“And we don’t like getting shot at,” Dubs said. “But the phone’s gotta get the toots and we’ve gotta get rid of the guns. The cops aren’t coming, so it’s up to us.”
“I should be out there too.”
“Then they would be shooting at all of us. How many cars and people are you going to risk today?”
“Quinn is not a sacrificial pawn,” Holt said. “Neither are you.”
“Love you too, Boo,” Dubs said.
“Shut up, Dubs,” Holt said.
“Here comes our chance,” Quinn said. The fear had picked a lousy time to make its return. Her hands were shaking and she felt a little woozy.
“I trust you,” Dubs said.
Quinn appreciated that confidence. Dubs had the dangerous job of hanging out the window, but Quinn had to put her in proper position or she would surely die. No pressure.
They came up fast on the sedan and Dubs turned over steering to Quinn. She turned in the driver’s seat so she was facing the window. She braced one knee against the back of the seat and kept her other foot on the gas pedal.
“I’m not taking my foot off this pedal, so the speed will stay constant. Just steer us in, nice and steady. The truck will do everything you ask of her. Lola’s right on the other side of the sedan, so we’ve got them flanked.”
“You’re in range. Doing my thing,” Max said.
When they pulled almost even, Quinn watched the passenger in the other car. As expected, when they pulled alongside, he leaned out the window with his weapon drawn. His face was a bloody mess. Quinn jerked the wheel and the truck slammed into the side of the sedan. The shooter tumbled back into the car, almost landing in the driver’s lap. The impact was harder than she intended. She held the truck against the sedan a beat, using as much strength as she could muster to counter the force of the bounce back before she eased the truck away enough to give Dubs and the CMC soldier some breathing room.
The two vehicles were side by side now. Dubs had the bat at the ready but not easily visible to their aggressive friends.
“Little closer,” Dubs said. “Slowly though, so you don’t spook him.”
Quinn did as asked. She moved the truck as gently as she could. It was incredibly difficult to make subtle changes when they were moving at nearly sixty miles an hour. Thank God for back streets.
As soon as the CMC soldier popped out the window again, exposing his arms, hands, the gun, and his upper body, Dubs made her move. She leaned out the window and swung the bat down hard on the man’s arms. Even through the wind whipping by the fast moving cars, Quinn could hear his scream.
Dubs pulled herself and the bat back into the cab and resumed full control of the truck.
“Keep an eye on the driver,” Dubs said. “I can’t see his gun. I’m going to keep us close enough for the bluesnapper, but hopefully out of his line of fire. Lola, can you see anything?”
Dubs eased the truck back to the rear quarter panel of the sedan and stayed locked there while they waited for Max to give them the all clear.
“I think the driver just wet himself. He’s still got his weapon, but not making any move to draw it.”
“After this thing is on the phone, they have to contact someone for it to work, right?” Quinn asked. “Does that mean we have to let them go?”
“No,” Max said. “I’ll get full contacts and email and text messages no matter what. If they use the phone to contact anyone, the worm will jump to that phone. We don’t have to let them go, we just have to hope they get in touch. You still have a ten-minute drive to the police roadblock.”
“Well, I just shattered one guy’s arms,” Dubs said. “So hopefully the driver is feeling chatty.”
“Are you done yet?” Lola asked. “My buddy has changed his mind about keeping his weapon stowed.”
“Done,” Max said.
“Get out of there,” Holt said. It was a command, not a suggestion.
“Yes, ma’am,” Dubs said. She disengaged from the sedan and made an abrupt right turn.
Quinn looked out the back window to check on Lola. She heard gunfire behind them but no corresponding impacts on the truck. She didn’t see the bike right away.
No, no, no.
Suddenly, Lola shot past them. Quinn heard tires screeching behind them as their travel buddies tried to follow.
“Okay, Dubs,” Lola said. “How fast can we get to the park? That should have been plenty of time for the cops to set up. I think we’ve done enough to destroy the city today.”
