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Jesus fucking Christ.How was this Quinn’s life right now? He could have stayed in bed and had at least two more toe-curling orgasms and brought Will, Sebastian, and Peyton to more of their own. Instead, he was stuck dealing with these two idiots.
He studiously ignored them both as they finished their search in the bedroom and the bathroom. They found nothing of interest. A lovely way to start their investigation: a dead end already. It was definitely going to be a long fucking day.
“I worked out why the address is familiar to me,” Grady said as they made their way back downstairs.
“Yeah?” Quinn was just glad they were heading back out into the fresh air. There was still a heavy smell of smoke that permeated the air inside, and it had started burning his throat.
“It’s the address for Warren Boiler.”
Quinn stopped, narrowing his eyes as he turned to Grady. “The drug dealer that Seb defended?”
“The very same. I can’t remember the apartment number, but it was this place. What do you wanna bet that this is his apartment?”
Quinn wasn’t going to take that bet. “This could be him,” he said. “We’ll need to confirm ID, but that makes the most sense.”
He took a deep breath as they made it outside the front doors.
“Between the attacks on your lawyer, the dead bodies, and the drugs, it makes me think there’s some kind of turf war going on?” Grady said. “Maybe they crossed the wrong people or are honing in on someone else’s territory?”
In theory, without all the pieces, it was the most logical conclusion. Except that Quinn knew that the two men who had originally targeted Sebastian were dead. And he couldn’t tell Grady that since some mysterious group that Sebastian was connected to had taken the bodies. There was no trail, and it wasn’t something that Quinn could put in a report.
Whatever this murder was, if it was connected to Sebastian, Quinn couldn’t grasp the thread. He needed to talk to Sebastian. And this “Hunter” because Quinn had a feeling that he would know what was going on.
Somethingwas going on, and Quinn would find out what.
BalancingabowlofRice Bubbles in one hand and the spoon in the other while an exuberant six-year-old sat in his lap and played piano was a feat not many could master. Luckily, Jericho was a pro.
He swallowed his mouthful and then stuck his spoon in his mouth before reaching around and pressing a random key on the far side of the piano.
Olivia twisted and glowered at him. She was a ferocious warrior, and Jericho was adamant she got that from him, not Hunter.
“Uncle Coco,” she said sternly.
“What?” he asked innocently.
“That wasn’t the right key!”
His smile widened. She got her musical talent from him too. “No? Why not?”
“Because it wasn’t,” she insisted.
He awkwardly scooped another mouthful of cereal, managing not to spill, and crunched loudly as he studied the keys. “This one?” he asked, pressing a different key.
Olivia giggled. “No!”
“Oh, dear,” he said mournfully. “I must have forgotten.”
“No, you didn’t.” She shifted up onto her knees, and Jericho almost lost his grip on his bowl, barely pulling it out of her way in time to stop her colliding with it. She was already dressed in her school uniform, and Hunter would kill him if she had to get changed because she had Rice Bubbles down her dress.
“I didn’t? Why not?”
“Because you’re the best at piano.” She played a few notes slowly, a melodic rhythm that Jericho recognized as the start of “Mary had a little lamb.” It was one of her favourites. She consistently asked for a lamb at least once a month. Jericho knew it was only a matter of time before Hunter gave in. Hunter knew it, too, and neither of them were looking forward to it. Where the fuck would they even keep a lamb?
“I’m the best at piano?” Jericho asked with mock shock. “What about your dad?”
She gave him a look that signified he was the biggest idiot in the world. She usually wasn’t wrong. “Daddy doesn’t know how to play.”
“That’s true,” Jericho agreed.
