Definitely Dead (Sookie Stackhouse #6)(25)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"Yes."

Boling’s partner, a Caucasian version of Boling, came up to us then. He looked at Quinn with some reservation. He’d been examining our assailants, who had fully changed to human form before the police had arrived. Of course, they were naked.

"The one has a broken leg," he told us. "The other is claiming his shoulder’s dislocated."

Boling shrugged. "Got what was coming to ’em." It might have been my imagination, but he, too, seemed a bit more cautious when he looked at my date.

"They got more than they expected," his partner said neutrally. "Sir, do you know either of these kids?" He tilted his head toward the teenagers, who were being examined by a patrolman from another car, a younger man with a more athletic build. The boys were leaning against each other, looking stunned.

"I’ve never seen them before," Quinn said. "You, babe?" He looked down at me questioningly. I shook my head. I was feeling better enough that I felt at a distinct disadvantage, being on the ground. I wanted to get up, and I said so to my date. Before the police officers could tell me once again to wait for an ambulance, Quinn managed to get me to my feet with as little pain as possible.

I looked down at my beautiful new outfit. It was really dirty. "How does the back look?" I asked Quinn, and even I could hear the fear in my voice. I turned my back to Quinn and looked at him anxiously over my shoulder. Quinn seemed a little startled, but he dutifully scanned my rear view.

"No tearing," he reported. "There may be a spot or two where the material got a little scraped across the pavement."

I burst into tears. I probably would have started crying no matter what, because I was feeling a powerful reaction to the adrenaline that had surged through my body when we’d been attacked, but the timing was perfect. The police got more avuncular the more I cried, and as an extra bonus, Quinn pulled me into his arms and I rested my cheek against his chest. I listened to his heartbeat when I quit sobbing. I’d gotten rid of my nervous reaction to the attack and disarmed the police at the same time, though I knew they’d still wonder about Quinn and his strength.

Another policeman called from his place by one of the assailants, the one Quinn had thrown. Our two patrolmen went to answer the summons, and we were briefly alone.

"Smart," Quinn murmured into my ear.

"Mmmm," I said, snuggling against him.

He tightened his arms around me. "You get any closer, we’re going to have to excuse ourselves and get a room," he whispered.

"Sorry." I pulled back slightly and looked up at him. "Who you reckon hired them?"

He may have been surprised I’d figured that out, but you couldn’t tell by his brain. The chemical reaction that had fueled my tears had made his mental snarl extra complicated. "I’m definitely going to find out," he said. "How’s your throat?"

"Hurts," I admitted, my voice raspy. "But I know there’s nothing really wrong with it. And I don’t have health insurance. So I don’t want to go to the hospital. It would be a waste of time and money."

"Then we won’t go." He bent and kissed my cheek. I turned my face up to him, and his next kiss landed in exactly the right spot. After a gentle second, it flared into something more intense. We were both feeling the aftereffects of the adrenalin rush.

The sound of a throat clearing brought me back into my right mind as effectively as if Officer Boling had thrown a bucket of cold water on us. I disengaged and buried my face against Quinn’s chest again. I knew I couldn’t move away for a minute or two, since his excitement was pressed right up against me. Though these weren’t the best circumstances for evaluation, I was pretty sure Quinn was proportional. I had to resist the urge to rub my body against his. I knew that would make things worse for him, from a public viewpoint – but I was in a much better mood than I had been, and I guess I was feeling mischievous. And frisky. Very frisky. Going through this ordeal together had probably accelerated our relationship the equivalent of four dates.

"Did you have other questions for us, Officer?" Quinn asked, in a voice that was not perfectly calm.

"Yes, sir, if you and the lady will come down to the station, we need to take your statements. Detective Coughlin will do that while we take the prisoners to the hospital."

"All right. Does that have to be tonight? My friend needs to rest. She’s exhausted. This has been quite an ordeal for her."

"It won’t take long," the officer said mendaciously. "You sure you’ve never seen these two punks before? Because this seems like a real personal attack, you don’t mind me saying so."

"Neither of us knows them."

"And the lady still refuses medical attention?"

I nodded.

"Well, all right then, folks. Hope you don’t have no more trouble."

"Thank you for coming so quickly," I said, and turned my head a little to meet Officer Boling’s eyes. He looked at me in a troubled way, and I could hear in his head that he was worried about my safety with a violent man like Quinn, a man who could throw two boys several feet in the air. He didn’t realize, and I hoped he never would, that the attack had been personal. It had been no random mugging.

We went to the station in a police car. I wasn’t sure what their thinking was, but Boling’s partner told us that we’d be returned to Quinn’s vehicle, so we went along with the program. Maybe they didn’t want us to have a chance to talk to each other alone. I don’t know why; I think the only thing that could have aroused their suspicion was Quinn’s size and expertise in fighting off attackers.

In the brief seconds we had alone before an officer climbed into the driver’s seat, I told Quinn, "If you think something at me, I’ll be able to hear you – if you need me to know something urgently."

"Handy," he commented. The violence seemed to have relaxed something inside him. He rubbed his thumb across the palm of my hand. He was thinking he’d like to have thirty minutes in a bed with me, right now, or even fifteen; hell, even ten, even in the backseat of a car, would be fantastic. I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it, and when he realized that I’d read all that clearly, he shook his head with a rueful smile.

We have somewhere to go after this, he thought deliberately. I hoped he didn’t mean he was going to rent a room or take me to his place for sex, because no matter how attractive I found him, I wasn’t going to do that tonight. But his brain had mostly cleared of lust, and I perceived his purpose was something different. I nodded.

So don’t get too tired, he said. I nodded again. How I was supposed to prevent exhaustion, I wasn’t sure, but I’d try to hoard a little energy.