Quinn felt like an emotional piñata. The numbness was gone, replaced with overwhelming fear, determination, and triumph, as well as terror and sadness when she’d thought Lola had gone down. Now she was relieved, even though logically she knew there were still armed men chasing them. She was also exhausted. She had no idea how Lola could do this day in and day out. Perhaps worse was the idea that she had no idea how she could live with Lola knowing this was what she faced at work.
Chapter Twenty-two
Lola couldn’t ever remember feeling the frantic, crawl out of her skin need to get to someone like she had right now. She’d had to slow down once they left the city and the roads were less clear from the most recent snowstorm, which put her a good distance behind Dubs and Quinn. But she wouldn’t be good to Quinn if she were dead. Once she made it to the state park, the police didn’t immediately let her through their blockade. She considered running it, but she’d had enough guns pointed her direction for one day.
She knew most of the cops, so once she convinced them she was there legitimately, she gunned her bike into the park. She could see flashing lights and lots of activity ahead.
Lola saw the sedan and the two CMC soldiers being arrested. She slowed and surveyed the scene. No truck, no Dubs, no Quinn. An officer tried to flag her. She realized it was the Providence police chief. She didn’t care. She flew past them. He could wait for Holt. She could hear through her comms that she was only a minute or two behind with Max.
Twenty feet ahead, she saw the truck. It was littered with bullet holes and dented and bashed. She felt bile rising and had to take a few deep breaths to keep from throwing up. She slowed the bike and dismounted. Quinn was okay, she reminded herself. She said she was okay. Her stomach wasn’t getting the message.
Lola ran to the truck. Why wasn’t there an ambulance? Were they too late? Had the ambulance already come and taken them away? Was there no need for one? Had they been lying to her? Lola ran around to the driver’s side, and there, sitting in the dirt against the front tire were Quinn and Dubs, shoulder to shoulder, holding hands. Quinn was drinking a bottle of water.
“Hey look, a damsel in distress,” Dubs said. “Think we should offer assistance?”
“She does look distressed,” Quinn said. “Looks like a couple others are on their way over. But this big strong one had better get her butt over here if she knows what’s good for her. I’m done playing superhero.”
Lola didn’t need to be told twice. She was on her knees in front of Quinn instantly. She was vaguely aware that Dubs had gotten up and was walking toward another truck that had pulled up.
“You’re hurt,” Lola said, touching the blood on Quinn’s cheek. “Why isn’t there an ambulance here?”
“We’re fine,” Quinn said. “Just cuts from the flying glass. I’ll probably have some bruises from playing bumper cars, but I’m really okay. Physically. Nothing like what you went through.”
Lola pulled Quinn to her, crushing her in an embrace she never wanted to end.
“I’m sorry I didn’t keep you safe.”
“Lola Walker, look at me,” Quinn said.
Lola did as she was told and stared into Quinn’s clear, beautiful eyes.
“You raced out on a motorcycle to face a bullet storm for me. You fought an armed man with nothing but a motorcycle helmet. No one has ever done anything so brave for me. But you scared me. I thought I was going to have a front row seat to watch you die. Do you know what that would have don
e to me?”
“But I could have lost you,” Lola said. “And we just found each other.” Her chest was constricting and it felt hard to breathe. She leaned her forehead against Quinn’s and put her hands on her shoulders. Quinn grounded her.
“You didn’t though. We still have time to figure all of this out,” Quinn said.
“Is that what you want? Even after all I’ve put you through?” Lola couldn’t imagine why Quinn would want anything to do with her, or any of them, from here on out.
“You haven’t put me through anything. Some very bad people have. They’ve put you through a lot too.”
“But it’s my job,” Lola said. Saying that chafed in a way it never had before. “Although I’m not sure if it will be forever. Holt has given me other options.”
“Are you saying that because you think I need to hear it to give you a chance?” Quinn asked.
“No,” Lola said. “Right now, what you see is what you get. I’m just not sure it will always be this way.”
