"Oh, hell!" It was a dark interior, but I knew instantly where it was. As horrified as I was to see Jay in Quinn's employ, this was something else entirely, something that made my very heart chill over. The red lighting, the glowing white skins—Jerry was at Fangtasia.

"Oh, no, oh, no." I was speaking to nobody in particular, biting down on my knuckles. Why was I so upset? Jerry had arranged for the bombing of Eric's car, tried to burn down Pam's house, probably tried to burn down Fangtasia as well, and that was just starting the list. Surely he'd been near Fangtasia before?

But something felt very different to me, as my eyes trained on the image. He'd been within feet of Eric. He could've staked him. Or Pam, or any of the vampires. He'd been right there, and he could be right there another time, if he wanted

The exclamation that came from my lips would've made Lafayette proud: "Oh, hell, no!"

I started moving before I even thought about it: I went to the trash, found some old junk mail, and jotted down Eric—that is, Leif's—legal mailing address. I wouldn't be able to go where I wanted without knowing where I was, after all. It took me a couple more minutes to yank the directions from the printer, grab my purse and the keys, and go.

I wasn't driving the Corvette, in case you asked. No, I didn't dare touch that one. Eric had picked up a "spare," he told me, and since he suggested I make use of anything in his house—well, it counted if it was in the garage, right?

Besides, it was the Batmobile. He'd apparently broken down and purchased it, rather than returning it to the dealer. I had fond memories of that car, and particular fond memories of the way its windows were tinted. When everyone wants to kill you, it's kind of nice to know they can't see if you're in the car or not.

That said, I was the one in the mood to kill now. I floored it to Quinn's. I had no idea what I meant to do there—I couldn't beat up ol' Jay, and I didn't want to deal with Quinn, either. But the thread was there, the thread that would end in stopping this, and I wasn't going to twiddle my thumbs all day while some bastard tried to take out E—the vampires I cared about.

The Batmobile was going pretty quickly; I could see how it would be easy to get speeding tickets in this thing. I tried hard to maintain the proper speed limits. All things being equal, I really did not want to bring home the Batmobile either damaged or with tickets attached.

(Although I had a feeling Eric would just laugh his rear off at me, if I did get a ticket.)

In due time and with the music blasting appropriately, I swung the Batmobile into Quinn's offices. I didn't know if he was in today, or even at this time. (It was too early for the vamps, after all, who worked with any E(E)E events.) But maybe this Jay would be here. Why hadn't I been paying attention to his mind, damn it? Why had I been so stupid as to try to block everybody in E(E)E when I was blocking out Quinn?

"Damn it!" I hopped out of the Batmobile and wove my way into the E(E)E building. I didn't see Quinn around (thank God) and I had no idea what I was going to say to Jay, anyway. "Did you know your brother is an asshole?" is never a good opening line.

I slowed as I approached Quinn's foyer. What would I say, really?

I got lucky, because Jay wasn't at his desk, anyway. Nobody else was, either. Following my senses, I ducked around the desk, trying to look hard at the papers and what was on the monitor—nothing that screamed evil conspiracy, just lots of listings for wedding flowers. (Which might be another conspiracy, given some of the costs I saw listed.) No pictures, either, that could be of any use—

"I'll get right back to you sir, let me pull up these numbers…" His voice was echoing in the office hallway. Jay was coming back!

Oh, eff. I did what any good top-notch investigator would do—I threw myself under the desk.

It was actually kind of roomy down there. I don't know what kind it was, but if you ever need to hide under a desk, I'd recommend this one.

I would not recommend Quinn's cleaning staff, however, as I saw an aged Cheeto, a petrified French fry, and paperclips down there with me, enjoying the darkness. I just hoped that was all that was enjoying the darkness. I'm no coward—maybe I'd be smarter if I were—but there are some sights I just don't want to see up-close and personal.

Jay was settling into his chair now. I bit my lip and scooted further back under the desk, still having no idea what I was doing. Well, hell. At least I could use my curse—and not the monthly one. I focused myself and tried to listen specifically to Jay.

Could this computer get any slower? God damn Vista, freakin' network connection…If that janitor's been looking at porn on this computer again, I'm going to kick his ass…Can't believe that we have to get this Hurley wedding done in three days, we're going to be here all night, ugh, where did I put the folder

Okay, so color me not impressed so far. Jay's mind was spectacularly uninteresting. I tried not to yawn and made myself keep listening. At least he was a loud broadcaster, I told myself, trying to be grateful. My knees were already feeling not-so-grateful about being jammed under the desk.

Suddenly, something yanked my attention back on top of the desk.

