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“Aunt Jess’s muffin is not sitting well,” Jack said after they’d climbed out.
The police station was a long, low building in the middle of town. The outside was painted white, and there were plenty of windows. It sat back slightly and was between a cafe and a clothing shop.
“I’ll head to the cafe. Call if you need me,” Quinn said.
“We will. Thanks. I’ll let you know if we need to stay the night or what.”
She nodded and then headed off down the sidewalk after raising her hand. They all stood and watched her until she disappeared into the cafe.
Luke wanted to call her back, haul her into his arms, and kiss her senseless so he could forget what he now had to do.
“I wonder how long she’s been flying?” Dylan said.
“Seven years.”
“Yeah? Impressive,” he added.
“Let’s go. We can talk about how fucking impressive Quinn is, and the other stuff, after this is done,” Joe said. “But can I just say that holy smoking fajitas, that story she told was mind blowing.”
“What other stuff?” Luke asked.
“How you and she have sparks.”
“Fuck off we do.”
But Joe was already heading in through the doors with the others on his heels. He and Quinn did not have sparks.
They had a raging inferno.
