Chapter Thirteen

A loud, angry voice hollered in the hallway. Curious about the commotion, Quinn marched to her apartment’s door.

“Open up,” a female voice yelled.

Quinn squinted through the peephole. A woman stood by Eliot’s apartment. Quinn stilled. This wasn’t her business.

The enraged lady pounded her fists against Eliot’s door. “The sooner you talk to me, the sooner I’ll leave your life.”

No one was home. Quinn had seen Eliot leave for work this morning.

“I ain’t leaving ’til we talk,” the woman shouted.

Quinn cracked her door open.

The woman spun around. Her eyes were as wild as her hair. “You,” she hollered, “you live here?”

Quinn staggered back. The stranger’s pasty complexion didn’t bother her, but her micro-mini jean skirt and the overworked push-up bra did. Clearly, this woman made her living horizontally, but why was she at Eliot’s door?

Scurrying back into her apartment would be a wise thing to do. Unfortunately, she remained where she was, her curiosity surpassing good judgment. She plastered a pleasant smile across her face. “Can I help you?” She adjusted the locking mechanism, ensuring the door would lock if she needed to slam it.

“You know the worthless piece of shit who lives here?”

“No,” she lied.

“Massive guy. Tatts all over his arms and neck.”

“I work long hours and keep to myself.”

The woman looked past Quinn’s shoulder. “It’s a narrow hallway, so I can’t see how you haven’t run into him.”

“I’m new to the building.”

“When you see the guy, tell him he better pay up. Traversini can’t just grab what he wants and vanish.”

Her stomach knotted.

“You deaf, girl?”

“No, I heard,” she snapped back, her bravery exceeding common sense. “Who should I say dropped by?”

“He’ll know.”

Leaving the woman to scowl, Quinn disappeared into her apartment. She latched her door and sank to the floor. The stranger used Eliot’s last name. There was no mistaken address nor innocent explanation.

She hadn’t felt this nauseated since the fiasco with Chad. But Eliot wasn’t her fiancé. He had no obligation to her. Eliot could do whatever he pleased. Except he shouldn’t. Eliot had risked his job and his sister’s welfare for quick, meaningless sex. Hiring a hooker and not having the decency to pay her was mighty low. She never imagined—at least not since she’d gotten to know him—that he would be a john.

****

The third period began. Eliot paced around the living room. His queasy stomach had nothing to do with the puck bouncing off the defensemen’s skate into the net. Not running into Quinn today was disappointing and worrisome. He had no definite plans with the pretty ginger, but she often dropped by. And with his team playing this evening, he figured she’d be there to point out all their weaknesses.

With his luck, she’d be on a date with Cody or some suit with a doctorate in sweet-talking. By not making a move, he risked running into a smug SOB leaving Quinn’s apartment in the early hours. But changing the basis of their relationship meant letting her into his world and disclosing his past. His memories were too painful to remember, let alone share. And if she found out about his biological parents, she wouldn’t be his friend, let alone anything else.

He stared at the drawing on the fridge. The trees were pink, and the grass a bright orange. Raine had colored the picture alongside Quinn. His sister had grown close to his neighbor. Quinn was great with kids. She’d be the type of woman who’d want a commitment and a house full of babies. One frightened the hell of him, and the other he couldn’t give.

He stormed into the hallway. Dammit. Where the hell is she?

Eliot raised his hand and hammered the door. Hudson barked.

He counted to three and pressed the buzzer. The poor mongrel yowled. It was odd for Quinn to be gone for so long. Surely, she’d never leave Hudson alone overnight.

Barring ramming the door, all Eliot could do was wait. Sleep was out of the question.

He couldn’t go to bed without knowing she was safe. What if she was mugged on the subway or accosted in an alley? The city was full of creeps and predators. He wandered to Raine’s room, checking on her for the sixth time. Again, she was fast asleep. It was late. Everyone should be in bed by now. He sat on the sofa and clicked through the channels. The hockey game was tied and headed into overtime. He didn’t care. A win no longer mattered.

Maybe Quinn had an accident. Perhaps she fainted, hit her head, and was unconscious in her apartment. Maybe he should break down her door and ensure she was okay. And if Quinn wasn’t home and showed up later, he could say he heard Hudson in distress and went to rescue him.

“Dammit.” He promised not to lie to Quinn. Please, Sprinkles, come home.

Just after midnight, he heard keys rattling near his door.

He leaped from the sofa and bolted into the hallway. “Hey,” he yelled at Quinn, “You’re out late. Everything okay?”

“Dandy,” she snapped.

“Huds been barking all night.” Eliot’s persistent door-knocking caused the animal’s yap, but that was between him and her dog.

Quinn pinned Eliot with a glare. “You’re calling me out for being a bad dog parent after what you’ve done?”

“What are you talking about?” He’s the one who was worried she was lying dead in an alley. Why the hell was she upset?

She stepped forward, nostrils flaring.

“Sprinkles.” He lowered his voice. “What’s going on?” The neighbors didn’t need to know they were fighting.

“Stop calling me Sprinkles.”

“I thought you liked the nickname.”

“You thought wrong.”

He was used to pissing off women, but he hadn’t done anything this time. “I’m sorry I raised my voice. I was worried about you. It’s not like you to be out so late.”

She jabbed him with her fingernail. “Sweet self-sacrificing Eliot is such a façade. You’re nothing but a sleaze with a great sister. You say all the right words, but it’s all rubbish.” She turned, shaking as she searched for the key.

He reached for her arm. His skin connected with hers. She spun around and slapped his hand. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

“What the hell, Quinn?”

“She came by.”

“Who?”

“Your hooker friend. The one who wants payment.”

His body stiffened. “What did she look like?”

“Jeez, how many hookers do you owe money to?”

“I don’t owe her anything.”

“I don’t care what arrangements you made with her or the favors she’s giving you. Don’t you realize the risk you’re putting Raine in?”

“I swear I’ve never been with a prostitute. Not now, not ever. I haven’t even had sex in months.”

“So a hooker shows up asking for Eliot Traversini because… Because what, Eliot?”

He glared at the ceiling. He hated feeling shameful.

“It’s an easy question. I’m not asking you to explain the Earth’s gravity,” she snarled.

He stabbed his fingers through his hair and cursed.

“I’m done,” Quinn shouted and turned away.

“She’s Raine’s mother. My mother,” he hollered.

Quinn opened her mouth. A seldom-spoken four-letter word dropped from her mouth.