Sloe Ride (30 page)

“You didn’t do a fucking thing. Shit, why do you do that to yourself?” The fire was back in Miki’s eyes, gold fallow leaves rich with flames against forest greens and bark. “How many times do you got to hear that, huh? Why doesn’t that shit stick in your head?”

It wasn’t the best place to have
that
particular conversation. Hell, curled up into one another on the floor of a hospital bathroom stall probably wasn’t the best place to have
any
conversation, but Miki didn’t seem like he was willing to budge.

Miki was also using the anger to burn off the desolation lurking in his heart. Quinn understood that. He needed some anger of his own.

He just couldn’t find anything but fear.

“Can I borrow a cup of anger?”

The shift on Miki’s expressive face was priceless, and Quinn laughed despite himself… despite the cold. They were sitting wrapped around one another in the ugliest of times, and Miki’s confused head jerk still made Quinn chuckle.

“I think I need to get angry.”

“Yeah, well, shit. I’ve got a lot to spare,” Miki muttered.

He made no move to get away, a sullen, sulky hedgehog reluctant to admit he liked being stroked. They both disliked contact, Miki probably even more so than Quinn, so it felt odd to sit there—just being together—while their mother lay in shattered pieces on a table somewhere close by.

Their
mother. Brigid’s heart was large, all-encompassing, and sometimes overwhelming. Often overwhelming, Quinn corrected himself, and two of her worst damaged sat huddled around each other hoping beyond hope she’d pull through to harass them a bit more.

“She loves you, you know.” He moved a bit, keeping Miki in his arms but sliding his legs around so they faced one another. It was cramped, and his knees banged against things… the wall, the toilet, a paper holder, but Quinn didn’t want to move. Not yet. Not even away from the cold. In a lot of ways, Miki was the brother he never had. He had a shit ton of brothers, but none so
like
him. Or at least in the ways it counted. “I’m glad Kane brought you home.”

“Thank Dude for that. Fucking dog wouldn’t leave him alone. Me? I was ready to toss him into the Bay.” It was a soft grumble, opening the way to other things. “Fucking Morgans. Damn it. I didn’t want this. Didn’t want you. Didn’t want
her
.”

“Mum’s kind of hard to get around,” Quinn drawled. His face ached from the tears he’d shed, but Miki’s righteous fury lightened his heart. “But she does love you.”

“She loves everyone,” Miki disputed. “We’re all just rabbits named George to her. But yeah, I know she loves me. Loves you too, asshole. You two just don’t fit sometimes, but she’s there. Just like she’s there for me. Hovering. With jazz hands. And those tick-tock heels she’s always wearing.”

“I love you too, you know. I think we all do.” Once he’d said it, Quinn had no regrets. Admitting his fondness for Miki surprised him… surprised Miki even, and they sat in the discomfort of Quinn’s stark honesty for a long, weighty moment. “I’m serious. I do love you. It’s nice to have someone confuse Mum like I do. You’re a good brother, Sinjun. And I like you for Kane.”

The stall blurred, swimming in Quinn’s vision, and he gulped, wondering how he could possibly cry anymore.

“She’ll be okay.” This time Miki was the one reassuring Quinn, a tit for tat in response to the tears stinging Quinn’s eyes. “She’s too
fierce
to die. Probably spat the bullet up and hit the doctor. That’s probably who they’re operating on.”

Quinn was saved from responding by the slam of the bathroom door against a wall. Someone called out to them, Irish and hard, startling Miki into a scramble. He fumbled, his knee refusing to unbend, and Quinn caught Miki in his arms before he bashed his head into the toilet. A vicious bout of swearing parted Miki’s lips, and the stall door pushed open, Braeden filling the wide space between the stall’s posts.

“Doctor’s back. Came to get you both. Da’s heading in. Mum’s out of surgery. She’ll be in ICU for a bit. Then they’re moving her to a room.” Brae bent down, hooking his hands under Miki’s arms. “Up you go, Prickles. Kane’s going to be looking for you.”

“Pat me on the head or ass, and prepare to pull back a fucking stump. You got that, Brae?”

Miki shook him off, baring his teeth at Braeden. Miki’s limp to the door was painful to watch, but the look on his face made the Morgan brothers step back.

