Quinn II (Undaunted Men #2) (20 page)

“I don’t care if I go to jail.” I blurt out. I’m getting all worked up thinking about the things Vince did, and knowing he drugged me then took advantage of me, my entire body begins to shake.

“Nobody is going to jail, most of all you,” my dad interjects as he grabs ahold of my shoulders to ground me. I stare at him in disbelief and he nods his head, confirming. “It’s true. It’s a long story, and one for another day, but I’ve already made sure nothing points your way. You’ve got other things to deal with right now.”
 

In my mind's eye, I see those pictures of that girl shot in the head clear as day and whimper in distress. My arms are still trembling, and both of my hands shake as I cover my mouth with gruesome thoughts of what Vince had done. God he’s a monster.

My dad looks to Preston, and my eyes flick between the two, wondering what the silent conversation is about. “Sweetheart,” my dad carefully begins. “Your mother is flying home today. She didn’t believe you took off on the trails because you'd never been camping like that before. Instead, she went searching in places she thought you’d be. You know your mother, if she gets something in her head, there’s no stopping her.” He takes a deep breath then lets it out slowly. His eyes droop wearily as he looks at me with tender compassion. “Preston and I are so damn sorry for what happened to you.”

“I’m fine,” I interrupt, determined that I’ll truly be all right if I have Quinn back.

“No,” he firmly states, “No, you’re not. When you’re mother gets home, I’m sure she’s going to want you to talk to someone.”

“The only one I want to talk to is Quinn.” God, I miss him, and I hate the things I had to do in order to save him. Anxiety rushes through me. “Do you think he will talk to me? You have his phone number, right?”
 

“Not right now, Lexi,” Preston states more firmly this time. My gut twists in a knot and my stomach cramps. Preston slips his hand in mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “I’m telling you the man needs a little space and time.”
 

I begin to tear up all over again. “What happened for you to say that?” I whisper cry.

Preston shakes his head at me. “I’m more concerned about what happened to you last night.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mumble, embarrassed. He lifts my gaze to meet his, and I can tell even though I can’t discuss it, I know he will never forget it. His body vibrates with unspent vengeance.

 
“You're upset. It's going to take a day or two to get you feeling right in the head again. You've had a serious brain-chemical flush.” He can say that again. I feel like shit, both inside and out. “You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I solemnly reply. I’m depressed on so many different levels I don’t know which end is up. A cold shiver rolls through me, Preston notices and pulls me close, wrapping me in his arms.

“Well, I’m not leaving your side, and if I have to feed you myself, I will. Feeling down is part of the side effects of that drug Vince gave you, and it’s fucking with your head. It’s bad enough you’re confused and full of anxiety already, but drug withdrawal will make things exponentially worse.”

My dad leans in to kiss me on the cheek, and then murmurs, “I have a few phone calls to make. Preston is going to watch over you.” He then gets up, leaving me in Preston’s care.

I look to Preston and want to ask, but can’t find the words. He seems to know what’s on my mind, so he offers an explanation. “Connor told me what happened. He said you were drugged with something he’d never heard of before.”

“Have you ever heard of it?” I quietly ask, raising a brow.

He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t, but I know he thought those drugs were his ticket to the top.”

“I think that drug is twenty-times more sinister and detrimental than cocaine could ever hope to be if it were in any way get out on the streets.”

“I totally agree with you, but you won’t have to worry about that ever happening,” he says with conviction.

I frown and look down at my hands before I lift my eyes to his and softly ask, “Where is Vince now?”

He shakes his head, his mouth drawn into a straight line. “Can’t talk about it, Lex. You know that, but he won’t be bothering you ever again.” The muscles in his jaw tick, and his hands form into fists. He says nothing more, and I know better than to push.

Knowing this is how the Mafia deals with betrayal, I can feel the prickles of the little hairs rising up on the nape of my neck as my skin begins to tingle, and then bone-chilling goose bumps erupt over my entire body. I feel empty inside, and I know inherently, something is gravely wrong between Quinn and I. Both Preston and my dad know something, but they don’t want to tell me, and that alone only confirms Vince made sure to create real and unrepairable damage between us.

It’s been three days since Preston and my dad rescued Quinn, and I’ve heard nothing from him. I had expected to see Quinn come back with them, but when he didn’t, my heart sank. I’ve been in a rotten depression for the past few days over all this, and Preston says it doesn’t help matters that some of it is the drug withdrawal.

The only thing Preston would tell me is that Quinn was pretty beat up, and his friends had taken him to get medical help before they took him back home. Upon hearing Quinn needed medical attention, I lost it. I became inconsolable, and Preston couldn’t help me settle down. Despite him telling me a hundred times over that Quinn was fine, he wound up giving me half of a sedative to calm my nerves.
 

I have no way of getting in touch with him, and I’m heartbroken. He knows how to get a hold of me because of his affiliation with my dad, so why hasn’t he? Every day, I’d ask my dad if he called, but he would only look at me in sadness and shake his head, telling me he most likely needs some time alone to figure things out. I know Quinn thinks I betrayed him, but if I could just explain my actions, I know he’d understand.
 

Does he know that Vince drugged me and then had his way with me? Does he not want me anymore because I’m damaged goods now? I shiver just thinking about that scenario with Vince. The only saving grace is I don’t remember all of it. I think I’d be a nutcase otherwise. Yes, it’s still hard knowing I was violated, it stings deep, especially since I’ve known him my entire life. I had never seen Vince more crazed than that night he drugged me. I don’t know how to deal with the knowledge that I was taken advantage of, so for now, I try to pretend it didn’t happen for my own sanity.

