Something Like Redemption (Something Like Normal #2) (31 page)

A low growl rumbles from within Quinn’s chest, and the possessive sound has my back bowing off the bed, my feet pushing into the mattress to arch my hips to deepen the angle.

“Who do you belong to?” Quinn snarls, biting my chin.

“You,” I gasp as his fingers twirl deeper within my body.

“Say it,” he pants, his hand slipping free from my breast as he grips my face, turning my cheek to meet his fiery eyes.

“You,” I moan, biting my lip, my eyes never leaving his.

“Who am I?” Quinn asks, his eyes dipping low, mesmerized at the way my body is responding to him.

“Quinn,” I groan loudly as his fingers increase the speed and pressure, and I’m about to become undone.

“Louder,” he orders, his breath coming out in labored pants as he watches his fingers pump in and out of my body.

“Quinn!” I scream.

“That’s right. Say it, Red. Who… do you… belong to?”

As he flicks over my clitoris, my whole body shakes in unrefined lust. The cuffs bite into my wrists as I tug hard, needing to anchor myself as I am coming, and coming hard.

“You! I belong to you… Quinn Berkeley! I fucking belong to you!” I scream, the intensity of my orgasm bringing tears to my eyes, but Quinn won’t stop.

He continues assaulting my body with his skillful fingers, and only when I come a third time, screaming out his name and to whom I belong, does he stop.

My body is shaking, my wrists are red raw, and my eyes are filled with tears, but I am so beyond sated that I don’t even care.

Kissing my trembling lips, Quinn whispers, “That’s right, Red, you belong to me.”

I sag under the weight of him and realize now Justin also knows to whom I belong, which was Quinn’s plan all along.

Chapter 27

The Original Plan

Every part of my body hurts.

But it’s a good pain.

It’s a deliciously good pain.

Cracking open an eye, my hands are thankfully unbound and covered in a white ointment.

Quinn.

Someone obviously felt bad for cuffing me to a bed and then giving me three mind-blowing orgasms.

I should anger him more often.

Stretching, my body protests, needing more sleep, and I turn to see the clock reads 6:37a.m. The bed is empty, and I wonder where Quinn is at such an early hour.

My plan to get information out of Justin was ruined after my orchestral declaration. And if Justin had any doubt to whom I belong, he and our neighbors certainly now know.

That was Quinn’s plan all along, as there was no way in hell he would allow me within five feet of Justin alone. I should be pissed, but I’m not. We did agree that if he didn’t spill the beans, then we would cut ties, so I guess last night was me cutting ties. And Quinn made sure Justin knew that—loud and clear.

As the bedroom door opens, I pull the sheet to my chest, but Quinn enters with a couple cups of coffee. He is epic. In the simple attire of blue jeans, a snug white t-shirt and Chucks, my heart does a tiny flip-flop, and I realize I missed him, which is ridiculous, seeing as I should be mad at him.

I roll onto my side to stop myself from staring… and drooling. Quinn chuckles.

“Now, don’t pretend you didn’t miss me,” he says. I hear him kicking off his sneakers as he climbs onto the bed.

Remaining quiet, my nose drowns in his clean fragrance, and I want to bury myself in the crook of his neck.

“I brought you coffee,” he says, reaching over my body and wiggling the paper cup in front of my face.

Biting back my smile, I say, “Thank you,” and accept the liquid gold as I sit up.

As I raise the cup to my lips, Quinn’s eyes drop to my wrists and he flinches.

“Sorry about the cuffs. I know it was a little extreme.”

“You think?” I scoff, but playfully smile. “Where did you get a pair of cuffs, anyway?” I ask, but as he smiles, I add, “I don’t want to know.”

We remain quiet, sipping our coffees and I wonder what excuse I can use when I see Justin. Here’s hoping he’ll still want to talk to me after last night.

“He’s gone,” Quinn simply says, leaning back against the headboard.

“What?” I ask, turning quickly to face him.

“He split.” Quinn shrugs and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a white bit of paper.

I unfold the piece of paper Quinn places into my lap, and the messy writing chills me to the bone.

