Then Gabriel was in the foyer and Nick couldn’t breathe.

Gabriel took one look at them and shook his head before pushing between them to head upstairs. He smacked Hunter on the back of the head. “Leave my brother alone, jackass. He’s already got enough freaks pining after him.”

It was a miracle Nick didn’t shatter the mug between his hands.

Hunter didn’t move until Gabriel disappeared into the bathroom. Then he said softly, “Look, I get it. Why you don’t want to tell him.”

Nick had to put the mug down or he was going to spill coffee everywhere. “Really? You sure? He’s so subtle. ”

“He doesn’t understand—”

“No, but I do. He thinks g*y guys are creepy freaks. Got it.”

Nick didn’t want to stay here. He was almost shaking with rage.

He couldn’t imagine sleeping under the same roof as his brother.

But he had nowhere to go.

Hunter took a breath. “He doesn’t think you are a creepy freak, Nick. I think you should give him a chance.”

“Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve a chance.”

“Wow.” Hunter pushed the hair back from his face. “All right. Your secret, your call.” He stood.

“Hey,” Nick said, losing some of the rage. “Thanks. It—it means a lot.”

“No problem.” Hunter paused and leaned against the bannister. “You’re wrong, by the way.”

“I’m wrong?”

“I’m not his best friend, Nick. You are.”

CHAPTER 20

Quinn studied herself in Tyler’s bathroom mirror. Steam clouded the glass, but she could make out her face, her neck, and the edge of the towel wrapped around her body. A shadowed bruise remained across her cheek, but the swelling was gone, along with her headache.

She was glad for the lingering bruise. She didn’t want to forget her mother’s voice or the way she’d swung that trophy.

Or the things she’d said.

Whore. You ruin everything.

The worst part was, Quinn believed her mother. Hell, she had proof. She dated guy after guy who was perfectly content to sleep with her and shell out the bucks for a movie or a dinner, but when she needed a friend? Yeah, busy. Or the dance team at school, who’d kicked her to the curb for a bad attitude. Well, who could blame her, with those bitchy girls. Attitude was just a way to endure it all.

Maybe that was her fault, after all. Maybe she had ruined it.

But then Nick. And Becca. No one wanted her. No one needed her. Even when she was needed—like for Adam’s dance audition—she couldn’t get it together to show up with any reg-ularity. Clearly her fault.

Besides, it wasn’t like Adam had asked what was wrong when she’d texted him earlier. He’d almost brushed her off like he’d expected her to space out. Suddenly furious, Quinn picked up her phone to read the text again.

No worries, he’d said. Let me know when you can meet again.

Okay, maybe she was reading negativity into that. He didn’t know what was going on. Maybe she should have texted something like, Sorry. My room was turned into a crack den. Catch you tomorrow maybe?

Yeah, and then what would have happened? He probably wouldn’t have believed her.

Quinn remembered this one time her mom had thrown a knife at her head. Two years ago, the first week of freshman year. They’d been screaming about something inconsequential—

as usual—and her mother had grabbed a steak knife from the block on the counter and flung it at her.

Quinn had run to Becca’s, using the key her best friend’s mom had provided, sitting shaking in a kitchen chair until Becca came home.

Becca had thought she was being overdramatic. “A knife,”

she’d said, her voice ringing with skepticism. “Come on, Quinn.”

And Quinn had been worried she’d alienate the only friend she had, so she’d recanted her story.

Becca never brought it up again.

Admittedly, it was rarely that bad back in those days. Her mom had been normal enough, coming to Quinn’s school events on occasion, mingling with other parents like she didn’t come home and knock back a bottle of Jack Daniel’s every other night.

Then their lives had started a downward spiral.

Or continued down it, depending on your perspective.

A knock sounded on the bathroom door, and Quinn jumped.

Tyler spoke from the other side. “You okay in there?”

“I’m a girl. Takes a while.” But Quinn hurriedly started pulling her hair into a messy knot at the back of her head. She untied the towel wrapped around her body and threw it over the shower rod.

“I’m not trying to rush you,” he said. “Just checking.”

Quinn glanced at her folded clothes waiting by the sink: the old dance sweats she usually slept in, plus a flimsy T-shirt that would leave a few inches of midriff bare.

She glanced at her na**d body in the mirror. The other dance girls were full of angles. Graceful angles, but angles nonetheless: a hip bone here, a sharp edge of shoulder there, a jawline practically cut from marble.

Quinn’s body was all sloping lines and curves.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She had a new worry: keeping Tyler interested so she had a place to sleep.

He’d been quiet in the truck, but it was an anxious sort of quiet. A nervous tension had clung to the vehicle, worrying her that any minute he’d pull over and demand that she get out.

“You’re like them,” she’d whispered finally, terrified that he’d snap and demand that she keep his secret.

“Like them?” he’d said flatly.

She’d had to lick her lips. “A full Elemental.”

But he hadn’t snapped. He’d just nodded.

That same tension was hanging around his apartment now.

