Long dark eyelashes fluttered before he shook his head and opened his eyes. He focused on me first, and then turned his head slightly to take in Mason before he turned back to me. "What happened?"
"You refused to leave me alone in the office with my father, you sweet, noble idiot," I told him.
"And you got a little shot because of it," Mason added.
"Really?" Quinn frowned as he tried to sit up. "I don't feel shot. Nothing hurts." When I motioned to the bloody wound on his arm that I was pressing my shirt into, he sucked in a breath, and his face immediately drained of color. "Okay, now I feel it."
His voice grew faint, and he swayed.
Mason caught his shoulder, steadying him. "Whoa, there. Maybe you should lie back down before you faint again."
Horror flooded Quinn's expression. "I fainted? Oh, man. You're not going to tell Ten that, are you? He'd never let me live it down."
I snorted out a shocked laugh, even though the sound wavered at the end into an odd kind of sob. "Yeah, I think I can manage to avoid mentioning that and focusing more on the part where you dived in front of a speeding bullet to save my life."
Quinn nodded, not catching my amusement. "Thanks. I'm sorry I passed out on you. How mortifying." His eyes were so sincere; I shot Mason a disbelieving glance. But seriously, had this guy just apologized to me after risking his own life to save mine?
"I think she'll find a way to forgive you, man." Mason's lips tightened as he tried to hide his own smile.
"Good." Quinn sat up again, only to spot the bodies of my father and Mrs. Garrison across the room. "Oh," he said, his eyes widening as he went from white to green. "Are they . . . ?"
"Yeah." I bit my lip, refusing to look at them. My stomach protested and I covered my mouth. "Let's get out of this room."
"Good idea."
Mason and I helped Quinn to his feet. He still looked woozy, but he could stand without any help.
As soon as we cleared the office, a shout from the front of the club told us the police had arrived. Mason called back, telling them we were coming out.
I don't know how much time passed after that, but the three of us clung together as we were questioned about what had happened and a paramedic looked at Quinn's arm. The poor guy was even more embarrassed about passing out when he realized the bullet had barely grazed his bicep. It was so minor a wound that the EMT decided to patch the scratch up right there at the bar without even taking him to the hospital.
Flesh wound or not, I still thought he was beyond brave, and I told him so as I smacked a grateful kiss to his cheek. Then I just kind of lingered close to him, feeling safe with him beside me.
When he flushed bashfully and ducked his face, the officer nodded in his direction. "Now what were you doing here again, Mr. Hamilton?"
I didn't know it was possible for Quinn's face to turn even redder, but it did. Glancing quickly at Mason, he mumbled, "Mrs. Garrison called me in early before my shift tonight. She said she needed some crates moved. But . . . that's not what she really wanted." After clearing his throat, he continued. "When Eva showed up to talk to, er . . . Mr. Mercer, I stayed with her because I didn't trust him. While I was on my phone, pretending to listen to music, I texted her boyfriend, Pick, telling him what was happening."
"You texted Pick?" I sat up straighter and glanced around the club, looking for him.
Quinn nodded, wincing as if apologizing to me for his trickery. "I had no idea Mrs. Garrison would pull a gun like that, but my gut told me something wasn't right. So I followed my instincts."
"Thank goodness you did," the officer said. He didn't have many questions after that, and he wandered away to get more information from the office.
I glanced at the two men flanking me, glad they were there. If not for their presence, I'd probably be a freaking, irrational, hysterical mess.
I blew out a breath, needing some comedic relief. "You know, this is the second time I've been shot at within a year. This shit's getting old."
Mason snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, well, it's the second time I've had to get a gun away from the person who shot at you."
I snorted right back, not impressed by his dinky problems, but I lifted my finger as a thought occurred. "Oh, by the way, you totally suck as a negotiator."
He threw his hands in the air, sending me an incredulous scowl. "What did you want me to say to her, that I loved her back?"
"Yeah," I retorted. "The woman had a gun, numb nuts. She could've so easily shot at you for telling her you loved Reese. Oh, shit. Have you called Reese?"
"Yes." He rolled his eyes. "She's freaking out because she's stuck watching your kids and can't come be with us."
"Poor girl." I patted his arm, and studied him a second longer when I felt his muscles tremble under my touch. He was still pretty shaken over everything. But then, he wasn't the only one. "Are you okay?"
He glanced at me with his eyebrows raised. "Sure. Why? No one shot at me."
What a liar.