Quinlan touched the biker’s arm. “Thanks for your help. The four of you can go now.”
“Can I see identification?”
Quinlan smiled through his teeth. “Sure thing. Dillon, show the man our ID again. He didn’t get a good enough look the first time.”
The biker studied it closely, then nodded. He looked back down at Sally, who’d propped herself up on her elbows. “I still can’t believe she’s a crook.”
“You should see her grandmother. A glacier, that old lady. She’s the head of the counterfeiting ring. Leads her husband around by the ear. She’s a terror, and this one is going to be just like her.”
Once the bikers had roared off, Quinlan said to Sally, “We’re going to take you to the hospital now.”
“No.”
“Don’t be an idiot. You could have hurt your innards.”
“If you force me to a hospital, I’ll announce to the world who I am and who you are.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Try me.”
He realized he was being blackmailed, but not for anything he had done. She would be the only one to be hurt if she did as she promised. He believed her.
“How are you, Sally?”
“Dillon? You were the jerk driving the Porsche? And James was sitting right beside you telling you what to do. I should have known. Well, I did know, deep down.”
“Yeah,” Dillon said, wondering why it didn’t occur to her to give him any of the credit. “Let me help you up. You don’t look half bad in Quinlan’s coat. A little long, but other than that, it’s a perfect fit. Anyone who can ride a motorcycle like you do has to have the broadest shoulders in the land.”
“How did you find me? Oh, dear, my head.” She shook her head, then blinked her eyes. “It’s just a bit of a headache. My shoulder hurts a little, but that’s all. No hospital.”
Quinlan couldn’t stand to see her weaving around, his coat torn at the left shoulder, two buttons popped on her blouse. “You’re not wearing a bra.”
Sally looked down at the gaping blouse. There was no way she could pull it together. She just buttoned James’s coat. “Dillon got me a training bra when he went out and bought all these charming duds that are three sizes too small. I couldn’t even get the thing fastened.”
“Well, I didn’t know what size. Sorry it didn’t get the job done.”
She kicked him in the shin.
“I didn’t mean it like that, dammit,” he said, rubbing his leg. “I’ll think of something and tell you later.”
“You’d better not.”
Quinlan took her arm and gently pulled her toward him. “It’s all right now, Sally. It’s all right.”
He pulled her against him. “Are you sure you don’t want to have a doctor check you out?”
“No doctor. I hate doctors.”
That made sense to him. He didn’t point out that a doctor wasn’t the same as a shrink. He wondered in that moment if Beadermeyer even was a doctor. He said to Dillon, “When you get a minute, do some checking on Beadermeyer. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s just a ruthless crook.” To Sally he said, “All right. But you need to rest. Let’s find a place to stay the night.”
“How did you find me?”
“We just missed you at your grandparents’, just as we did at your mother’s. We figured you had to be as tired as we were, so we called all the motels in this area. It was easy. You’ve got a lot to learn about running, Sally.”
She realized then that she’d lost, she’d really lost. And it had been so easy for them. If they hadn’t tracked her down on the highway, then James would have just come into her motel room. Easy, too easy. She was a turkey. She looked down at her dead Honda 350, at its twisted frame and blown back tire.
“My bike is ruined. I just bought it. I was just getting it broken in.”
“It’s all right. It doesn’t matter.”
“That bike cost me nearly all my money.”
“Since it was my three hundred dollars, I’m willing to write it off.”
Everything had turned upside down. Nothing was as it should be. She eased her hand into the coat and pulled out his gun. She pressed it against his lower ribs.
19
“NOT AGAIN, SALLY,” he said, but still he was careful not to move.
“She’s got your gun on you again, Quinlan?”
“Yes, but it’s okay. I think she’s learned a bit more since the last time she did it.
“Sally, it’s over now. Come on, sweetheart, pull that sucker back. Whatever you do, don’t forget that hair trigger. Damn, I think I’ll have it modified a bit next time I’m at Quantico. Actually, if you could slip it back into my shoulder holster once we’re in the car, I’d appreciate it. My shoulder holster’s been empty since you stole my gun. I feel half-dressed.”