Nicky's POV

I take a turn off the paved road and onto a long dirt and gravel one. Though I've only ever been here once before, I know the road lasts for about five miles and is relatively well taken care of. No potholes, no sudden dips or bumps. So long as someone has a vehicle capable of going off-road, they'll be fine.

Ryder stares out the window as we start down the road, the sound of shifting gravel under the tires and trees surrounding us as I drive us further into the forested area.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Ryder questions me for like the fiftieth time.

I feel like telling him to get out and he can walk the rest of the way. Tempting, but I don't do it.

"Yes," I reply again.

"So, this Quinn guy's totally okay with you just showing up whenever you feel like it?"

I frown at him when I detect something in his tone. Though, I can't identify exactly what it is.

"Yes . . ." I trail off as he picks his sunglasses up out of the cupholder and slides them over his eyes. "Is there something wrong with that?"

He crosses his arms over his chest. "I didn't say anything."

"Your mouth says one thing, your body language says another," I mutter.

Ryder ignores me and asks another question. "Who is this guy?" He questions. "I mean, I know you said he's a friend but what else?"

I frown at him in confusion. "What else? What do you mean by what else?"

Ryder mutters something under his breath that I don't completely catch. I do catch the words, "incredibly stupid." Gee, thanks.

"In my experience," Ryder says. "The only guys-or girls for that matter-that are okay with someone from the opposite sex showing up uninvited whenever they want, is because they're either a relative or . . ." He trails off.

I wait for him to finish but he doesn't. Though he doesn't have to, because I suddenly understand what he's saying. A wide smile spreads across my face and I bite my lip to try and hide it.

"Or they're what? Lovers?" I suggest innocently. Ryder says nothing but I know I'm right. "Well," I start nonchalantly but slowly add more of a suggestive tone. "Quinn and I have been known to share a bed on occasion."

What he doesn't need to know is that the bed was always being shared in an entirely non-romantic way. Plus, we hardly ever ended up waking in the same bed. We're both restless sleepers, so more often than not one of us would kick the other off in our sleep.

Ryder doesn't need to know this.

I can feel his gaze in the side of my head and I have to continue to bite my lip to keep from falling into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Ryder says nothing, though I notice his entire body is tense and his gaze is entirely too focused on the scenery around us once he stops staring at me.

"You're awfully quiet," I comment innocently. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous." I notice his cheeks start to turn pink. I struggle to keep my smile to a minimum. "Which of course, is completely ridiculous. Isn't it?"

Ryder blows out a breath. "Yes, completely ridiculous," He agrees. "What do I care who you have relations with?"

"Oh good," I say simply. "Glad we've sorted that out." Though, you should know that I don't believe you for a second and I'm going to bite a hole through my lip if I have to contain my laughter any longer.

"Besides," Ryder starts again. "knowing you, he's probably the ugliest, geekiest, stupidest guy in the history of ever."

My laughter and good mood dies abruptly. I feel I should be offended . . . yep, I'm offended.

"What does that make you?" I snap back without missing a beat.

"I'm the exception."

"You're the ugliest exception ever."

"What was it you said? Your mouth says one thing, your body language says another."

"Right now, the only thing my body language is saying, is just how much I want to shove you out of the car and run over you a few hundred times."

Ryder goes to reply but cuts off abruptly when the road suddenly opens up into a small clearing.

There's an old pickup truck parked in front of a simple cabin. The roof is covered in pine needles, there's a set of stone steps leading up to a wooden porch with a bench swing on it, a welcome mat in front of a door painted a dark green, and a few small windows spaced out around the front.

It's a small cabin, and though I've never personally spent the night here before I know that's it got two bedrooms, a small bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. Of course, it might as well only have one bedroom since the other had been converted into a studio of sorts.

"We're here," I mutter. "Now get out so I can run you over."

"Ladies first."

"Age before beauty."

"Then why aren't you moving?"

I glare at him before pulling the keys out of the ignition and pushing open my door. "Child," I mutter under my breath as I hop out and slam the car door. I hear Ryder laugh before he gets out of the car as well.

