Liam Davis & The Raven (9 page)

“Turn over. Up on your knees.”

Thump!

This one was so loud, Quinn flung his arm over me, half curling
onto me as if to protect me from falling bed slats.

“
I could fuck you like this all fucking night.”

“Christ, please don’t,”
Quinn whispered against the back of my neck, where his face was pressed.

“Do you like this? Do. You. Like. This?”

Not particularly. Though I found it somewhat fascinating just how much fun the two of them seemed to be having. Sure I’d had sex before, but it was usually a quieter affair. Perhaps I’d just been with the wrong girl?

What would Hannah be like if we decided
to pursue something?

Oh–oh-oh-oh!

The slats jumped and slammed and groaned, and Quinn pressed against me tighter until the groans and cries peaked, and the bed banged one last time against the wall. A shuddering cry ripped out of the male, dissipating into softer pants as they both caught their breath.

It was a stiff few minutes until
—thank the heavens!—the two lovers slipped back into their clothes and returned to the ball.

Quinn and I waited no more than thirty seconds
—just to be sure they wouldn’t come back—before we scrambled out from under the bed.

Quinn peeled off a stiff
sock from his side, and we ushered ourselves out of the room.

As soon as we were in the hall, I
snatched my notebook and pen from Quinn’s back pocket, making him jump. “Just wanted these back,” I said, shoving them back into place.

With a stiff nod and a stiffer walk, Quinn led the way out of the dorm.

Outside, I gulped down the cool air as we made our way from Beckman Hall to the street. Transitioning from the most unwelcome noise pollution to the still and quiet night wasn’t as refreshing as I’d hoped. “One thing we are good at,” I said, walking faster to beat off the chill, “is finding ourselves in awkward situations.”

“Yeah, well,”
Quinn said, tugging my sleeve to stop. I hugged myself for warmth as he caught my gaze. “Here’s another awkward moment coming up.”

I rubbed my upper arms.
“What’s that?”

Quinn pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and gestured toward the car in front of us. “You’re cold. Jump in. I’ll give you a lift home.”

I was cold (and still nervous walking home on my own since the Freddy incident), so I accepted the offer. Slipping into the passenger seat of the car, I buckled up. “Was that supposed to be the awkward moment?”

Quinn settled into his seat and gripped the steering wheel. “No,” he said. “The awkward part is when I ask you
again
if you forgive me for being such a prick last weekend.”

“Oh,” I said, looking out onto the dark street, peppered with streetlights.
How many Freddies lurked in the shadows? I shivered.
Focus on the forgiving-Quinn-the-prick conversation!
“You want us to start over?”

He shifted. “Uh, yeah.”

“I don’t see what there is to start, but okay. I’m sure we can forget last week.” I studied his flushed face, clubbed ears, and thick lashes. A thought struck me as I took in his strong, Thor-like build. “Are you still apartment-less?”

“I’m staying
at Shannon’s.”

“Right.
” We stared at each other a moment longer. Even with him a good couple feet away, I still felt tingling where he’d been pressed up against me. “Are we going to get moving anytime soon?” I asked. “I have some notes to convert into a column.”

He started the car, murmuring something under his breath with
a roll of his eyes, and drove me to my place.

I spent the ten-
minute drive noting Quinn’s silence and the way his breath kept hitching as if he wanted to say something. When I stepped out of the car, I braced one hand on the roof, the other clenched around the top of the door. I looked over at Quinn. “You want to ask if the room is still free, don’t you?”

He raised both his brows,
as if caught off guard, and his cheeks reddened. “Again, I’m really sorry what I said the last few days. I was a dick.”

“Yes, you were.”
I let go of the car and slowly backed away. “But we started over. If you want to move in, come over tomorrow afternoon and we can sort it out.”

Chapter 5

Saturday morning, my
daily newspaper reading was interrupted by a blaring horn outside my apartment. I peeked out my window. The top of a white van reflecting the morning sun assaulted my eyes. The horn hooted again, definitely coming from this offending vehicle. I shoved my feet into a pair of unlaced gray shoes, grabbed my keys, shut the door and jogged downstairs.

“Some people are trying to read here,” I muttered as I stormed
over the small patch of grass to the van.

Three feet from the
ruckus-maker, I recognized him.
Hunter
. One of his hands reached out the open window and clutched the top of the car. He tapped his horn again, lighter this time and with an acknowledging jerk of his head.

“
Liam!” he yelled through the open passenger window. “Finally. Get your butt in here. We’re on a mission.”

