“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 tocause 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 youreallywanted 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 insurprise. 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.
