Secret

  Then their lives had started a downward spiral.

  Or continued down it, depending on your perspective.

  A knock sounded on the bathroom door, and Quinn jumped.

  Tyler spoke from the other side. “You okay in there?”

  “I’m a girl. Takes a while.” But Quinn hurriedly started pulling her hair into a messy knot at the back of her head. She untied the towel wrapped around her body and threw it over the shower rod.

  “I’m not trying to rush you,” he said. “Just checking.”

  Quinn glanced at her folded clothes waiting by the sink: the old dance sweats she usually slept in, plus a flimsy T-shirt that would leave a few inches of midriff bare.

  She glanced at her naked body in the mirror. The other dance girls were full of angles. Graceful angles, but angles nonetheless: a hip bone here, a sharp edge of shoulder there, a jawline practically cut from marble.

  Quinn’s body was all sloping lines and curves.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She had a new worry: keeping Tyler interested so she had a place to sleep.

  He’d been quiet in the truck, but it was an anxious sort of quiet. A nervous tension had clung to the vehicle, worrying her that any minute he’d pull over and demand that she get out.

  “You’re like them,” she’d whispered finally, terrified that he’d snap and demand that she keep his secret.

  “Like them?” he’d said flatly.

  She’d had to lick her lips. “A full Elemental.”

  But he hadn’t snapped. He’d just nodded.

  That same tension was hanging around his apartment now. What would he do, now that she knew? It seemed like enough of a reason to put her out. Quinn pulled on the T-shirt and a pair of lace panties, then slapped a coy smile on her face and strolled out the door.

  It sounded like all the air left Tyler’s lungs at once. Quinn kept walking, picked up a copy of Maxim magazine on her way to the couch, then sprawled suggestively against the cushions. She flipped open to the middle and didn’t look at him.

  She could practically hear his brain cells reorganizing to head south.

  But then her sweatpants hit her in the chest, landing on the magazine. “Put some pants on,” he said.

  She glanced at him. “You don’t really want me to.”

  He came and sat in the chair in front of her. He kept his eyes level with hers. “If I hadn’t just watched your mom lose her shit, you’re right. I wouldn’t want you to. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’m not going to play. Put some pants on.”

  She pouted. “Make me.”

  He sighed. “Fine. The hell with it. Sit around half naked.”

  She pushed the magazine and the pants to the side and crawled into the chair with him, straddling his lap like she’d done the night before.

  Tonight, however, his jaw was set, and he didn’t make a move to touch her.

  But when she leaned in, pressing her chest against his, he caught her waist, holding her at a slight distance.

  “What do you think?” he said. “That if you don’t sleep with me, I’m going to put you out on the street?”

  Well, that was honest. Anger flared, and Quinn started to climb off his lap.

  Tyler’s hands tightened on her waist. She struggled, but he held fast. “Why is it that you get to screw with me, but when I call you on it, you get all indignant?”

  Honestly, because arguing was easier than thinking.

  “Let me go,” she said.

  “No way. Not until you tell me what’s rolling around in that head of yours.”

  She met his eyes and made her expression hard. “Let me go or I’ll tell Nick and his brothers what you can do.”

  Well, that broke his control. His face turned furious and he shoved her onto the couch roughly, leaving her there and storming into the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened with a creak, and he slammed it shut hard enough to make the contents rattle.

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he snapped, using an opener to jerk the cap off a bottle of beer. “Don’t you get it? This isn’t a game.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” she fired back. “You’re all gung ho for someone to kill my friends, when you’re guilty of the same thing.”

  “I’m not guilty of anything!” he yelled. “I never hurt anyone with this! They did.”

  Quinn sucked back into the couch, holding her breath. His anger was frightening, reminding her of that first night behind the 7-Eleven, when he’d burned her arm and demanded answers.

  He wasn’t done yelling. “I risk myself for you, and you’re going to turn it around and threaten me? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you understand that the Guide could be watching? That what I did was enough to earn a bullet to the head?” He took a long drink and slammed his beer onto the counter. “God damn it.”

  Quinn wished she could make herself invisible. She hugged her knees to her chest and wished she’d put the pants on. She felt too exposed. Too vulnerable.

  She was ready for him to stride across the apartment and shake her or slug her or physically shove her out the door. But he just stood there and took another long drink.

  After a minute, he looked back at her. His voice was rough, but not aggressive. “Nice job, getting the conversation off of you.” He paused, and his expression turned resigned. “Tell the Merricks whatever you want. I know what I did—what I am. I can’t undo it.”

  Quinn kept her breathing shallow, scared to move.

  As usual with Tyler, she wasn’t sure whether he was a good guy or a bad guy. He’d helped her—more than once, and at risk to himself. What was she going to do—tell Nick about Tyler’s secret so these mysterious killers could kill more people? Turn Tyler in for saving her life?

  But he was sitting here judging the Merricks for something he struggled with himself. That was the worst kind of hypocrisy, right? Hating someone for something you hated about yourself?

  I never hurt anyone with this.

