Liam Davis & The Raven (16 page)

What had happened to Jill?

What had Jill done to deserve it?

Hunter’s words
echoed in my mind.
The vigilante broke his collarbone throwing him to the ground. He had to go to hospital. Now he’s telling everyone the assault came out of the blue . . .

Could it be so simple? Could Jill have
earned vigilante payback by attacking some guy for being gay?

Instead of sneering like he normally would have, Jill tore his face from my view and s
ank behind his desk. Across from him, Jack’s working space was empty. He stared at his friend’s desk and bowed his head, likely wishing he had a confidante that would agree with what he’d done and have his back.

A sudden urge
overcame me. I picked up my office-friend stapler and imagined myself leaving it on the empty desk and finding out if Jill was The Night Warrior guy threatening The Raven. Except, even if I found out it
was
Jill, it wouldn’t yield anything helpful if he didn’t admit the truth. And why would he do that?

No, I needed to talk to Jack and find out
who Jill had been with at two in the morning. If I could convince his victim to acknowledge the vigilante was helping him, maybe The Raven could continue protecting people like Hunter.

People l
ike me.

Chapter 12

Shannon’s clear and steady voice filled the
gym. “Be aware of your surroundings,” she said, her solemn gaze skimming over me and the ten other students forming a semi-circle around her.

“No walking like
you’re free lunch.” She hunched her shoulders, dropped her gaze to the floor, and slipped her hands into the pockets of her black cargo pants. She took a few steps. “The very first step in self-defense is to carry yourself
confidently
.”

She spun around, this time holding her shoulders back, head up, hands unrestricted at her sides.

The double doors at the back of the room opened with a groan and heavy footsteps padded over the wooden floors before squelching over foam mats.

“Quinn,” Shannon said, a grin quirking her lips for the first time since the lesson started. “About time you got your butt in here.”

“Got caught up with my professor,” came the thick voice I hadn’t heard in a couple of days. I’d been living in the
Scribe
offices, late every night, finishing my Halloween special.

I glanced over my shoulder. Quinn strode toward Shannon, the fluorescent lights making his bleached hair and clubbed ears more prominent. His gaze scrolled over us, settling on mine. The moment marred his casual grace, and he hesitated mid-step.

I expected a smile or a wink, but after a second of blankly staring, he refocused on Shannon. On automatic, I pushed up my glasses but—thinking logically—I removed them and jogged them to the bench at the side of the room.

“.
. . strong body posture and eye contact,” Shannon said as I slipped next to a slim fellow named Cheddar who sported an earring and a double-dimpled grin.

Quinn, now up front with Shannon, nodded. “The aim in self-defense is to get out of a situation. It’s not about fighting to win; it’s about fighting to
run
.” He raised his brows toward Shannon and the rest of us. “We should all be big fans of running here. It can save your life. What we will show you over the next six weeks are techniques that can help you get to the point where you have a chance to run.”

Shannon sprung a surprise attack on Quinn, pulling out a plastic knife from her pocket and lunging toward him. Quinn responded quickly, pivoting out of her aim and grabbing control of her knife-wielding arm. He yanked her closer and demonstrated kneeing her in the crotch and applying force to her arm until he could take control of the weapon.

A shiver climbed slowly and steadily up my spine until it released in a shudder. They made it seem so easy, yet when Freddy had attacked me, there hadn’t been time to think. I blinked back the image of those sharp, glittering fingers.
Let’s see how you like this up—

And then
The Raven appeared, swooping in out of the blue.

I
tried to grab my pen but I only brushed my hand over loose, pocketless sweatpants. Instead, I balled my hands and focused my attention on Shannon.

“There are four distances of attack that we will look at: kicking distance, punching distance, grabbing distance and what to do if you are pinned on the floor.”

After Quinn and Shannon demonstrated a few defensive moves, they paired us all up to practice.

My partner Genna
, a Hispanic woman with a nervous smile and painted eyes, didn’t hesitate to launch herself at me. I fumbled a block. After we righted ourselves, Shannon touched my arm.

“Mind if I give you a few pointers?”

“Go right ahead.”

