Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [608]
“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.