Bulletproof Seal

Quinn joined a trio of late-night revelers and as they walked past Rikki and the man, Quinn dropped back. He reached out and grabbed the man’s arm, twisting it behind him before he could use the weapon gripped in his hand.

Rikki made a muffled cry and dropped to the ground.

Quinn gave the man’s arm a quick yank and heard the crack of his bone.

The man howled, his legs buckling beneath him.

Quinn heard a shout behind him. “Hey, hey. What are you doing?”

Plucking the gun from the man’s useless arm, Quinn kicked him in the gut for good measure.

Someone came up behind Quinn and grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”

As Quinn shrugged off the stranger’s hand, he slid the man’s weapon beneath his shirt. “Dude was taking off with my girl. You’re comin’ home with me, Lila.”

Rikki grabbed the sleeve of Quinn’s T-shirt, glanced over her shoulder at the concerned onlooker and shrugged. “Jealousy.”

Quinn hustled Rikki out of the alley before someone called the cops or an ambulance. When they hit Bourbon Street, Quinn whipped the hat from his head and clasped it against his side with his arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. How the hell did you know where I was?”

“Car?”

“Scooter a few blocks away.”

“You wear a helmet with that thing?”

She poked him in the side. “You’re concerned about helmet safety at a time like this?”

“Let’s get that helmet from your scooter, and then we’ll hop on my bike.”

“If you see me to my scooter, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” He gripped her upper arm. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Some guy with a gun almost took you away—again. I wanna know what kind of danger you’re in, and I wanna help. I owe you that.”

“Really...” She tripped as he pinched her arm tighter. “Okay. My scooter’s around the next corner.”

Quinn loosened his hold on her and smoothed his fingers over the bunched material of her blouse. If he’d learned anything about Rikki during their short affair, he knew she didn’t respond to halfhearted attempts at persuasion—or lovemaking.

She pointed to a small electric job with a white helmet locked to the back. “That’s it.”

“Let’s grab it and go. You don’t know if they ID’d your vehicle or followed you.”

“No.” She bent over the scooter and released her helmet. “I was not followed from your place—unless it was by you. How’d you know where I was?”

“Later. My motorcycle is back toward the bar.” He patted his waistband. “I got the guy’s gun, so unless he has a backup he’s not going to be taking any shots at you.”

“The way his bone cracked when you twisted his arm behind his back, I don’t think he could handle any weapon right now.” She crossed her arms over her helmet, hugging it to her midsection.

“When I saw him hustling you away at gunpoint, I wanted to do worse than break his arm, but I don’t need to be charged with murder or even questioned at this point. Who was he?” He placed his hand at the small of her back and propelled her across the street.

“Later.”

As they reached the other side of the street, Quinn ran his hand along the waistband of Rikki’s jeans, sitting low on the curve of her hips.

She stiffened beneath his touch. “I don’t think it’s the time or place to be groping me.”

“I’m not groping you, unless you want me to.” He briefly cupped her derriere through the tight denim. “What happened to your gun and handcuffs?”

“He relieved me of them and dropped them in a Dumpster right outside the club.”

Quinn muttered an expletive. “Maybe we can retrieve them tomorrow.”

“We?”

“Here’s my bike. Get that helmet on and hop on the back.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay to drive this thing? You were sleeping off a bender when I sneaked into your apartment.”

“The events since that time have gone a long way to sober me up.”

She held out her hand. “Doesn’t matter how you feel, Quinn. Your blood alcohol level is probably still over the legal limit. You don’t want to get arrested for murder or driving while under the influence.”

He jingled the keys and glanced down at his Honda. “Can you manage a bike this size? It’s not your little scooter.”

She snorted. “Hop on the back.”

Rikki handled the bike like she handled everything else—with confidence and ease. He did have to help her hoist the bike onto its kickstand, but she’d been right about taking the wheel—or the handlebars. He’d been an idiot to take a chance like that on the bike, no matter how sober he felt, but he couldn’t stand to see her waltz right out of his life just after he’d discovered she’d survived the ordeal in North Korea.

How the hell had she escaped that torture?

As they approached his front door, Rikki hung back. “You didn’t leave your place unlocked again, did you? We’re not going to find Alice waiting in your bed, are we? Or worse?”

“I can dispense with Alice easily enough, but if that man who had you at gunpoint has any friends, we want to make sure he hasn’t ID’d me and dispatched one of his cohorts to wait for us.”

Rikki’s brown eyes widened as if the thought had never occurred to her. If it hadn’t, her spy skills needed some refreshment.

Where had she been since escaping from North Korea?

He tucked her behind him. “Wait here while I give it a quick check.”

Her hand grabbed his side, and she lifted her abductor’s gun from his waistband. “Now I’m armed, too. We’ll take ’em on together.”

“I forgot who I was dealing with.” He unlocked his door and pushed it open slowly with his foot. When it stood wide, he entered his apartment with his weapon sweeping the room.

Rikki closed and locked the door behind them and crept in beside him, peeling off to check out the back rooms. She called out, “All clear.”

Quinn peered over the counter into the kitchen. “All clear here.”