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Commotion at the door made them turn.
Sebastian stood there, hair wild and eyes wide. Elevated breathing, tie askew. Pale face, red cheeks. He’d run here.
“Quinn,” he choked out.
Quinn stood, slipping an arm around Peyton’s waist to keep him secure. “Seb, everything’s f—” He didn’t get a chance to finish as Sebastian strode across the room and took his lips in a harsh kiss. Quinn melted, his fingers digging into Peyton’s hip as he surrendered to Sebastian’s embrace.
Sebastian dropped his forehead to Quinn’s chest when he pulled away, his eyes closed, wrinkles across his forehead, his glasses tilting under the pressure and lifting from behind his ear.
Will squeezed in with the three of them. He pressed a tender kiss to the bandage on Quinn’s face, and then a trail of them down Quinn’s cheek before their lips met. Will kept it light, one hand sliding up and down Quinn’s chest as though reassuring himself that he was there and standing of his own volition. Peyton understood that visceral need.
“This is my fault,” Sebastian whispered. “He wasn’t after you, he was—”
“The blame game leads to a road where no one wins,” Quinn interrupted. He cradled the back of Sebastian’s head, curling his fingers in Sebastian’s damp hair. Peyton felt the shiver that ran through Sebastian when Quinn kissed the top of his head. “That lure was for me, not you. He deliberately got Gloria to call me and get me there. As much as I’m sure you’d like to put the world on your shoulders, this one wasn’t about you.”
Sebastian pulled back, frowning. “Why?”
“You were getting too close,” a voice said from the doorway.
“Hunter,” Sebastian growled, moving to shield Quinn.
Peyton slid in front of both of them, bristling as Hunter and the man he knew as “Six” entered the room.
Jericho stood from his chair, his fingers brushing the inside of Peyton’s elbow as he passed, moving to stand beside Hunter and Six. Hunter closed the door to the private room with a quiet snick.
“Your partner got Sweeney to the station just fine,” Six said to Quinn. “He’s handling the paperwork and waiting for your call. He’s quite worried about you; it seems cruel to make him wait too long.”
“You know the killer’s name,” Quinn said flatly.
“And a whole lot more,” Hunter said.
Something about Jericho being on the other side of the room, beside Hunter instead of beside them, rubbed Peyton the wrong way. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand that Jericho stand on this side. Another irrational thought. This wasn’t a line-in-the-sand situation. There was no “us” versus “them.” Jericho had been assigned to be a bodyguard to Sebastian because they wanted to keep him safe, not hurt him. If their plan was to hurt him, there were easier ways to go about it. Sebastian wasn’t built for combat, and his street smarts were almost non-existent. Taking him off the board before now, especially for men of this calibre, would have been child’s play.
“What does that mean?” Sebastian asked. “A whole lot more?”
“Why don’t you take a seat?” Hunter suggested, gesturing at the bed and various spare chairs in the room.
“Why don’t you just fucking tell us,” Sebastian replied tersely.
“Quinn needs to sit down,” Jericho said.
He was right. Quinn’s face had lost a few shades of colour, and he was holding tight to Peyton as though using him as an anchor.
“I’m fine,” Quinn said stubbornly.
“Sit down, or I’ll give you a push,” Jericho warned. “Either way, you’ll be where I want you.”
“And is that where you want him?” Peyton challenged.
Jericho glanced at Hunter and Six. “The killer’s name is Jack Sweeney. He’s associated with a man named Arthur Mulhall, who was serving time in jail for drug trafficking, illegal firearms possession, and attempted blackmail of a high-level politician.”
Peyton clasped Quinn’s elbow and helped him keep steady as he sat down on the hospital bed. Will sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and giving him a resting post. Even sitting like that, he was as tall as Peyton was standing. Peyton kissed his temple, brushing his hair from his forehead. His heart skipped a beat when Will smiled warmly at him in return.
“Is that name supposed to mean something?” Sebastian asked.
“Sweeney was part of a drug organisation in Melbourne. Middling, nothing fancy, but it was big enough that the police down there had spent the better part of a year trying to bring it down,” Hunter said. “Which they did. It was run by Mulhall.”
“Why is that of interest to us?” Quinn asked. “What does that have to do with Sweeney being here and on some kind of vendetta against not only Sebastian, but all of the people on that list?” He paused. “Mully. Mulhall. That’s who he was talking about,” he murmured.
