He whitened as he stared at her. “What did you do?”
She shook her head. At least he was taking her seriously now. “All you need to know is my kind of trouble has got you outclassed and outgunned. Do nothing. Even better—don’t even think of doing anything. And God, Quentin, whatever you do, don’t go after Keith. There’s something really bad and scary out there that thinks it can mess with Cuelebre and get away with it.” Leaning forward, she let her forehead chunk on his chest. “After telling you just that much, now I’m going to have to kill you. Please, listen to me. You’ve come to mean a lot to me and I don’t want to hear you’ve been hurt or killed. Especially when there’s nothing you can do, anyway.”
His arms came around her again and he squeezed her so hard she lost her breath. Then he put his lips next to her ear. “I am not,” he said, “going to let you go on the run without helping you. Deal with it.”
She groaned and pushed against him but he wouldn’t let her go. “What is the matter with you, moron? Do you have a death wish?”
“Oh, shut up. Of course I don’t. I just look after my own,” Quentin said. He let her go and strode to his desk. Surprised, she staggered and pivoted to track him. His mouth thinned into stern lines. She saw again the shadow of something scary darken his face. He flashed her an ironic glance. “Even if she does incomprehensible stupid things and squeals like a girl.”
“Fuck you. You’re not the boss of me. Anymore, anyway,” she muttered. She watched him open his wall safe with swift efficiency.
He pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. “You’re going to go here,” he told her. “To a little place I own.”
His autocratic attitude caused a brief impulse of anger to sputter like an engine ticking over, but she was losing the energy to fight with him. She opened the envelope, pulled out two house keys on a plain metal ring and just looked at him.
“Ask me where it is. Say, ‘Quentin, where is it?’ ” he said. “Go on.”
“Quentin, where is it?” she parroted without expression as she started to throw the keys onto his desk.
“Why, thank you for asking, Pia. How uncharacteristically polite of you.” He strode back and told her, “It’s just outside of Charleston.”
She froze in midtoss. “South Carolina, Charleston? The seat of the Elven Court Charleston, smack in the middle of their demesne?”
Quentin smiled. “That’s the one. The one Cuelebre can’t enter without the Elven High Lord’s permission, or he breaks all kinds of treaties and things get really fucked-up for him.” His smile faded and he searched her gaze. “I don’t know what happens after you get there or what your next step is. This may do nothing more than leverage some Elder politics to buy you some breathing room. But it’s a first step.”
“Yes, it is,” she breathed, staring at the keys. She stuffed them into her pocket and threw her arms around Quentin.
Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for her after all.
Quentin pushed another set of keys on her and walked her out the back to the small parking lot adjacent to the back of the bar. He stopped by an unassuming blue 2003 Honda Civic. “Take it,” he said.
“This is too generous,” she said, her throat clogged. “And you’re too involved as it is.”
He refused to take the keys back. “Look, the car can’t be traced to you, or back to me. I keep half a dozen of these. It’s no big deal. Shut up and get in.”
“I’m going to miss you,” she said.
He gave her a fierce hug. “This isn’t good-bye.”
“Sure it isn’t.” She wrapped her arms around his long waist and held him tight.
“I mean it, Pia. Find a way to keep in touch to let me know you’re okay, or I will come after you.”
She could only hope that something would happen to keep him from making good on that promise. He had to stay out of this mess. She couldn’t bear to think she might have gotten her boss and friend killed because she couldn’t leave without saying good-bye.
He pressed his lips to her forehead and stepped back. “Go on, get out of here.”
She pushed the unlock button on the key ring, threw her backpack in the passenger’s seat and climbed in the car. When she pulled to a stop at the end of the block, she looked in the rearview mirror.
Quentin stood at the edge of the parking lot watching her, his hands on his hips. He waved at her.
There was a break in the traffic. She pulled onto the street and he was gone.