Quinn

 

I sleep in late, and as I linger in bed, memories from last night come back to me. My heart skips a beat as I recall having Colt in my mouth. It’d been way better than I’d ever imagined, but there’s going to be consequences. He’d been pissed when I’d kissed him, and last night I’d taken things quite a bit further. I don’t regret it, because Colt needs to realize that there’s no stopping this thing between us. I’ve never felt something so strong with anyone; it’s something that can’t be ignored. Now that I’ve tasted him, I’ve touched him, I’ve listened to him take his pleasure…

No one will ever compare to him.

I sigh and roll over, glancing at my alarm clock. It’s after ten. I should probably get up, but I’m wary to face the day. Colt’s likely going to avoid me, and as much as I understand, it’s still going to hurt.

Am I pushing too hard?

Every time I begin doubting my actions, I remind myself that if I back off completely, he’ll continue to ignore what we’re feeling for one another. He needs to face it, and the only way to get him to do that is to keep trying to show him what we could have.

The man is stubborn, but so am I.

I linger in bed for a few more minutes before dragging myself from its warmth and comfort. Since I don’t have anywhere important to be today, I decide to eat before showering.

After I pull my hair up into a sloppy ponytail, I tug on a short sweatshirt over my camisole, and pull on boxer shorts over my panties. Once I’m somewhat presentable, I leave my room and head for the kitchen. I can hear muted voices coming from the other side of the house, so out of curiosity, I pass by the kitchen and follow the voices. They seem to be coming from the living room. Is that Bryce’s voice?

I enter the living room, and the room goes silent. Colt, Bryce, Channing, Ash, Gabe, and Harper are standing there, their expressions serious.

My eyes momentarily shift to Colt, and my body warms from the memory of finally getting my hands on his body. Before anyone can catch my lingering look, I focus on the others. “What’s going on?”

Everyone remains silent.

Bryce looks at the small group that’s assembled in the room. “Someone going to fill her in?”

Colt looks at me, his expression completely unreadable. “Your car was vandalized sometime during the night.”

My car? I worked my ass off to be able to afford it, and I rush for the door, flinging it open before anyone can stop me. I hurry to where my car is parked in the driveway. All four tires have been viciously slashed. “Son of a bitch,” I hiss.

Bryce appears at my side. “Let’s talk inside, preferably in private,” he suggests.

I drag my gaze from the butchered tires and see that Bryce is looking at me expectantly. Colt stands a few feet away, and the others are lingering in the doorway of the house.

I nod, and both Bryce and Colt walk me back into the house, and after Bryce announces he wants to talk with me in private, everyone leaves the living room.

“Take a seat,” Bryce suggests to me before he glances at Colt. “I think it’d be wise to speak with Quinn alone.”

Colt nods, and his eyes linger on me for a moment before he turns and walks out the front door, firmly closing it behind him.

I frown, ignoring Bryce’s suggestion to sit, and I wonder what he’s going to do until I hear his truck start. Oh. I’m disappointed he’s leaving.

“Quinn?”

My attention shifts back to Bryce.

“Colt’s the one who called me here. I need to know if you want the vandalism to be included with your report from the other day.”

Honestly, I’m not sure. Everyone assumes Slade’s going to progress, but I’m still leery to turn this into something that it may never become. Yes, Slade is irritating. Do I want it to end? Absolutely. Does he want to kill me? I doubt it. He’d already stated in a text that this is all a game to him. I’m not happy about all the stuff that’s happening, but do I want to turn my life upside down because of it? I’d like to avoid that if at all possible.

“I’m not,” I say truthfully, folding my arms across my chest. “Slade enjoys games, that’s the one thing I can say with absolute certainty. This is what he wants. He wants me to be scared, to disrupt my life.”

He studies me. “What do you think his endgame is?”

“To make me regret ending things.”

“You don’t think he’d physically hurt you?”

“If he did, he’d go to jail,” I point out.

“If he’s caught.”

I blink, catching note of his tone. “Be honest with me, Bryce. What do you think?”

“My instinct, along with experience, are telling me that it’d be wise to have as much information on record as possible. The more we have to go on, the better.”

My heart sinks. It’s one thing to accuse the guys of overreacting, but Bryce has experience behind him with being a detective. “You think this could escalate?”

“It’s best to take precautions.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He looks at me steadily. “The information I have so far is he strangled you during sex, has a fixation for blood, he’s obviously following you, and he currently has no identity and no known place of residence. Is that accurate?”

My brow wrinkles. “When you put it like that…”

“I don’t want to give him what he wants.”

“Which is to allow fear to control your life?” he questions.

I nod. “If I acknowledge it, it gives him control.”

“You need to look at this from a different perspective.” He motions to the sofa. “Why don’t you take a seat. Unless you’d prefer to end this conversation—which is entirely up to you,” he reminds.