Not being able to stand the silence and separation any longer, I broke down today, begging my dad for Quinn’s phone number. I promptly left his office in tears, because he wouldn’t give in to me. I had eavesdropped on his conversations in the kitchen with Preston and my mother at various times, hoping to find at least a morsel of information, but it was as if speaking his name in the house was taboo. Actually, everything about what really happened during Quinn’s rescue was hush-hush, and I’m about to lose my mind, because nobody is telling me anything.

I’ve been in grief over Kimber and worried about Quinn to the point I haven’t ventured out anywhere, not even to see Griffen, which is truly unlike me. I have no desire to return to my little house, or go back to work either. Preston says starting next week I need to jump back into the fray of things, regardless of whether or not I want to. He’s probably right; I know this mindset isn’t healthy, but I have zero drive. Heck, I’m still in my pajamas from this morning. All I’ve managed to do is brush my teeth and slip my hair into a ponytail.

The entire fiasco that is Vince’s life is horridly sad. It’s been traumatic and harrowing that someone I’ve known so intimately had turned out so wrong. I don’t know the entire story, because supposedly it’s all top-secret stuff. I guess it’s best I don’t know the details. I probably couldn’t handle the truth anyway. The evil had finally caught up with him, and I’ve actually mourned for him, lamenting over what we had during our childhood years, which were full of innocence and laughter.

A small knock sounds at my door, pulling me from my disparaging thoughts. Maybe it’s dad coming to tell me Quinn called. My heart leaps as I jump up from my bed and fling open the door. Then my smile fades from my lips. It’s Connor, and I have nothing but intense dislike for him. I slam the door in his face, but he stops the door from shutting with his hand.

“Can we please talk?”

“I have nothing to say to you, Connor,” I spit out bitterly.

He peers at me through his blonde hair as a piece drapes over his eyes. “Please.”

“Why should I?” I challenge.

“Because I owe you explanations, and I don’t think I can live with myself if I can’t at least say I’m sorry.”

“There, you just said it,” I rudely announce, and then try to close the door again, but he slips his foot in the way. This time, in a bold move, he forces his way through the door. I back up a step, pointing my finger at him, sternly warning him, “I don’t need this.”
 

He holds up his hands in surrender, but still walks forward, shutting the door behind him with his foot. He backs me up into the middle of my bedroom, and then I begin to worry, wondering what he’s up to.

“If it makes you feel any better, both Preston and your dad know I’m here,” he says cautiously.

I scoff. “Why would that make me feel any better? You’re basically telling me two more people know a torturer and a betrayer is in the house.” I think about that for a second, tilting my head to the side. “How are you not six feet under right now?”

He slips his hands into his jeans pocket and frowns. “It’s complicated, and I’m not proud of what I’ve done, Lexi.”

I throw my hands up in the air in frustration. “Why does everybody tell me things are complicated, yet nobody tells me anything?!” I half yell.

“Lexi,” Connor begins in a non-confrontational voice, “I was so caught up in getting revenge for Bennett that I lost sight of what was important.”

The back of my knees hit my mattress, and I sit down. Without permission, Connor grabs my computer chair and sits down in front of me. He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees, his bight sea-green eyes searching my face for some familiarity, but it’s not there; I’m closed off.

My lips are sealed tight as I scrutinize him right back. We’re in a standoff, the tension thick, but he forges ahead, telling me why he’s here. “I imagine Preston and your dad haven’t said much about what we did to Quinn, has he?”

My hands ball into fists as I warily ask, “What do you want? Why are you here? Have you not done enough damage already?”

“I have so many things to say, but I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about we start off with this?” My voice pitches angrily. “Does it make you feel good to have taken part in sabotaging every single relationship I've ever had?”

Connor rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “No, it doesn’t.”
 

“Because for someone who says they love me, you sure as hell keep hurting me.” My voice wavers as tears sting the backs of my eyes in a bitter rage.

“I know,” he sadly admits with a frown.

“Ten billion
sorry’s
will never make up for that kind of damage.”

“I know that too.”

“Then, why are you here?” The anger inside me is bubbling over.

He tries to grab my hands from my lap, but I pull them away with a quick jerk. He closes his eyes with a pained grimace, and then recomposes himself. “Lexi, I need you. I promise it’ll be different. I just want to be back in your life as a friend.”

I shake my head at him. “You don’t need me. You don’t need anyone. You're too self-absorbed and only interested in the things that would benefit you.”

“I do need you,” he counters. “You’re all I’ve got, and I know…” he says, raising his hands in self defense, “I know I should’ve thought about all those things I did before taking action.” He takes a deep, cleansing breath and runs his fingers through his hair, suddenly seeming nervous. “There are some things I need you to know. Things I had to keep secret for a long time.”

I eye him up and down with caution, my emotions guarded. “Like what?” I'm leery of him; I don't trust him anymore.

“First off, I want you to know we did some really deplorable things to Quinn.”

A chill passes through me at the mention of Quinn being tortured, and my stomach pitches and rolls. I find myself clutching the angel necklace out of nervousness. I still wear it. It gives me comfort, keeping my memories fresh of the good times we shared. I refuse to give up hope that one day we'll be together again. Maybe I'm still in denial, but I don't want to hear anymore, so I cut him off. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”
 

He doesn’t take me seriously, because he begins to elaborate. I press my hands against my ears, stand up, and scream over and over, “Stop it! Go away!”

He holds out both of his hands, palms facing upward, surrendering. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

My pulse is racing as Preston comes bolting through my bedroom door. Connor stands up right away with his hands in the air.

Breathing heavily, Preston's eyes shift between the two of us, assessing the situation. “What’s going on?” He looks at Connor accusingly.