Page 110 of Reactant

“Shut up,” Jericho bit out.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Jericho jabbed the elevator button, hoping that it was already on the floor, and they didn’t have to wait for it.

“If there was something you wanted to talk about…”

“I will end you,” Jericho promised darkly. He would climb onto the roof of the elevator and cut the cable ties and watch him plummet to his death. It was only a few floors. Plummet to his broken leg was probably more accurate.

Quinn must have given his name like that for convenience. What was he supposed to say? “He’s playing bodyguard for one of my three boyfriends, who was being targeted by a crazy moron for a reason as yet unknown to us?” That was before they even got into Jericho’s undercover situation. “Boyfriend” was a hell of a lot simpler.

The elevator was blissfully empty as they stepped inside, and no one came in before the doors slid closed. Jericho pressed the third-floor button and studiously ignored his brother.

“You were lying to me when you said you didn’t know if you were compromised.”

“I’m not dating them,” Jericho said automatically. Regardless of what Quinn had told the staff, they weren’t anywhere close to being boyfriends. They’d fucked, once. They hadn’t even kissed.

“You want to.”

Jericho glared up at the numbers as they slowly moved from one to two, willing them to go faster. What was taking it so fucking long?

“I should have taken you off this case.”

The doors dinged and opened smoothly. Jericho swiftly moved away from Hunter, checking the doors as he went. 303, 306, 308, bathroom, staff room, no idea what that next room was, waiting area.

Hunter grabbed Jericho’s arm, forcing him to halt. “What are you doing with them?”

“You already know what I’m doing with them.” Was he using some kind of selective memory?

“I put you in situations that are dangerous on an almost-daily basis. We risk ourselves for the greater good. Because the best attack against these kinds of people are the ones that they can’t see coming. But I won’t risk you like this.”

Jericho hated that they were having this conversation again. “I’m the older brother, remember? I should be giving you that speech.”

A muscle twitched in Hunter’s jaw, and Jericho felt guilty for throwing it at him like that. Jabbing at a sore spot that was likely to never heal wasn’t fair, and Jericho was an asshole for even mentioning it. “I’m sorr—”

“That won’t be a problem,” Hunter said stiffly.

“That isn’t—”

“Be careful with them.”

The second time someone had told him to be careful today, albeit for different reasons. He was more careful than any of them, so they had zero room to be cautioning him. He knew what he was doing.

Room 312 was empty. Not unexpected. Jericho hadn’t been far behind the ambulance, and scans took time. He guessed it would be at least another good twenty minutes before Quinn was brought back to his room. Gloria had to be with him. Or in a different room? No. If she were that attached that she refused to leave Quinn’s side enough to get into an ambulance, it made sense that it extended to the hospital.

She was going to need assistance after this. Some scars weren’t visible.

In unspoken agreement, he and Hunter took up vigil outside the door, leaning their backs against the wall, shoulder to shoulder.

“The killer’s been arrested,” Jericho said. “Quinn’s partner, Grady, took him in. Six is with them.”

Hunter hummed. “His name is Jack Sweeney,” he remarked. “Spence and Ken found some more information in Melbourne that will be of interest to us all.”

Jericho sighed. He needed a holiday. Maybe one that involved four other men and a distinct lack of clothing at all times. “This isn’t over, is it?”

“No.”

Jericho lifted a knee, planting his boot on the wall behind him. “The woman that came in with Quinn: Gloria. We need to do something with her.”

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