Completely. They were a lot smarter than me, I guess, and didn’t want to go any closer to the pub than we already were.
“Why don’t we just shout his name? Maybe he’ll come out.”
“No, we’re going to have to go in.” Odds were that by now these hunters knew what I looked like. I’d be risking my life going into Clancy’s tonight.
But I needed Quinn.
I had to save Thierry. Nothing else mattered.
My feet, however, were still having their doubts about the whole situation.
“There’s a phone booth across the road,” George said. “Why don’t I call Clancy’s and ask to speak to
Quinn?”
I glanced at him. “You can wait out here if you’re scared.”
“Scared? I resent the accusation. I’m not scared. I’m simply trying to be practical. And this is a new shirt. I’d rather not get it dirty. Or get a huge hole from a stake in it. Call me crazy.”
“You’re not crazy. Okay, let’s just go. It’ll be like pulling off a Band-Aid, do it quickly and it doesn’t hurt.”
“Pulling off a Band-Aid, getting a wooden stake through the heart. Potato, Po-tah-to.”
I tried to smile but failed. I looked down at my feet.
Come on boots. Start walkin’.
And they did. It was a miracle.
I pushed the door open and got a big whiff of cigarette smoke. Despite the city’s going completely smoke-free, Clancy’s had obviously deemed itself to be the exception to the rule.
Trying to latch on to any good sign, I noticed that the club was fairly empty. Must have been an off night.
There were a few hulks playing pool off to the right. A hulking woman was yelling at her hulking boyfriend by the dart board. The hulking bartender was counting cash up in the till with a cigarette dangling from his hulking lips.
Nobody even looked at us.
George dug his fingers into my arm. “There he is.”
I looked over at the bar, through the smoky haze. There was Quinn. Sitting hunched over at the bar. In fact, it was the exact same bar stool he’d been seated at when we’d first met. He had a bottle of beer in front of him and was playing with the label he’d peeled off. He wore dark blue jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. I could almost see the little black rain cloud hovering over his head. Then again, it was pretty smoky in there. He didn’t particularly look like he was investigating a series of murders, but maybe looks were deceiving.
I glanced apprehensively at the other hunters and quickly walked over to him. George didn’t loosen his tight grip on my arm. I swung onto the stool next to Quinn. He didn’t look at me.
“What do you want, Sarah?” he asked as he studied the shredded beer label.
“World peace.” I sighed. “I’d also really love one of those tiny teacup Chihuahuas , you know, like Paris
Hilton has? And . . . I don’t know, maybe longer hair. It gets a little limp if I grow it too far past my shoulders, but it would be a nice change.”
That earned me a sideways glance. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Neither should you.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“You’re probably right. Listen, Quinn, I don’t have much time here. I need you.”
He frowned. Then he looked up at George, hovering behind me.
George nodded. “I need you, too. Group hug?”
Quinn returned his attention to his beer label. “Why are you here?”
“How can you even ask that? You’re the one who called to let me know Janie wants me dead. Or was that somebody who just sounded like you?”
“I just wanted to give you a heads-up. But I’m sure your boyfriend can keep you safe.”
I tensed. “Maybe it was a mistake coming here.”
“Maybe it was. Now why don’t you take your little buddy and get out of here before my friends over there—” he nodded in the general direction of Hulk Central “—notice that public enemy number one is in the house.”
I let out a long sigh of exasperation and looked at George. “Could you give us a moment?”
“A moment?”
“Yeah, I need to say a few things to Quinn in private.”
George glanced around the bar. “Um. Okay, I’ll just be over by the coat rack, trying not to die.”
He shuffled off to the side, trying to stick to the shadows, which there were plenty of in Clancy’s.
I looked at Quinn. “Listen, I don’t mean to sound unfeeling. I get that you’re in a ‘bad place’ right now.
I do. I know you’ve been through hell the last couple of months and I haven’t exactly lightened your burden. But you know what, Quinn?”
“What?”
“Suck it the hell up.”
He blinked at me. “Pardon me?”
“I said suck it up. You say you’re here investigating the murders? Looks more like you’re indulging in self-pity and tempting fate by dangling yourself in front of a bunch of hunters. I’m worried about you.”
He frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t want to see me again? That you didn’t care what happened to me anymore.”
I sniffed, and found that I was starting to cry.Again . Alert the media. “I care.Of course I care. How can you think I don’t?”