I'm going to miss dinner, damn it. Supposed to meet Jerry at the bar, he needs to get out, needs to be with people with warm blood for once. Guess I'm a hypocrite, since I work for these guys, but at least some of them are out in the day, unlike Jerry's piece of ass. Although she is one hot piece, got to give him that, could ride her all day—well, guess not, with the whole dead thing…

I was torn between throwing up and listening in. I forced myself to keep listening.

Wonder what it feels like when they're dead? I mean, seriously, isn't it cold for your dick—

Okay, there were limits. I waited a good minute, and tried again. Now he was just thinking about the cost of gas and the expense if he wanted to get out of town for the weekend. I leaned in avidly, hoping this would lead him back to the subject of his brother.

That was my undoing. He kicked his leg out abruptly—to shake off a kinked muscle, I guess—and his foot hit a bit more than air.

"Oof!"

"What the fu—" I saw the legs snap back, the chair scooting back.

I didn't have time to think, so I didn't. Gran always said to follow your gut; well, I doubted she'd ever envisioned this, but I was following that gut.

"Oh, baby, you startled me—I was coming to surprise you," I began in my best Sex Kitten voice. I leaned forward and slid my hand across the tops of Jay's knees. "I wanted to give you…" And here I let myself, finally, look Jay straight in the face (his eyes were definitely not on mine)—and screamed for all I was worth.

"Oh, my Lord, you're not Quinn! Oh, you awful pervert!" I am sure my scream could've broken the glass windows, were they not already supernaturally enhanced. I scrambled to get to my feet, still wailing.

Jay, for all of his other qualities, was still a Southern man. "Ma'am, no, please, you've got it wrong—sit, sit, please—" He was on his feet, too, gesturing in vain to his chair, but keeping his hands far away from me, as if to reassure me he meant no harm.

"What the hell is going on here—Sookie?" Quinn's booming voice cut through my shrieks, causing Jay to jump even farther away from me.

"It was an accident, sir, I swear," he began, looking desperately at me. "She was, she was—" His dilemma was obvious. To mention a lady was up to no good, or not? "Ahhhh….waiting in the wrong chair."

Quinn was not stupid; he cut me a sharp glance but didn't criticize Jay's story. "Sookie?"

I was grinning as if I won the lottery, the grin Tara told me always made her think I'd gone officially nuts. "I was just, um, coming to surprise you…" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jay become redder. "I guess I picked the wrong chair." I pouted.

Quinn was no idiot, but I guess I look enough like the stereotypical bimbo that Jay, at least, was buying it. That's all I hoped for.

I guess my ex-boyfriend was amused, at least, because I saw his white teeth as he smiled. "Come and surprise me then, babe." Quinn grabbed me by the wrist, and marched me into his office.

The door clicked shut behind us. My ex-boyfriend, with whom I'd had a heated conversation when we last met, faced off with me.

"Can he hear?" I whispered, pointing to it. The walls at Merlotte's were paper thin, and you could always hear when Sam, at least was laying into some late vendor or a cook who didn't show up. Not in the sense that Jay thought Quinn would be laying into me, that is.

"Soundproof. Care to share what the hell is going on, babe?" It was a measure of Quinn's concern that he didn't even go to sit down before confronting me, either about my return to his office or the unique circumstances of it.

I stepped away from his hands on my forearms, remembering with whom I kept company nowadays. "I was investigating something, okay?"

"That situation at Fangtasia." His brow was furrowed in concentration.

"Right." Normally, I don't let my shields down around the people I care about, but I eased them down just a second:

What the fuck is she up to? She looks hot as always—wonder if Northman's in the picture or not. Probably doesn't have much time for her now, if she's doing this to save his bar. Wish they'd settle this fast—she doesn't need to be in more danger.

I let out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding.

"Babe?"

I blinked. "Oh, sorry, I just felt a little woozy for a second there." I felt bad for lying, but I'd sure feel a lot worse if he knew I was reading his mind deliberately.

Immediately, as I had known he would, he'd guided me into a chair and sat down on one himself, leaning far out of it so he could watch my face.

"So what did you want to know about the front office? Or did he catch you on his computer?" For the first time, his tone hardened, and I got why at once. Even if you care about somebody, you still don't want him or her violating your client privacy.

"No, it didn't have anything to do with your clients." I decided to lay my cards on the table. Or at least one. "What do you know about your secretary there?"

"Jay?" He looked astonished. "He's been here for years. Quiet guy, good worker."

"Has he ever said anything, um, not tolerant about vamps?"

"Here?" Quinn raised an eyebrow. "He wouldn't be working here if he did. We work with too many vamps and other Supes to put up with that bullshit."

Duh, I told myself. Stupid question. I smacked myself mentally on the forehead and tried to frame my next one. "What about his family?

