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With a grin, Quinn pulled the van over and threw it into park. He was out of the van before Royce could catch him, running across the road as Carl stumbled out of the sedan. The large bodyguard took two unsteady steps before falling to his knees as if he were already badly shaken by the crash. Quinn could hear Royce shouting at him to get down. There was only going to be one shot at this.
The bodyguard was a big man, with broad shoulders and a chest that resembled more of a brick wall than human flesh. Quinn didn’t fucking care. The man fought to get back to his feet, shaking his head for a second. He lifted his eyes to focus on Quinn. His face turned into a snarl just before Quinn punched him straight across the jaw, knocking him on his ass.
“Son of a bitch,” Quinn swore, scrambling backward while clutching his right hand. Pain shot through his knuckles and down into his wrist. He’d never actually hit anyone before. With Rowe and Andrei, he’d hit the pads with his hands taped and gloved up. No one had warned him that punching a person would hurt like that.
“Don’t shake your hand,” Royce sharply said as Quinn lifted his hand to do just that.
“It fucking hurts.”
He stepped around Quinn, his gun drawn and pointed at Carl who was still lying on his back in the grass, his hands slightly raised and open. “And if you’re lucky enough that it’s not broken, shaking it could turn a fracture into a break.”
Quinn paced away while still holding his hand. He was tempted to march over and kick the bastard, but with his luck, he’d break his foot. It was probably better that four cop cruisers descended on them in that moment. Cops jumped out, guns drawn and shouting.
Reluctantly, Quinn released his hand and raised both in the air, while Royce dropped his gun and backed away from the bodyguard. It took several minutes for the cops to radio back to Detective Metcalfe and straighten out exactly who everyone was. It was clear that Quinn and Royce weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
With his back to a tree, Quinn sat in the damp grass next to Royce, trying to ignore the wetness seeping into the seat of his pants. Royce had used the light from his phone to look at his hand. It was definitely swollen, and he’d need to go to the hospital for an X-ray later, but Royce had declared it not broken.
“Was it worth risking your life to punch him?” Royce asked after they’d been sitting there in easy silence for several minutes. They watched the flashing blue lights dancing over the relatively empty area while Carl was checked over, handcuffed, and loaded into a cruiser. They were now checking over the Infiniti as well as the surveillance van since it had been involved in an “accident.”
“Yes. The asshole shot at Shane. Shot at me. He killed Kate’s son. He deserved a hell of a lot more than one punch.” Even if his hand was throbbing and hurting.
“What now?”
Quinn gave a small shrug with one shoulder. The pain in his hand subsided in the face of the rising pain in his chest. “The case is finished. I’ll be back in the office tomorrow. It’ll probably take me a day to sort through all the emails and organize the various job requests…”
“No, I mean between you and the dick.”
Quinn sighed heavily. “Will you stop calling him that?”
“Fine. You and Shane. What’s next?”
He lowered his eyes to stare at his hand. A part of him was glad that it was so damn dark. Royce wouldn’t be able to read his expression like he usually could. The case was finished. Shane’s entire reason for needing him was completed. It was hard to believe that they’d met for the first time two weeks ago, because it felt like he’d known Shane forever and that their time together had been just a blink of the eye. And now that it was over, it hurt. Far more than a stupid fractured hand.
“Nothing I guess. It was just some fun.”
Royce’s laughter exploded across the field. He rocked away from Quinn and then back, bumping his shoulder. “Some fun? You don’t jump out of a car and take on an armed man with nothing but your bare hands just because you like how a guy fucks.”
Quinn dropped his head back against the tree and squeezed his eyes shut. What the hell was he supposed to do?
“You could at least start by admitting that you like the guy.”
“I…I think I might love him.” Quinn swallowed hard. “He’s smart and funny. Sexy as hell. Cares about his dad. He’s amazing with my mom. I feel…special when I’m with him. Like he cares about what I think and whether I’m happy.”
