The Best Friend Zone

“Marvin, you mean?” She shrugs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Haven’t much seen him since that day Quinn chased him off. He left town. Didn’t leave me a number, but we were just fuckin’, so why would he?”

“He didn’t leave,” I snap. “And I think you know it.”

Honestly, I don’t know that for sure, but I did overhear Quinn talking to Drake about the old Dodge.

Carolina pulls out another cigarette and lights it, deep in thought.

C’mon, lady. Take the bait.

I push the bills closer to the center of the table. “He’s a criminal, isn’t he? Associated with some pretty dangerous people. Guys from prison down south, right?”

Carolina glances at the money, then at me before she belts out another nasty laugh.

“Girl, let me give you some advice—you need to go back to wherever the hell it is you’re from. Dallas isn’t the quaint little town you think. There’s always something that’s blowing up around here, or a serial killer to chase down, or mass poisonings. Hell, I’m just waiting for a fuckin’ tiger to come tearing through here one fine—”

“Then why do you stay?”

She glances at the door to the bar.

“Who cares? It’s home, and it’s not so bad if you stay out of that shit.” Sighing, she adds, “Other than the fact I’m too broke to leave, I guess.”

A part of me feels for her.

She’s gotten herself stuck in a rut with bad decisions and can’t find a way out.

I know the feeling.

I’m in limbo, too.

Just a very different, prettier limbo than hers.

“Well, men like Marvin aren’t your ticket out of town,” I say, trying to steer her back to what I need.

“I told you, I haven’t seen him lately. What do you think he wanted with me? To date?” She lets out a sad, dry laugh.

Nuts to this. I tug the bills back toward me.

She slaps a hand on them, pinning them down. “But I’ll tell you if I do! That counts, don’t it?”

The door flies open just then, and Quinn comes barreling toward us with worry carved on his face.

Crud.

Carolina is sure to tell him what we’ve been talking about, which will definitely make him madder than he looks right now.

What happened? I wonder.

Judging by his expression, he might drive me to Chicago himself—or at least back to Granny’s house. The remodeling isn’t completely done in the kitchen, but the house is livable again.

For a moment, I’m breathless.

Carolina slides the bills out from under my fingers, balls them in her hand, and walks around the table. “Heyyy, Faulk. Nice moves tonight.”

She gives him a gag-worthy switch of her hips and saunters past, back into the bar.

“What were you doing out here with that witch? Talking to her?”

I grin, trying to ease his worry. “Just getting a breath of fresh air. I worked up a sweat after all that dancing.”

“Time to go home, Tory.”

He sounds so cold. Angry. At the end of his rope.

Desperate to change that, I grasp his hand, stepping closer. “How about one more dance? The band’s still playing and we could—”

“No.”

Guilt overcomes me.

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I didn’t mean to upset you or cause any trouble,” I say as we walk across the patio to the parking lot.

“You scared me fucking pale when you didn’t come back to the table,” he growls, throwing a heated flash of green-eyed anger my way.

“I didn’t realize that there was a door at the end of the hall until I saw it, and then I just thought I’d cool off. There’s a lot of people here tonight. Grady could use a better air conditioner for nights like this. I wanted to get out and clear my head.”

“And pick Carolina’s swiss cheese brain?” He does a slow, exasperated blink. “Don’t dabble in something you don’t know shit about, Tory. I’m trying to protect you.”

Whoa.

Justified or not, his warning comes out so condescending, it stuns me.

It sounds too much like Mother, Jean-Paul, everyone who’s ever tried to control me.

“For your information, I wasn’t dabbling.” I yank my hand out of his and speed walk to the truck.

“Really? How much money did you give her?” he asks.

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me. Please. I saw cash in her hand. She doesn’t know a damn thing, and the more you give her, the more she’ll want.”

Pissed, I wrench open the door and climb in, giving it a good slam shut once I’m in my seat.

He slides in the driver’s seat a second later and starts the ignition.

“This is exactly why I wanted you in Chicago. It’s too fucking dangerous for you to be here while I’ve got a target on my back.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Wrong.” He backs out of the parking spot and waits until we’re on the highway to speak again. “I want you out of Dallas. Until this Pickett shit gets settled. Whether that’s Chicago, Bismarck, or Paris, I don’t care. It’s not safe to be with me right now.”