Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel(29)

 

I grit my teeth as I push open the door and go out into the night. I can do this. I can get a ride back. I’ll just call a taxi or something. I chew on my lip as I make my way through the parking lot, my heart beating faster and faster the farther I get from Rebel Wheels. It’s frigging dark out here and the shadows are coming to life around me.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

 

 

 

 

I’M WALKING DOWN THE STREET wondering how long it’ll be before someone either pulls over and offers me a fiver for a BJ or shoots me in the back.

 

Apparently, not long.

 

A car slows down next to me and I squeak with fright, jumping off the sidewalk and into the weeds. A man’s voice comes at me as I kick at the soggy cardboard boxes that are tangling themselves around my feet.

 

“Hey, sexy. Need a ride?”

 

I spin around, grabbing my purse to keep it close and ready to let loose a string of nasty cuss words, when I recognize the car. It’s a bright red mustang, one I’ve seen parked at Rebel’s place before. Mick is in the driver’s seat.

 

“Go away,” I say, getting my breath back and stepping onto the sidewalk. I walk as fast as I can in my heels.

 

He drives along slowly next to me, his arm hanging out of the window and hugging the side of the car. “Come on, Quinlan, don’t make me beg.” He’s laughing at me, I can tell by the tone of his voice.

 

“I don’t see what’s so funny. And stop calling me Quinlan. I’m not kidding.”

 

“Quin? Please? I don’t like you being out here alone.”

 

“I guess you should have thought of that before you acted so … stupid or whatever.” I’m worried he’s going to call me on my accusations, because looking back, I can’t really remember him acting stupid. In fact, right now my quickly sobering brain is telling me I might have been the one to act that way. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to blame him one hundred percent for it. I’m usually super cool when I’m not around him, so this is his fault, not mine. I cannot be held responsible for suffering from sex-brain-itis.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, all traces of laughter gone. “Please forgive me.”

 

“No.” I don’t know why I can’t say yes. I want to say yes. I want to get in that car and get a safe ride home from a nice guy who stole a kiss from me earlier today. But something makes me keep walking away from whatever he’s offering. I’m not sure if it’s because I think he’s playing me or because I’m afraid he’s not.

 

The car disappears from my peripheral vision and a few seconds later the sound of a door shutting comes to my ears. I pick up my pace.

 

Jogging footsteps come up behind me.

 

I break into a high-heeled run. It’s not pretty. My purse is beating my ass, and my hair is turning into a giant dark frizzy helmet all around my head.

 

Mick pulls up even with me. “I can do this all night. Can you?”

 

I grab my purse off my shoulder and try to beat him with it as I run.

 

He ducks and swings around to jog on my other side.

 

I elbow him to try and shove him off the sidewalk.

 

He drops off at first, but then comes right up next to me again.

 

A shot of adrenaline surges through me when I hear him giggle under his breath, and I shove him like a football tackle dummy off to the side. As soon as his weight leaves my shoulder, I know I’ve pushed him too hard.

 

He loses his balance off the concrete sidewalk and trips on a pile of weeds and garbage next to it. He yells as he’s going down, and for a split second, he looks like Superman flying through the air.

 

I stop and scream, my hands flying up to my face as I see him hit the dirt.

 

“Oh my god!” I yell, jumping off the sidewalk and picking my way through the weeds over in his direction. “Mick, are you okay?” The guilt assails me. I cannot believe I just did that when all he was doing was joking around. Maybe I need to go to anger management class.

 

He’s not moving or responding.

 

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” I continue to tiptoe through the not-tulips. “Shit, shit, shit, why did I do that?” I get to his side and squat down, pushing on his shoulder. “Mick are you okay? Seriously, wake up. You’re making me feel really bad.”

 

I’m not prepared for his sudden response. He flips over onto his back and grabs me by the upper arms at the same time.

 

As the ground gets closer, I scream, not at all looking forward to wrestling in the grimy dirt that borders the side of the road here. Out of the corner of my eye I see something that looks suspiciously like a used condom and scramble to keep from touching anything but Mick. That ain’t no deflated balloon animal.