I take hold of Phoenix’s arm. “Tell security we don’t need them.”
His jaw drops. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re the one who told me to call them in the first place.”
“And now I’m telling you to send them away.” I jut my chin at the girl whose lower lip is now wobbling. “Look at her, Phoenix. She’s just a scared kid. She doesn’t deserve to go to jail. We can handle this ourselves.”
“Fine. But if she kills us, it’s on you.” He opens the door. “Everything’s cool, guys. False alarm.”
“Are you sure?” a man on the other side asks.
“Yeah,” Phoenix says while glaring daggers at me.
Then he slams the door.
After digging a bottle of water out of the fridge, I lead her to the small couch on the other side of the room.
“Okay, so you’re fifteen—”
“Sixteen,” she corrects as she sits down.
In five weeks.
I take a seat on the other end. “Where are you from?”
“Here.”
Phoenix—who’s leaning against the window ledge—waves a hand. “Here meaning…”
“Chicago.”
That makes sense since we’re currently in Chicago. It will also make it a lot easier to take her home.
I should probably find out more info before we get to that, though.
“What’s your name?”
Hesitation crosses over her face. “You guys aren’t gonna call the cops on me, right?”
“Maybe,” Phoenix says at the same time I utter, “Of course not.”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “My name is Quinn Moore.”
I stiffen. I can’t recall why but that name sounds familiar.
My hands fly to my face when it hits me.
She’s the girl Memphis knocked up and the girl Skylar says has been stalking him.
Oh. My. God. What if Skylar’s right after all? Maybe she truly is psychotic, and she’s hatched a plan to hold us hostage until she gets whatever she wants from Memphis.
I look at Phoenix. “Call security. Right now.”
His eyes nearly pop out of his skull. “Jesus Christ, Lennon. Will you make up your damn mind?”
Quinn’s nervous gaze darts between us. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I thought we were past all that security nonsense?”
Dammit. I cannot trust my gut. Because my gut tells me she’s an innocent girl in trouble.
Because of Memphis.
I snap my fingers at Phoenix, who’s on the phone again. “Hang up with security and call Skylar. Tell her to come here…with Memphis.”
This way, if teen mom goes nuts, all her rage will be directed at the right person.
I’m positive Phoenix is contemplating my murder as he grits out, “Sorry, guys. Looks like it’s another false alarm.” He snorts. “Am I sure? Who the fuck knows.”
With that, he hangs up and calls Skylar. “Come to my suite ASAP with Memphis.” He cups the phone. “She wants to know what’s going on.” He makes a face. “So do I.”
I’m afraid if I tell her right now, she’ll alert Memphis and he’ll run away.
This is his mess. He has to clean it up.
“She’ll know when she gets here.”
After relaying the message to Skylar, he looks at me. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on anytime soon, or do we need to play charades?”
I start to, but there’s a knock on the door. The moment Phoenix opens it, Skylar marches into the suite like a member of the National Guard. Memphis and Storm follow close behind.
Skylar’s jaw drops to the floor when she spots Quinn sitting on the couch. “You.” Her gaze flicks to me. “Thanks for the warning, Lennon.”
I look at Memphis. “Sorry, but I didn’t want him to flee. This is his responsibility.”
I am not going down with this ship.
Memphis—who’s eating what appears to be a melting popsicle—slurps juice off his hand. “What’s my responsibility?”
Good Lord. He’s a whole new level of disgusting.
“Your baby that this young girl is carrying, jackass.”
At that, Phoenix and Storm’s eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling and the situation goes from on edge to downright mayhem.
“The fuck?” Phoenix barks.
“You told me it was just a rumor, shithead,” this from Storm.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Skylar snaps.
“I’m visiting my brother,” Quinn states. “And I’m not pregnant.”