I eye him, knowing he has something important on his mind, and I take a seat. Bryce settles a few feet from me. “Hit me with it,” I tell him.

“From my perspective, there are a lot of warning signs. Even if this doesn’t amount to a physical threat, the fact is, he’s stalking you. Maybe he’ll eventually grow bored, but what happens when the next woman ends things with him? The cycle repeats itself. It won’t just stop with you.”

“You don’t think I’m the first woman he’s stalked.”

“No, I don’t.”

“If someone before me had put a stop to it, I might not be sitting here discussing my situation,” I state dryly, knowing that’s exactly where he’s going with this.

“True.”

“What if I don’t want to be the one to legally make it stop? There will be court hearings and all that stuff.” Just the thought makes me shudder.

“That’s your choice,” he says kindly. “It’s all your choice, and I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m just giving you my opinion because you asked for it.”

I study him, knowing him well enough to know that there’s more. “What aren’t you saying?”

“What if he progresses with the next woman and actually hurts her?” he asks gently.

Shit. The guilt would follow me the rest of my life. “What will reporting the vandalism accomplish?”

“To be honest, not much. It just goes on record at this point. What it does do is help build your case against him if he should take things further.”

I’m quiet as I think over what he’s shared with me. Sure, reporting the vandalism isn’t that big of a deal, but it’s the fact that I’m allowing Slade to get to me that’s the issue.

“I don’t see it as giving him what he wants. I see it more as actively taking precautions to keep yourself safe, Quinn,” Bryce says, accurately guessing where my mind is at.

I nod.

“I have one more question for you, and then you can tell me your decision.”

I look at him expectantly.

“If it were Ashton or Harper dealing with this, would you want them to report it?”

His question has me sighing. “Absolutely. Okay, fine. I’ll report the vandalism.”

Bryce nods, not looking surprised. “I read the complaint you filed the other day. Has he contacted you since then? Besides the vandalism overnight?”

I shake my head and grimace. “I kind of baited him last night,” I mutter.

Now it’s Bryce’s turn to sigh. “What’d you do?” He listens intently as I explain about going to the bar and Colt tracking me down. He frowns. “He was watching and didn’t like Colt being near you.”

“Colt’s always near me,” I say with a shrug.

“Which might be why he’s stalking you. He sees you as his and no one else’s.”

“I’m not anyone’s,” I say sourly. Though I wish I were Colt’s, and it sucks that I’m not.

“Men like Slade don’t see it that way,” Bryce says.

“Do you think there’s a chance that he might become bored?”

“He could, but in my opinion, I don’t think it’s likely.”

I draw my legs up, feeling resigned as I loop my arms around my knees. “What should I do?”

“Stop baiting him for one,” he says dryly.

“Noted,” I grumble.

He pulls out a small notepad from his pocket. “You gave a vague description at the department. Can you give me more details that might help single him out?”

I think about his question for a moment. “He has skulls on his left arm and…some kind of monster-like character with horns. His right arm has a reaper and thorns.” I shake my head. “I didn’t look all that closely. There might be a spider, maybe a snake, too.”

Bryce writes in his notebook and then looks up at me. “Any kind of detailing helps, Quinn.”

“He prefers loud music. He’ll gravitate towards the biker bars and the darker parts of town.”

Bryce nods. “That’s good. Is he a drinker?”

“Surprisingly, no,” I say as my brows draw together. “He’s always been stone-cold sober.”

“You met at a bar, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did he approach you or vice versa?”

“I think it was a little of both. He was the bartender at the time.”

“Did he ever pressure you into drinking?”

“No.”

“Is there anything else that you think I should know?”

I shake my head. “I can’t really think of anything else. Should I change my number?”

“No,” Bryce says firmly. “He wants to stay in contact with you, and a phone call is much safer than a one on one. I know you don’t want to change your daily habits and your socialization, but I would suggest toning it down,” he advises.

I grimace. “Okay.”

After Bryce leaves, I make my way to the kitchen, aggravated that this is how the day is beginning. I’d thought the worst I’d have to deal with today would be Colt’s anger.

Harper happens to be the only one in the kitchen, and she looks at me with concern. “It’s happening again.”

Damn it. I don’t want my problems affecting her recovery process. “It’s not,” I promise. “This is a completely different situation.”

She remains silent, her eyes doubtful.

“Harper, I know you’re still getting over what happened, and I know this is dredging things up for you. Maybe you and Gabe should move out now, maybe get an apartment until you find the house of your dreams.”

She looks offended by my suggestion. “I’m not leaving you, Quinn.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” I promise her. “Slade’s just being an asshole right now.”

“It could escalate,” she says seriously.

“It’s going to take more than some pictures and slashed tires to scare me,” I say confidently.

“That’s the problem. You’re determined to believe that your life isn’t in danger.”

That’s because I don’t want it to be true—because I brought this all on myself, and it’s no longer just affecting me. It’s affecting everyone around me.