Page 39 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

She whips around, eyes wide, and strikes. Catching me off guard, her fist collides with the side of my face.

Fuck, that hurt.

“Grant.”

Hearing my name on her lips with such soft surprise only makes me harder and infuriates me more. Ignoring the pulsing ache in my cheek, I snatch her by the wrist, then drag her through the door and up the stairs.

“Grant! Let me go!” She pulls against my hold, but I’m too far gone to care.

Once we’re inside my apartment, I slam the door shut and round on her. “What the fuck were you thinking? Someone could have seen you!”

“No one saw me.” Her green eyes are the size of fucking dinner plates. She bites her lower lip, letting it slide between her teeth as she releases it in slow motion. “I was doing laundry and—”

“You left the apartment, Quinn. Anyone could have seen you. That’s when people start asking questions.” I run my hand through my hair. “That’s how the rumor mill starts.”

I step closer and she backs up until she hits the door. Her panting breaths draw my attention to the white shirt pulled tight across her chest.

“So what?”

“All it takes is the right person to hear the whispers, and they’ll piece it together.” Her mouth parts on a gasp when I crowd closer. “The city might give you anonymity, but it can steal it away just as quickly.”

A frown settles on those plush lips. “I was just trying to help.”

“You can help by doing what I tell you to do.”

With more force than I anticipate, she shoves her hands against my chest, pushing me away. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m not a prisoner. I’m here of my own free will.” Fire sparks to life in her eyes. “I didn’t go anywhere, no one saw me, and I haven’t spoken to anyone except Claude.”

I can’t help but bask in pride at her tenacity. Heaven help the murderer if he catches up to her. Unarmed, she’s a firecracker; she’d be a goddamned force of nature with a weapon in her hand. Maybe I should leave a gun with her.

“You’re not a prisoner, but I can’t protect you if you’re out wandering around. You need to stay inside where it’s safe.”

She cocks her head to the side, and a look of pure animosity pins me in place. “You mean stay here with nothing to do but clean your pigsty apartment, wash your nasty sheets, and cook my own meals? You’re right. You’re not my jailer. You’re an asshole who wants a maid and a personal chef.”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. Quinn shakes her head, throws her hands up, and storms past, knocking into me as she thunders by. I snatch her by the wrist and pull her to a stop.

“Quinn, wait.”

Her wrist locks beneath my touch, and I release her. She doesn’t turn, but I can see the restraint pulling her body tight like a rubber band at its breaking point.

“I’m sorry...okay? It’s just...” Defeat slams into me. “I’ve got no leads. Nothing. And I—”

“You didn’t tell them about me, did you?” Her voice is low and steady.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Exhaustion consumes what remains of my restraint. The truth pours free. “Because if I tell them I have a witness. This”—I gesture between us—“disappears. It’s over. I can’t protect you then. They’ll put you in protective custody, and I don’t fucking trust them to make sure you’re safe.”

“That’s it?” She turns to face me. “That’s the reason you’re keeping me a secret?”

“I’m not keeping you a secret.” I shake my head, but it feels fake. All of it. I shift uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

“I’m your dirty little secret.” A wicked smile appears and her cheeks pinken. “Is that it? You like being in control and don’t want anyone to know you’ve got me stashed in your apartment, tucked safe in your bed?”

The image of her curled beneath my sheets, her hair splayed across my pillow, lips parted on a soft sigh, lost in dreams consumes my vision. I blink to chase it away, but it’s too late. It’s there, and she can see exactly how much I want her. Shit.

“I’m taking you in tomorrow. You can give your official statement, and they’ll take care of you from here on out.” The lie falls from my lips in a rush.

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