  Did he really believe that? He’d burned her arm. He’d brutalized the Merricks—she knew that from Nick. Hell, he’d gone after Becca more than once.

  Or did he think that was okay because his sister had died? That because he hadn’t killed anyone, he somehow got a free pass?

  Quinn pulled the sweatpants up her legs and walked into the kitchen.

  “I’ll keep your secret,” she said quietly. “You were right. I was angry—I didn’t want—I don’t—”

  Then her mother’s anger and violence overtook her, and Quinn started crying.

  Tyler folded her into his arms and sighed against her hair. “What a crazy, fucked-up night.”

  She laughed through her tears, sniffling against his shoulder. “Tell me about it.” She hesitated. “Do you really think there’s a Guide in town?”

  He took a long breath. “There have been a lot of fires. I’d be more surprised if there’s not a Guide in town.”

  “And they’d kill you for saving me?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.” He paused. “Did Merrick ever tell you what really happened at that carnival last week?”

  She nodded against his chest. “Some of it. A girl named Calla Dean was trying to bring the Guides here. She wanted to start a war.”

  Tyler drew back to look at her. “Calla Dean? I don’t know her. Her family wasn’t part of the original deal with the Merricks.”

  Quinn swiped remnants of tears from her eyes. “You might not ever know her. She disappeared after the carnival. Nick said they don’t know if she was killed or if she ran. But there haven’t been any further arson attacks, so . . .”

  She drifted into silence, letting the rest remain unsaid. Calla might not be dead, but she hadn’t made a reappearance in town. Maybe she’d moved on to start her war somewhere else.

  Tyler held her for the longest time, but when he finally spoke, his voice was careful. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but your mother—”

  Quinn started to pull aw
ay. “You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Are you going to hide here forever?”

  His voice was gentle, but it made her cry again. “I don’t know what to do. Would they arrest her? What would happen to me and Jordan?”

  “I don’t know. But . . .” He paused. “She could have really hurt you, Quinn. Jesus, she did really hurt you. If she’d hit you a second time—”

  “I’m not calling the cops. I’m not. If you want me to leave, fine. But I’m not—”

  “Shh, take it easy. I’m not telling you to leave.”

  “I just need a few days, okay? Let it blow over.”

  Tyler stiffened. “You want to go back there?”

  “She’s not always like that. If Jake is gone, maybe it won’t be so bad.”

  Tyler sighed.

  “Please?” she begged. Then she winced. This reminded her of the night she’d been in Nick’s truck, begging him for a place to sleep, too.

  “Okay,” Tyler finally said. “We can give it a few days.”

  She turned her face up and kissed him.

  Tyler pulled back. “Quinn. Stop.”

  She froze, then jerked away from him. “Forget it,” she cried, feeling fresh tears on her cheeks. She punched him in the chest. “Forget it. I don’t need charity from—”

  He caught her wrists and pinned them behind her back. The motion was so quick, so rough, that she almost cried out. It put her right against his chest, staring up into his eyes. “What do you want?” he said. “Is this how every guy treats you, like you have to pay to play? Tell me, Quinn.”

  “Didn’t you hear her?” she said. “This is all I’m good for.”

  “It’s not,” he whispered. “I promise you, it’s not.”

  “No one wants me. I can’t even make someone want me.”

  He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. “You poor, mixed-up girl.”

  “Fuck you. If you don’t want me, then let me go.”

  “You’re funny. You have no idea how hard it was to act honorably when you were parading around here in your underwear.”

  She snorted. “Like you know how to act honorably.”

  He froze, then released her. He grabbed the beer from the counter and headed back to the living room. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s watch a movie. Grab some snacks if you want.”

  Quinn stared at his retreating back. “A movie? That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  She couldn’t keep up with his rapidly shifting emotions, but maybe he felt exactly the same about her. He was already flipping on the television, searching through the pay-per-view listings.

  “What do you feel like?” he said.

  “Slasher flick,” she said.

  He rolled his eyes and settled on a romantic comedy.

  Quinn groaned. “These are cheesy.”

  “Sweetheart, I think you’re overdue for something cheesy.”

  She hesitated by the couch, but he opened his arms like he’d done on the porch, and she snuggled into the warmth of his body, inhaling the scent of him.

  Later, when she was almost asleep on his chest, she murmured, “I’ll keep your secret.”

  “You don’t need to.” He stroked a hand through her hair—the most intimate thing he’d done all night. “You keep enough secrets. I’m definitely not asking you to keep mine.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Nick had thought his physics test was bad on Tuesday. He probably should have stuck with that score. This was impossible. He couldn’t think straight. He had no idea what he was writing on the paper.

  And he didn’t care.

  His pencil moved, but his mind was elsewhere. Adam wasn’t responding to his texts. Well, he’d responded to one this morning, when Nick finally begged him to confirm he’d got home all right.

  I’m home.

  And that was it. Nick almost would have preferred the silence. Now he knew Adam was getting his texts and choosing not to respond.

  Quinn was no better. He’d tracked her down in the hall this morning, but she’d turned her back on him and said she’d talk to him later.

