Free Arctic Fire 2 by Erica Stevens Page B

voice would chase off every animal in a ten-mile radius.
    “Much better,” she replied. “It must have been one of those twelve-hour bugs or maybe food poisoning.”
    Clint chewed on his gum as he eyed her skeptically. “Never heard of a twelve-hour bug before. Don’t need you puking on the customers.”
    “I’ll make sure to take it outside again,” she assured him.
    “Fine,” he relented. He’d turned away from her when Julian stepped into the bar with Chris and Melissa. “I hope you’re not the one who got her sick, Hulk Hogan,” Clint said as he walked by Julian.
    Julian did a double take before a thunderous expression crossed his face, and he glared at Clint’s retreating back. Melissa and Chris burst into laughter; Quinn had to bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud.
    “One of these days,” Julian growled.
    “You’ll what?” Quinn asked as she grabbed her tray from the table.
    Julian shook his head. “I might flash my fangs and go all red-eyed on him in order to make him piss himself.”
    “He’d probably just shoot you,” Chris choked out. “And then I’d laugh more.”
    Julian gave him the finger before walking over to kiss her cheek. “Are you okay?”
    “As okay as I was the last six times you asked me,” she assured him as she rested her hand on the black stubble lining his jaw. “I have no regrets.”
    He settled his hands on her hips and shook them a little. “Just checking.”
    She gave him a quick kiss before reluctantly stepping away from him. The place was already beginning to fill up. Quinn kept her attention on the front door as she took orders and worked her way through the crowd with ease. She didn’t think the vamp would return so soon, but she hadn’t expected him to appear last night either. After work, she planned to search the surrounding desert for him, but until then, she had rent to pay.
    The laughter of the barroom, the smell of alcohol, and the clink of the pool balls were all familiar sounds that comforted her as she worked. She stopped at the table where Julian, Melissa, and Chris were sitting. Luther, Lou, and Zach had recently joined them. “What can I get for you?” she asked as she pulled her pen from behind her ear.
    Before they could respond, a wash of red and blue lights spilling through the plate glass window at the front of the bar drew her attention to the road. Everyone in the bar quieted as first one and then another police cruiser sped by. Their sirens echoed through the night, shaking the glass with their forlorn wails.
    Quinn stepped closer to the window and craned her head to peer out. All the patrons who had seen the cruisers go by approached the window to see where they were going. Ed and Beverly Johnson were the only two full-time cops in town. They rarely worked nights, and the married couple was most often in the same cruiser when they were at work. The last time she’d seen them go to a call at the same time was when the bar was shot up and Angie had been killed.
    The five part-time deputies on the force mostly drove one of the three police motorcycles at the station. Occasionally, they would be in one of the cruisers. It could be one of the part-timers, instead of the Johnson’s, driving one of those patrol cars now, but for some reason, Quinn didn’t think so.
    The ghostly hand of impending doom slid over her back, causing the hair on her nape to rise. Someone opened the bar door and stepped onto the porch outside. The splash of red and blue lights continued to play over the street and window, but she couldn’t see the cars anymore.
    Murmurs ran through the crowd. Shoving her pad into her pocket, Quinn walked over to the open door and stepped outside. At the end of the road, both of the cruisers were parked.
    She frowned as she watched the Johnson’s approach the house with their guns at the ready. Most of the calls in this town were bar fights that couldn’t be handled by the bar employees themselves, some cats in trees, and