Goodbye, Mia Mouse…Wish things could have turned out differently for you and me.

Staring at the note, attempting to decode it, I murmur, “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, he’s wishing it was
his
name you were screaming last night,” Quinn says with a wink.

I roll my eyes. “Quinn, you need to rein in this alpha male crap.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining about my alpha male crap last night,” he adds, turning to look at me with a dimpled smile.

This is true. And deep down, I like this possessive streak Quinn has over me, because I’ve never had anyone want to possess me the way Quinn does.

“Fine, whatever,” I reply dismissively, waving the note in front of Quinn’s face. “So you don’t think there’s an ominous message behind this?”

Quinn sighs, snatching the note from my hand and scrunching it into a tight little ball. “The only ominous message will be the one I give him if I ever see his face again.” He tosses the note into the trashcan across the room.

“Forget about him, okay?”

Nodding, I reply, “Okay, you’re right. We’ve got bigger fish to fry. So, what do we do next?”

Quinn scratches his head, his long hair slipping free from his loose ponytail. He looks like a total badass with his three day growth, unruly dark hair, and swollen lip, which until now, I hadn’t noticed.

Quinn notices me eying his lip and chuckles. “Like your handiwork?”

Lowering my eyes, I shuffle uncomfortably, but then I raise my eyes to meet his, remembering the euphoric feeling of when I marred him.

“Yes,” I plainly reply, because I do.

Quinn looks taken aback, but smiles broadly. “Good.”

And we leave it at that.

“So, we’ll call Abi today?” I ask, hopeful her dad might have some good news.

“Yes,” Quinn replies, deep in thought.

Here’s hoping that good news is really good news.

***

I don’t realize how much I miss Virginia until I call the diner and hear the voice of my friend, Tabitha Henderson.

“I miss you, Mia,” Abi sighs softly. “Things aren’t the same without you.”

“I miss you, too,” I confess, rolling a stone underneath my boot. “So your dad isn’t any closer to clearing our names?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound ungrateful, because I know he’s sticking his neck out to help us.

“Nothing yet.” Abi sighs. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I say with conviction, twirling the phone cord around my finger.

“I just feel hopeless. I wish I could do more.”

“Abi, you have done so much for me, and I’ll never be able to express how much I appreciate it. I will never be able to repay you,” I add, because without Abi, Quinn and I would not have been able to bribe our way through this God awful experience.

“I don’t expect you to. I just want you home,” Abi says. I can hear the exhaustion in her voice.

Tears prick my eyes, and Quinn brushes my cheeks as he half steps inside the phone booth.

“So your dad still thinks we’d be safer in Canada?” I ask, leaving out the fact that if, or when Quinn and I head to Canada, my father will be dead, as I know Abi will think our plan is a suicide mission.

“Yes. With the laws the way they are, the US government can’t touch you without going through Canadian channels. It’ll buy us some time,” she replies, as if reciting her dad’s words.

“Okay, Abi. Thank your dad again for me.”

“Of course,” she replies.

So, looks like Tabitha’s father has no fresh leads or ideas, therefore, our plan of hunting down my dad and putting him and Phil down like the sick dogs that they are is the best plan we have.

Although I haven’t divulged my plans to Abi, I’m quite certain she knows what Quinn and I intend on doing.

“How you getting around?” she asks, attempting to change the subject of me committing first degree murder.

I look to Quinn, who clenches his jaw. “We’ve been hitching a ride with my old school mate, Justin Miller.”

Stupidly, I realize I should have had Abi’s dad check him out. But he’s done enough for me.

“Do you trust this guy?”

I look at Quinn, who is seething at the mere mention of his name.

“I never really did,” I confess.

“What happened?” Abi asks.

“Let’s just say Quinn was right about him all along,” I confess, looking at a smug Quinn.

“How’s he going? Or should I say, how are you two going?”

I can tell by her tone she wants all the juicy details, which I would be happy to share, if not for the fact Quinn is standing an inch away.

“Okay,” I reply vaguely, feeling my cheeks redden.