“What are you doing here?” I said
, tripping over my laces as I stepped to the car and opened the door.

“I told you already. We’re going on a mission.
” He palmed the passenger seat with a healthy leather slap. “Jump in.”

“Isn’t it conside
red polite to call first?”

Hunter snorted. “I didn’t have your number. Told Sullivan I lost the directions to your place and he happily gave ’em to me.
”

“
You spoke to Quinn?” My interest in hearing his name was more piqued than it should have been. It might be something to analyze later. I’d see.

I shook
Quinn from my thoughts and concentrated on Hunter. “You can’t expect me to just go with you. I could be busy.”

“Are you?”

“I was reading the
Post-Gazette
, as a matter of fact.”

“T
hat’ll be there later. Now, ass in seat. Don’t make me reach over there and drag your sorry weight in here.”

I glanced
to his legs. “Could you actually do that?”

Hunter lifted his T-shirt, tucking t
he end under his chin, and beefed up his arms. A small blue bird seemed to be flying over the guy’s well-toned abdomen. I studied his impressive display of muscle, then chuckled at his cocky smirk and glinting eyes. “Trust me, I can pull a lot with this.”

He
leaned over the chair and grabbed a fistful of my navy T-shirt. I didn’t need any more convincing. I hopped into the van and strapped up.

With a
laugh, he righted himself in his seat, and started the van. “Now give me directions.”

“Me?
I’ve no idea where we’re going.”

“To Mitch’s, of course.”

“The guy you were flirting with at the coffee shop?”
The guy whose street was the venue for my attack?

“
I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind all week.” Hunter waggled his eyes, pulled down on his hand controls, and accelerated out of the parking spot. “I decided it’s time for a little serendipity.”

I frowned
, bracing myself against the leather seat as Hunter careened around a corner.
Freddy Krueger won’t be there now. Maybe the place will jog your memory of The Raven
. “You do know serendipity means something pleasant happening
by accident
, don’t you?”

“Nah, you’re wrong, man,” Hunter said
, looking over at a four-way and gesturing toward all options until I pointed left. “Serendipity means good luck, and I don’t believe you just wait around for it, I think it comes to those who seek it.” He shrugged and amended with a twitch of his lips, “in this case, stalk it.”

He glanced over
at me still clutching the seat; it was my nerves more than his driving—though only just in that order. “Where to now?”

“Just up here to the right
. 512.”

Hunter
made a U-turn and squeezed into a tight parking spot opposite the house. He rubbed his hands together. “Right, let the luck begin.”

The way he’d parked, I was in full view of Mitch’s house and the lamppost under which
 . . . my ribs hurt just thinking about it. I sat on my shaking hands. Hunter didn’t know all the details of that night; he was only here for the cute guy I’d delivered home. I focused on Hunter instead of the scenery outside my open window. “What’s the plan now? Are you going to knock on his front door?”

“Hell no! That’d
be a bit creepy. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea about me.”

I pointedly looked around the van and
inclined my head toward Mitch’s apartment across the road. “So what’s the
right
idea about you?”

He laughed and whacked me over the back of the head. “Hey, there’s snacks and warm
Coke in the glove box. Help yourself.”

“Seriously, what is your brilliant, serendipitous plan?”

“Say
that
five times in a row.” Hunter twisted toward me and the view of 512. “The plan is whenever Mitch shows up, I get out of the car and go over to him. All going well, he’ll land right in my lap and we’ll wheel off into the friggin’ sunset.”

It didn’t sound like the
slyest plan, and there was the whole matter of how quickly he’d be able to move once Mitch did show up—but whatever gave Hunter his luck.

“W
hat’s the part of the plan that involves me?” I asked, pulling off my glasses and cleaning them with my shirt. It kept the surroundings comfortably blurry for a few moments.

“
You’re the entertainment. Who knows how long we’re going to be here?”

“I barely got three lines of work in last night,” I said, thinking about how I’d fallen asleep with the laptop on and woken up to a string of aaaaaa
aa’s where a Roaring Twenties party-description should have been.

I slipped my glasses back on
and rested my head back against the headrest. Staring at the ceiling, I planned out my column. I really should be spending the day working on that and my English Lit readings instead of lollygagging here, where I’d been attacked—

A
nd saved!

It was the saving part that had me glancing out of the window
again. The grass, the air, the silhouette of a hooded figure had all bled into shades of blue.

