Saturday. Orlando, FL.
QUENTIN WAS SUSPENDED IN a state where he wanted to be back in the hotel room, and he dreaded Candi's presence.
What had gotten into him earlier?
They'd had a plan. They'd been on the same damn page. And then he'd seen red, and it all went out the window.
What the hell?
Quentin slumped over the steering wheel. At Candi's suggestion, he'd left her at the hotel while he ran a few errands. They hadn't spoken since she'd yelled at him on the sidewalk outside Saigon Pho. He just hadn't been able to make his mouth work. No words would come out.
What would he have said, anyway? What could he say?
He shoved a hand back through his hair.