Chapter 6Holiday music played on the radio, the windshield wipers swished rhythmically, and warm air blew out of the vents.
I remained silent as I steered my Lexus toward the GW Parkway. The only thing that kept me from being ashamed I’d insisted Mark Vincent call me Quinton was that I hadn’t told him only my friends called me Quinn. Vincent, no matter his reputation, didn’t deserve that, and I was relieved I hadn’t gone that far.
I was acutely aware of the man who sat beside me. Mark didn’t wear aftershave—I’d come to realize that in the time we’d worked together—but the faint scent of the soap he had showered with in the morning teased my nostrils.
“What plans do you have for tomorrow, Quinn?” Mark sat with his back to the passenger door, his left leg folded beneath him.
“I’ll go wit
