Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Brrrriiiing.
I woke to the ear-splitting screech. I lurched toward my phone, twisting off the bed with a loud thump!
Groaning, I felt for the phone and brought it to my ear. “Liam here.” I rubbed my head and sat up, peeling off the blankets that’d twisted around me.
“Dude, it’s midday. Are you still asleep?”
A pulse throbbed in my head as I stood up. “Midday?” No, it couldn’t have been more than eight—
A glance at my alarm-clock radio confirmed Hunter’s announcement. I closed my eyes and shook my head. So much for my plan to be at the office wrapping up a first draft. Seemed like I might need one of my disgusting hangover remedies first.
Hunter cackled down the line. “Damn. Sounds like you had quite the night. So do you know the news already?”
“What news?” I flung my blankets over the bed and semi-straightened them.
“It’s all over Twitter, Facebook, and I caught the gossip on Tumblr: our vigilante made an appearance again.”
I swapped the phone to my other ear and sat at the end of my bed, running my heel down the corner leg to satisfy an itch. “He did? What happened? When? Where?”
“That’s the thing, it happened just a few blocks from the mansion. Our guy might have been there the whole night, right under our noses.”
“Who got attacked?”
“No one knows. The victim isn’t coming forward.”
“So how does everyone know about it?”
“That’s the thing.” Hunter paused and I stiffened, waiting for the response. Somehow, I was nervous for our vigilante.
“The attacker got hurt. The vigilante broke his collarbone throwing him to the ground. He had to go to hospital. Now he’s telling everyone the assault came out of the blue, that he wasn’t hurting anyone.”
“What?”
“It’s a lie, of course. But if the victim doesn’t speak up, it’s looking really bad for The Raven.”
Grabbing my notebook and pen, I asked, “Do we have any idea what time this happened?”
“Around two in the morning.”
I’d been comatose by then. “What’s the name of this guy?”
“It’s ridiculous. He’s calling himself The Night Warrior.”
The Night Warrior? What did the guy think he was, a comic book hero?
“Look,” Hunter continued, “I have a feeling this is going to cause some bad press for our vigilante. If we could find the victim and convince him to tell his side of the story, we might be able to derail the activists that want to make him pay for all the black eyes and bloody noses he’s doled out. ”
“I can slip a public plea for information onto the opinions page.”
We wrapped up the conversation quickly. Hunter needed to get to his basketball game, and my bladder felt as if it would burst.
I dashed to the bathroom, relieved myself, took a shower, and popped a couple of painkillers. With my towel wrapped round my waist, I darted back to my room.
Quinn sat on the straightened bedcovers. A tray holding a plate of omelet, toast, and what looked like freshly-squeezed orange juice rested on his lap.
He blinked, shifted quickly, and hurriedly refocused on the food. “Thought you’d be too hungover to get up.”
“It smells delicious,” I said. With Quinn’s back to me, I made quick work of dropping the towel and slipping into my boxers and a clean but crumpled shirt.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Quinn asked tentatively.
I scrambled over the bed to my pillows and motioned for the tray. “Can I?”
“Sure.” He passed it to me and watched me stuff a buttered piece of toast into my mouth.
I chased it with orange juice and, once I’d swallowed, spoke. “I can honestly say I’ve felt better.”
Quinn smirked. “Was last night worth it?”
I recalled scraps of the night before. I remembered the punch.
Dancing. Jack and Jill laughing. Quinn shoving Jill.
And then Quinn carrying me into the apartment.
“Yes. Just seeing Jill thrown to the ground was worth every stab of headache I’ll have today.
” Thankfully, my painkillers seemed to be working effectively.
Quinn nabbed a piece of my toast and scooped some of the egg onto it. “Trust me, he deserved it.”
“I don’t remember it all. What else happened last night?”
That made Quinn grin, his ears rising slightly. With a teasing lilt to his voice, he ripped the crust of my toast off and said, “You wanted to kiss me.”
I chewed the bit of toast in my mouth and swallowed. “Did I kiss you?”
He shook his head and waved the crust at me like he was waggling a finger. “No. But you really wanted to.”
I leaned forward and bit the crust to just before his fingertip. With my mouth full, I said, “Quite obviously that was a drunken anomaly.”
Quinn stared at the remaining pinch of crust between his fingers. “You’re kidding, right?”
I shoveled one more forkful of egg into my mouth and rested the tray on the bed.
My cellphone was ringing but I couldn’t see it.
Likely it had fallen behind the drawers when I tossed it and rushed to the bathroom.
I scrabbled off the bed and felt for the phone on the carpet as I answered Quinn.
“I’ve only kissed girls, so—no. Definite anomaly. ”
Ah ha! I lurched upright, triumphant, cellphone in hand. But before I could take the call, Quinn grabbed a fistful of my shirt and tugged me forward, between his legs.
I dropped the phone as Quinn’s hand reached up behind my neck and drew me down. “Quinn? What on earth—”
He fell backward on the bed, bringing me with him. A roller-coaster thrill zipped through my body as I lost my balance and came crashing against his chest. Both Quinn’s arms slipped around me, holding me firmly in place.
Quinn’s deep green eyes stared intently at me. He brushed the tip of his nose against mine, tilted his head upwards, and kissed me.
