Liam Davis & The Raven (26 page)

The tall
officer with the goatee, holding Jack back, gave us a cursory once-over, his gaze landing inquisitively on Shannon who’d passed her hooded jacket to Hunter.

Quinn stiffened next to me.
I wanted to nudge the back of his hand in a gesture of comfort, but now was hardly the time or place. The officers were trying to get a grip on the situation. As soon as someone had mentioned the gun, the female officer sporting a clipped-back perm had dialed in for back up.

“That’s
The Raven!” Jack screamed, trying to jerk away from the officer. “The one you want on countless cases of assault!”

“Raven?” I asked, pulling out my notebook with my de
scriptive account of the moments leading up to Jack firing his gun. “I have most of the details here.” I offered the page with my notes to Goatee Officer. “I’m a journalist; it’s my job to note the particulars. I didn’t see The Raven.” He glanced over it, and I pushed up my glasses. “Though that would have made a fantastic angle for my next party page piece for Scribe.”

“Liar. He’s a friendless
fucking liar!”

The officer turned back to Jack
, changing his grip on him. “Doesn’t look friendless to me.”

Quinn shifted his weight, pressing his arm lightly against mine. “He’s no liar. I didn’t see
The Raven here, either.”

Hunter piped in, “
I also didn’t see The Raven. Why, is there a bounty on him or something? I could’ve used the cash.”

Goatee Officer
glanced back at Shannon, who was blinking hard.

She said,
“I thought I wanted The Raven to come and save us when he”—she pointed to Jack—“held his gun at me, my brother, my best friend.” She tucked blue hair behind her ear, peeking toward Quinn, her other hand tight on Hunter’s chair. “But we managed without them, and now I think it’s better that the police are handling it.”

“Liars. All liars! I can prove it, I have pictures at home.”

No, he didn’t.

“
Some of us have experienced quite the trauma this evening; I think a trip to UPMC is in order . . .”

Perm Officer was back with a grim smile. “No can do. We can send in the EMTs to treat you, but you’ll have to wait for the detectives
so we can sort this all out.”

Sorting it all out took a couple more hours of being separated and questioned by the detectives, but
by midnight we were free to go.

Outside, Quinn was still tenderly touching his head. “UPMC,” Shannon ordered.

Hunter agreed, insisting he was right as winter rain, so we took his van.

I didn’t even glance up at the
Scribe offices across the road as I clambered into the van after Quinn.

The vehicle roared to life
and Hunter drove us to the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center. “How’s your head?” I asked Quinn, the streetlights outside making a silhouette of his profile.

“Dizzy,” he admitted. “But I’ll be
all right.”

“I remember the last time we were doing this,” I murmured, slipping my hand over
the middle to his.

Quinn rested his head against the headrest
, his pinkie playing with mine. A small smile cupped his mouth. “Yeah, you called me your angel.”

“I’d been going for
angle
, but turns out that was close enough.” I leaned forward and poked Hunter’s shoulder over the front seat. “I like that we’re friends, Hunter, but I want a relationship with Quinn.”

Quinn’s hand squeezed around mine, and he shifted sharply in his seat. “Liam?” he said under his breath.

“Ahhh,” Hunter said, peering through the rearview mirror at me. “Did I get hit on the head and not know about it? What do I have to do with you dating Quinn?”

Shannon snorted in the passenger seat. “Hunter just doesn’t get it sometimes.”

“Get what?” Hunter asked, swerving around a bend that had me toppling toward Quinn. “And be sensitive, the guy I was dating turned out to be friends with a homicidal maniac. I already know I lost a clue or two.”

Shannon groaned. “Hey, my date
was
the homicidal maniac.”

Quinn
was undoing his seatbelt and shuffling into the middle, closer to me. Having had far too much experience with Hunter’s driving, I grabbed the middle belt and looped it over his waist for him to buckle in.

Shannon stared at her brother, shaking her head, fondness in her gaze. “Liam doesn’t want to lose you if things don’t work out with Quinn.”

“Not a problem,” Quinn said to the whole car, slipping an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll make sure things work out.”

I pushed up my glasses and met his gaze. “Statistically
—”

Quinn’s mouth covered mine. “No, don’t. And look, even if things don’t work out
—which they
will
—I’d never pressure my friends to ditch you. Besides that, if I tried, Hunter would tell me to go take a walk off a plank.”

“Into shark-infested waters,” Hunter agree
d.

