Sloe Ride (37 page)

Rafe refused to let him. Hanging on to the gun was his only hope. His last hope. Especially since the hall seemed to be darkening again and his stomach threatened to scale up his throat to escape the jerky roller-coaster ride he’d put himself on.

The gun went off, blowing out Rafe’s eardrums. Then everything went still and black.

Q
UINN
HEARD
the gunshot, and his heart died. Fighting with the elevator and then yelling at someone from Dispatch to send over a car or five already sent him into a panic. Lightning rode his nerves, crackling terror under every inch of his skin, until Quinn was certain he’d burn up before he could get up the stairwell to reach Rafe.

The thundering echo of a gun shattering the stairwell’s silence brought him that much closer to dying inside.

Quinn grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall and went through the door—only to slide across the tile when he hit a pool of blood.

He saw Rafe lying on the floor, curled in on himself, and Sam the security guard tottering to his feet, an unsteady monolith in sweat-soaked cotton. His meaty hand clutched a blackjack, its metal tip peeking out from between a space in its leather wrap. The guard’s lip peeled back when he saw Quinn. Then his face changed, becoming docile and placid, his eyes sliding down to the weapon in his hand. They widened as if he was surprised to find himself holding the sap before drifting back up to Quinn’s face.

“It’s not what it… um, Doctor Morgan.” The sap swung out of his hand, caught on a loop around Sam’s wrist. “Professor Merris… he….”

Quinn edged closer to Rafe, keeping one eye on Sam. He couldn’t put the extinguisher down, not when he wasn’t sure who’d attacked whom. For all he knew, Graham’d been the one to beat Rafe’s face, but the wounds were bruised welts, meaty explosions under Rafe’s skin. They were growing too thick, too fast for someone of Graham’s build to have done, especially since Graham was lying motionless against one of the elevator doors.

The fire extinguisher was heavy, but Quinn didn’t want to let go of it. Somewhere there was a gun. He’d heard it go off, and Sam’s holster was empty. One of the marble tiles was blackened and cracked, a large hole punched through the stone. The air smelled of powder and metal. Reaching Rafe’s side, Quinn ran his hand over Rafe’s chest, his gaze pinned to Sam’s face. Rafe’s breathing was steady, but his sweats were bloody. A tear through the fabric gave Quinn some small reassurance. Outside on the meat of his thigh, the wound seemed deep enough to bleed but not too worrisome.

The contusions on Rafe’s face bothered him. As did Rafe’s unfocused, wandering gaze when Quinn whispered his name.

“Oh, Sam,” Quinn exhaled in a soft whisper as he felt Rafe’s pulse beating strong in his throat. “What have you done? All of this? LeAnne? Simon? And now Graham and Rafe? Why?”

“My. Name. Is. William. I get it. Sam. Like you’re Ralph. But you were supposed to be my Ralph. Not his. Never
his
.” The innocence in Sam’s—William’s—face curdled into an ugly hatred. Gone was the gentle man who got Quinn hot chocolate or stopped on his rounds long enough to say hello if he was on Quinn’s floor. “Why won’t you remember that? Why don’t you understand I’ve done this all for you? So you know how much I love you?”

Quinn stood, his fingers numb from gripping the extinguisher’s handle. His palm was bloody, and he held it up for William to see. “
This
is not how you show someone you love them. Killing people is not love. How could you think that? How could you even think I would
want
that?”

“You were supposed to come to me… not turn to him.” William glanced over his shoulder at Graham. “Or Professor Merris. You were supposed to—”

“I was supposed to what?” Quinn’s anger raged up inside of him. “What did you think I was going to do? Simon is dead. Simon, who was an asshole, but being an asshole isn’t enough for someone to die. And LeAnne is dead. She didn’t
do
anything to you. She was just going to school, and you killed her why?
Why
?”

“She wanted you. Couldn’t you see that?” he pled with Quinn, his lips quivering with emotion. “Every time I saw her with you, she touched you, stroked at you. How could you even let her touch you? Like that? Every year, I’ve watched students and sometimes even other teachers come up to you, wanting to be near you, and you never see them, Doctor Morgan. You never ever let them in. Not until
him
. Pretty little rock-star druggie. Not until he came into your life, and then you let everyone around you in. Even Professor Merris.”

“So this is about Rafe? Because he makes me happy?” Quinn struggled to understand William. “We’re friends, Sam…. William. God, all of this is nuts. I’m not worth this. No one is worth what you’ve done. No one should be a reason to kill. It’s stupid. And senseless. And—”

“Do not call me stupid!” William’s spit flew across Quinn’s face. “I killed the whore because she thought she was good enough for you. I killed Professor Kappelhoff because he treated you badly. Just like I need to get rid of
him
. Can’t you see? He’ll drag you down. I killed those people so you’d be free of them. So you could have a life without anyone who’d take advantage of you or—”

“You know what, Sam?
Fuck you
,” Quinn grunted, swinging the heavy metal canister up with as much force as he could put behind it.

His hands were wet, damp from Rafe’s blood, and the handle slipped slightly in his grasp. Clenching his fingers tighter, the pin blew out, forced free by Quinn’s double grip, and the extinguisher shot out a blast of white spray, catching William in the face.

Quinn couldn’t hold on to the canister, and it struck the floor, breaking one of the tiles, then rolling unevenly to a stop near Rafe’s feet. The mist drifted, swirling on the light push of air coming from the building’s air-conditioning vents, and Quinn held his breath, his lungs too tight on air to hold out for much more than a second. He caught the trailing edge of the spray, and his chest burned at the hit of chemicals on his inhale.

William staggered back, his temple split open and bleeding. His arm jerked back, the sap arcing behind him. Roaring, the guard rushed forward, swinging the blackjack up over his head. Quinn counted off the man’s steps, watching for a hiccup of time when his right foot was up in the air. Then he struck, slamming his foot into William’s left knee. He heard a crack, ominous and painful, and William went down.

