The Creek by Amanda McKinney

Author:Amanda McKinney [McKinney, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HH Tisevich, LLC
Published: 2019-03-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Quinn hovered over the geographical map spread across his desk, marking all the potential roads Hannah’s killer could have used to hide his vehicle. If Quinn could find the spot the guy parked, maybe he could find more prints, or tire tracks, or, if he got really lucky, maybe a local hunter caught a full image of the guy on a deer cam.

His phone rang, but he ignored it. He had two voicemails from Lanie Peabody from NAR News wanting an exclusive.

Yeah, right.

He figured he had at least a half-day until he’d have to give a statement to the press, just to get them off his back.

God, he hated the press.

When his brother had gone to prison, they’d painted a picture of a soulless, violent, ruthless drug lord. The scum of the earth. But the truth was, he’d stumbled into the wrong crowd after his basketball career went up in flames. His new friends had pulled him into the world of addiction and emptied his bank account in the process. To Quinn, true scum was kicking someone when they were down.

Fuck that.

Quinn’s stomach growled and he glanced at the clock—10:11 a.m. He frowned. When the hell was the last time he’d eaten? He grabbed the cup of coffee he’d mindlessly poured earlier, lifted it to his lips and snarled. It smelled like burned rubber. Damn station coffee. He’d be lucky if he made it through his career without getting a hole in his gut. He thought of his brother’s high dollar coffee and wondered what he was doing. Hanging out with the mystery woman, perhaps?

A knock sounded at the door.

He looked up and sloshed the coffee on the map.

“Oh, shoot! Here…” The one and only Bobbi Cross breezed in and grabbed a handful of napkins from the trashcan and tossed them on the map.

He ground his teeth. Dammit, Quinn. What the fuck? The mere sight of her had his body jerking in all the wrong places. Or, right places. He wasn’t sure which.

“Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to—”

Scare him? No. Quinn Colson didn’t get scared, and he sure as hell didn’t want a woman thinking he did. He quickly cut her off before the word stripped him of his masculinity.

“No, don’t worry about it. Been a long morning.” He dabbed up the coffee, surprised that it hadn’t disintegrated the map. He straightened and looked her over, shocked to see her standing in front of him. She didn’t fit in the surroundings. The cold, bleak, gray walls that had seen more crime than the back alley of an inner city seemed to blur around her. Her long, dark hair looked windblown, falling over her shoulders—a kind of bedhead sexy that made his gaze notice the way her T-shirt and faded jeans hugged her curves that he knew came from hours of fitness, which made them even sexier. But even that perfectly-formed ass couldn’t distract from the colorful knot on her forehead, and it pulled him out of his lustful haze and into murder.

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