Bulletproof Seal. Carol Ericson

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       Chapter Four

      Quinn plowed through the crowd of people on Bourbon Street, stepping on a few toes and upsetting a few drinks. The Gator Lounge occupied a side street, and he made for the corner of that street like a heat-seeking missile.

      Before he stepped through the front door of the bar, he tugged his baseball cap low on his forehead. If Rikki made him as soon as he walked into the bar, he’d lose his chance to find out what business she had in New Orleans. He might lose his chance of ever seeing her again.

      Shoving his hands in his pockets, he hunched his shoulders and dipped his head. Two steps into the bar, he scanned it quickly, and his heart jumped in his chest.

      His gaze locked onto Rikki and a man in a blue cap heading for the back of the bar. Quinn had frequented enough bars in the past few months to know this one led to an alley running behind it. Rikki and her companion were headed either for the restrooms or out the back door. Either way, he’d be in the vicinity to intercept them.

      He backed out of the Gator Lounge and jogged through a small courtyard between buildings. He hugged the side of the bar and poked his head around the corner into the alley.

      The blood in his veins ran cold as he watched the man propel Rikki in front of him—by force. Every line in her body screamed that she didn’t want to be in his company or be going anywhere with him.

      Plenty of people had seeped into this alley off the main street, and Quinn joined their ranks, edging closer to Rikki and her abductor.

      The guy in the cap seemed distracted. He didn’t notice the pedestrians who passed by him and Rikki, wasn’t expecting any kind of intervention—and that was the way Quinn liked it.

      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 СКАЧАТЬ