Q's Story - Segment 2

Dear readers,

You chose The Collector as the villain in Q's Story. Read here to find out who he is and what he wants (or start from the beginning).

-Lillian James

Q's Story - Segment 2

The nightly party was winding down by the time they reached the French Quarter. Revelers made their way toward welcoming beds as the music tried to lure them in for one last drink. A man leaned against the hotel, his black hair tousled and spiked, his eyes closed.

Darcy got out of the car, took one look at him, and said, “Shit.”

He opened his eyes at the sound of her voice and then straightened away from the wall. “Is this her?”

“Go away, stalker, before I call the police.”

“You won’t do that.” He walked up to Q, brown eyes rimmed with the deep dark of exhaustion. It was enough to make Q wonder, but of course she didn’t ask. He was Asian, maybe Korean, but he spoke with an American accent. “Took her, didn’t he?”

Darcy grabbed Q’s arm and dragged her inside. “Ignore him. He’s crazy.”

“New boyfriend?”

“Ha!” She pushed the elevator button, her eyes darting around. “Let’s just get our stuff and get the hell out of here.”

“We’re not dating,” he said from behind them.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “She knows.”

“I want to make sure you know.”

“Relax,” Darcy said as he followed them into the elevator. “I prefer the innies to the outies.”

He paused and cocked his head. “I’m trying to decide if that’s cute or gross.”

“It’s both,” Q said. “Who are you?”

“Min.” He smiled with considerable charm and held out a hand. “Hi.”

She glanced at Darcy. Her friend rolled her eyes again and shrugged, so Q shook Min’s hand.

“Who took me?”

He looked at Darcy. “You haven’t told her?”

“We were kind of busy escaping from a nut job.”

“I can tell you about him, but we should get to your room first.”

Darcy raised a brow. “Seriously? That’s your line?”

“You know it’s not a line, Darcy.”

At his quiet tone, she set her jaw. She glanced at Q, worry dragging at her face. “Fine,” she finally said. “But if Q doesn’t want you here, you go.”

*          *          *

“His name is Dette. He’s an archeologist, and he’s obsessed with the supernatural. Demons, vampires, werewolves, angels. He believes in all of it. He started collecting artifacts thirty years ago, and when those weren’t enough, he ramped it up. Now he collects people.”

“People? Jesus. Darcy–”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I said we need to get out of here.”

“We need to call the cops. He kidnapped me, Darcy. Why are we the ones hiding?”

“This guy is crazy rich, and this is his home town. The police are definitely in his pocket.”

“Darcy, I’m sure we can trust the police.”

“Says the white girl.”

Q frowned and turned to Min. “How are you involved?”

He leaned back against the wall as if he no longer had the strength to stand. “I’m like you.”

She lifted a brow. “Like me.”

“I’m a sleeper. But you already knew that.”

Q studied his tired eyes. She’d only seen that level of exhaustion in a few other people. “How did you find out about me?”

“My dad and yours go back. He thought maybe your family could help.”

“With what? I still don’t understand how you’re involved in all of this.”

His eyes grew hard, and every trace of charm vanished. “Dette has my sister.”