  But not before he’d caught a glimpse of the new bruise on her cheek.

  What. The. Hell.

  He’d tried to catch up to her, but she’d disappeared into a classroom, and the teacher had all but closed the door in his face.

  And of course texts demanding to know what had happened had been hopeless. No one would respond to him, it seemed.

  He didn’t want to be around his brothers, with Chris suspecting something and Gabriel being an asshole and Hunter knowing everything but keeping quiet. At least Michael was swamped with work, and he hadn’t resumed the prying.

  Nick turned to the last physics test question and sighed. He didn’t have a chance.

  He gave it his best shot anyway, hoping for partial credit.

  Yeah, right.

  Luckily, Dr. Cutter was speaking with another student when Nick brought the test up to his desk. He turned it over, placing it facedown on the desk blotter.

  Then he walked out of the room, feeling the pinch of guilt between his shoulder blades.

  He had never failed a test. Ever.

  And now he’d done it twice.

  He couldn’t go to the cafeteria—not like he wanted to eat anything anyway. He shifted his backpack and headed for the library.

  While he walked, he scrolled through the texts from Adam until he found the picture he’d sent himself.

  His eyes blurred, and he blinked moisture away. God, he’d been such an idiot.

  His phone vibrated in his hand, making his heart leap.

  Not Adam. Michael.

  I hate to ask, but can you help with a job tonight?

  Nick sighed.

  But what else did he have to do? He texted back quickly.

  Sure.

  By the end of the day, he was regretting it. Tension was making him surly and snappish. Janette Morrits asked for a pencil in seventh period and he just about flung it in her face. Teachers responded to his attitude with lectures to pay attention, to focus, that they expected more.

  Every snicker, every giggle, every stupid use of the word gay or fag had his head whipping around.

  Maybe Hunter changed his mind and told everyone. Maybe they’re all talking about me.

  He found himself wishing he sat in the back of every room, instead of the front.

  No, he found himself wishing he’d cut school.

  At the final bell, he stormed out the side door. He didn’t want to ride home with his brothers. He didn’t want to work a job with Michael.

  Cars were lined up illegally in the fire lane, parents who couldn’t be bothered to sit through the heavier traffic on the other side of school. But trees lined the grounds beyond those vehicles, dense woods that led the way home. Nick headed for the crosswalk. He’d cut through the woods and clear his head. Maybe after three miles of fresh air, he could get it together to spend a few hours slinging pavestone or planting bushes or whatever Michael needed help with.

  Heavy clouds swarmed the sky, trapping cold air near the ground. Or maybe he was doing that. He cast his senses far, feeding power into his element. Reckless and dangerous, but he didn’t care. Wind whipped through his hair, feeding on his temper to blow loose debris along the curb. A notebook flipped open to spill papers across the quad. Girls shrieked and scurried to catch them.

  Rain spit at his face, and Nick pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt. It kept out the cold and his classmates, especially since not too many students came out this side of the building.

  The hoodie didn’t keep out sound, however. A car door slammed; then a voice called out as he slid between two sedans.

  “Windy out, huh, douche bag?”

  The air brought the words right to him. Nick stopped and lowered the hood. Tyler stood by the curb, two cars up, leaning against his truck.

  What was he doing here? Nick gritted his teeth and balled his hands into f
ists.

  He hated that his first thought was to wish Gabriel was here.

  Especially when Tyler moved away from his truck to approach him.

  Thunder rumbled through the sky overhead. Wind blasted Nick in the face and pulled at his clothes. He called for more, asking his element to rip Tyler’s face clean off.

  Nick knew better than to fight him physically. Tyler fought dirty enough to give Gabriel a run for his money. Nick couldn’t suffocate him, either, not with his senses so scattered. The wind pulled his power in too many directions. Thunder cracked and rolled again.

  He begged for cold, and the next blast of wind was downright arctic.

  “Go away, Tyler,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  Tyler laughed in his face. “I’m not allowed to pick up a girl?”

  Nick froze. Was Tyler here for Quinn?

  Then Nick thought of that second bruise on Quinn’s cheek, and he started forward. Quinn was exactly the type of girl to fall in with someone like Tyler, someone who’d make promises to take care of her, but would then turn around and backhand her across the face. He thought of Adam’s history, and fury made his voice tight. “You leave her alone. She has enough problems without you screwing around with her.”

  Tyler shoved him back. “Yeah, and what do you know about it?”

  “I’ve seen enough. You keep your hands off her.”

  “Jealous?” sneered Tyler. “That’s funny.” Then he hit Nick in the chest again, hard enough to knock him back, toward the woods.

  Nick shoved him back, feeling his wind pick up fistfuls of twigs and rocks to pelt them at Tyler.

  Bonus: twigs and rocks pelted Tyler’s truck, too.

  Nick had the satisfaction of seeing Tyler fall back a step, an arm raised to protect his eyes. A rock hit his face and drew blood. Then a small branch hit his upraised arm with enough force to tear his shirt—and the skin below it. Nick caught the scent of blood on the wind.