Quinn scrambled to Rafe’s side, hoping his lover was lying on the weapon. Shoving his hands under Rafe, he muttered a quick apology, then heaved Rafe over, flopping him onto his side. Rafe’s eyes fluttered, opening when he landed with a pained grunt.

The gun wasn’t there.

“Ouch, babe,” Rafe grumbled. “God, this fucking hurts.”

“Busy right now, Rafe.” Quinn shoved his hands under Rafe’s clothes, hunting for the weapon. He did a wild search of the area around them, peering into any shadows nearby in case the gun slid into a corner or ended up next to one of the plants.

“Now I’m going to have to kill you, Doctor Morgan,” William groaned angrily. “I don’t understand why won’t you let me love you. But if I can’t, then he’s not going to either.”

“Oh God, he’s crazy.” Quinn snuck a quick peek at the guard. William was reaching for the sap he’d let drop. His eyes were swollen nearly shut from the blast of foam he’d taken from the extinguisher, but the insane focus in them was fixed on Quinn. “Where is the damned gun?”

“Hey, babe,” Rafe mumbled past his swollen lip. He wedged himself onto an elbow, then forced himself upright. “Do me a favor?”

“Not the time, Rafe,” he argued. William was moving around behind him, and Quinn didn’t think he could hold off the guard and get the other two men to safety.

“Now’s the perfect time, magpie,” Rafe replied, clasping Quinn’s shoulder to force him out of the way. He raised his other hand, quivering from the weight of the gun he held. “Time for William to go the fuck to hell.”

The gun went off, a rippling boom sharp enough to prickle pain through Quinn’s eardrums. He caught a face full of powder and the heat of the muzzle flash. The bullet caught William in the shoulder, spinning him back off his feet. His body jerked, riding the pain of the shot, then went still, his chest shuddering as he drew in uneven breaths.

“Hey, Q, you know what?” Rafe gasped as he let the weapon drop back to his side. “I
think
you are worth killing for.”

“I don’t think you killed him, Rafe.” Quinn sighed, kissing Rafe on his bruised mouth. “He’s still breathing. I think he fainted.”

“Well, shit,” he grumbled through the kiss. “Can’t I do
anything
fucking right?”

Bled onto my hand,

Shoved his fist into mine

Stood tall against anyone

Who’d break through our line

No matter what they do

No matter what they say

Death’s already tried to part us

And we’ve already made him pay

So lift a glass to the Sinners

Lift a glass of cheap ass gin

Put your lips on the Gates of Heaven

’Cause we’re taking you to sin.

—Sinners’ Calling

A Few Months Later….

D
INO
’
S
WAS
exactly what Quinn expected. It was a dingy, worn around the edges club with a stage barely large enough to hold a band and a rowdy crowd loud enough to make his teeth ache from the noise.

But the band waiting to go on stage was loving every minute of it.

The club was small as clubs went, a back-door blues-and-rock bar tucked behind a San Francisco noodle shop old enough to have survived the Great Quake. Dino’s smelled of beer and flour with a touch of oil and probably pot, Quinn decided after taking a sniff. Down an alley from a fire escape and more than a few years since two very young men met for the first time, Dino’s was a comeback of sorts, a slip back into a time before the world got too big around them and their own lives became filled with Morgans and song.

There were rituals, odd little things Quinn couldn’t help but be fascinated by. A few feet away, Forest slung his arms around Connor’s waist, their foreheads touching, voices dropped to a murmuring low whisper. Seemingly unfazed by the bustle of the band’s crew as they wove cables from amplifier towers set on either side of the stage, Connor and Forest were lost in one another, sharing a still, sweet moment untouched by the chaos.

Damien, on the other hand, bounced in place, shaking his arms out as his eagle-sharp gaze followed every speck of movement from the stage to the back. He muttered, then paced a foot, burning off or storing nervous energy. Quinn couldn’t tell which. Sionn stood nearby, bemused and drinking a Finnegan Dark, one of the first to come out of his fledgling brewery. Damie stopped short in front of his lover, stealing first a kiss, then a sip of beer before starting up his preshow pacing again.

“Leave off,” Miki muttered behind Quinn. Pushing Kane’s hand away from his face, Miki bared his teeth at Quinn’s older brother. “I’m going to get all fucking sweaty anyway. It doesn’t matter how I look.”

“How the hell can you even see?” Kane grumbled as he attempted to get his fingers on a shock of Miki’s chestnut hair, the thick strands falling over his forehead and across his nose.

“See good enough to kick your ass if you keep Brigiding me.” Miki’s teeth flashed white, and Kane jerked his hand back, fingers barely scraped by Miki’s bite. “Seriously, leave me the fuck alone. A kiss is okay. Fucking with my face, not going to happen.”

“Like loving a honey badger.” Kane caught Miki up, yanking the lanky singer toward him. He risked a kiss—even Quinn could see it was a risk—and Kane pulled back, his lips slightly swollen by the passionate draw from Miki’s full mouth. “Nervous?”

“Yeah,” Miki admitted. “Scared, fucked-up, and nervous. But we’re going to kick fucking ass. Just you watch. Dino’s isn’t going to know what fucking hit them.”

“Hell yeah,” Rafe said, slapping Miki’s ass as he walked by.

“Hands off, Andrade.”

There was a teasing lilt to Kane’s warning, more a habit than a threat, and Rafe laughed, taking a step back to slap Kane’s as well.

“There, so you don’t feel neglected.” Rafe nodded at Miki and then handed Quinn a bottle of iced tea. “Here you go, magpie. One cold dirt and leaves for you and one red cream soda for me.”