I don't make it very far before I'm tripping over a log and falling right into Ryder.

"Whoa," Ryder says as he steadies me and keeps me from falling. I'm about to thank him, but then he goes and opens his mouth again.

"No need to go throwing yourself at me, all you had to do was ask."

My cheeks are on fire as I push away from him. "I tripped," I tell him.

He smiles mischievously. "Whatever you say." He winks at me. I glare at him.

I stop him before he can go up to the door. "Look," I start. "I want you to promise me right now that you're not going to stare."

He stares­­-and I don't doubt it's on purpose-at me without blinking for a moment. "What on earth are you talking about it?"

"At Quinn," I clarify. "Promise you're not going to stare at Quinn."

"What is this guy horribly disfigured? That's the only reason I can think of for you telling me not to stare at him."

I hesitate. "No . . ."

"Then he must be extremely quirky, in which case my reply is, I grew up with my sister. There's isn't much I haven't seen."

Ryder notices me hesitate again. He looks annoyed. "The only other option I can come up with is that he's famous or ridiculously good-looking for you to be trying to get me to promise not to stare."

"Not famous," I reply. "and Quinn's . . . average looking."

"Then what's the problem? Out with it."

"Quinn's just . . . beautiful . . . in an entirely different way."

"That explains literally nothing."

I ignore him and walk toward the cabin. I smile slightly to myself, hiding it from him.

"I feel like there's something I'm forgetting . . ." I trail off as make it to the door.

Ryder takes off his sunglasses and slides them into his pocket. He narrows his eyes suspiciously when I can't keep the smile off my face.

"Forgot the house warming gift for your lover?" He questions sarcastically.

I knock on the door and pretend to be utterly confused as to what it is I've forgotten.

"What is it, what is it?" I can barely keep the smile from my face. "It's on the tip of my tongue . . ."

The door is suddenly thrown open and before I can say or do anything, there's a blur of movement and someone is crashing into me. I can't keep my balance from the force of the impact and we both go tumbling down the porch steps and to the ground.

I let out a groan at the pain shooting through my shoulder. Quinn doesn't seem to notice . . . or care.

"Oh my God. You leave me messages to call you, I finally do and I can hear gunshots and explosions and then you're not returning any of my calls! I thought you'd died. I was completely freaking out! I ought to hit you!"

Ryder looks down at the two of us on the floor in surprise. Me on the bottom and Quinn on top of me, arms wrapped around me tight. Quinn abruptly pulls back, sits up, straddles me, and then starts hitting me repeatedly.

"Ow!" I shout as I fend off the attack. "I'm sorry. You're right, I should have called you back. Now get off me!"

I look to Ryder for help but he just leans back against the cabin, a look of amusement plastered on his face.

"Tip of your tongue, huh?" He questions me, his tone accusing.

I smile widely. "You cannot possibly imagine my amusement with not saying anything."

Quinn looks from me to Ryder, just now noticing him.

"Hi," She says as she pushes to her feet and gets off me. Her hair is up and tucked into the beanie on her head, but she pulls it off when she gets to her feet. As she turns so she's in full view of him, I notice him doing the one thing I asked him not to do.

He's staring at her. Of course, it's not hard to see why. I wasn't lying when I said that Quinn was average looking. That is, her features are all average. How she looks though, is nowhere near average.

With what she's currently wearing, to anyone who didn't take a second look, she would look completely normal. Her hair was hidden in her beanie, she's wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, hiking boots, a white tank top, and a red and black flannel shirt left unbuttoned and with the sleeves rolled up.

Anyone looking at her when she was dressed like that, might think she needed to get more sun because of her pale skin, but that's not the case. When she removed the beanie and faced Ryder, it was impossible for him not to notice.

Her skin is pale yes, extremely pale, her hair a silvery white just as pale as her skin, and her eyes a light pale pink. Albinism. She's albino.

And Ryder is staring.

The one thing I asked him not to do.

"I'm Quinn," She says to him as she holds out her hand. Ryder just continues to stare.

I pick up a handful of gravel and throw it at him.

