Page 52 of Home Coming

He needed Bailey occupied because he had something he needed to do. But before he did… He turned back to the bag he’d dropped on the bed of the smaller bedroom—the one he’d take for the night.

There wasn’t much inside, just toiletries and enough clothes for tonight and tomorrow. He easily located what he was looking for—a black hooded sweatshirt.

With the item in one hand, he moved into the living room where Bailey was seated still looking shell-shocked and panicked.

“Hey. You okay?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head.

She raised her gaze to his and he could see the misery behind her eyes.

“I can’t believe he actually did it,” she said in a voice so low, so defeated, he could barely hear her.

Quinn, on the other hand, had no problem believing it.

Axel was proving to be as petty and vindictive as any other narcissist. He was real brave when hiding anonymously behind his cell phone. Quinn was anxious to see how he fared when facing the consequences of his actions with someone in person.

“I think you should call Xander. Get him on top of this. And then talk to Josie. That might make you feel better about things. She’s very good at man bashing.”

“Okay.” She nodded, looking numb.

“Good. I have to go out for a little while—”

“You’re leaving me?” Her eyes flew open in panic.

“No,” he said with a measured calm to reassure her. “I’m going out for a little while just to check on some things.”

“What things?” she asked with panic in her voice.

“Hotel security. Those paparazzi are sneaky. They’ll be even more fueled up now. I just want you to be safe. And if you stay in this room, with the door locked, you will be. Don’t open it for anyone. Okay? I’ll be back in time for us to order dinner so there’s no need for you to open that door after you double bolt it behind me.”

“All right,” she agreed weakly.

“Come on.” He tipped his head. “Walk me to the door and then lock it behind me.”

He didn’t like leaving her. Liked how scared and vulnerable she looked even less. But he hated the thought of Axel getting away with what he’d done.

Quinn had been playing defense for days. Time to go on the offense.

After waiting to hear all the locks engage, he pulled out his cell phone. While in the elevator he got on the internet.

The bad thing about this generation was that they posted everything online.

The good thing about this generation—when you were looking to locate a certain someone—was that they posted everything online.

It took Quinn the length of the elevator ride down to the ground floor to find Axel.

Absolutely ridiculous. Did no one value privacy anymore? Not to mention security.

Shaking his head, he headed out onto the sidewalk, sweatshirt balled in his hand.

Around the corner from the hotel he descended down the stairs into the Times Square and 42nd Street subway station and bought himself a Pay-Per-Ride MetroCard from the machine there.

Pulling the hood up over his head after slipping on the sweatshirt, he walked onto the subway platform just as a train pulled up.

Eight minutes later he emerged on Houston Street. Thank you, Axel, for tagging the restaurant in an Instagram post from fifteen minutes ago.

Judging by the picture, and the amount of food and alcohol on the table, not to mention the number of women surrounding him, he expected Axel to still be there gorging himself. At least long enough for Quinn to implement his plan.

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