“Oh, you can’t talk?” she says. I wish we could talk, as I have so much I want to tell her.

“Not really,” I reply, looking at Quinn, who totally knows we’re talking about him. “I better go. Give my love to Tristan,” I say.

“I will. He’s still adamant he’s coming to Canada.” Tabitha laughs.

“I hope you’re putting him in his place,” I reply, looking at Quinn, who looks proud his baby brother is being as big of a pain in the ass as him.

“You know it,” Abi chuckles.

“That’s my girl,” I reply. “I’ll check in, in two days, okay?” I leave out the part that I’m hoping in two days’ time my father will be toast.

“Okay, be safe.”

“You too.”

I hang up feeling saddened, wishing we could chat for longer, but Quinn and I need to move.

Stepping out of the phone booth, Quinn asks, “So Canada is still the best plan, according to Abi’s dad?”

I nod. “Yeah. He’s no closer to clearing our names; therefore the police are still gunning for us. Not to mention my asshole of a father and his lowlife companion, Big Phil, are probably around the corner, waiting to catch us unaware.” I groan, covering my face with my hands in exhaustion.

“Hey,” Quinn says, wrapping his arm around my waist, burrowing my face into his chest. “We stick to the original plan, all right? Lucky should be released today, so we check out of the hotel, and check in someplace new. The Feds are still looking for us, so we gotta keep moving.”

“Yeah, but remain in sight for my dad to find me.” I groan at this impossible situation. “How do I remain undetected to the police, but wave a red flag for my father to see? This is so fucked up, Quinn.” I sigh, pulling out of his embrace.

“I know, Red. But it’s the only way, right?” he asks, his eyes searching mine, ensuring this is what I still want to do.

“Right.” I nod, rubbing my temples, as I can feel a headache approaching.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Quinn says, placing his hands on mine to stop me from drilling a hole into my brow.

Food for thought—I want this to be over with.

Chapter 28

I’m Not Ready

My appetite is shot.

Every time I look at the burger in front of me, my stomach does a backflip, warning me that if I take a bite, it’ll just come back to haunt me when I throw my guts up.

“What’s the matter?” Quinn asks, taking a bite out of his double cheeseburger.

I shrug, pushing my untouched meal away. “I’m just thinking about… everything,” I admit, slouching low in my seat, feeling like I’m one hundred years old.

Quinn wipes his mouth with his napkin and nods. “Whatcha thinking?”

Watching the ice blocks swirl in my water while I spin my straw, I reply, “I just wish it was over, all of it.”

“I know you do. So do I,” Quinn confesses. “But we’ve come this far, and it’s nearly over.”

I cringe when I hear the word over, because that equates to my dad being over—over and done with, and he deserves it. No one is more deserving of that fate, but I can’t help but wish my life turned out differently.

I mean, once it’s done, what happens then? What happens to Quinn and me? Will Quinn resent me and hold me responsible for something we can never change once it’s done? He says he’s okay with committing murder, but am I?

The memory of Hank lying in his own blood, watching me with those soulful eyes, replays in my mind, and I know what the answer is.

I know once I kill my father, I’ll never be the same. But the day my father and Phil shot an innocent man in cold blood, a man only trying to protect me, changed me forever.

And I’m ready.

“Red?” Quinn asks, and I snap my head up, as I have totally spaced.

“I’m fine, sorry. I’m just being an idiot,” I reply, trying my best to smile.

Quinn reaches for my hand across the table, entwining his warm fingers through mine.

“I’ll do it. You won’t have any blood on your hands,” he whispers, not wanting to be overheard by the patrons sitting around us in the busy diner.

“No,” I reply firmly, shaking my head. “I’m doing it. I
have
to do it,” I add. Quinn understands I need to do this; otherwise I’ll never be able to move on.

“I promise you when this is all over you’ll live a normal, boring life, gossiping about all the things a typical, nineteen year old girl should be gossiping about,” Quinn says, squeezing my fingers.

Laughing, I reply, “Somehow I don’t see that happening, but one can dream.”