Jeff sighs, sits on the bed, kicks off his shoes. “That alone should give you pause. Who travels from God knows where to New York without any money? Or any plan, for that matter?”
“Someone who’s really upset about what happened to Lisa Milner and now wants to do something about it.”
“She’s not our responsibility, Quinn.”
“She came here to see me,” I say. “That makes her our responsibility. My responsibility.”
“And I got those charges dropped. I think that’s enough charity for someone we don’t know.”
Jeff shucks off his shirt, slides out of his pants, and crawls into bed, ready to put the whole night behind him. I remain by the door, arms crossed, sending out waves of unspoken anger.
“Yeah. You did a swell job.”
Jeff sits up, blinking at me. “Wait. You’re actually mad at me for that?”
“I’m mad that you were so quick to play the victim card. All it took was one mention of the Nightlight Inn.”
“Sam didn’t mind.”
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