Under the Gun (CEP Book 3) (12 page)

“Motherfucker sent pictures,” he grumbled into the phone.

Pictures? Oh, God. What kind of pictures?

“Yeah, I will. Thanks.”

“Who was on the phone?” she asked.

“Detective Jared. Told him about these.” He pointed toward the pictures then studied her a moment. “Think you can handle this?”

She wasn’t sure but she had to know, so nodding slowly she walked to her desk where several photos were laid out. When she saw what they were, she gasped. One picture was a knife at a woman’s throat with blood trickling down, another was of a mutilated animal but the one that really caught her eye was of her leaving the elevator on her floor at her apartment building. The words
Die Bitch
were written in dripping red ink across it.

Quinn twisted her head to the side turning one around and as she looked it, she pointed at it and taking a step back cried, “That’s from last night!”

Gunner picked it up and examined it closely. “Had to have been taken from the stairwell. You didn’t notice anyone?”

“Just in the stairwell here!” Oh, God. She was fully freaking out now.

His head shot up. “Someone was here watching you here?”

Deep breathing to calm herself down while shaking her hands out at her sides, she explained, “No, no, it was a janitor. But I didn’t look at my building. I was too busy focusing on the bracelet.” She shuddered at the memory.

“I need all the information on this kid who threatened you.”

Wringing her hands in worry now, all she could do was stare at the other two photos on her desk. God! What kind of sick bastard would send these to her?

Then what he said started to sink in and just as she started to protest, he cut her off. “I don’t give a fuck if it goes against your ethical code. I want you alive so fuck all that shit.”

She frowned at him and at the thought of going against her training. But then again, gee, let’s see. Stick to the codes or stay safe. Hm. Wasn’t really a necessary argument if she looked at it that way. Gunner had put the photos back into the envelope, thank God, so she made her way to her computer and after it came on, she pulled up Ben Edwards’s file.

“Here’s the last information I have for him,” she said, pointing at it with a shaky finger for Gunner to see.

He grabbed some paper and a pen and wrote it along with the contact number down then looked at her. “Gonna give Oz a call. Babe. You okay?” At her nod he instructed, “You do what you do and I’ll be out here at the desk.”

“I have a client coming in,” she looked at the clock, “ten minutes.” She pulled up her schedule on the computer. “Another at ten, one at noon, then two, three-thirty and five.”

“Damn. Are kids that fuckin’ screwed up?”

He winked which kept her from getting offended and she smiled. “I guess so.”

“Gonna take care of this, baby,” he said, bending to look at her as he held her by her shoulders.

Somehow gathering some strength from the contact, she blew out a breath and replied, “All right. I’m gonna call Daphne to let her know what’s going on.”

“Good.” He stood straight and nodded.

“Now, go be my secretary for the day and I’ll get ready after I call her.”

“Sure thing, boss lady.”

Another wink. Another smirk and he left her office.

Okay. She could do this.

She hoped.

As the morning went along, Quinn had to laugh every time a client left because when she’d follow them out to the lobby, they’d stare in awe at Gunner wondering who he was. The funny thing was, every once in a while, he’d look up and smile at one of them which stopped them right in their tracks. The girls especially which made Quinn roll her eyes at their giddiness but she’d giggle right along with them. The mothers were a whole other situation, ogling the hell out of him and trying to make small talk all of which he ignored which made her snicker secretly.

But he’d been great, handling everything almost as well as Justine did even as he did his own work, which consisted mostly of talking on the phone. He’d taken her phone calls and written notes for appointments and had even gotten them lunch so she could eat between her noon and two o’clock appointments. He’d been busy, so she’d eaten at her desk, but it was all good.

When her two-o’clock appointment left, she approached the desk where he sat.

“My next appointment isn’t for thirty more minutes. You said you had to leave at four?”

“I do but I’ll be back around six, so stay put.”

“You’re awfully bossy,” she mumbled as she turned to go back to her office.

“I care.”

That stopped her in her tracks. Turning around, she saw that he was back to messing with his phone sending a text or something of the sort.

Well, she guessed his caring was better than nothing.

She wore a huge smile when she went back into her office.

Chapter 12

“I can’t believe I’m having to do this shit,” Gunner griped into his handheld mic, sitting on a bench in Central Park.

“Dude, shut up. You’ll blow our cover,” Boone hissed from a bench across the way.

“Jesus Christ. I’ve got better things to do,” Gunner complained.

They’d been hired for an hour by two women who ran an art display in the park and said they’d been getting paintings stolen almost daily by who they thought was the same man. So now there Gunner and Boone sat keeping an eye out waiting to catch a thief.

Thirty minutes later Boone said into his mic, “Dude. I’ll bet if he runs, I’ll catch him before you do.”

“How much you wanna bet,” Gunner answered.

“Fifty.”

“You’re on.”

