Sloe Ride (11 page)

“And all of this because I left the coffee shop with Quinn?” Rafe made a face. “Want the truth?”

“Most of the time,” Connor agreed. “Truth’s sometimes a hard thing to come by with you, but that’s just how you are.”

“And you’re one of my best fucking friends—”

“I say it because I love you, Rafe. Like a brother. Doesn’t mean I don’t know how you are.”

“Truth is, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. Meetings—fucking NA meetings and Sionn make up my entire life, so having coffee with Quinn is a damned treat. I didn’t want you guys around because, let’s face it, I’ve got shit all over my hands.” This time Rafe was the one shaking Connor’s protests off. “Hear me out. You guys are
cops
. Even Sionn in his own fucked-up superhero kind of way. I
killed
a guy, Con. I might not have taken a gun to his head, but I got him killed. How the hell was I supposed to look you guys in the eye when I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror?”

Felix’s Fish and Chips probably wasn’t the best place to have a breakdown, but in true Andrade fashion, Rafe’s mind always chose the most public of places to crack. The buzz of voices around them faded to a slow hum, turning into a white noise below Connor’s steady breaths.

“Today was the first day I felt like playing. Like really playing. I went out of my damned house and booked studio time because I need to move forward. Quinn kind of made me see that. I sat next to Q, and he babbled off into his own little Q world, and it was so damned nice. Like it was normal. Sweet. He made me feel good, Con. Better than I’d felt in a damned long time.”

“That’s good, then, summat,” Connor said softly as he pulled Rafe into a rib-crushing hug. “Fucking good, then.”

It was awkward. The angle between them made the embrace difficult, but Rafe wouldn’t have changed a damned thing about it. Connor’s enormous strength enveloped him in a familiar warmth, and he caught himself sniffling as he hugged back.

“Hey, get a room,” a young man sniped as he strolled by, and Connor pulled himself back, nearly getting to his feet. The teenager backpedaled, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Joke, dude. Just a joke. Sheesh.”

“Fucking beat it.”

Rafe could feel Connor’s growl across the bench.

“Settle down, Simba.” Rafe laughed, patting his friend’s stomach.

“Shit like that pisses me off,” Con grumbled, but he sat, reaching for a piece of fish from the basket. “People should be able to fucking hug or love who they want without some asshole getting their nose into it.”

“Even if it’s me and Q?” Rafe teased, withholding the vinegar from Connor’s grasping hand.

“Tell you what, Andrade—you hook up with my baby brother, and you’re on your own with it. No interference from me,” Connor promised. “Quinn’s a big boy, but don’t sow what you can’t reap. You want to take on a Morgan? Make sure you’ve got the balls for it, or don’t come to the table.”

“Not like he’d have me,” he snorted, giving up the malt.

It was the scariest thing Rafe’d ever done—admitting he wanted Quinn Morgan in a way other than a quiet chat over steaming coffee or nudged up against him at Brigid’s table. The want of Quinn hit Rafe hard in the chest, and he struggled to breathe, fighting to pull air into himself and listen to Connor go on about a relationship Rafe never thought he’d ever contemplate.

Having Quinn as a lover was never something within reach. Hell, he’d sooner thought to be a rock star than stealing more than akiss from Connor’s sweet-mouthed younger brother. But there he was, fingers sore from playing an old bass and sipping Orange Bang while
thinking
about Quinn’s lanky body and pretty face.

“Oh, he’d probably have you. Maybe. You’ll just have a fight bringing him in, ’cause he’s clueless most of the time—” Connor’s phone burbled with an alarming shriek, and he dropped his fish. The grin he’d had plastered on his face froze off, and Connor hastily wiped his free hand on his jeans as he answered the call.

“What’s up?” Rafe leaned forward, drink and fries forgotten. “Con, what the fuck is going on?”

“Be right there, Da.” Connor hung up, then tossed a handful of napkins at Rafe. “Here, let’s clean this shit up. We’ve got to get going. Someone just tried to kill Quinn. And Da says it’s not the first fucking time of it. Seems like I’ve got to go and rattle some sense into baby brother’s brain before Da cracks his skull open.”

“B
OMB
SQUAD
’
S
taking their fucking time,” Connor growled, pacing off the same ten feet he’d already stalked over at least twenty times before.