What would he do, now that she knew? It seemed like enough of a reason to put her out. Quinn pulled on the T-shirt and a pair of lace panties, then slapped a coy smile on her face and strolled out the door.

It sounded like all the air left Tyler’s lungs at once. Quinn kept walking, picked up a copy of Maxim magazine on her way to the couch, then sprawled suggestively against the cushions.

She flipped open to the middle and didn’t look at him.

She could practically hear his brain cells reorganizing to head south.

But then her sweatpants hit her in the chest, landing on the magazine. “Put some pants on,” he said.

She glanced at him. “You don’t really want me to.”

He came and sat in the chair in front of her. He kept his eyes level with hers. “If I hadn’t just watched your mom lose her shit, you’re right. I wouldn’t want you to. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’m not going to play. Put some pants on.”

She pouted. “Make me.”

He sighed. “Fine. The hell with it. Sit around half naked.”

She pushed the magazine and the pants to the side and crawled into the chair with him, straddling his lap like she’d done the night before.

Tonight, however, his jaw was set, and he didn’t make a move to touch her.

But when she leaned in, pressing her chest against his, he caught her waist, holding her at a slight distance.

“What do you think?” he said. “That if you don’t sleep with me, I’m going to put you out on the street?”

Well, that was honest. Anger flared, and Quinn started to climb off his lap.

Tyler’s hands tightened on her waist. She struggled, but he held fast. “Why is it that you get to screw with me, but when I call you on it, you get all indignant?”

Honestly, because arguing was easier than thinking.

“Let me go,” she said.

“No way. Not until you tell me what’s rolling around in that head of yours.”

She met his eyes and made her expression hard. “Let me go or I’ll tell Nick and his brothers what you can do.”

Well, that broke his control. His face turned furious and he shoved her onto the couch roughly, leaving her there and storm-ing into the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened with a creak, and he slammed it shut hard enough to make the contents rattle.

“You don’t know what the f**k you’re talking about,” he snapped, using an opener to jerk the cap off a bottle of beer.

“Don’t you get it? This isn’t a game.”

“Yeah, I get it,” she fired back. “You’re all gung ho for someone to kill my friends, when you’re guilty of the same thing.”

“I’m not guilty of anything!” he yelled. “I never hurt anyone with this! They did.”

Quinn sucked back into the couch, holding her breath. His anger was frightening, reminding her of that first night behind the 7-Eleven, when he’d burned her arm and demanded answers.

He wasn’t done yelling. “I risk myself for you, and you’re going to turn it around and threaten me? Are you f**king kidding me? Do you understand that the Guide could be watching?

That what I did was enough to earn a bullet to the head?” He took a long drink and slammed his beer onto the counter. “God damn it.”

Quinn wished she could make herself invisible. She hugged her knees to her chest and wished she’d put the pants on. She felt too exposed. Too vulnerable.

She was ready for him to stride across the apartment and shake her or slug her or physically shove her out the door. But he just stood there and took another long drink.

After a minute, he looked back at her. His voice was rough, but not aggressive. “Nice job, getting the conversation off of you.” He paused, and his expression turned resigned. “Tell the Merricks whatever you want. I know what I did—what I am. I can’t undo it.”

Quinn kept her breathing shallow, scared to move.

As usual with Tyler, she wasn’t sure whether he was a good guy or a bad guy. He’d helped her—more than once, and at risk to himself. What was she going to do—tell Nick about Tyler’s secret so these mysterious killers could kill more people? Turn Tyler in for saving her life?

But he was sitting here judging the Merricks for something he struggled with himself. That was the worst kind of hypocrisy, right? Hating someone for something you hated about yourself?

I never hurt anyone with this.

Did he really believe that? He’d burned her arm. He’d brutal-ized the Merricks—she knew that from Nick. Hell, he’d gone after Becca more than once.

Or did he think that was okay because his sister had died?

That because he hadn’t killed anyone, he somehow got a free pass?

Quinn pulled the sweatpants up her legs and walked into the kitchen.

“I’ll keep your secret,” she said quietly. “You were right. I was angry—I didn’t want—I don’t—”

Then her mother’s anger and violence overtook her, and Quinn started crying.

Tyler folded her into his arms and sighed against her hair.

“What a crazy, f**ked-up night.”

She laughed through her tears, sniffling against his shoulder.

“Tell me about it.” She hesitated. “Do you really think there’s a Guide in town?”

He took a long breath. “There have been a lot of fires. I’d be more surprised if there’s not a Guide in town.”

“And they’d kill you for saving me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He paused. “Did Merrick ever tell you what really happened at that carnival last week?”

She nodded against his chest. “Some of it. A girl named Calla Dean was trying to bring the Guides here. She wanted to start a war.”

Tyler drew back to look at her. “Calla Dean? I don’t know her. Her family wasn’t part of the original deal with the Merricks.”

Quinn swiped remnants of tears from her eyes. “You might not ever know her. She disappeared after the carnival. Nick said they don’t know if she was killed or if she ran. But there haven’t been any further arson attacks, so . . .”