Of course it was smooth, Verran thought. You plan out all your moves ahead of time, it always goes smooth. Even if the AC cops could have got out an APB in time, they'd have been looking for two guys of unknown race wearing black or dark blue windbreakers. A lone white male driving out of town in a red jacket wouldn't get a second look.
"And the cops? You give them a call?"
"Didn't have to. The hotel fuzz was coming to the rescue just as we were leaving."
Perfect.
"Where's Kurt now?"
"He's in his car not ten feet from me, waiting to get home."
"Good. Both of you come straight here. I'm proud of you guys."
And besides, Verran wanted to see and feel that rotten lousy defective bug in his very own hand. Tonight.
SIXTEEN
"At least I didn't lose any teeth."
Tim sat on the bed with an ice pack against his right cheek. Quinn knelt beside him, her hands clasped between her thighs, still shaking inside. The room was warm but her hands felt cold; she felt cold all over.
"You could have lost your life."
They'd been to the hotel infirmary once, in and out of the hotel security office twice—she had to say the Taj Mahal had been genuinely solicitous, even though the mugging had occurred off their premises—and to the Atlantic City Police department and back. They had filled out forms, given descriptions, and recounted the events leading up to and during the attack until they were both sick of talking about it.
The consensus was that it had been a random mugging, but Quinn remembered that feeling of being watched. She hadn't said anything to the police about it, though. But she suspected the two attackers had watched them win heavily, seen them go outside to the deserted boardwalk, and made their move.
Tim fingered the tears in his sport coat with his free hand.
"Look at this. Torn to shreds." He looked at her, reached out and rubbed her arm. His warm touch felt good. "You okay?"
She nodded. "I only got shoved around a little. But I feel completely worn out." She felt as if she'd been inflated to twice her size, and then had her plug pulled. A dull, throbbing headache topped it off.
"I know what you mean. But you got more than just shoved around. That goddamn creep!"
She didn't want to talk about it, even think about it. She put her hand over his. "You were very brave."
He snorted. "Brave? They had me down on my back and were punching my lights out."
"No. I mean after, when the big guy was attacking me. I know they hurt you, but still you got up and...came to help."
"I couldn't very well lie there and let him maul you, could I?"
"But you were hurt."
"Yeah, but I've seen all those John Wayne and Clint Eastwood movies. They sort of make you feel there are things you should do even though you know you're going to get hurt."
Quinn slid closer and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Does this hurt?"
"I'd say that's just what the doctor ordered."
Quinn felt oddly warm, with rushes of heat coursing through her. Short of breath too. All the good feelings she had for Tim crowded close around her, pressing her to him, and all the doubts and reservations she'd had, all the irritations he caused were gone, blown away. They didn't matter any longer. Tonight they'd walked together through a fire. She felt joined to this man.
She lifted her head and kissed him on the lips, gently.
"Sorry," she said. "I don't know why I did that." And that was true. She hadn't planned it, or even thought about it. She'd just...done it.
"Do it again," he said softly. "But easy on the lower lip. It's killing me."
And what followed came very naturally, very slowly, with their clothes being shed bit by bit, like old skin, and the heat building incrementally but irresistibly till it pulsed and throbbed with an incendiary life of it own as they joined like longtime lovers who'd known each other forever.
*
Quinn lay face down on the sheets and shivered in the dark as Tim's fingers traveled lightly up and down her spine. On one trip they continued further down and he ran his hands gently over her rear.
"I always knew you had a—"
"Don't say it."
"—nice butt."
"You said it."
"It's true."
"I have a caboose butt on an Olive Oyl body."
"No, you've got a Bluto brain. You need therapy for your distorted body image."
She lay quiet, her thoughts in turmoil, as he continued his feather-light caresses.
"What have we done, Tim?" she said finally.
"What comes naturally."
"I'm serious."
"You mean, have we ruined a beautiful friendship?"
"Exactly."
He moved closer, sliding against her right side, crossing his knee over the backs of her thighs. His lips brushed her ear.
"I hope not. I desperately hope not. But we can't pretend this didn't happen."
"I know."
"Do you want to stop and never do this again?"
"No. God, no. But every time you stop by the room, are you going to want to be like this? Am I? I didn't want to be involved, Tim. I really didn't."
"Are you involved?"
Quinn turned toward him and felt his chest hair brush her nipples as their legs entwined. She couldn't remember feeling this way about anyone else. Ever. This had to be love.
"Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Are you?"
"Have been since I first saw you at orientation last December. From that moment I knew it was going to be you and me. I didn't know how long it would take or how many different roads we would travel, but some part of me seemed to sense that we'd wind up together. You must have sensed something like that too."
Quinn laughed and hugged him closer—but gently. "No way! I thought you were an obnoxious brat, one of the last people on earth I wanted to have anything to do with. Just slightly ahead of Saddam Hussein."
"Thanks a lot." He nuzzled her throat. "But I have an idea. A compromise. We'll make it a rule between us that we don't make love on campus. When we can we'll sneak away to the No-Tell Motel or something and go nuts, but at The Ingraham we stay strictly platonic."
Quinn tried to see his face in the dark. Was this one of his put-ons? She wished she knew because it sounded perfect to her.
"Where'd you come up with that?"
"Oh, I don't know. I just put myself inside a very practical, borderline-nerdy mind and tried to imagine what that mind could come up with."
She punched him lightly on the shoulder and he winced.
"Ouch!"
"Sorry. But is that what you think of me?"
"Isn't that what you'd have come up with?"
Reluctantly, she had to agree.
He said, "But there's got to be an angle we can work with this. Maybe we can apply to Dr. Alston for extra credit when we make our little off-campus trips."
"Extra credit?"
"Sure. Extracurricular studies in anatomy. Or how about human sexuality lab? Gotta be worth something. In fact I think I'm ready to earn a few extra credits right now."
Quinn slid her hand down his abdomen. "Yes, you are. Yes, you are indeed."
MONITORING
"What the hell happened to you?"
Verran was staring at Kurt's swollen, purpling nose as he and Elliot arrived in the control room.
"The kid got in a lucky one when I wasn't looking." He sounded like he had a bad cold.
"Great. Just great. That means you're going to have to stay out of sight until that thing heals."