She showed me how to angle my hand so I wouldn’t be likely to sprain or break my wrist in an attack. “Keep your fingers angled toward your attacker, you want them to hit their eyes.”

Over her shoulder, Quinn and Cheddar were chuckling at something. Quinn drew Cheddar close, showing him how to grab an attacker’s neck and bend him forward. I mimicked the move on my partner, getting a cheer from Shannon.

“Good,” she said, sincere and
—relieved?

How much did
teaching these classes remind her of Hunter? I was under no illusion that she taught them for any other reason than wishing her brother had been able to protect himself.

“Keep practicing,” she murmured and moved on, freeing my vision of Quinn and Cheddar yakking easily as they blocked and attacked.

Quinn’s gaze flickered in my direction for a brief moment, and then he laughed loudly at something Cheddar said.

“All right,” Shannon called out. “Swap partners. Get a feel for how someone else attacks and how to respond. Remember, confidence.”

I thanked Genna and picked a path to Quinn. “Okay, let’s do this,” I said, planting myself front of him.

He blinked down at me, his brow creasing slightly in the middle. For a moment he said nothing, just stared. And then
a professional, relaxed Quinn said, “Feet shoulder-width apart.”

His hand
landed on my upper arm and his fingers slid down my sleeve as he coaxed me forward. “Lean slightly inward. Keeping your balance is essential.”

“It’s been a busy few days,” I said, practicing throwing a palm-punch to his face. My fingertips brushed over his nose, cheek, and the side of his eye. His eyelashes scraped over the pad of my thumb as he blinked. “Hope you haven’t been making dinner expecting I would come.”

No answer.

“If you have, I’m sure it made for good lunches.”

Quinn stepped closer, slowly sliding his hand around the back of my neck. His palm was warm where he pushed me down. “Try it,” he said.

It was the same move I’d watched him show Chedda
r, the one I’d practiced on Genna a few times already. I copied step-by-step, catching the tips of Quinn’s hair on the length of my fingers as I steered him down.

When he came back up, I waited for his comment.
Again, nothing.

It was my turn to frown.
I started to describe how well I executed that maneuver, when he suddenly spoke. His words were puffs of air against my cheek as he locked his arms tightly around me. “You look different without your glasses on.”

Per Shannon’s earlier instruction, I shifted into his embrace instead of against it, pressing quickly against him and steering my thigh to his crotch in a would-be kick. I smirk
ed. “You look different without my glasses on too.”

This was the part where Quinn was
supposed to show how my moves affected his balance and stumble backward in submission.

He didn’t. He tightened his arms instead until I was cocooned in warmth, the light smell of Axe mingled with sweat filling my nose. He said quietly into my hair, “Did you ever get that date?”

“Yes.” I pushed until our bodies were flush. “Friday.”

This time when I lifted my thigh to his groin, I knocked him enough off balance that he didn’t have to feign stumbling. He caught himself, straightened quickly, and
acknowledged the move by cocking his head.

“I got myself a date too,” he said.

He had? “Who with?”

Quinn jerked his thumb toward Cheddar.

“The cheese?”

Lips stretched into a satisfied smile as he crossed his arms. “My favorite.”

“To each his own, obviously.”

“It won’t bother you?”

“We’ve been over this, Quinn. No freaking out, I promise.”

“Not that. I mean
—”

“Oh,” I said. Was he worried I would take it the wrong way because of our kiss the other day? I quickly shook my head. “I’m not jealous or anything if that’s what you’re asking. I mean, the kiss was great, Quinn
. It opened my eyes to new possibilities that I need to investigate further. But I can promise you, I’m not going to act weird around you or suffer under a pathetic crush.”

Quinn’s cheeks bloomed with color and he scratched the back of his head. “Right. No pathetic crush. Good.”

Shannon’s voice sliced through the conversation. “And switch partners again.”

“Can I catch a ride home with you after class?” I
asked, noting that Cheddar was eyeing us. Guess I knew my next partner.

Quinn sighed and motioned for G
enna to pair up with him. “Sure, Liam. Sure.”

Chapter 13

Hunter rolled through
Scribe
’s office doors, wearing a white tank-top that made his arms look as beefy and intimidating as Booster Gold’s. “Which one of these geeks do you think is The Night Warrior?” he asked, with a sideways grin.

