“Welcome to Lundgren,” the man said as he let Quinn pass through first.
He led Quinn down several more corridors before stopping in front of a door marked 403.
“She’s inside,” the man said, then walked away.
What Quinn found beyond the door was better than he hoped.
Nate was sitting in a chair near the bed, his eyes glued to the TV mounted on the opposite wall. On the screen was an overhead image of LACMA and the La Brea Tar Pits.
“We made it on TV again,” Nate said when he noticed Quinn. “And by ‘us,’ I mean you.”
“You really know how to keep a low profile,” Orlando said. She was propped up in the bed. A large bandage covered her neck and shoulder, but she was smiling, so that was a good sign. “This isn’t going to do us much good at getting future work.”
“Well, maybe if you hadn’t let yourself get shot, things would have gone smoother,” Quinn said as he stepped over to the bed.
“Now it’s
Quinn shrugged. “You set the tone.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Then Orlando started to laugh, but stopped suddenly, wincing in pain.
“So humor’s not exactly a good idea?” Quinn asked.
“Not at the moment,” she said, her voice tight with pain. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” he asked. “I’m fine. You’re the one in the bed.”
“I mean the meeting, with Primus. Nate said you were with him when he called.”
“Yeah,” Quinn said.
He glanced at the TV. Orlando followed his gaze.
“What are they saying happened?” Quinn asked Nate.
“Some lunatic with a gun,” Nate said. “Two people injured.”
“Two?”
“A woman on the street, and a guard inside one of the buildings.”
Quinn nodded. The security officer probably got in the way of the assassin’s route to the roof.
“The woman’s doing okay, but the guard’s in critical.”
“They catch the gunman?” Quinn asked.
“Nope, unless they’re not saying.”
Quinn turned back to Orlando. “How you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“I’m fine,” she said.
Quinn turned to Nate. “What did the doctor say?”
Nate tore his gaze from the TV. “That she was lucky it didn’t shatter her spine.”
“So what got hit?” Quinn asked.
“Muscle mainly.”
“You said the doctor wants to keep her overnight?”
“Hold on,” Orlando said. “I’m not staying. You’re taking me to your place.”
“She said the same thing to the doctor,” Nate said.
“I mean it. I’m not staying.”
“I think it might be better,” Quinn said.
“I know how to take care of myself,” she said. “I’ve gotten hurt a lot worse and not seen anyone. Get me some pain pills and antibiotics and I’ll be fine.”
Quinn looked down at the floor. Sleeping here or sleeping at his place wasn’t going to make that much difference. If there were any problems, he could get her back here fast enough.
He was about to say as much, when she said, “Quinn, goddammit, I’m not staying here.”
“Okay,” he said.
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are. I said okay.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Okay you’re going to get me out? Or okay you’re listening but you’re not going to do anything?”