Relief turned Quinn’s legs gummy, and he buckled, grabbing at the slick wall to stay upright. Breathing hard, he stared at the floor, a grid of white squares held firm by cocoa-colored grout. Brigid would be okay. She had to be okay. Did Braeden say anything about how she was going to be okay?

“Never know with that one. Kane’s Miki is an odd one.” Brae helped Quinn up. “Come on. Da said to bring you along. She’ll be wanting to see you when she wakes.”

“I can’t. Brae. I—”

Quinn’s protests didn’t seem to matter because Braeden shoved him toward the door.

“Is she going to be all right?”

“She’s fine. Blood loss. Punctured lung. So she’ll be screaming at our heads less until she gets better there. Imagine that’ll take about a day, because volume’s the best she’s got when dealing with our lot. And you’ll go in because Da said so, and Mum wants you.” His brother snatched the plastic bag off of the counter, peering at the bloodied shirt inside. “She’ll need to know you’re fine too. She won’t rest until she knows.”

“Mum shouldn’t—”

Braeden was big, nearly Connor and Kane big, but a loving tenderness shone out of his face as he cupped Quinn’s cheeks. “You go see her because you’ll both need to sniff butts and see you’re alive. Swear to God,
breac
, sometimes talking to you is just like talking to Mum. All stubborn and none of the giving way. Both of you would pick up a sword or climb on a cross if we’d let you. So for once, brother mine, listen to the black sheep of the family and go see Mum first. You’ve earned it. For good or bad.”

“Wait, how are
you
the black sheep? I’m a
teacher
.” Quinn sniffed, his eyes threatening to spill again. He was parched, too drawn out to think clearly.

“I’m a
fireman
, Q,” Brae reminded him. “And you’re a professor. Something for the family to be proud of. Any of us can hold a badge or a hose. You,
breac
, you’re the one who molds minds. Now, watch your step. Looks like someone vomited all over the floor there.”

T
HE
ONLY
thing worse than hospital coffee was cold hospital coffee. There were two cups on the table at Rafe’s side. Finger-bent, battered cups filled with murky skinned coffee more bitter than a religious hawker set up on Pier 39 and just as palatable. He’d panicked when he couldn’t find Quinn following his cafeteria run, and his heart only just started back up again. Rafe didn’t know what he’d thought, only that his green-eyed magpie was nowhere to be found, and the place was filled with all manner of cop, all dead eyed and tense.

It was like he was a seven-tailed cat in a rocking-chair factory.

“Mum’s fine,” Quinn said for the fifth time since Braeden shoved him out of a nearby bathroom and into Rafe’s arms. Rafe caught him up, wrapping his arms around Quinn from behind, crossing them over his chest. “She’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah, baby, she is.” It was better to let him say it, something his family sometimes didn’t understand. The circular groove embedded Quinn’s words into his crinkled thoughts, driving down into his mind until they reached the skeptical core. Quinn needed the ritual—needed a routine—even as he tumbled headlong into his own chaos. There were rules. As odd as they might have seemed, there were rules.

“I’m tired.” Another repeat, this time laden with thick emotions. Quinn’s heart fluttered and skipped under Rafe’s touch, a frantic canary lost in the dark of his thoughts. “She’s going to be
fine
.”

“That’s what they said, baby.” Rafe tried to look through the uniformed throng around him but couldn’t see much more of the door than he had before. Stepping back, he pulled them back until his shoulder blades were up against the wall and Quinn was safe from the cops tripping over their feet. “Kane finally made you a cop, huh?”

“What?” Rafe’s question jerked Quinn out of his mental pacing, his eyes widening with confusion. Then he glanced down at his shirt when Rafe tapped his torso, tracing over the SFPD logo emblazoned over Quinn’s chest. “Oh. Yeah. Closest I’ll get, really. Should have gotten an SFFD one from Brae. Black sheep have to stick together.”

“You and Brae are so much the black sheep of this family.” Rafe laughed. “Maybe you guys will be lucky, and Ryan’ll become a public defender or something.”

“Bite your fecking tongue, Andrade,” Kane rumbled as he approached.