"Family?" For a second, Quinn looked as if I'd asked him Jay's shoe size. Then I remembered Jason's shock when I'd asked him Hoyt's favorite color one day. Despite knowing Hoyt since childhood, Jason hadn't bothered to learn the basic details of his buddy's life. Jason told me men "just didn't talk about stupid shit like that, Sook."

"Yes, family," I said wearily. "Parents…kids…siblings?"

Quinn's frown was dark. "We don't discuss private lives, but let me see here…" He went over to his computer and started punching things in. "Yes, okay, here it is. Child of a parent's first marriage, only sibling is a half-brother from the parent's second marriage."

I was so tired I almost snickered. He's a red-headed stepchild.

Quinn continued, "No suspicious activity out of parents or brother." His eyes focused on me. "We have to monitor these things in our work, you understand."

"Sure, of course." Made complete sense. You couldn't host weddings of the year if crazed bigots showed up in the middle of them, right?

"You said his parent got remarried—what happened to the other one?"

"Mother was the one who remarried, father is out of the picture," Quinn read from his computer. He glanced over at me and shrugged. "He's never once indicated any family issues to me, babe."

And Quinn would know. He didn't just have family issues, he had a whole subscription.

I nodded meekly, so as not to draw his attention to just that point.

"I think his brother worked here or temped here—do you have that record?"

Quinn worked the computer again, then shook his head. "If he did, it was so low-level we didn't keep records." In other words, paid Jerry under the table. I just nodded again and bit my lip.

He spun back to look at me. "So what's going on, babe?"

"Just a lead, nothing new," I said automatically. My mind was on what the next step was: Jay had given me info, but nothing specific enough. Should I go right to the dragon's den and look for Jerry himself? It was daylight and I couldn't hope for a vampire intervention if things went sour; but if I waited for Eric and Pam, Lord knows what they'd do to him (actually, with Pam, I had a pretty good idea) before we even got a chance to settle who sent him, or why—

"Oh, babe." Quinn's big hands were on my shoulders, making me jump. "Look at you, worrying yourself away over the bloodsuckers." That was the first time I'd ever heard Quinn be so nasty about the vamps, and I'd have been alarmed, but I was already concerned about the hands trying to massage my shoulders.

I grabbed his hands with mine and tugged. No movement. "Please, just st—"

"Please what, babe?" His voice was by my ear. He clearly thought I was a lot more interested than I was. Quinn's an attractive man, and he'd sure rocked my world once, but that boat had passed a long time ago.

I shoved at his hands with everything I had—they moved. "Stop, for one." I rotated to face him. "I appreciate the help, really I do, but I can't do….that." I waved a hand between us.

"Can't or won't?" Storm clouds were friendlier than his face.

"Either, does it matter?" I sighed. "It's done, Quinn."

"You're with Northman, aren't you." It wasn't a question; his tone was flat. "I smelled him on you, you know." His arms folded over his chest. "I thought maybe I was wrong, or maybe you'd just been visiting there and that's why the scent was on you." His jaw was tight as he looked to the side. "But that's not why, is it?"

"I thought we covered this before, when I said that was none of your business." I grabbed my bag.

"But he does, don't you see?" His hands on the back of the chair, he leaned over me, face desperate. "If it weren't for him, we'd be together, babe."

"For the last time, Quinn, that's not it."

"Tell yourself what you want, babe," he huffed.

I am not known for my patience. I lost it. "Fine, Quinn, you're right. Dead right. It's always been Eric." His jaw dropped. "That's right, I have been thinking about him non-stop since before I even met you, and even when you and I had our time together, guess what? I was thinking of him." I threw down my purse, rose to my feet, and leaned over the desk to glare down at him. His eyes glowed yellow, but I didn't care. Let him try to claw at me. I was in the mood to remember some animal shows I'd seen on TV, and how they went about neutering critters. "And now you keep on trying to get back together with me, even when I keep telling you no, and guess what? It's not going to happen because I'm still with him." My voice was at max volume now; I really hoped those walls were soundproof. "And even if I weren't, even if I were free, I'd still want him, because he's funny, and sweet, and sexy as hell, and the way he kisses ought to be illegal, and his butt—oh, my, if that thing were candy I'd be eating it all day!—and, oh, yeah, just a little something important," I hissed, leaning low over the table at him now, "--he definitely knows what the hell 'NO' means, unlike you, so are you good and happy yet?" I was yelling by the time I was done, waving my hands around in a way that would have made Tara proud.

"Not really, but at least you're admitting it," he said soberly.

"Admitting what? Lord, Quinn, can't you listen?" I wasn't even yelling now; I was too tired and exasperated.

"I think you can't listen, Sookie, to yourself." He gave me a wan smile and I had nothing to say to that.

I left in a lot quieter mood than when I'd gone in.