Page 38 of Playing with Fire

“I killed them, Quinn.” I hadn’t just killed them. I had rejoiced in my flames, encouraging them to burn brighter and hotter, for Perky—and for Quinn.

Especially for Quinn.

Quinn picked up my check, folded it, and set it in front of me. “When the mayor called the CDC, I was with him. That happened about ten minutes after you lit the place up. We thought you’d gone and kicked the bucket on us.” Leaning forward, Quinn stared me in the eyes, close enough I could feel him breathe. “Yale was with us, too. Guess what the mayor asked.”

“I have no idea.”

“He asked if sixty-three lives compared to the lives and well-being of everyone else in New York City. There were over a thousand people in 120 Wall Street when it was evacuated. If even one percent of those people were infected and became carriers, it would have triggered an epidemic. One newly whelped gorgon can petrify dozens before being isolated, contained, and taught how to control their powers. Someone attacked our city, and you stopped them. Not me, not anyone else on the force. You.”

There was no way I could tell Quinn why I’d gone on a fiery rampage. If he found out I’d done it because I was scared for him and for Perky, they’d never let me live it down. “I got drunk on napalm and burned down a building. That’s hardly commendable.”

“You sent my cops out to protect them long before you went on your little bender.”

“Little?”

“Okay, intense and rather insane napalm bender. Maybe you got a little carried away, but it worked out.”

I blushed and stared down at the check so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes. “Why?”

Why would anyone attack New York with gorgon dust, something so dangerous it was illegal on a global level and could petrify an entire city in minutes? With the volume I had destroyed, it was entirely possible Lower Manhattan, at the very minimum, would have been turned to stone.

Quinn sighed. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” With a finger, he pinned my check to his counter. “This represents every life you saved yesterday.” His expression changed, and fury darkened his eyes and twisted his mouth. “You were willing to kill yourself to make sure that dust stayed contained. You didn’t even hesitate. You knew what you faced. You had no way of knowing you’d survive, and you did it anyway.”

“Yes.” How could one word hurt so much? I’d kept the same dead-end job most of my adult life, breaking the monotony with jobs for the CDC to boost my income enough to barely make a living. I could’ve done better for myself if I’d just taken my certifications and worked directly for the CDC, but I hadn’t wanted to travel the world.

I had wanted to make friends and find someone to love, someone who’d love me back. That hadn’t worked out so well for me, but I’d kept trying and failing anyway. I couldn’t fool anyone.

Until I figured out how to have friends, I had no hope of finding someone just for me—if that someone existed. The man I wanted stood right in front of me, and all I had ever done was hurt him.

“Why?”

It was so easy to explain, yet the words stuck in my throat. Quinn waited, all his attention focused on me.

“Perky was right outside.” I stared at the check, wondering how that much money would change things for me. It had more than five zeros, well over the amount I made in a single year—more than I had made in my entire life. “I knew you’d come. I knew if you came—when you came—the dust might reach you. They’d put you in a glass coffin, and they’d never let you out. I couldn’t let that happen.”

I’d already ruined his life enough. Maybe it’d set things straight between us, making up for the things I’d done and the hateful words I’d said to him.

“So you would have thrown your life away.”

I closed my eyes. “I’m not like you, Quinn. I’m not respected. I’m not liked. I have no one. For someone like me, when I die, that’s it. Everyone else moves on. Someone might wonder what happened to the only human stupid enough to work at a faery-run coffee shop. Some might even remember my name was Bailey because they thought it was funny I had the same name as an alcohol often served in coffee. You help people. Me? I mess things up.”

“When Yale warned me you had enough self-esteem issues to keep an entire mental hospital busy, I’d really thought he was exaggerating.”

Professor Yale had said what? One day, I really would kill that old man, and I’d enjoy every moment of it. “He said what?”

“I’m going to have to apologize to him later for doubting him. I see where I’ve been going wrong. I’m obviously going to have to explain this in a way your pea-sized brain can understand.”

I stiffened at his insult, opened my eyes, and glared at him. “Hey!”

He closed the distance between us, and I tried to decide whether a handprint would look better on his right cheek or his left one.

His smug smile warned me of trouble, and I backed up until I bumped into the wall. With a gentle but firm touch, he took hold of my chin, lifted my head, and kissed me.

Kissing Samuel Quinn was a little like playing with fire, getting burned, and enjoying it despite the pain—or maybe because of it. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything except I never wanted him to stop.

I was in so much trouble.

When he pulled away, my heart pounded while I struggled to catch my breath. He stared into my eyes and whispered, “Do you understand now?”