“Guy in the corner,
” I said, beelining to the back of the room where a crowd had gathered around the noticeboard to see the first set of BCA results. Obviously, I hoped to place first through twenty-fifth, but it was possible not all three articles pulled high rank.

“With the bags under his eyes,
wearing a rugged red shirt?”

“The one with a permanent sneer on his face.”

Hunter clapped the back of my brown pants. “Give me five minutes with him.”

He wheeled toward Jill,
who sat alone staring blankly at Jack’s empty desk.

I rounded the dissipating crowd and slunk through a gap to the board. Hannah bumped
her shoulder against mine.

“Thirty-second place for my report on guns on campus.” Her breath came out in excited puffs close to my cheek, and her smile lit her eyes.

I recalled the article. “It was a thorough and thoughtful article. I’d have thought it’d place higher.”

Her smile faltered. “Do you know how many reports are submitted to the BCA?”

“About 3000 on average.”

“That wasn’t what I meant. I meant
 . . .” she sighed. “Thirtieth is pretty good.”

Thirtieth put her in the ninety-ninth percentile. I laid a clumsy hand on her shoulder. “You’re right. I should have said congratulations. I think you are very talented, Hannah. I just wanted more for you.”

Her lips quirked into a smile. “Better,” she said, backing away. “I hope you’re satisfied too. I’ve got to get to class.” She bit her bottom lip. “See you tonight then?”

“Yes. Let’s meet at the
theater. Seven-thirty.”

“Okay
, I’ll be there.” With that, she spun on her heel, clutched her messenger bag tighter to her side, and wove toward the exit.

I fingered a line down the list
until I hit my name. I let out a relieved breath when I caught the title of the article that won twenty-eighth place.
The Ghosts of College Past, Present, and Yet to Come.

I
f that got me twenty-eighth
place, then I had a right to be excited about the final placements. I turned from the board, making my way toward Hunter.

Chief Benedict stood, leaning against his office door, staring toward the BCA list. His gaze panned toward me and he
nodded his head in congratulations.

T
he article he’d submitted on my behalf had done well, which was great. But I still didn’t believe it to be my best work. When the top placements came out, I would prove it to the chief as well.

Hunter’s voice reached my ears. “
Dude, calm down. It was just a joke.”

“Well fuck you,” Jill said, gathering his crap from the table and stuffing it awkwardly into his bag with his left hand. “Nobody beat me up. I can handle myself!
I
can
.”

“Aren’t we getting a bit
touchy?” Hunter asked, unfazed—almost amused—by Jill’s cutting sneer.

I stopped close
r to Jack’s desk and pivoted toward the window, staring at the two from the corner of my eye.

Jill flushed. “
Touchy?
I’m not—”

“Yep, you are. It’s a good thing Liam isn’t your friend, else I’d have to question his
judgment.”

I startled at my name
and blinked toward Hunter casually drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair.

“Liam?” Jill spat. “You know him?”

“More than that, I
like
him.”

Those three words
functioned like a warm blanket on a cold day. I approached Hunter’s side, resting a hand on the back of his chair. Jill wasn’t going to confess. “Let’s get lunch,” I said.

We left Jill guffawing
, and grabbed some sandwiches to eat at the park. We planted ourselves at the exact spot near the trees where I’d spoken with Mitch. Hunter reluctantly donned a sweater.

“
I think the guy needs to be laid over a knee and given a good spanking,” Hunter said, “but I don’t think he’s The Night Warrior.” He motioned toward my face. “Crumb.”

I blinked away the image of Jill ass
-up and swiped a hand over my mouth. “Not him? But—”

“
Look, he checked me out, okay? You know,” Hunter slowly stroked his gaze over me from head to foot, lingering a moment at my crotch. “He’s gay. My bet, the victim.”

Jill? The victim?

“He was acting defensive back there,” Hunter continued.

“Then he can identify who attacked him!”

“I don’t think he’s going to come forward about it any time soon. He’s angry, embarrassed.”

“Then what
should we do?”

Hunter cocked his head and grinned.
“Leave it to me—I have a way with stubborn men.”