“I’m pretty sure the bomb part of the day is over.” Quinn rested his elbows on the step behind the one he sat on. Raia’s townhouse was three doors down from his and relatively undamaged. The same couldn’t be said about his. “And it’s only been ten minutes since they got here. Don’t we want them to take their time looking for more explosives?”

“Sometimes, Q-bert, I could use less logic and more outrage from you,” his older brother grumbled. “There’s Da and Kane. Maybe they’ve got something useful to add.”

“Not Q-bert, Con,” Rafe muttered barely loud enough for Quinn to catch. “Dude. Come on. We talked about that shit.”

“Give it up. They don’t listen.” Quinn eased his hands into his pockets. “Kinda used to it.”

“Yeah, you don’t like it. It should stop.”

Rafe’s fury at his hated nickname amused him, but he was more disturbed by the bassist’s hand on his lower back. Rafe’s fingers made small circles up his spine, and Quinn was finding it hard to think.

“What’s that tapping sound?”

“Harley. My cat.” He’d put Harley into the back of Kane’s SUV, securing her large kennel cage with Velcro ties. From the occasional tiny taps of her paw against the tinted glass, he guessed she was amusing herself chasing the shadows from the streetlight nearby. “She’s probably hunting something only she can see. She’s kind of weird that way.”

“Aren’t you at least a little pissed off about this, Q?” Connor snarled. “A little bit?”

“What’s outrage going to get me?” he asked Con, getting another irritated hiss out of his eldest brother. “No one was hurt, and once I got Raia’s dog out from under her bed, she was okay.”

“And the car, little brother?” Connor shot back.

“The car wasn’t mine.” He made a face, swallowing a gulp as Rafe’s fingers made another circuit. “The insurance guy said they’d have another one out for me to use probably tomorrow.”

“You’ll be lucky if they let you have a bicycle, Q,” Kane said, strolling up to Connor’s side. “There’s hardly anything left of the last one they gave you.”

“Not my fault.” Standing was better. It not only eased the ache Quinn had growing in his back but also brought him shoulder to shoulder with his brothers. “Who goes home thinking his loaner car’s going to be blown to smithereens? I’m a history professor, for fuck’s sake.”

“That’s what has me worried there,
breac
.”

His father joined them, wearing every inch of cop he had in him. The uniforms he’d been talking to scattered, and Quinn watched curiously as they headed to different houses on the street.

“Rafe, good to see you. Hope you came to help talk some sense into my fool son here. God knows the first on the scene tried and got nowhere.”

“Didn’t they have anything better to do? It was like a fucking flash mob. What do you suppose a group of cops are called?” Quinn turned to ask Rafe. “A group of owls is called a parliament. So what would a group of cops be called? Do you know?”

“Focus, Q,” Connor interrupted.

“What’s there to focus on? You three are going to stand around discussing what you think I should do, and I’m going to get slowly pissed off because none of you are going to listen to me.” Looking around at his brothers and father, Quinn was slightly disgusted to see the lack of shame on their faces. “See, Rafe? Not a damned bit of respect. It’s like I’m still three and licking electrical sockets.”

“Yer not thinking straight,
a tríu
.” His father spoke up. They ringed him, hedging Quinn in against the stairs. “Someone is trying to kill ye.”

“Donal,” Rafe spoke up. “Space, man. Give him some space.”

It was odd having Rafe stand as a wall between him and his family. Odd but… nice.

Surprisingly, his brothers stepped back, but his father appeared reluctant to move. Donal frowned.

“This is serious. The truck and now this. What does he have to do to ye for ye to realize he means business?”

“I know he means business,” Quinn replied softly. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to let this asshole get to me. You’re the cops. I’m not interfering, but I’m not going to just curl up into a ball and let him kick at me, Da.”

He took a step forward, pushing his way into the space left between them. His father and brothers all reacted the same way, a tilt of their chins and a defiant challenge flaring in their hard gazes, but none of them stepped back. It was typical of the older Morgans and a position Quinn found himself in time and time again—crowded in and coddled.

Rafe’s presence was new—a startling, confusingly happy new Quinn couldn’t spare a moment to examine. Still, the quiver in his belly settled when Rafe’s hand pressed flat up against his back again.

“Yer going to have to take a leave of absence,” Donal declared. “Until we get this guy locked down.”

