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Since Quinn had no earthly idea who the fuckGeorgewas, he had to assume the question wasn’t directed at him.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the man in cuffs—David—said.
“Asking the question does imply that,” Hunter said. “I don’t think I need to spell out what we’re going to do to you if you don’t answer.”
“Who the fuck is George?” Grady asked, scowling. “Someone better explain what’s going on. Now.”
“Don’t you want to know what he was doing here?” Quinn asked.
“We already know what he was doing here,” Jericho replied. “And that he didn’t find it. Neither did you.” He stood and circled David slowly. Quinn’s gaze was drawn to the way the fabric of his jeans stretched across his thighs. When he raised his eyes, Jericho was looking right at him. The smirk was gone, replaced with something else infinitely worse. A soft, secret smile full of promise and answering attraction.
“Oh, do you?” Grady asked sarcastically.
“I’m not telling any of you jack shit,” David spat. “So fucking let me go.”
Jericho kicked David square in the back, causing him to surge forward and land on his face with a surprised cry of pain.
Quinn took an involuntary step forward. Jericho’s head turned, watching the movement with his sharp eyes. He looked down at Quinn’s shoes and then back up to his face. Quinn’s face flushed without his permission as they stared each other down.
“Hey!” Grady yelled. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“This is now our scene,” Hunter said. “Not yours.”
“We got here first,” Grady countered. “And this isourcase. Cops. Not whatever the fuck you are.”
“We’re like you,” Jericho said, not looking away from Quinn. Quinn felt every word sink in deeper than he would have liked, settling like flames in his stomach. “Only better.”
“Why don’t you take your ego and fucking throw it out the door? Take yourself out with the trash too,” Grady said. “We still have jurisdiction here. We’ll take him in and question him at the station.”
“Is this a new kind of dick-measuring contest?” Jericho asked. “I’d be interested in playing.” He licked his bottom lip and blatantly checked out Quinn’s groin.
Grady sent Quinn a “what the fuck?” look, and even that couldn’t stop Quinn from responding to Jericho’s heated look and blatant ogling.
What the fuck was happening to him?
“Someone came intomycity and tried to kill one ofmymen,” Hunter said casually. “For that reason alone, this belongs to me. As does his fate.”
Quinn didn’t like the sound of any of that. That wasn’t how justice was served. It wasn’t up to them as individuals to decide what to do with a criminal.
“I’ll ask you once more,” Hunter continued. "Who killed George and set fire to a building while two of my men were in it, with the intent for them to burn?"
The fire. Quinn looked in shock at Jericho. “You were in that fire?” That meant they knew who the victim was.George. Why was that name familiar? He would need to ask Grady afterward. Grady was excellent at names.
“I didn’t stick around,” Jericho said with an amused lift of his lips. “Six and I got out when we realised it was a trap.”
“I believe you stayed in there a little bit longer than that,” Hunter said.
Jericho shrugged, unfazed.
“What makes you think that he isn’t responsible?” Quinn asked.
“Because he’s not smart enough or good enough for that kind of kill.” He nudged David’s hand with the toe of his sneaker. “Someone hired you to come here; who was it?” he asked.
“This isn’t how you get answers,” Quinn said. Brute force wasneverthe way. Those who might have answered would retreat, and those who were never going to still wouldn’t.
Jericho’s eyes found his again. The amount of eye contact, and what it was doing to Quinn, was disconcerting. Was this what Sebastian had meant when he’d said that Jericho had been trying to get a rise out of him? Had Sebastian responded like this as well? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know or not. Would knowing make it better or worse?
He raised his eyebrows at Quinn. “No?”
