Resisting Ruby Rose (The Ruby Rose Series) (11 page)

CHAPTER 16

I sat down in the sand, too crushed to walk all the way back to the boardwalk and Fake Big Black. It was like Liam had grabbed my heart out of my chest and thrown it into the tumbling, crashing, churning waters.

Concentrating on the ebb and flow of the shoreline, I lost time. All the stages of grief were sure to come, but for the moment, I didn’t understand. In the space of a few minutes,
I’d
gone from the concerned girlfriend to the abandoned ex who couldn’t let go. Or maybe, just like Quinn had said yesterday, Liam had already become my ex and I just hadn’t known it yet.

I wondered if Quinn, or someone else on Skryker’s team, had instigated the whole breakup. Yes, Liam had a point when he said I continually underestimated him, pushed him away, and failed to commit to him in the way he wanted—but that had always been the case. I had always been Unreachable Ruby Rose, and it had never bothered him to the point of breaking up before. In fact, he always seemed to understand why I struggled with intimacy and trust. H
e’d
seen firsthand what
I’d
been through.

Something else must’ve happened when they recruited him. Had someone convinced him that something physical had gone down between me and Quinn?

Reaching into the Cleave, I turned on my phone. Alana would know how to help me—she had far more experience with boy drama than I did. Except I realized she probably wouldn’t answer. She was most likely still in severe shock from witnessing her boyfriend getting shot in the head. Sh
e’d
only sent curt replies to my texts informing her about Chase’s condition and recovery. Which was going well, exactly as Skryker had promised.

I wasn’t sure Alana was going to give me any more chances. Being my best friend was dangerous—on more levels than one.

So here I was, back to being almost totally alone. No more Alana, no more Liam, no more Mom, no more Dad. There was always Dr. T or Mathews, but talking to them about what had happened to Liam would be almost like turning him in.

Then I remembered what my bio-dad, Damon Silver, said—that h
e’d
be here. Ready to help and protect me. Even if I didn’t want him to be.

I sat up and scanned the beach for any sight of a shadowed figure. Though I doubted h
e’d
be leaning against one of the pier’s pillars, I figured he wouldn’t be hiding in bushes either. Maybe I could talk to him. Maybe I wanted to.

Turning on my phone again, I considered dialing the number Damon had given me at the hospital.
I’d
saved it in my contacts as Mr. D.S. (
not
Dad) to remind myself that I still didn’t know who he was. Blood does not a father make.

My thumb hovered over his name for a few seconds and, as I checked the beach again, my phone rang. In my nervousness about maybe reaching out to the man
I’d
once considered my enemy, I accidentally pressed answer before seeing who was calling.

The name Quinn Donovan scrolled across the screen. I didn’t even know that I had his number. He must have gotten to my cell when I was in the shower and programmed his number in, among other intrusive tasks.

“Hello, Ruby.” I could hear his voice even with the phone out in front of me. “Put the phone to your ear, would you?”

He was watching me!

“Are you following me?” I asked with the phone to my ear, trying to sound perturbed but also feeling a sense of relief. I wasn’t
totally
alone, after all.

“That’s a rather unpleasant way of looking at it,” he said, his British voice at maximum eloquence. “Just watching out for you. You know, the way partners do.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” I started walking away, wondering if Liam was watching. I hoped he wasn’t. “I’m not joining Team Killers.”

“Right, well, that doesn’t mean we can’t be partners in a different way.”

I stopped. “Quinn, you know I’m with Liam.”

“Not anymore, you’re not.”

My head swiveled around to find him. Did he have some kind of sound amplification technology from wherever he was? Could he read lips? Was I bugged or something?

I started patting myself down. “Do you have an itch?” he asked.

I clenched my jaw. “Where are you?”

“I’m standing under your sign.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your bright-red electric sign,” he articulated slowly, as if pauses would help me understand.

“Just tell me where you are!”

“At the far end of the pier, if you must know,” he finally admitted. “Under the Ruby’s Diner sign. Fancy a chocolate malt?”

I turned back around to locate “my sign.” I couldn’t see Quinn, but I could see the sign. And I could see Liam in the water next to the pier, looking at me from a sitting position on his board. If there were a hole in the sand, I would have jumped in and buried myself in it.

“Chocolate?” I asked. Like Pavlov’s dog, the mere mention of it made me salivate. But I wanted Liam out of the middle of this conversation. “Yeah, sure. But let’s go somewhere different. Meet me at my car.”

“Done.” He clicked off, and so did I. Hesitant to leave, I lingered with my toes in the sand. This moment felt bigger than a chocolate shake. It felt like I was making a choice. Like I was walking away from Liam without a fight, even though w
e’d
just had a big one—as the kids with the Frisbee would attest.

I looked out to see if Liam still had his eye on me, but he wasn’t there. I watched the surf, waiting for his new board with the neon trim to pop up, but it never did. As I stood there contemplating what to do, talking to the boy he thought had taken his place, h
e’d
taken the initiative. He must have paddled under the pier and let the current aid in his quick escape. Away from me. Away from us. Away from the simple life I wanted for us.

He was gone.

“Why are you following me?” I asked as I approached Fake Big Black. Quinn leaned against the driver’s side door with a casual smile, as if he were posing for a hidden camera. With my luck (and Sammy Carmichael fighting the slow news cycle), he probably was. I cringed at the way my mind automatically saw the headlines of
Tiger Crush
magazine:
Ruby Rose Finds New Blood.

