“Send them back and grab the tens,” Quinn said, only to rethink that decision when Dylan’s gaze shifted back to the ladder. “Make it twelve.”
“Do you really think that’s going to stop her?” Tristan asked as they watched Dylan’s gaze turn calculating when it landed on the sledgehammer and-
“Probably not, but I know something that will.”
CHAPTER 13
Perhaps she went too far when she called him a bitch? Dylan thought, struggling not to panic when Quinn shoved a hatchet into the oversized backpack by his feet before he looked up and met her panicked gaze through the windshield and-
“Oh, God…”
-followed that up by grabbing a small shovel.
Trying not to panic, and admittedly failing knowing that she’d finally pushed the man that she’d been tormenting for her own entertainment for the past twenty-five years too far, Dylan released a shaky breath as she slowly reached over and-
Damn child safety locks!
Okay, it was definitely time to panic, Dylan decided as she watched Quinn grab another bag and made his way back to the truck, keeping his glare locked on her the entire time. When he walked past her, she turned her head to watch him, noting the way that his eyes narrowed on her as he dropped the bags in the back before he made his way around the truck.
This was it.
It was go time, Dylan decided as she took a deep breath and-
Forgot that she was wearing a seatbelt!
Quinn didn’t say anything as he climbed into the truck, which, at the moment, was a little unnerving. Trying not to think about what was about to happen, Dylan slowly exhaled and-
“Why didn’t you come to me when you needed help?” Quinn asked, taking her by surprise.
“I did come to you when I needed help. Do you not remember my offer to make you the happiest man alive?” Dylan asked the incredibly handsome man who seemed to have forgotten her generous offer to take one for the team.
“You should have come to me when Brooke decided to blackmail you,” Quinn said as he threw the truck into reverse and backed out of the driveway while Dylan sat there, unable to help but wonder what the hell he was drinking.
“So that you could snitch on me?” Dylan asked, blinking as she watched him frown in confusion.
“Why the hell would you think that I would snitch on you?” Quinn demanded, looking really offended for someone who loved to snitch.
“Because you’re a snitch?” she asked, unable to help but wonder why they were having this conversation.
“I’m not a snitch,” Quinn bit out, looking adorably pissed, which, of course, meant that she had to keep going, mostly because she just couldn’t help herself.
“If we were in prison, you’d be the snitch, leaving me with no choice but to prove my worth to Big Bertha and take you out when the guards weren’t looking,” Dylan explained, only to add, “I’m not risking losing Big Bertha. Not after she’s been good to me.”
“You really are a pain in the ass,” Quinn muttered as he started heading towards the back roads.
“And yet, Big Bertha was willing to trade ten cigarettes for me,” Dylan said with a firm nod. “Because I’m worth it.”
“First of all, if anyone was going to be the prison snitch, it would be you,” Quinn said, making her gasp in outrage.
“You son of a bitch…”
“Secondly, word is Big Bertha’s not happy and looking to make a trade,” Quinn said, shooting her a pitying look.
“I’m her reason for existing,” Dylan pointed out, wondering why he would say such a thing.
“If that’s what helps you sleep at night…” Quinn said, letting his words trail off.
Nodding, Dylan said, “I’m shanking you with a toothbrush the first chance I get.”