Quinn held out her hand for Lola to help her up. She dusted off her pants and shuddered when she glanced at the truck.
“Maybe we could continue our chat somewhere warmer and out of the shadow of this,” Quinn said.
Lola led Quinn toward Holt, Max, and Dubs. Holt had brought one of the SUVs, which Lola was thankful for. She wasn’t putting Quinn on the back of her bike, given the weather and road conditions. As they walked, Quinn slipped an arm around Lola’s waist. Lola wrapped her arm around Quinn’s shoulders and held her close. She could feel Quinn shaking. She didn’t know if it was adrenaline or cold. She wanted to take her somewhere safe and warm and stay there for days.
“Quinn, look at this,” Dubs said, holding out her hand. It was shaking. “Are you still vibrating too? That was amazingly shitty, but you were so good under pressure. The perfect chaos wingman. We’re building a pretty significant special club here. The CMC survivors’ consortium, fellowship, guild? There has to be a secret handshake, a specialty cocktail, and matching tiaras.”
“You really think you’re getting Lola to wear a tiara?” Holt asked. She was leaning against the truck, looking far calmer now that she knew her people were safe.
“You need to spend more late nights up in the attic,” Dubs said. “You might be surprised by what you would see.”
“Hard pass,” Holt said. “But thanks for the invite.”
“Speaking of invitations,” Max said. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to put off that one much longer.”
She pointed to the police chief, who was waiting impatiently for Holt about fifteen feet from where they were. Lola saw him tapping his foot, checking his watch, and trying to get Holt’s attention.
“I’m going to talk to the cops,” Holt said. “Dubs, Max, no sneaking away to burn off Dubs’s post-adrenaline high. Got it? It’s still family dinner night. I think we all need it tonight.”
“H, stealing cars gives a smooth high. The kind you can ride and makes you want to celebrate. That shit wasn’t the same. Family dinner is about all I’m good for right now. I’m spent.”
Lola took Quinn’s hand. She was unusually quiet, which worried Lola. She’d just been through an incredible trauma. Dubs would probably talk about it incessantly, but Quinn might need something different. Whatever that was, Lola wanted to provide it. “Are you still up for family dinner?”
“Yes,” Quinn said. “I like your friends. It’s clear how much you all love each other and after…all of that,” she waved her hand back toward the truck, “I would like to be surrounded by love.”
As long as I’m around, you always will be. She pushed the thought away. Rushing things was never a good idea. Still…
* * *
“Sweetheart, you’ve got applesauce in your hair. The crew’s going to be here any minute.”
“I know,” Holt said. She was swaying with George in her arms even though he was already asleep. “But I missed an entire day of snuggling.”
“Get out here, you big softy,” Isabelle said. “You’re messing up his routine.”
“I think that pretty much went out the window about two hours ago,” Holt said. “You know you want in on this.”
“I do,” Isabelle said. “Hand him over.”
Holt passed her their sleeping son. He protested softly and then snuggled into Isabelle. Holt had never seen a more beautiful sight.
“Did you expect you’d love him so much?” she asked softly.
“I didn’t expect I could love him so much,” Isabelle said. “Or you. I wonder if Lola knows the gift she gave us.”
“Probably not. How could she? But unless you want every last one of those ruffians parading in here and asking for their turn, we should get out of here while we can.”
“Oh sure,” Isabelle said. “Now you’re in a hurry to wrap this up.”
Holt mocked innocence and put her hands up. Isabelle settled George in his crib and followed her out of his room, quietly closing the door behind her.
Holt was barely three steps from George’s door when Isabelle had her by the waist and spun her against the wall. Isabelle pushed into her, pinning Holt in place.
“You think you’re going to get away with that?”
“I hope not,” Holt said.
Isabelle bit down on Holt’s neck and ran her hands up her sides, flaring her palms over her breasts. Holt felt her nipples respond instantly.
“If I stick my hand in your pants, am I going to find you wet and hard for me?” Isabelle asked.