“Waiting for you, of course,” Quinn said. Even the way he quipped was charming. He was wearing flip-flops, board shorts, and a white tank with a neon sunset and the words
California Love.
He was obviously trying to fit in, and if it weren’t for the accent, he probably would have.

“Nice outfit,” I teased as I shoved him out of the way and looked around for Lia
m . . .
and cameras. “But you didn’t answer the
freaking
question.”

“You Americans and your vulgar language,” Quinn said, rounding the hood to get in the passenger side.

I eyed him across the console, now at liberty to do so because my tinted windows offered some privacy. If he weren’t so ridiculously good-looking and capable, I wouldn’t put up with this. “Just answer my question! Why are you following me? Are Martinez or his men here? Am I in danger? Or do you just like annoying me?”

“Oh, come now.” Quinn adjusted the expensive glasses he probably just bought on Main Street—the colorful frames weren’t exactly London chic. “I’ve been accused of being a lot of things, but annoying is not one of them.”

It was true. I wasn’t exactly annoyed by him. And I still needed his help to get Liam out of Skryker’s grasp. “So, you said that Sofia got out. Why?”

The cocky grin on Quinn’s face disappeared. “Look, I know you think Liam made a mistake by accepting Skryker’s offer. And I might be tempted to agree with you, for altogether different reasons, but if you want me to give you ammunition to dissuade Mr. Slater from his choice, you’ll be disappointed.”

Suddenly, the engine started without my so much as moving my finger. Before I could say “How in the—” Quinn held up the duplicate keyless remote in his hand.

“You see, in some ways you’ve already accepted Skryker’s offer as well,” he said. “You’re alive because he sent me to save you. You’re not in police custody because he handled all the logistics. And you’re sitting inside a vehicle he provided for you. From where I sit, that’s not a bad package. He’s offering you a path of protection, resources, and power that you have not sufficiently considered.”

“So you’re here to blackmail me?” I clenched my jaw and stared out the windshield, no longer interested in falling for his disarming appeal. “You’re here to tell me that by keeping this stupid car, I’m now owned by him?”

“I wouldn’t look at it that way. The car is yours.” Quinn put the extra remote down on the console. The gesture meant nothing. If he had one remote to the car, he likely had others. “And, as such, you should drive to the location pre-programmed on the GPS. I want to show you something.”

“What makes you think I want to go to a ‘pre-programmed’ location with you?” I asked, giving him my best surly look.

“I believe you deserve to have all the facts before you make your choice.” He pushed his glasses to the top of his head, where his dark hair fell into purposely messy waves, to make sure I saw the sincerity in his eyes. “If you still care about Liam, don’t you want to know what he’s about to do?”

Hook. Line. Sinker. Of course I wanted to know what asinine, dangerous, stupid thing Liam was about to do. I let out a defeated breath.

Smiling again, Quinn pressed the start button on the GPS, and Mary Poppins came to life. “Yes, I even pre-programmed your British nanny voice,” he said. “She’s delightful, this one.”

When I gave him the
How did you know my favorite GPS voice, you disturbingly good
spy-boy
look, he said, “You can thank me later. Shall we?”

“What are we doing in this neighborhood?” I asked, slowing down to respect the decreased speed limit in the residential community. The rolling hills of this particular area of Newport were unfamiliar to me.
I’d
never been into the private gated mansions of Crystal Cove, supposedly reserved for celebrities, professional athletes, and generally people with more money than God. Sure, I lived in a
nice
neighborhood and drove a
nice
car, but these people lived in an
exclusive
neighborhood and drove
several
nice cars.

“You’ll see,” Quinn said, checking his phone for the tenth time.
I’d
counted.

“Who are you texting, anyway?” I asked. Another question to which I knew I wouldn’t get an answer.

“You know what they say about the curious ca
t . . .
” He kept his head down as he texted.

“Is that supposed to mean that you’ll kill me if I ask too many questions?”

Quinn laughed as he put the phone in his pocket.

“Your destination is ahead one hundred feet on the right,” Mary Poppins cut in.

“If you’re taking me to see Skryker,” I said, “I’m going to be seriously pissed, just so you know.” The thought hadn’t occurred to me until now, but it made sense. Why else would he be bringing me to this multimillion-dollar neighborhood? To meet Kobe Bryant?

“No Skryker, not today,” Quinn assured me. “Just you and me and maybe the Captain. Or Jack. Not sure yet.”

“Are you talking about booze? Like Jac
k . . .
uh, Jac
k . . .
” Not being a big drinker, I couldn’t think of the name.

“Daniel’s?”

“Yeah, Jack Daniel’s. I’m not an alcoholic like you. I don’t know all the names.”

“Right, because your dad,
Jack
, wasn’t a heavy drinker at all, right?”

I gasped. He did
not
just go there! “Excuse me, you don’t know anything about my dad, so please don’t act like—”

“You have arrived at your location,” Mary Poppins rudely cut me off. The stupid British invasion was getting on my nerves! I came to a stop next to a mansion with a cobblestone driveway, an elaborate wrought-iron gated entry, and those gaudy statues of lions sitting out front—alerting everyone to the fact that whoever lived there was a pompous ass.

“The sooner you understand that I do in fact know everything about you, Ruby Rose, the sooner we can drop the pretenses,” Quinn said, looking out his window as calmly as if he were remarking on the weather. “You can park on the left side of the driveway.”