Sloe Ride (Sinners, #4)

“Oh, Sam,” Quinn exhaled in a soft whisper as he felt Rafe’s pulse beating strong in his throat. “What have you done? All of this? LeAnne? Simon? And now Graham and Rafe? Why?”


“My. Name. Is. William. I get it. Sam. Like you’re Ralph. But you were supposed to be my Ralph. Not his. Never his.” The innocence in Sam’s—William’s—face curdled into an ugly hatred. Gone was the gentle man who got Quinn hot chocolate or stopped on his rounds long enough to say hello if he was on Quinn’s floor. “Why won’t you remember that? Why don’t you understand I’ve done this all for you? So you know how much I love you?”

Quinn stood, his fingers numb from gripping the extinguisher’s handle. His palm was bloody, and he held it up for William to see. “This is not how you show someone you love them. Killing people is not love. How could you think that? How could you even think I would want that?”

“You were supposed to come to me… not turn to him.” William glanced over his shoulder at Graham. “Or Professor Merris. You were supposed to—”

“I was supposed to what?” Quinn’s anger raged up inside of him. “What did you think I was going to do? Simon is dead. Simon, who was an asshole, but being an asshole isn’t enough for someone to die. And LeAnne is dead. She didn’t do anything to you. She was just going to school, and you killed her why? Why?”

“She wanted you. Couldn’t you see that?” he pled with Quinn, his lips quivering with emotion. “Every time I saw her with you, she touched you, stroked at you. How could you even let her touch you? Like that? Every year, I’ve watched students and sometimes even other teachers come up to you, wanting to be near you, and you never see them, Doctor Morgan. You never ever let them in. Not until him. Pretty little rock-star druggie. Not until he came into your life, and then you let everyone around you in. Even Professor Merris.”

“So this is about Rafe? Because he makes me happy?” Quinn struggled to understand William. “We’re friends, Sam…. William. God, all of this is nuts. I’m not worth this. No one is worth what you’ve done. No one should be a reason to kill. It’s stupid. And senseless. And—”

“Do not call me stupid!” William’s spit flew across Quinn’s face. “I killed the whore because she thought she was good enough for you. I killed Professor Kappelhoff because he treated you badly. Just like I need to get rid of him. Can’t you see? He’ll drag you down. I killed those people so you’d be free of them. So you could have a life without anyone who’d take advantage of you or—”

“You know what, Sam? Fuck you,” Quinn grunted, swinging the heavy metal canister up with as much force as he could put behind it.

His hands were wet, damp from Rafe’s blood, and the handle slipped slightly in his grasp. Clenching his fingers tighter, the pin blew out, forced free by Quinn’s double grip, and the extinguisher shot out a blast of white spray, catching William in the face.

Quinn couldn’t hold on to the canister, and it struck the floor, breaking one of the tiles, then rolling unevenly to a stop near Rafe’s feet. The mist drifted, swirling on the light push of air coming from the building’s air-conditioning vents, and Quinn held his breath, his lungs too tight on air to hold out for much more than a second. He caught the trailing edge of the spray, and his chest burned at the hit of chemicals on his inhale.

William staggered back, his temple split open and bleeding. His arm jerked back, the sap arcing behind him. Roaring, the guard rushed forward, swinging the blackjack up over his head. Quinn counted off the man’s steps, watching for a hiccup of time when his right foot was up in the air. Then he struck, slamming his foot into William’s left knee. He heard a crack, ominous and painful, and William went down.

Quinn scrambled to Rafe’s side, hoping his lover was lying on the weapon. Shoving his hands under Rafe, he muttered a quick apology, then heaved Rafe over, flopping him onto his side. Rafe’s eyes fluttered, opening when he landed with a pained grunt.

The gun wasn’t there.

“Ouch, babe,” Rafe grumbled. “God, this fucking hurts.”

“Busy right now, Rafe.” Quinn shoved his hands under Rafe’s clothes, hunting for the weapon. He did a wild search of the area around them, peering into any shadows nearby in case the gun slid into a corner or ended up next to one of the plants.

“Now I’m going to have to kill you, Doctor Morgan,” William groaned angrily. “I don’t understand why won’t you let me love you. But if I can’t, then he’s not going to either.”

“Oh God, he’s crazy.” Quinn snuck a quick peek at the guard. William was reaching for the sap he’d let drop. His eyes were swollen nearly shut from the blast of foam he’d taken from the extinguisher, but the insane focus in them was fixed on Quinn. “Where is the damned gun?”

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