This week I’d go back to the
Scribe
archives to see if I could find more on the mysterious hood. Maybe I’d overlooked something important.

I peeked at Hunter, who sat gripp
ing the wheel, hunched forward to get the best view of the old Victorian apartment and anyone coming or going out of it.

I grabbed a
Coke from the glove box and cracked it open. It sprayed over my face and the sticky liquid trickled down my neck.

Hunter
snorted. “Good one. You’re a funny guy, Liam.”

I
put the Coke between my legs to wipe my glasses a second time. “Funny? I like it.”

He
laughed harder and gestured for the Coke. I passed it to him, and he took a large gulp.

“
Give me my camera,” Hunter said, and rested the Coke can in the drink holder. “It’s behind my seat.”

I reached over and brought out the
professional-looking monster. Hunter unzipped the bag and drew out the camera.

“Okay, now this feels like a stalk out,”
I said, shrinking lower in my seat.

“Stake out?” he said, clicking through pictures on the digital screen.

“No, definitely
stalk
out. This is feeling more and more illegal by the minute.”

He passed me the camera. “Take a l
ook. I think it’s a good shot.”

I stared at my face on the screen, taken
at the party where we’d first met. Hunter truly was gifted, this was . . . a great shot. “I look good.”

“Yeah, you do. Quinn thought so too.”

He did? Awkward. What to say to that?

My moth
er’s somewhat questionable advice came to mind:
When in doubt, deflect.
So I did. “And, um, what did your sister think?”

Hunter’s gaze sharpened on me for a while, as if he was trying to understand something.

I lifted my brow quizzically.

“I don’t get you.”

“What don’t you get?”

“A lot of things.”

“Then ask me. Sometimes it’s the best way to get the answers you’re looking for.”

“That so
?”

I nodded.
“For example,” I said, “what happened to your legs?”

Hunter looked at his lap and back to me again
. “Some guy beat me up on the school quad after basketball practice one night because I like dick. Bad stroke of the bat left me paralyzed from the waist down. Are you gay?”

“Since I’ve only ever been with women, I’d say not.
Did you catch the guy who did it?”

“No. That was the hardest on my family. There was
no one to place the blame on, no name to be angry at, to take to court, to send to prison.” He shrugged and went back to staring through the window.

I glanced at the stretch of path I’d been kicked on.
How lucky I’d been for The Raven. What might have happened if he hadn’t turned up? I shuddered as Hunter cleared his throat.

“
Are you involved with anyone?”

It was strange to
share such personal details, but it was somewhat refreshing too. “There’s a girl at work who’d like to go out on a date. I’m still undecided.”

“Does she hit all the right buttons?” He swerved a gaze toward my crotch and winked.

“I really don’t know yet. She’s smart enough, and kind . . .”

“But?”

“But we work together. It could get uncomfortable if things don’t work out.” I shrugged. “In the girl department, things don’t usually work out. It’s not their fault. I’m . . . I guess you could say . . . more work-focused.” Just thinking of work gave me a little thrill. I really couldn’t wait to get back to it.

“
How are you so confident?” I asked, glancing at Hunter’s legs. “So positive?”

Hunter gripped the steering wheel.
A rush of warm wind funneled through the car. “It’s true. I could be a miserable prick and I’d have some right to be. People would forgive me for it too, for a while. But why would I want that? You’ve only got one life, and I want to make the most of mine. I’m not saying sometimes life doesn’t fucking suck, but I choose to focus on good stuff. That’s the guy I want to be.”

I glanced up in time to catch hi
s wink.

“Any other questions you got there, Liam?”

Actually, I had quite a few. In fact, I’d even written some down a few nights ago in my notebook. I lifted myself just enough off the chair to reach my pocket. “Yes.”

“
Holy shit. Quinn wasn’t joking. I’ve heard of this infamous notebook. This should be interesting. Fire away.”

I leafed to the back where I’d jotted down a few curiosities.
“Okay,” I said. “I have some personal questions that I’m curious about. I’ll list them, but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“You want to know how I go to the bathroom, right?” he said, lifting his brows. “And whether my junk still works.”

In fact, those were two of my questions, though I’d have phrased them differently. “Yes.”

“
Well, I have a catheter.” He pointed toward his leg. “A leg bag. I presume you know how that works?”

I nodded. “Do you always wear it?”

“I can go a few hours without, but yeah, I wear it most of the time.” He watched carefully for my reaction which, other than a brief wince, wasn’t much of one. I certainly didn’t envy his position, but I understood it.