Page 157 of Beautiful Liar

I don’t know what or who I’m pleading for. I turn my head in time to see Quinn jerk sideways and launch himself after me. Earl steps in his way and takes a swing at him. He ducks and jabs a blow to Earl’s gut. Before he can regain his step, Gordon connects a right hook to his jaw. There’s a sickening crunch as Quinn’s head swivels to the side, and it strangles another scream inside me.

Quinn staggers for a nanosecond before his gaze zeroes in on me, his face set with deathly intent as he attempts to shake off his attackers. He barrels into Gordon with deadly, streamlined force, and even though the man is built like a Sherman tank, he’s propelled backward into the concrete wall that forms the outer perimeter of the loft.

My vision is beginning to blur, and for a second, I wish for unconsciousness. I need a moment’s respite from the tsunami of hell raining on me.

The distant screech of tires pierces my dazed senses before I can pass out.

“Shit, we’ve got company. Earl, leave him. Let’s go!”

I jerk myself upright, attempt to twist myself free. Beefy hands and iron-like arms grip me tighter.

I’m tossed into the back of a van. My head cracks against the side and my tailbone wails in pain as it connects with the bare metal floor.

The driver’s door opens and shuts. “Gordon, Let’s go now!”

The last thing I see before the door slams shut is Quinn rising up off the ground and flying toward the van. I hear the slam of his fists against the moving van. His roar as the vehicle accelerates away is unlike any sound I’ve ever heard in my life.

I stare into the blackness. I want to scream again.

But I’m locked in deeper shock.

Quinn is Q.

Q is Quinn.

This has been one twisted game for both all along.

Fuck.

My.

Life.

***

QUINN

I pry my eyes open. Faces are swimming above me. Some hold concern, others rabid curiosity. Pain radiates from the side of my head, from my wrist and ribs. I know the metallic taste in my mouth is blood before I swallow. Someone mentions an ambulance. Someone takes a picture.

Cars screech to a halt beside me. Pounding feet rush at me. A voice I recognize asks if I’m all right.

I struggle to sit up. Look around.

Memory returns in a blinding flash of cold fire.

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