Chill Factor

'Dammit.' He had large, sensitive hands, and one of them explored the back of my head and found that extremely sore spot, which was about the size of an egg. The words that followed weren't in English, but the venom in them left no doubt as to their meaning. David was angry. They weren't going to like him when he was angry.

'What happened?' I asked blurrily, and let myself curl up back against him. Because if it was a dream, I'd take it over my present reality any day. 'Shouldn't be here.'

'No, you shouldn't,' he agreed grimly.

I tried again. 'You shouldn't be here.'

'Oh.' He stroked hair gently back from my face. 'Long story.'

'Can't sleep.' That was a bit of a lie; my eyelids were heavy, my body drugged by his warmth. The only escape from the crushing throb of the ache in my head was sleep, and I was starting to like the idea. 'Tell me. I left you with Marion…'

He kissed my forehead, and I felt the trace of a smile in it. 'Once upon a time there was a Djinn…'

'Not kidding.'

'I didn't think you were.'

And I remembered something, something that made me sit up too fast and grab my aching head in both hands to steady it. I glared at him through a curtain of disarranged-and curling, dammit-hair. 'You! You… you…'

He watched me with a little line grooved between his eyebrows. It was a concerned look, not a guilty one. I managed to roll off of him to my hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the bed. He sat up, following, hands outstretched. I admit, I was none too steady.

'You!' I repeated, and swallowed a mouthful of nausea at the way the world insisted on bobbing up and down. 'You bastard! I know what you did!'

That little line cut deeper. 'What exactly did I do?'

'You and Lewis… cooked this up. The night you left me at the hotel.' It came to me like a blinding burst. 'You knew Jonathan wouldn't let us in. You let them separate us.'

He had the grace to look a little guilty. The worry line didn't disappear. 'Jo, settle down. You've got a head injury.'

'Head injury?! You knocked me up!' The self-righteous fury of it drove me off the bed to my feet. I swayed there, hands on my hips, trying to focus on the two of him. 'Well? Nothing to say?'

'Sit down.'

'Screw you! I'm pregnant!'

'Sit down before you-' He lunged. I didn't realize I was falling until I was in his arms, hovering a few inches above the floor-'fall down.'

'Sorry,' I mumbled. Tears stung hot in my eyes. 'No, not. You 'pologize first.'

The world bobbled again, and I closed my eyes to stop it. Felt myself lifted and settled back on the soft bed, covers pulled over me in a warm, rustling embrace. David's hand cupped my cheek with warmth, and I opened my eyes again to see him bent over me, close enough to kiss. His lips were parted, as if he were on the verge of saying something, but then he just closed the distance and those lips touched mine. It melted me into gold, and even though my head felt like it had used as the soccer ball in the World Cup I couldn't help but respond by kissing him back. Hungrily.

'I had to protect you. I love you,' he whispered into my open mouth. 'I'm watching over you. Now sleep.'

As if the kiss were opium, I did.

I woke up to stillness and a cold bed. The headache was at half-mast, and the bruises had faded to dull aches. No sign of David, but someone had left the hotel television playing silently on the hotel informational channel. Apparently, the PR spin was that there was a freak windstorm that had blown into the lobby through a jammed set of doors, and some shorts had erupted in the electrical system before circuit breakers kicked in. The message told me that everything had returned to normal and there was nothing to worry about.

The human race had a vast, apparently endless capacity for rationalization. It had always served the Wardens exceptionally well.

I tried to get up and winced at a sharp stab of pain in my shoulder.

'Easy,' said a slightly rough male tenor voice somewhere to my right, against the gaudy glare of sunset. 'Hairline fracture of the collarbone, not to mention one heck of a whack to the head.'

Quinn was back. I started to ask about David, but something made me hesitate. It was still possible I'd dreamed the whole thing, that Quinn had been the one to catch me down in the lobby and carry me back up here. And I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of mooning around over my lost Djinn lover.

I felt the weight of Quinn's body settle next to me on the bed. When I looked, he was leaning over me, staring down. He reached over and lifted my head, then probed the lump at the back with sure and impersonal fingers. I winced. 'Oh, don't whine; you're going to live. And it isn't like you didn't ask for it.'

'I just wanted out.'

'And we put you out. Follow my finger.' He moved it around, tracking my eye movements. 'Any blurred vision?'

'Well, I think I'm hallucinating, because I see a big talking pile of crap.'

'Funny. You're a riot, sweetheart.' He sat back and lowered his eyelids to an assessing sleepy look. 'Who's David?'

'Bite me. I'm not playing twenty questions; my head hurts.' I was being bitchy. I couldn't help it. 'You can't keep me prisoner here. I insist that you-'

His hand came down over my lips, stilling them. I continued to make cranky muffled noises for a few more syllables, then fell silent.

'You got no rights here, and you don't insist. You want to play rough, we'll play.'

Quinn took his hand away from my mouth. I sucked in a breath and asked, 'Why do you want me so bad?'

'Think a lot of yourself, don'tcha?' His smile was gallows-dark. 'I don't. Somebody does.'

'Who? Lazlo? Ashworth?' I made rude noises. 'They already got their pound of electrocuted flesh out of me. Why can't I hit the road?'

'To do what? Get tossed out a window by that kid and his pet Djinn?' Quinn shook his head. 'We've got a plan. You're part of it. We'll tell you the rest when you need to know it.'

'Yeah. Great plan. Chock-full of foresight. Loved the whole bashing-my-brains-out part.'

'I think there was something a little personal in the cane thing.'

I couldn't exactly deny that one. Before I could find a suitably snarky reply, there was a knock at the door. Quinn got up and opened it, and a security guy handed over a blue canvas bag. Quinn locked the door again and rummaged around in the bag, looking for something.

'How's the head?' he asked. I shot him a filthy look. 'Look on the bright side, sweetheart, you looked terrific. If you're going to go down in flames, you might as well do it in style. Great dress. You buy that here?'

I wanted to throw something at him, but the only thing available was a pretty new shoe, and I didn't have the heart. I settled for a superior hmph and settled down on the pillows again, a forearm over my eyes.

'Want an aspirin?'

'No.'

'Good for you, tough guy. Now, you want to tell me what all that display downstairs was about?'

I massaged the bridge of my nose, where the headache seemed to be hiding. 'I wanted to get to Kevin. To warn him.'

'About…?'

'You're going to kill him.'

'Well, yeah.' He sounded surprised. 'Obviously.'

'You don't have to do that. And there's a girl with him. She's got nothing to do with this.'

'Siobhan?' Quinn made a raspberry noise. 'You're talking out your ass. She's a pro. She's still there, she's there to take him for everything he's worth. I'm not going to worry about a whore getting in the line of fire.'

'You know her?'

'Busted her a few times.' He shrugged. 'She's a tough girl, and no civilian. She gets caught in the middle, I'm