Lover Mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood #8) - J.R. Ward Page 0,46

gaper, staying put as first one gun muzzle then another eased inside. Forearms were next.

Then profiles and shoulders. And flashlights.

Fortunately, the humans stepped fully inside.

"Psst. Your fly's down." As the cops turned on Qhuinn's smart ass, John unsheathed both his SIGs, and with a quick cross-strike on those heads, CPD's finest were seeing stars and sinking down onto the floor. Which was precisely when Blay showed up with the Hummer. John jumped over the policemen and hightailed it down to the SUV

with Qhuinn right behind him, those New Rocks the fucker insisted on wearing positively pounding the earth. John gunned his way for the rear door, which Blay had popped, catching the handle and flipping himself 108

inside as Qhuinn slid into the backseat.

As Blay took off, flooring the engine and blasting out of there, John was glad they'd had to tango with only one set of cops--although sure as shit the other two badges would be back ASAP.

They were heading north toward the highway as John clawed his way into the backseat . . . and relocked his hands around Qhuinn's throat. As they went back at it, Blay shouted from up front, "What the fuck is wrong with you two?"

No time to answer that. John was busy squeezing and Qhuinn was trying to give him a black eye--and succeeding.

Sixty-something miles an hour. In and around downtown. With a possible ID on the Hummer if either of those cops had come to enough to focus his peepers while Blay got them out of Dodge.

And a brawl going down.

Later, John would realize that of course there was only one place Blay could go.

By the time the guy pulled into Sal's parking lot--in the back of the restaurant, where there were no lights--John and Qhuinn had both drawn blood. And the fight ended only when John was yanked out of the door by Trez--which suggested the redhead had phoned ahead. Qhuinn was handled with similar muscle by iAm.

John spit to clear out his mouth and glared at all of them.

"I believe we'll call this a draw, boys," Trez said with a half smile.

"What do ya think?"

As John was released, rage made him shake. That slayer could have been the one thing they needed to crack the locale . . . the story . . . the anything. And because Qhuinn had insisted on wasting the bastard, they were no closer to where they had to be. Plus there was the fact that the lesser had died so easily. Just a prick in the heart cavity and he was home free--or at least back to the Omega.

Qhuinn wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "For fuck's sake, John! You think I don't want to find her? You think I don't give a shit?

Christ, I've been out every night with you, looking, searching, praying for a break." He pointed his finger straight out. "So get this straight. The pair of us getting busted with a leaking lesser by a bunch of humans is not going to help us. You want to tell Wrath how you rolled with that one? I don't. And if you ever put a gun in my face again, I will fuck you up no matter what my job is."

John didn't trust himself to respond. One thing was clear, though--if he didn't have the hope of something turning up at Benloise's St. Francis 109

place, he would have been tearing shit up no matter who tried to stop him, Shadow or otherwise.

"Are you hearing me?" Qhuinn demanded. "Am I clear to you?" John paced around, hands on his hips, head down low. As his temper started to cool, the logical side of him knew his buddy was right. He was also very aware he'd temporarily lost his damn mind in that shed. Had he really put a forty in his friend's puss?

His sudden clarity made him sick to his stomach.

If he didn't stitch it up here, he was going to have more problems than a missing female. He was going to end up dead, either because he was sloppy in combat or because Wrath gave him a serious case of boot-up-theass-itis. He looked over at Qhuinn. Man, the hard expression on that pierced face was right close to an edge a friendship couldn't go back from--the kind of thing that didn't have to do with Qhuinn being a tough guy, but rather John being the kind of asshole no one wanted to hang out with. He walked up to the