“Didn’t seem to work with Mitch,” I pointed out.

He hurled his sandwich wrapper at my stomach. “You really say what you think, don’t you?”

“Because it’s true.”

Hunter laughed. “Yeah, but sometimes a little sugarcoating or downright fake forgetfulness goes a long way.”

“You want me to forget this thing with you and Mitch?”

“Yeah. Because there is no me and Mitch.”

“Making your
own luck didn’t help then?”

“Sure it did. Mitch wasn’t the only one I was making my luck
for. He wasn’t even the main one.”

I scrunched my
sandwich wrapper around Hunter’s, attempting to mask the warm feeling flooding me. I tried to thank him, but it struggled to come off my tongue so I nodded instead.

“Right,” Hunter said, rolling forward. “Let’s go somewhere I can take my sweater off.”

I dressed in a suit because it
was
a date, after all. The cuffs were stiff at my wrists, alternating between annoying and, well, pleasant when they tickled my skin lightly.

Quinn stomped around the kitchen,
so I decided against blow-drying my hair in favor of giving him a quick greeting.

He stopped abruptly, the
milk from his glass splashing on the floor. Placing the newly-emptied glass on the bench, he dropped a dishtowel onto the small puddle and swiped his foot over it, side to side. “Might want to lose the jacket,” he said tightly, his gaze doing the same sweeping that Hunter demonstrated earlier.

“Really?” I asked, veering around him for a slice of bread to pop into the toaster. “Is that why you were checking me out?”

Quinn picked up the dishtowel with a thin laugh and tossed it into the sink. He suddenly appeared right beside me, prying the bread from my fingers. “Why eat if you’re going out on a date?”

“We’re just doing a movie.
Then she wants to help out with ideas for my column.”

“Your
column? That’s your idea of a date?”

“Well, yeah. We’re going to
Jell-O Fight Night just off Fifth. So right now”—I snatched back the bread and popped it in the toaster—“I’m hungry.”

Zing!

The toaster spluttered and sparked and I jerked my arm back.

Quinn swore and pulled the plug from the socket. He twisted me toward him
with a tight, panicked grip on my forearms, checking me over carefully. “Are you okay?”

I swallowed. Blinked.
“Have I ever told you you’re better than a cat?”

Quinn’s lips contorted into a grin that he proceeded to smother and turn into a frown. His hands moved to my jacket and pinched at the V just above the first button. “
Jell-O Fight Night? I thought you wanted some muscle at your side when you went to party?”

“Somehow
Jell-O Fight Night doesn’t sound all that intimidating. If you were a mop and a bucket, I might have taken you along.”

“In case you change your mind, I’ll be a phone
-call away.” His fingers slid to the buttons, undoing them one at a time.

I let him. I liked watching the slight shake of his hands as he drew his fingers over the material, knuckles scraping gently over the shirt underneath. I shivered at the loss of the touch
when he pulled back. “Wear it undone.”

“Thanks for the tip.
When are you meeting the cheese tonight?”

He
looked at me blankly for a moment, then twisted toward the fridge and opened it. “Yeah, Cheddar. He . . . uh—I mean,
we
—are meeting soon. What movie did you say you’re going to?”

“It’s that student
documentary,
Played With. Lost.
At the campus theater.”

“That’s a coincidence,” Quinn said, pulling out some lettuce and tomato and moving to the chopping board. “We were planning on
seeing that too.”

I
tilted my head slowly. “This isn’t you getting jealous, is it?”

He laughed so loudly I had to rub my ears a little.
“Nah, just a coincidence. And . . . since neither of us have any pathetic crushes on one another, you won’t mind if we’re there too, right?”

I rested against the bench and passed him the bread when he
gestured for it. “Right. I just didn’t pick you for the documentary type,” I said. “You or the cheese. But since you are, would you mind giving me a lift?”

Quinn prepared sandwiches, cutting them
neatly down the middle. “You know who might mind? Cheddar. Let me just give him a call and see how he
feels
about it.” He passed me the plate of prepared sandwiches and darted off to his room.

I stared down at the plate,
a solid weight in my hand, just as Quinn was a solid weight in the apartment.
I could get used to this.
With a smile, I moved to the table and ate.