Quinn grinned, his cheek dimpling the way I liked so much. “And rightly so.”

Our conversation short-circuited as the van came to an abrupt stop outside UPMC emergency entrance. “Out,” Hunter said. “I’ll meet you in there soon.”

Things moved smoothly inside, just like
they had the last time we’d been there, and soon Doctor Carter was finishing up Quinn’s assessment. “Up to you,” she said, scribbling something onto her clipboard of paper. “You can be admitted overnight for observation, or I can sign the release forms on the condition one of your friends here checks in on you regularly.

“I’ll do it,” I said to the smiling Doctor Carter, who had made it clear she recognized us from our previous visit. “I want him to come home with me.”

In front of a wall of superhero-doctor pictures, Quinn stood out the brightest and the best. He didn’t have a cape on, and he had a slight concussion, but nevertheless he looked about ready to swoop me into his arms and fly me home.

“Yeah,” he said, quietly, “sign those release forms.”

“Quinn? Wake up.”

He stirred. “Huh?” Blinking, he pushed up onto his elbows and drowsily glanced at me
. The glass of water I held reflected the small bedside light, refracting golden shards onto the bedspread, almost like a small star in an otherwise dark room.

“Just checking you’re well. Drink some water.”

He took the glass and sipped, sending slits of light to the ceiling. “Thanks.”

I plucked the empty glass from his grip and set it on the side table next to his frayed leather wallet and keys, angled so the light played through it more.

Face lined with tired shadows, Quinn smiled warmly and patted the bed for me to hop in.

I rounded the side, peeled back the sheets, and slithered in. It was cool against my bare skin and for a moment I
considered replacing my comma-cat T-shirt with something warmer. Instead, I scuttled closer to Quinn, who had pushed himself up and was resting against the headboard.

It was warmer with our arms jammed together. In fact, Quinn’s whole man-cave was more comfortable than I’d ever have believed. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that
, although his clothes lay in puddles on the floor, I knew he washed regularly. And I’d seen him vacuum. He actually lifted the clothing to clean underneath it.

I rested my head back on the wooden headboard, cocked my head, and studied him.

“Quite the night,” he said. “And I don’t know if it was the worst or the best.”

“Judging by the boil on
the side of your head, I’d go with the former.” I sucked in my bottom lip as I replayed the evening. “So how did it happen?”

Quinn
shook his head. “My darlin’ Shannon.” A sigh. “She called me and said her date—Jack—was a no show. At some point after that, Mitch comes up to her saying some guy swore at him that he’s a ‘fag’ in the bathrooms. That sent Shannon into Raven mode. She always goes to a party prepared. She silently followed Mitch for his protection. Only, he was bait. He led her right to the male bathrooms, where Jack had dragged Hunter out of his chair and onto the balcony.”

“At what point did you show up?”

“As she was ducking into the male bathrooms. I’ve been following her for years, backing her up and calling the police when she needs it. I was angry this time. I banged the door in and told her to stop. I told her like I’ve been trying to for a long time, that this was going to get her in trouble. She was on the edge of backing down until we turned and saw Hunter’s chair sitting there, empty. Mocking us.” He sighed. “And you know the rest.”

“I wonder why Mitch did it?”

“Blackmail would be my guess. He kept apologizing—it sounded like Jack had something on him. Though he kept repeating that he was sorry. That it hadn’t started out this way. Something about Jack threatening him at Halloween.”

I took it all in, slowly going over the informatio
n, a fraction relieved that Mitch might not have been malicious from the start. I was about to speak when Quinn shifted and said, “The night we first met. The one with Freddy . . .”

I shuddered. “You were there with her?”

“She left the party without me. I only found her once Freddy was crawling away. You asked about it after the hospital. I’m sorry I lied.”

“To protect your friend.”
Honor, something I understood. I moved my leg so it met with his and I wiggled my toes on the arch of his foot. He was there. He was all right. My voice croaked as I spoke, “I was scared tonight. It seized me so tightly. I thought I wouldn’t be able to do anything. But when Jack had that gun . . .” I scratched at an invisible itch on my arm. “I’m relieved you’re okay.”

He held my gaze squarely, but there was a hiccup to his breath. “Liam?”

“Yes?”

“
There’s something else I want to say. I . . . I . . .” He shut his eyes and expelled his breath slowly before reopening his eyes and feeling for my hand under the sheets. “I like how you allow yourself time to think things through. How you waited until you were sure that you wanted to make this work. Between us.”