Horror flickered over the youngest Morgan’s face at Rafe’s words, and she pointedly flipped him off from her post a few feet away.

“The day a Morgan becomes a public defender is the day Da wears a thistle on his jacket.”

Rafe took a moment, turning Kane’s words over in his mind, then said, “I have no fucking idea what that means.”

“You’ll learn soon enough.” Kane nodded to the door they could barely see through the hustle of people around them. A nurse lingered at the threshold, impatience mottling her face. “Go on with her, Q. Mum’s awake and asking after you. Da said for you to go on in, but keep it short. She’s in and out right now.”

Quinn nearly tugged free of Rafe’s arms, but he held his lover close, turning Quinn around. Rafe teased out a kiss from Quinn’s pressed-in lips, coaxing a soft sigh from him. The stiffness in Quinn’s spine eased, and he leaned into Rafe, their hands clenched together as their kiss deepened.

“Sheesh, get a fucking room,” Ryan grumbled. “Bad enough I catch Mum and Da doing that in the kitchen, I’ve got to see it here too?”

“She’s just jealous because I love you,” Rafe reassured Quinn. “’Cause you know, I’m a rock star. Probably had my poster all over her walls.”

“Hah!” She tossed back her red curls, a nearly exact mimicry of her mother’s wicked sneer. “Miki and Damie,
they’re
my rock stars. You? You’re just Rafe.”

“Oh, the serpent we cradle to our breasts.” Rafe winked at Ryan, then let Quinn go. “Take your time, Q. I’ll be here.”

Rafe gave Kane credit. The keen-eyed cop waited until his brother was through the doors and then another four beats of time before he turned to Rafe and pinned him against the wall with a sharp glare. Throwing his hands up, Rafe threw out the one thing he knew would save him, a trump card he could always use when one of the Morgan boys set their sights on him.

“Hit me, and Brigid will come down on your ass so hard you’ll have four butt cheeks.”

It apparently wasn’t going to work this time because Kane shoved him lightly toward the hall.

“Dude, what?”

“I want to talk to you. Without the others hearing us. So keep your voice down.”

Kane turned slightly, blocking them from view. Rafe looked over Kane’s shoulder, satisfied he could still see the ward’s doors.

“I want to talk to you about what happened today.”

“Can’t tell you much more than what I told Brownie. And didn’t they yank the case from you?” Rafe cocked his head. “You’re too close to all of this, Kane. I’m not a cop, and I can see that. First Quinn and now your mom?”

“Yeah, Riley’s off it too, but Browniesaid he’s going to see if he can pull a few strings. Captain said for us to step back and let it go.”

“Like that’s going to happen.” There was more activity at the door but nothing remotely Morgan related, and Rafe tuned Kane back in. “Going to back door it, then? Get your two cents in when no one’s looking?”

“Stick around a bit. Brownie’s going to swing back over here so we can go over a few things. He wants you there. Not going to lie about that one, Andrade.” Kane raked his hands through his short black hair. “I talked to Quinn. Something he said made me think. He said you were standing next to the curb, right in front of Mum, before the shot hit.”

“Yeah, she um… there was a bag of shitty cat food she had on her.” Rafe ignored Kane’s disgusted snort. “Look, like Quinn told you. If you’re going to come over with an excuse, at least make sure it’s shit the cat would eat. She’s as picky as Quinn.”

“They were coming out of the front door and heading to Mum’s car. You met them at the curb. Mum was walking in front of Q and holding a bag of cat food. What happened then?”

“Um, the bag tore,” Rafe replied. “It was paper. ’Cause you know, we’re not to be trusted with plastic anymore. I bent down to pick up the cans, and that’s when the shot went off.”

“Mum was between you and Quinn, then?” Kane angled closer toward Rafe.

“Yeah, I guess. Why?” Rafe frowned. “You think the asshole was trying to shoot Quinn and Brigid got in the way?”

“No, Andrade,” Kane replied. “I think he was trying to kill you, and if that bag hadn’t broken, you’d have gotten it right in your heart. This asshole? He’s not trying to fuck with Quinn. I think he’s got a thing for Quinn, and he’s getting rid of anyone he thinks is in his way. And unfortunately, Rafe,
you
are at the top of that list.”