Sloe Ride (Sinners, #4)

“It’s break right now. A week and change. I’m just doing papers and consults right now. After that I start classes again.” He shook his head to stave off their protests, but the arguments came at him as hot and fast as the explosion he’d just gone through. “I can’t let you all run my life. I love you, but I just can’t. If I did, you’d have me bundled up and carted off to the attic to wait for my arsenic cookies.”


“This isn’t just your life that’s been affected here, Quinn.” Kane shot a cop look at their father, having a silent conversation between them in the split second between glances and Donal’s nod. “You’ve got to know the family’s going to be worried about you.”

They had cop discussions all the time, a few grumbled words, a muttering, and plenty of mouth movement that ended up with Quinn somehow on the outside looking in on nearly every bad situation he was involved in.

“Can he go back into his house?” Rafe pulled in closer, and Quinn found himself leaning against him, grateful for the touch. “Or is it unsafe?”

“Guessing they won’t let him back into the house. It’s bad and needs some work. Foundation’s cracked. The fire burned hot and fast.” Kane nodded to the Audi’s smoking remains. “What you heard go sky high was the metal fuel cans this asshole dumped by the car. One of them landed under the car, but the main problem was the guy broke off a gas line lever. Leak caught fire, and that’s what blew the driveway.”

“Probably ignited the gas tank too.” Connor wrinkled his nose. “Not sure how that would work. You’d think it could take that kind of flame, but I’ve seen it happen.”

Kane grunted back. “Burned pretty hot there for a bit. Could have found a seal—”

“Can we shut up about the fire and get back to me not being able to get back into my house?” Quinn grumbled. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“Now, little brother—” Kane grinned wickedly. “—you move in with me where I can watch you.”




HIS RINGING phone was a lifesaver. Or at least a chance to close the bedroom door behind him and hide. And if there was one thing Quinn wanted desperately, it was a chance to hide.

“Hey, Q.” Rafe’s silky voice tickled Quinn’s ear. “How’re you feeling? Doing okay? Been thinking about you.”

Just those words, spoken in Rafe’s soft husky rasp, and Quinn’s world turned golden.

“Yeah, I’m… okay.” He slid his slug of a cat toward the far side of the bed, then lay down. Stretched out over the duvet, Quinn sank his head into the pillows. “Kind of tired. It’s been rough.”

“Kane being an asshole rough or just everything all adding up together?”

That was the best part about Rafe for Quinn. The easygoing acceptance of Quinn’s sometimes too-tight skin. Not everyone understood how Quinn felt full, past emotionally and into a physical tautness when too much too soon happened around him. Even heading up to his room for a space to breathe in was met with questions, well-meaning ones, but an assault on Quinn’s senses just the same.

He’d been coaxed and prodded to stay downstairs, to interact with everyone else when the last thing Quinn wanted or needed was to breathe air warmed by someone else’s lungs. Rafe got that. Rafe understood that.

Which was probably why Quinn was relieved to hear Rafe’s voice in the middle of his overstimulated breaking point instead of one of his siblings’.

“Talk to me, magpie. What’s going on in that busy head of yours? You’re awfully quiet.” Rafe cleared his throat. “Unless you want some down time. No worries on that. I can hang—”

“No, no. You I want to talk to.” He snuggled down into the bed, getting comfortable. “I’m just trying to get… trying to get things to fit around me.”

The pillows were unfamiliar. Not bad, just unfamiliar. Donal’d been firm about him not taking anything out of his house but some clothes and the cat, but Quinn wished he’d thought to grab his bed pillows. It would make sleeping that much easier. Harley appeared to not be bothered as she stamped out a hollow in one, then curled her slinky body into it.

“I can hear you nesting,” Rafe teased. “Comfortable?”

“Now.” Quinn sighed, toeing off his shoes. “Okay. Really now.”

“Tell me how you’re doing. Gotta be shitty picking up pieces of your life and going over to Kane’s.”

“Miki’s. And Kane’s. And Sionn’s. And Damie’s.” He knew he sounded irritated, but Quinn’d gone past caring. “Shit, even the dog’s got an opinion. Harley’s not too happy about Dude’s existence. If there was a volcano nearby, there’d be a virgin canine sacrifice.”

“I think I can safely say that dog’s not a virgin. Sionn said he was packing up until a couple of months ago. Maybe six, tops.” Quinn could hear Rafe’s smirk. “Dude’s partially Kane’s dog too. Surprised the mutt isn’t as bowlegged as his master.”

“Kane’s not that bad.” It was a weak protest. Kane definitely was that bad, something Quinn learned after discovering the house had no-sex zones mapped out among its inhabitants.

“Q, somebody can get pregnant just by standing between Miki and Kane,” Rafe teased. “Just don’t sit on anything without a tarp on it.”

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