“Are you going to find out?” Holt asked.
“No, not yet,” Isabelle said. She kissed Holt possessively and sauntering off down the hall.
Holt was sure she was swaying her hips a little extra for her benefit.
“But I’ll be thinking about you uncomfortable and ready for the rest of the night. And I’ll know I’m the reason why.”
The doorbell rang before Holt could do anything she’d regret later, like begging or whimpering.
“You coming?” Isabelle asked.
“Apparently not,” Holt said. “Just need a minute.”
Isabelle looked back up at her from halfway down the stairs and smiled. It was the smile that made her weak in the knees. The effect hadn’t lessened in the time they’d been together, and she suspected it would be that way until the day she died.
She reached in her pocket and felt the ring she’d been carrying with her since she bought it. She still hadn’t found the perfect moment to ask Isabelle to marry her. Today when Quinn and Dubs had been in so much danger Holt had watched Max and Lola struggle in their own ways to keep the women they cared about safe. She’d done that for Isabelle in the past and felt guilty that today, she’d felt a measure of relief that it wasn’t her in the car, in danger. She’d held on to the ring so tightly it had left indentations in her fingers. It felt as if it was already an extension of the two of them. Now she just needed to get it on Isabelle’s finger.
* * *
Despite the terrible day, family dinner was as advertised, laughter filled, goofy, and full of love. Quinn had expected to feel uncomfortable in the group, especially as part of something that was clearly so important to everyone, but she felt just the opposite. Lola seemed delighted to share this side of her life with her and was present and attentive. Quinn felt cared for but not smothered. Somehow Lola found the perfect balance.
“Jessica, how is it at Jose’s?” Dubs asked. “We won’t tell if you want a new roommate.”
“Are you kidding?” Jessica asked. “It’s amazing. It’s enough to make me reconsider my plan to follow Quinn wherever she lands next.”
Quinn didn’t blame her. She’d never seen a group of people live and work the way Holt and her crew did. Teamwork, collaboration, and collegial spirit weren’t just corporate buzzwords. On top of that, they loved each other. And trusted one another. Any one of them would probably be scratched from a movie for being too good to be true, but here was a whole room full of them. And o
ne of them wants you.
“That’s right, Quinn, Lola said you were applying for jobs. Any word yet?” Isabelle asked.
Quinn felt Lola stiffen next to her. They hadn’t really talked much lately about what it would mean for them when she got a job. They’d been too busy running from bad guys and dodging bullets. It felt weird to be talking about it now when just hours ago she and Dubs had been in a firefight. But life didn’t stop just because you had a shitty day. She’d always thrown herself into work. Why should today be any different? “Nothing yet, which is frustrating. I interviewed for a position in Michigan a couple of weeks ago. I thought I would have heard about that one by now.”
“Lola mentioned you applied to UPVD too,” Holt said. “Do they know you’re in town?”
“I tried to get a message to the department chair,” Quinn said. “But I don’t know if it will get relayed. If the psychology department there is anything like CLA, things can get lost in any number of filters.”
“Wait, is Albert Castellano still chair?” Isabelle asked.
“He is,” Quinn said. She didn’t know where Isabelle was going with her question.
“I did his taxes for years.”
“I’m the only one he trusts to look at his rattletrap old Volvo,” Jose said.
“Went to school with his daughter,” Dubs said, holding up her hand.
“Holt, babe, hand me my phone,” Isabelle said.
“What are you doing?” Quinn asked. She was appalled at the thought of Isabelle trying to influence a former client on her behalf.
“Calling an old acquaintance to let him know you’re in town.”
Isabelle stepped out of the room while she waited for Dr. Castellano to answer.
“I don’t want him to think I’m abusing his friendships with you all,” Quinn said.
“He won’t,” Holt said. “This is Rhode Island. This sort of thing happens all the time. In LA could you sit down to dinner with a group of people and have three of them be connected independently to the person you are trying to give you a job interview?”
Data Capture Page 24
