add.”
“Not Q-bert, Con,” Rafe muttered barely loud enough for Quinn to catch. “Dude. Come on. We talked about that shit.”
“Give it up. They don’t listen.” Quinn eased his hands into his pockets. “Kinda used to it.”
“Yeah, you don’t like it. It should stop.”
Rafe’s fury at his hated nickname amused him, but he was more disturbed by the bassist’s hand on his lower back. Rafe’s fingers made small circles up his spine, and Quinn was finding it hard to think.
“What’s that tapping sound?”
“Harley. My cat.” He’d put Harley into the back of Kane’s SUV, securing her large kennel cage with Velcro ties. From the occasional tiny taps of her paw against the tinted glass, he guessed she was amusing herself chasing the shadows from the streetlight nearby. “She’s probably hunting something only she can see. She’s kind of weird that way.”
“Aren’t you at least a little pissed off about this, Q?” Connor snarled. “A little bit?”
“What’s outrage going to get me?” he asked Con, getting another irritated hiss out of his eldest brother. “No one was hurt, and once I got Raia’s dog out from under her bed, she was okay.”
“And the car, little brother?” Connor shot back.
“The car wasn’t mine.” He made a face, swallowing a gulp as Rafe’s fingers made another circuit. “The insurance guy said they’d have another one out for me to use probably tomorrow.”
“You’ll be lucky if they let you have a bicycle, Q,” Kane said, strolling up to Connor’s side. “There’s hardly anything left of the last one they gave you.”
“Not my fault.” Standing was better. It not only eased the ache Quinn had growing in his back but also brought him shoulder to shoulder with his brothers. “Who goes home thinking his loaner car’s going to be blown to smithereens? I’m a history professor, for fuck’s sake.”
“That’s what has me worried there, breac .”
His father joined them, wearing every inch of cop he had in him. The uniforms he’d been talking to scattered, and Quinn watched curiously as they headed to different houses on the street.
“Rafe, good to see you. Hope you came to help talk some sense into my fool son here. God knows the first on the scene tried and got nowhere.”
“Didn’t they have anything better to do? It was like a fucking flash mob. What do you suppose a group of cops are called?” Quinn turned to ask Rafe. “A group of owls is called a parliament. So what would a group of cops be called? Do you know?”
“Focus, Q,” Connor interrupted.
“What’s there to focus on? You three are going to stand around discussing what you think I should do, and I’m going to get slowly pissed off because none of you are going to listen to me.” Looking around at his brothers and father, Quinn was slightly disgusted to see the lack of shame on their faces. “See, Rafe? Not a damned bit of respect. It’s like I’m still three and licking electrical sockets.”
“Yer not thinking straight, a tríu .” His father spoke up. They ringed him, hedging Quinn in against the stairs. “Someone is trying to kill ye.”
“Donal,” Rafe spoke up. “Space, man. Give him some space.”
It was odd having Rafe stand as a wall between him and his family. Odd but… nice.
Surprisingly, his brothers stepped back, but his father appeared reluctant to move. Donal frowned.
“This is serious. The truck and now this. What does he have to do to ye for ye to realize he means business?”
“I know he means business,” Quinn replied softly. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to let this asshole get to me. You’re the cops. I’m not interfering, but I’m not going to just curl up into a ball and let him kick at me, Da.”
He took a step forward, pushing his way into the space left between them. His father and brothers all reacted the same way, a tilt of their chins and a defiant challenge flaring in their hard gazes, but none of them stepped back.
“Not Q-bert, Con,” Rafe muttered barely loud enough for Quinn to catch. “Dude. Come on. We talked about that shit.”
“Give it up. They don’t listen.” Quinn eased his hands into his pockets. “Kinda used to it.”
“Yeah, you don’t like it. It should stop.”
Rafe’s fury at his hated nickname amused him, but he was more disturbed by the bassist’s hand on his lower back. Rafe’s fingers made small circles up his spine, and Quinn was finding it hard to think.
“What’s that tapping sound?”
“Harley. My cat.” He’d put Harley into the back of Kane’s SUV, securing her large kennel cage with Velcro ties. From the occasional tiny taps of her paw against the tinted glass, he guessed she was amusing herself chasing the shadows from the streetlight nearby. “She’s probably hunting something only she can see. She’s kind of weird that way.”
“Aren’t you at least a little pissed off about this, Q?” Connor snarled. “A little bit?”
“What’s outrage going to get me?” he asked Con, getting another irritated hiss out of his eldest brother. “No one was hurt, and once I got Raia’s dog out from under her bed, she was okay.”
“And the car, little brother?” Connor shot back.
“The car wasn’t mine.” He made a face, swallowing a gulp as Rafe’s fingers made another circuit. “The insurance guy said they’d have another one out for me to use probably tomorrow.”
“You’ll be lucky if they let you have a bicycle, Q,” Kane said, strolling up to Connor’s side. “There’s hardly anything left of the last one they gave you.”
“Not my fault.” Standing was better. It not only eased the ache Quinn had growing in his back but also brought him shoulder to shoulder with his brothers. “Who goes home thinking his loaner car’s going to be blown to smithereens? I’m a history professor, for fuck’s sake.”
“That’s what has me worried there, breac .”
His father joined them, wearing every inch of cop he had in him. The uniforms he’d been talking to scattered, and Quinn watched curiously as they headed to different houses on the street.
“Rafe, good to see you. Hope you came to help talk some sense into my fool son here. God knows the first on the scene tried and got nowhere.”
“Didn’t they have anything better to do? It was like a fucking flash mob. What do you suppose a group of cops are called?” Quinn turned to ask Rafe. “A group of owls is called a parliament. So what would a group of cops be called? Do you know?”
“Focus, Q,” Connor interrupted.
“What’s there to focus on? You three are going to stand around discussing what you think I should do, and I’m going to get slowly pissed off because none of you are going to listen to me.” Looking around at his brothers and father, Quinn was slightly disgusted to see the lack of shame on their faces. “See, Rafe? Not a damned bit of respect. It’s like I’m still three and licking electrical sockets.”
“Yer not thinking straight, a tríu .” His father spoke up. They ringed him, hedging Quinn in against the stairs. “Someone is trying to kill ye.”
“Donal,” Rafe spoke up. “Space, man. Give him some space.”
It was odd having Rafe stand as a wall between him and his family. Odd but… nice.
Surprisingly, his brothers stepped back, but his father appeared reluctant to move. Donal frowned.
“This is serious. The truck and now this. What does he have to do to ye for ye to realize he means business?”
“I know he means business,” Quinn replied softly. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to let this asshole get to me. You’re the cops. I’m not interfering, but I’m not going to just curl up into a ball and let him kick at me, Da.”
He took a step forward, pushing his way into the space left between them. His father and brothers all reacted the same way, a tilt of their chins and a defiant challenge flaring in their hard gazes, but none of them stepped back.
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