“It’s break right now. A week and change. I’m just doing papers and consults right now. After that I start classes again.” He shook his head to stave off their protests, but the arguments came at him as hot and fast as the explosion he’d just gone through. “I can’t let you all run my life. I love you, but I just can’t. If I did, you’d have me bundled up and carted off to the attic to wait for my arsenic cookies.”

“This isn’t just your life that’s been affected here, Quinn.” Kane shot a cop look at their father, having a silent conversation between them in the split second between glances and Donal’s nod. “You’ve got to know the family’s going to be worried about you.”

They had cop discussions all the time, a few grumbled words, a muttering, and plenty of mouth movement that ended up with Quinn somehow on the outside looking in on nearly every bad situation he was involved in.

“Can he go back into his house?” Rafe pulled in closer, and Quinn found himself leaning against him, grateful for the touch. “Or is it unsafe?”

“Guessing they won’t let him back into the house. It’s bad and needs some work. Foundation’s cracked. The fire burned hot and fast.” Kane nodded to the Audi’s smoking remains. “What you heard go sky high was the metal fuel cans this asshole dumped by the car. One of them landed under the car, but the main problem was the guy broke off a gas line lever. Leak caught fire, and that’s what blew the driveway.”

“Probably ignited the gas tank too.” Connor wrinkled his nose. “Not sure how that would work. You’d think it could take that kind of flame, but I’ve seen it happen.”

Kane grunted back. “Burned pretty hot there for a bit. Could have found a seal—”

“Can we shut up about the fire and get back to me not being able to get back into my house?” Quinn grumbled. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“Now, little brother—” Kane grinned wickedly. “—you move in with me where I can watch you.”

H
IS
RINGING
phone was a lifesaver. Or at least a chance to close the bedroom door behind him and hide. And if there was one thing Quinn wanted desperately, it was a chance to hide.

“Hey, Q.” Rafe’s silky voice tickled Quinn’s ear. “How’re you feeling? Doing okay? Been thinking about you.”

Just those words, spoken in Rafe’s soft husky rasp, and Quinn’s world turned golden.

“Yeah, I’m… okay.” He slid his slug of a cat toward the far side of the bed, then lay down. Stretched out over the duvet, Quinn sank his head into the pillows. “Kind of tired. It’s been rough.”

“Kane being an asshole rough or just everything all adding up together?”

That was the best part about Rafe for Quinn. The easygoing acceptance of Quinn’s sometimes too-tight skin. Not everyone understood how Quinn felt full, past emotionally and into a physical tautness when too much too soon happened around him. Even heading up to his room for a space to breathe in was met with questions, well-meaning ones, but an assault on Quinn’s senses just the same.

He’d been coaxed and prodded to stay downstairs, to interact with everyone else when the last thing Quinn wanted or needed was to breathe air warmed by someone else’s lungs. Rafe got that. Rafe understood that.

Which was probably why Quinn was relieved to hear Rafe’s voice in the middle of his overstimulated breaking point instead of one of his siblings’.

“Talk to me, magpie. What’s going on in that busy head of yours? You’re awfully quiet.” Rafe cleared his throat. “Unless you want some down time. No worries on that. I can hang—”

“No, no.
You
I want to talk to.” He snuggled down into the bed, getting comfortable. “I’m just trying to get… trying to get things to fit around me.”

The pillows were unfamiliar. Not bad, just unfamiliar. Donal’d been firm about him not taking anything out of his house but some clothes and the cat, but Quinn wished he’d thought to grab his bed pillows. It would make sleeping that much easier. Harley appeared to not be bothered as she stamped out a hollow in one, then curled her slinky body into it.

“I can hear you nesting,” Rafe teased. “Comfortable?”

“Now.” Quinn sighed, toeing off his shoes. “Okay. Really now.”

“Tell me how you’re doing. Gotta be shitty picking up pieces of your life and going over to Kane’s.”

“Miki’s. And Kane’s. And Sionn’s. And Damie’s.” He knew he sounded irritated, but Quinn’d gone past caring. “Shit, even the dog’s got an opinion. Harley’s not too happy about Dude’s existence. If there was a volcano nearby, there’d be a virgin canine sacrifice.”

“I think I can safely say that dog’s not a virgin. Sionn said he was packing up until a couple of months ago. Maybe six, tops.” Quinn could
hear
Rafe’s smirk. “Dude’s partially Kane’s dog too. Surprised the mutt isn’t as bowlegged as his master.”