Sloe Ride (Sinners, #4)

“Where will he be in this, then? Our Rafe?” Brigid whispered, her hands warm in his. “Will he be here by yer side?”


“Yeah, he will. Because I think he loves me—he told me he loves me. And damn it, I feel him love me. I feel me loving him.” He finally broke, caught on the swell rising from his heart. “And best of all, Mum, he likes my cat.”





Chapter 15





Three a.m. On the phone.

Rafe: You ‘wake, magpie?

Quinn, bleary-eyed: No. Yes. And I have school tomorrow. Didn’t we say good night two hours ago?

R: Yeah, but I missed you. Lying here in the dark, I thought: you know, I miss my magpie.

Q: Why do you call me that? My da calls me that. It’s kind of weird.

R: Because you like things that are bright and shiny. Aren’t I bright and shiny?

Q: Shiny, yes. But calling a teacher who’s got a 7 a.m. class in a few hours before he’s got to get up? Not so bright.



THE BAR was a no-name hole-in-the-wall tucked into a shadow. If Rafe hadn’t led Kane down an alley, past a wrought-iron staircase, and through a partially open red door, he never would have found it. A long old bar stretched across one wall, neon signs reflected back at them in a clouded, browning mirror behind rows of half-filled liquor bottles. A rotund older man stood behind the bar, a faded red T-shirt celebrating the Year of the Dragon stretched over the breadth of his gut. He looked up from his pour, nodding at Rafe once. His bald pate shone, nearly as ruddy teak as the bar, glistening under the pink tinge of a flickering old advert for a vintage rum.

Despite the early morning, the bar was already a quarter full, mostly men in various stages of alcoholism, while a pair of hard-lived older women were running a quick low banter over a game of pool on the bar’s lone table.

Rafe flashed the bartender a peace sign, then pointed to a table in the corner. Kane looked around, chuckling under his breath as he followed Rafe through the murky belly of the bar. Rafe glanced back over his shoulder, curious for a moment. Then he caught the hunched-over, do-not-see-me body language of the men sitting along the bar’s expanse.

“Well, you do fucking scream cop,” Rafe muttered, sitting down on one of the table’s cracked red vinyl and wood chairs. “Hell, Miki probably screams cop when you guys are having sex ’cause you stink that much.”

“Any reason I’ve never punched you in that pretty face of yours and broken it?” Kane growled, his eyes roaming over the room. “’Cause it’s not too late, you know.”

“Hey, I’d let you do it just so I could watch Quinn take you apart.” He laughed, leaning out of the bartender’s way when the man ambled in close to drop off a pair of enormous coffee mugs. Plopping down tubs of creamer and a handful of sugar packets, he grunted a hello as Rafe handed him a ten. “Thanks.”

Kane waited until the man was halfway across the bar floor before he scooted his chair forward. “You really think Q-b—Quinn could take me down?”

“Yeah, I think Q’s got a lot more incentive and inner rage than you give him credit for. Don’t think you’re his favorite person right now.” The coffee was strong, nearly acrid enough to burn his nostril hairs, but Rafe sipped it anyway, hoping the pitch-black brew could chase away some of the anxiety bubbling in his belly. He didn’t know what he liked less, the idea of leaving Quinn at Brigid’s mercy or that he’d fled the scene with Kane. “You come over to ream Quinn a new asshole over leaving the crime scene? Or just leaving with me?”

Kane blushed. It was an odd thing, watching the slow rise of red pink his friend’s face, and Rafe didn’t bother to contain his smile. The sheepish expression on Kane’s face slid into a light scowl, and Rafe yelped when Kane’s foot struck his shin.

Rubbing at the spot, Rafe muttered, “Dick.”

“Asshole,” Kane grumbled softly. The teasing slipped away, growing somber as he added sugar to his coffee. “Kind of some of both. Can’t help but… worry about him, Rafe. He carries a lot of shit inside of him. From being wired weird to well… then. You expect me not to worry when he hooks up with the likes of you?”

“What do you think’s going to happen? Because he’s hooking up with me?”

“Not if, then. But because?” Kane’s seat groaned, his shoulders straining the chair back when he pressed against it. “I don’t know if… shit, Rafe. Not that I don’t love you, man, but Q’s… well, he’s Q. You know how he is… how he was. There’s a lot of baggage there. You ready to be taking that on?”

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