Chapter 66
Quintessa stood by the window, her gaze tracking Manny’s car as it vanished into the night.
Dawn was still a few hours off, and with the Youngs in disarray, she figured she could stir the pot just a bit more. She dialed a number on her phone.
“It’s me. Let’s meet. The usual spot.”
After hanging up, Quintessa changed into the same black tracksuit she wore last time, threw on a baseball cap and a mask, and stuffed a packet of something into her pocket.
Downstairs, she made her way to the communal parking lot, where electric scooters and bikes were locked up. She grabbed a black cable lock from above and unlocked one of the electric bikes.
Pushing it out, she remembered that she didn’t have keys, which triggered a curse slipped from her lips, these damn electric bikes wouldn’t start without keys.
Quintessa clenched her jaw in frustration. Being car–less was a real pain.
Thankfully, this was downtown. If luck was on her side, she might still snag a cab at this ungodly hour.
But after ten minutes of walking, there was not a taxi in sight; she was starting to worry when her phone buzzed–it was Tyrone.
A cold laugh escaped her. She knew Tyrone well enough; he wouldn’t let her sleep if she ignored his call. With a hint of irritation, she answered, “I was sleeping, not in the mood for your games.”
“Sleeping? Looks like you’re sleepwalking then, wandering the streets in the middle of the night.” Tyrone’s voice. was lazily husky and sensually deep in the dark.
A shock ran through Quintessa. “How did you…” Before she could finish, headlights flooded over her, and she turned to see a car approaching. With a mocking smile, she said, “Running into Mr. York in the middle of nowhere at this hour, should I consider this fate? Or should I curse your mother?”
This was some shit luck. Every time she planned something shady, this bastard would show up.
Tyrone chuckled from inside the car, “Seems like you’re in a good mood.”
After spending half the night at the Luxe Haven Club, yet having no improvement in his mood, Tyrone decided to head home, only to stumble upon something entertaining–Quintessa, of all people!
Quintessa gritted her teeth, “Yeah, so good I wish I could run you over if I had a car.”
“Tsk, you better start running then, because without a car, you can’t even catch up to hit me.”
In the darkness, Quintessa narrowed her eyes and smiled with a ghostly charm, “Oh? Does that include catching you in bed? Not fast enough?”
“Wait for it. I’ll bring the bed to you!”
The call ended with a series of beeps, and the car slowly pulled up beside her.
Quintessa frowned. What the hell was it between her and this son of a bitch?
As the car window rolled down, Tyrone’s striking face appeared, “Bed’s here. So, how about it? The perfect time for a secret rendezvous, to make up for that other night?”
Tyrone watched Quintessa with his arm resting on the window, and his index finger slowly tracing his lower lip; his eyes were dark and dangerously seductive.
Quintessa scoffed, “Sorry to disappoint, just got back from my little affair. I’m stuffed, no appetite left.”
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18:23
Chapter 66
Tyrone eyed Quintessa’s outfit, “No appetite for theft, but maybe for murder?”
The quiet night air suddenly tensed, as if a bowstring was drawn taut, ready to unleash its arrow at any moment, Quintessa leaned in slowly, propping herself on the car roof; then brushing her lips against Tyrone’s ear, she whispered, as if to a lover, in a soft and sultry voice, “Murder you? Would you let me?”