The first sweep of his lips moved warm and softly. I gasped in surprise. Quinn’s mouth sealed over mine, and his tongue twisted and pushed. He was an expert. I liked how he took control, led the entire dance of our tongues. All I did was follow along and enjoy the ride.
Quinn pulled back, resting his head against my mattress and grinned wickedly. “Still an anomaly, Liam?”
He was warm and comfortable to lie on, so I didn’t bother moving. I linked my fingers and rested against his chest. “Technically, since kissing a guy is a deviation from who I normally kiss, the answer is yes.”
Quinn roared out with laughter. “God, you’re impossible.
” He slapped me on the ass and rolled me over.
We nearly knocked over the breakfast tray, but Quinn steadied it and climbed off me.
“I’ve got to get to my self-defense class.
You can think about things, and we can chat over dinner tonight if you want. ”
I propped myself up on my elbows. “How do I join one of these classes?”
“Shannon and I are starting a beginner’s course.
Seven o’clock Wednesdays at the Rainbow Rec Center.
” He stepped back slowly toward the door.
His face glowed, as if the idea of me learning self-defense pleased him.
Perhaps he thought it would free up his weekend evenings, but that seemed fair enough to me. “You can come along then if you like.”
I pushed myself into a sitting position. My lips still tingled and tasted of Quinn. I ran a tongue over my bottom lip as I watched him slink further toward the door. “Good call with that kiss, Quinn.”
He paused, squinting at me like he wasn’t quite sure what to say. He scratched his ear. “You don’t need time to think about it? Fret? Go and pretend it never happened?”
I pushed myself off the bed. The warm carpet under my toes rubbed the soles of my feet nicely.
I slid over to the jeans that lay in a heap in the corner of the room.
“Pretend it never happened? Why would I do that?” I pulled on the jeans and found the phone I’d dropped on the bed.
“Now I have some investigating to do. I think I’ll call Hannah and ask her out after all. ”
Quinn opened his mouth to say something, but shut it immediately. His eyes lost their glimmer, dulling into a dark green. He stormed out of my room, murmuring as he went.
I rang Hannah and left a message. “Hannah, hi. Look, about us dating . . . I’m not yet sure that’s a great idea. Can we have a trial date and see how things go?”
A minute later, the front door clicked shut, and Quinn was gone.
“A trial date, Liam?” Hannah said as I slumped into my chair on Monday morning and opened my laptop.
I looked over at her tapping a red pen to her chin. “I realize it’s not the most romantic of propositions. But I feel we are both practical rather than sentimental at heart.”
She bit the top of her pen and processed my words. In a soft voice, she replied, “Lotte warned me this will likely never go anywhere. If you didn’t jump at the first offer, you never will, she said. I’m beginning to think she’s right.”
I opened my drawer, rummaged through pens and paper clips to the snacks I kept at the back. Pulling out one of the chocolate mints I knew she loved, I sent her a smile and handed one over. A peace offering of sorts.
She laughed as she picked it up and started unwrapping. “What’s this?”
“That’s me trying to say that I understand if you don’t want to go on a date.”
Holding the mint to her lips, she paused. “The thing is, Lotte rules her life with her heart and so far it’s brought nothing but drama and heartache.” She nibbled at the edge of the mint. “Pragmatism works for me. Let’s do dinner, make out some, and see what happens. How does Friday work for you?”
I brought up my calendar. Friday, the results of the first round of BCA placements. “I might have a party to attend afterward, but I think it could work.”
We shared a smile, jotted the date into our calendars, and got to work on our respective columns.
It was midday, after a short meeting with Chief Benedict, when Jill shuffled through the Scribe doors. Normally, I’d see him across the room and duck my head to concentrate on my work, ignoring the guy completely. But today, I stared at him transfixed. Curious.
Suspicious.
He shifted awkwardly toward his desk in the far corner of the room, keeping his gaze cast toward the threadbare carpet and his Converse. But what glued my attention to him most was the way he cradled his left arm—
He glanced up, quickly scouring the room—probably searching for Jack—and our gazes locked. I wanted to pull away and avoid the snarky comment that would likely come during our staff meeting, but the dark-blue bruise around his eye held me there.
What had happened to Jill?
What had Jill done to deserve it?
Hunter’s words echoed in my mind. The vigilante broke his collarbone throwing him to the ground. He had to go to hospital. Now he’s telling everyone the assault came out of the blue . . .
Could it be so simple? Could Jill have earned vigilante payback by attacking some guy for being gay?
Instead of sneering like he normally would have, Jill tore his face from my view and sank behind his desk. Across from him, Jack’s working space was empty. He stared at his friend’s desk and bowed his head, likely wishing he had a confidante that would agree with what he’d done and have his back.
A sudden urge overcame me. I picked up my office-friend stapler and imagined myself leaving it on the empty desk and finding out if Jill was The Night Warrior guy threatening The Raven.
Except, even if I found out it was Jill, it wouldn’t yield anything helpful if he didn’t admit the truth. And why would he do that?
No, I needed to talk to Jack and find out who Jill had been with at two in the morning. If I could convince his victim to acknowledge the vigilante was helping him, maybe The Raven could continue protecting people like Hunter.
People like me.