She wanted to accomplish something, for once in her life.

She spun too fast and landed hard, stumbling. Damn. She used the slider on her iPod to back the song up a bit, then launched herself into motion.

The stars whirled above her, bearing witness to her dance. She wished Nick were here to feed power into the air. She could feel it when he did that now, driving energy into the music until she couldn’t help leaping higher and moving with every beat. She tried to find that same energy now, without him, but the woods were empty, the wind’s only power the ability to keep her cold.

Wham. Something slammed into her, and the music died instantly. Quinn hit the ground before she realized she was falling.

Then the earbuds were yanked free of her ears, something snapped at her waistband, and footsteps were tearing away through the underbrush.

Wtf?

Then she got it.

“Come back here!” she screamed, running after the thief. She’d saved every penny for months to buy that iPod. “Stop! Stop!”

Her assailant had a pretty good head start. This had to be a guy, from the size and the way he moved. He bolted into the street without looking. Quinn followed.

A horn blared and she stumbled. Headlights filled her eyes, tires screeched, but the impact never came. Quinn made it to the curb and kept running, tearing across the parking lot of the strip mall.

“Thief!” she shouted. “Somebody stop him!”

Somebody. Like there was anyone out here.

He was getting away, gaining ground. The farthest part of the strip mall was pitch-black now, dark store fronts featuring a pediatric dentist’s office and an eyewear shop. Beyond that, more woods. If he made it past the edge of the shops and into the trees, she’d never catch him.

“Stop, you asshole!”

Oh, who was she kidding? She was never going to catch this guy. He was twenty feet from the curb leading to the woods. She was at least fifty and her lungs were burning.

But then, as he neared the corner, a figure stepped out of the shadowed walkway and knocked him flat. Just pow! a solid strike and the thief hit the ground. Flat on his back. She could hear him moaning from here.

“Yeah!” Quinn cried. Mr. Big Fists was getting a kiss for this. With tongue.

But then her savior pulled out a gun. He pointed it at the thief and cocked the hammer.

Quinn skidded to a stop. “Holy shit.”

A step forward brought the gunman into the light. Short blond hair, fierce expression. Tyler.

The guy on the ground was scrambling back. “You’re crazy, man! It’s a frigging iPod! You’re—”

“Shut up.” Tyler held a lit cigarette in his free hand. He put it to his lips and inhaled, but he didn’t lower the weapon. “Give it back to her.”