“Now, come on, you guys. Let’s get out of here before some motorists come by and stop or worse, someone calls the local cops.”
Quinlan didn’t even think about it, he just scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the Porsche.
“You’re no he-man,” she said in the bitterest voice he’d ever heard. “It was just a six-foot walk. A nerd could have carried me that far.”
“It’s my gun,” he said, leaning down and lightly kissing her ear. “It’s heavy.” When he settled her on his lap in the passenger side of the Porsche, he held out his hand for the gun.
She looked at him for a very long time. “You’re really feeling possessive about me?”
“You stole my money, my credit cards, my car, and the photos of my nieces and nephews. I had to catch you so I could get that stuff back.”
“Bastard.” She gave him the gun. – “Yeah, that’s me,” he said. “Thanks, Sally. No more trying to run away from me?” he asked as he tossed the gun into the back seat.
“I don’t know.”
“Tell you what, I won’t strain your options. I’ll handcuff you to me, how’s that?”
She didn’t answer, her head pressed against his shoulder. She hurt, he realized, and here he’d been teasing her. “Just rest,” he said. He looked at Dillon. “How about finding us a nice motel?”
“Contradiction in terms. Are you paying or is the FBI?”
“Hell, I’m rich now that I’ve got my credit cards back. It’s on me, all except your room, Dillon.”
“Tomorrow we’ll buy you some clothes that fit.”
She was standing there, staring at the large motel room. There was a sitting area and a TV and a king-size bed. She turned to look at him. “It’s payback time?” He cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?” She nodded toward the bed. “I gather I’m to sleep with you in that bed.”
“I was going to ask that you take the sofa. It’s too short for me.”
She gave him a baffled look, then walked to the bathroom, saying over her shoulder, “I don’t understand you. Why aren’t you furious with me? Why aren’t you yelling? I’m not used to reasonable people, particularly reasonable men. Just look at you, the very image of long-suffering Job.”
A bruise was coming up along her jaw. He wondered just how badly her shoulder was hurt. “I would be pissed at you if I hadn’t seen you go flying off that motorcycle. You gave me a gray hair with that stunt.”
“It was a slick spot. There was nothing I could do.”
“Take a nice long shower. It should help your aches and bruises.”
Five minutes later there was a knock on the adjoining door.
Quinlan opened it up. “She’s in the shower. Come on in.”
Dillon was carrying a big bag from Burger King and a container holding three big soft drinks. He set them down on the table and threw himself on the sofa.
“What a mess. At least it seems like she’s not going to try to run again. I didn’t know you had such charm.”
“Hang around and maybe you’ll get a few pointers.”
“What the hell are we going to do, Quinlan? We’ve got to call Brammer. We don’t even know what’s going on with the rest of the investigation.”
“It just occurred to me that it’s the weekend. This is Friday night-well, actually Saturday morning. We’re sort of off duty. We’ve got until Monday before we have to be the good guys again, right?”
Dillon was leaning back against the sofa, his eyes closed. “Brammer will have our balls for breakfast.”
“Nah. He would have had our balls if we’d lost Sally. But we didn’t. Everything will be fine now.”
“I can’t believe your wild-eyed optimism,” Dillon said, opening his eyes and sitting up when he heard the shower turn off. “They have all sorts of those little shampoos and conditioners and stuff in the bathrooms.”
“Your point?”
The blow-dryer went on.
“No point, really. Let’s eat.” Dillon said. He took a big bite of his burger, saying with his mouth full, “I’m stressed. I need to work out. Thank God tomorrow’s Saturday. But damn, the gym will be crowded.”