seriously. And you have all this money and nothing better to do than wander around dark parking lots pointing guns at petty thieves? Yeah, okay.”
“This strip mall belongs to my parents,” he said, taking another long inhale on his cigarette. Smoke curled away from him into the night sky. “And we’ve been having a problem with vandals, so I’ve been hanging out the last few nights.”
“Gee, I’m so sorry for you.”
“You’ve kinda got a chip on your shoulder, huh?”
Yeah, the size of Rhode Island. Quinn flicked ash from the end of her cigarette and didn’t respond. She hadn’t inhaled again, and it was just burning away between her fingers.
“What were you dancing to?” he asked.
The question took her by surprise, but his voice was challenging again, so she fired up the song on her iPod and held out an earbud.
He listened for a long moment, then nodded and handed the cord back. “Nice.”
This was so bizarre. “Glad it meets with your approval.”
“Why were you dancing in the woods?”
“I’m helping a friend get a scholarship.”
“Oh, yeah? Why aren’t you getting a scholarship?”
“I don’t think that’s really any of your business.”
He shrugged and backed up to lean against the steel beam supporting a roof over the walkway. He took another drag and blew out smoke rings. “My sister was a dancer.”
His sister. Nick had told her Tyler’s sister had died in the rock quarry years ago.
“A singer, too,” said Tyler. “She was always on my parents to let her move to New York after graduation.”
Quinn wanted to snap at him, something like, So she couldn’t wait to get away from you, either? But his voice held this odd note that she couldn’t identify. Not quite sadness, but something close. Resignation, maybe. She didn’t want to mock it.
“Full of piss and vinegar,” Tyler said. “She’d probably laugh her ass off to hear you talk to me now.”
“I’d probably like her.”
“Maybe.” He crushed out the end of his cigarette and glanced down at hers, hanging abandoned in her hand. “You going to let that burn away to nothing?”
She quickly took another draw. Too fast. Smoke flooded her lungs and she choked hard, fighting for air.
“Sit,” said Tyler, plucking the cigarette from her fingers.
“Breathe.”
She sat and tried to inhale while tears streamed from her eyes.
He dropped onto the curb beside her.
“All talk,” he said. “Should’ve guessed.” Then he took up her cigarette and smoked it himself.
Quinn stared at him, confused by this sudden intimacy.
“Seriously,” he said suddenly. “What’s with the lurking behind the 7-Eleven last night?”
She shrugged and looked out at the dark parking lot.
“Homeless?” he asked, his voice matter-of-fact.
“No,” she snapped.
“Do those Merrick morons know you’re out here?”
Those “Merrick morons” probably thought she was out with Nick. “What do you care?”
“So that’s a no.” He snorted, blowing smoke. “Not surprised that one of those idiots can’t take care of a girlfriend.”
Like Tyler could? “I bet they’ll be disappointed they don’t live up to your standards.”
His voice turned dark. “They know what I think of them.”
“No kidding.” She held up her arm. “I got a firsthand demonstration, you ass**le.”
He rounded on her so fast that Quinn almost fell back on the step. He was right in her space. “You think you know what you’re talking about? You don’t know shit. You have no idea what they’ve done to me.”
Quinn punched him in the chest, giving him a solid shove.
“Maybe they did, but I never did anything to you. Back off.”
When he didn’t move, she put her face almost against his and reinforced her voice with steel girders. “Back. Off.”
He held her there, probably trying to use his size or his attitude to intimidate her. Like he had anything on her home life.
She stared back at him, waiting.
He finally shifted forward and put the cigarette to his lips again.
“They killed my sister,” he said quietly.
No way was he buying her pity from a sob story she’d already heard. “Nick told me you chased her and Michael into the quarry.”
“He’s a f**king Earth. How the hell do you think that rockslide started?”
She stared into the face of his obvious fury and gave him the only answer she had. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”
Tyler seemed to deflate. He crushed out the rest of his cigarette and looked out at the night, rubbing a hand across the back of his head.
Then he looked over. “You hungry?”
Yes. She was starving. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I think you’re a psychopath.”
He laughed softly. “I was going to get some taquitos from 7-Eleven. Want some?”
Quinn thought about it. If she said no, it might be hours before she’d get the chance to eat. And what was the difference between smoking with Tyler and eating with him? At least if she was with him, no one was trying to steal her stuff.
Sad that her life had devolved into choosing between lesser evils.
Her cell phone chimed again. Nick this time.
You ok?
She thought about it.
All OK. Have fun with your boyfriend. xoxo
“Taquitos sound great,” said Quinn. She climbed to her feet.
“I like mine extra spicy.”
CHAPTER 9
Quinn had never sat on the roof of a strip mall before. She’d never really sat on the roof of any building before. But Tyler obviously had: a few nylon folding chairs sat by the edge of the roof, and there was even a little table between them.
She sprawled in one of the chairs and stretched her legs out in front of her. “So is this where the magic usually happens?”
Tyler cracked open a bottle of Mountain Dew and sprawled in the chair beside her. “The magic?”
“Is this where you bring girls? Promise to show them the world?”
He waved a hand at the trees, the suburban sprawl. “Oh, yeah. Check out the world of Arnold, Maryland.” He let out a low whistle. “You can almost see the waste disposal plant from here. Want to take your pants off yet?”
“It’s hard not to.”
“I don’t usually bring girls up here. I have an apartment for that.”
An apartment. For about two seconds, Quinn wondered how old he was, then decided she didn’t care. Nick had said he was younger than Michael, so he couldn’t be older than twenty-two.