He snaps out of his trace and glares at me.

"You're staring," I tell him.

Quinn waves it off. "I'm used to it, don't worry," She shrugs.

"Doesn't mean he should be so blatantly doing it," I grumble as I get to my feet. "I know it bothers you."

Quinn just shrugs again. "I'm used to it," She repeats.

"Sorry," Ryder says to her and takes her hand. "Ryder Stevenson."

She nods. "Well, I'm assuming this isn't actually a social visit," She says as she steps onto the porch. "So come on in."

She narrows her eyes in my direction when she notices me holding onto my arm, wincing at the pain in my shoulder.

"What did you do?" She asks me.

"I didn't do anything. Someone shot me," I reply.

She lets out a long sigh. "I'm obligated to feel sorry for you, but at the same time, I'm thinking that you likely deserved it. So, serves you right."

I gape it at her. Ryder laughs. I shoot him a glare.

"Excuse me," I address him. "the only reason I was shot was because I was taking a bullet meant for you, I wouldn't be laughing right now."

"You're the idiot who walked right into that mess all on your own," Ryder says. "And I think I'm safe from you so long as you don't have a computer or a gun . . . though you probably couldn't hit the side of a barn if you were standing three feet from it. So, I still think I'm safe."

"Give me your gun and we'll test that theory."

"Someone's in a mood."

"Anyone stuck in a car with you for more than hour would be in a mood too."

Quinn lets out an indiscreet cough, interrupting us and capturing our attention. "I'll lock you both out if you don't get inside right now."

I grumble a string of curses directed at Ryder as we both follow Quinn into the small cabin.

The first and only time I had ever been here, was when I had been helping her move in. So really, the cabin was very plain back then. Now, it feels like a home. She's painted the walls, added decorations, curtains, rugs, blankets, pillows, and there are several paintings all over the walls.

Ryder stops in front of one of the paintings, admiring it. His eyes going over the mountain landscape and then to the signature in the bottom corner.

"You painted this?" He asks as he turns to face Quinn.

She nods. "I painted all the paintings in this house."

Ryder takes a moment to look around the room. "Impressive. They're extremely realistic." He goes back to looking at the painting in front of him. "And detailed."

Quinn beams. "Thanks. I don't paint very often anymore. Mostly I do sketches."

Quinn looks to me. "So what kind of trouble are you in?" She asks.

I shrug. "The usual kind."

Quinn raises her eyebrows. She glances over at Ryder briefly before focusing back on me. "Then who's he?"

"A lousy FBI Agent," I reply. Ryder glares. "He's supposed to be protecting me but so far he's kidnapped me-"

"Retrieved."

"-gotten me kidnapped-"

"If you're really going to go through and list everything I've supposedly done to you, then I think it's only fair that I return the favor."

It's like there are two different conversations going on at once. I'm telling Quinn everything he's done to me and he's reminding me of everything I may or may not have done to him.

I ignore him. "He's almost gotten me killed like five times."

"Almost doesn't count carrot top. And you drugged me-"

"He broke my glasses."

"You threatened me, repeatedly."

"He put a tracker on me."

"You tazed me."

"He nearly got me blown up."

"You nearly got me blown up."

"He handcuffed me to a chair."

"You handcuffed me to a refrigerator."

"He handcuffed me to a bed."

"And I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

I glare at him, and I can feel the blood rush up to my cheeks, turning them pink. Ryder looks damn smug and Quinn's on the floor in a fit of laughter.

"He got me shot."

"It's not my fault you were stupid enough to walk into that on your own."

I continue to glare murderously at him. "You left me for dead," I remind him. "And you're just about the ugliest person I've ever had the misfortune of meeting."

I hear Quinn let out a soft gasp and I can't help but smile.

Ryder smiles back at me but it's not friendly in any way. It's evil and full of mischief. And I suddenly feel like I've made a horrible mistake.

"I'm not inclined to believe you since you can't seem to stop throwing yourself at me."

Ryder's smiling. Quinn's doubled over in laughter. And I'm plotting Ryder's murder.

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