And it was about that time a guy Gunner’d had an eye on took off with a painting, running right by him. Gunner took off in a dead sprint and had the guy tackled even before Boone got off his bench.

“Think that’s cool, man?” Gunner hissed in the guy’s ear, who he now had stomach to the concrete, an elbow to the back of the guy’s head and a knee in his back.

“Get off me! You aren’t a cop! You can’t do this!” the guy yelled.

“I can and will, asshole,” Gunner bit out.

“This isn’t fair, man!” Boone said jogging up.

Gunner smirked and held his hand out as Boone opened his wallet and pulled out two twenties and a ten handing them to him.

“Easiest fifty bucks I’ve ever made. Thanks.”

“Fuck off,” Boone ground out as he put his wallet in his back pocket.

A mounted police officer came up just then. “What’s up, gentlemen?”

“Guy stole a painting,” Boone answered. “We’re with CEP,” he motioned back toward the art stand, “and were hired by them to catch this guy.”

The officer dismounted and taking Gunner’s spot, cuffed the guy. “I’ve heard of CEP before,” he said after pulling the man up to stand. “Thanks.” He then called for a black and white to come pick up the guy.

Gunner nodded at the cop then looked at Boone. “Guess we’re done.”

They walked back to the art stand to tell the women they’d caught the guy and received a huge thank you from both.

On their way to catch a cab, Boone commented, “I’ll get my money back. Asshole must’ve seen me and got scared. Ran the other way.”

Gunner laughed. “Yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”

Arriving back at Quinn’s office building, Gunner saw that she still had a session going on if the platinum blonde in the waiting room was any proof. The woman looked up from her magazine when he came in and he had a tough time not laughing at the flirty look that instantly covered her face.

“Well, hello, handsome,” she cooed, making sure to uncross then cross her long legs smoothly, tugging on the low-cut blouse she wore to show even more cleavage.

He made a grunting sound as he gave her a head nod, then went to sit behind the desk once again, calling CEP as he did.

“CEP, can you hold?” Abby answered.

“No, I can’t,” he informed her.

“Oh! Hi, Gunner!” she gushed.

“Hey. Just calling in to have you mark me as unavailable for the rest of the week.”

“Oh, really? Does your dad know this?”

God, she was irritating.

“Yes, he knows,” Gunner clipped out.

“Why do you need the rest of the wee—” she began but he’d already hung up. Nosy chick.

At six, Quinn’s door opened and out came what appeared to be a seven-year-old boy who was pouting and stomping the entire time he walked toward the blonde.

“Mrs. Gentry?” Quinn called. “May I have a word with you, please?”

The blonde stood, giving the boy a dirty look as she did. “What’d Jettison do now?”

Jettison? Gunner had to cough to cover his laughter, wanting to laugh even harder at how hard the woman was shaking her ass trying to get his attention as she walked to Quinn’s office. But he had to bite his frickin’ tongue when the boy reached out and slapped at his mother as she walked by and nothing at all was said. His eyes went to Quinn and he suppressed his laughter even more at the eye roll she did.

“You’re new!” the boy yelled, standing in front of the desk looking up at Gunner.

“Yep.”

“What happened to Justine?”

“Don’t know.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll hold my breath until I pass out,” the boy threatened.

Not being one to pass that shit up, Gunner dared, “Prove it.”

The kid sucked in half the air in the office then proceeded to actually prove it. Gunner watched in fascination as the kid stood in front of him, cheeks puffed out, face turning red. And, by God, now he was turning purple.

“Okay, kid. Stop,” Gunner ordered but that seemed to egg the child on. “I said stop,” he repeated and that’s when things got really cool. The kid wobbled a few times then
thump!
down he went.

Gunner stood, looking over the desk to see the kid passed out for real. Damn.

Quinn’s door opened and the mother came clopping out on her heels and seeing the boy on the floor, he heard her mumble, “Fuck. His father’s gonna kill me.”

Ah. Stepmom and definite trophy wife, Gunner thought. Made sense now. He watched the woman get her purse from the couch before coming back to the boy. Because priorities.
Total
trophy wife stepmom.

“Jettison!” she shouted. “Jettison, you wake up this very minute!” She knelt in the skintight jeans she wore and clapped her hands a couple time in front of the boy’s face then falling back to sit on her heels, she first looked at the diamond watch she wore then up at Quinn. “Oh, no! I have to pick up Cupcake from the groomers in five minutes! What do I do?” she whined.

Quinn looked at Gunner for help and he knew she wanted him to carry the kid down to the woman’s car. So he got up, walked around the desk, went to the water dispenser in the corner and pulling one of the small paper cups out, filled it with water. Walking back to the boy, he knew Quinn realized too late what he intended to do. Even as she held her hands out and he knew she was going to tell him no, he poured the water in the kid’s face who immediately woke up, all blustery trying to get the water from his face.

“Oh! I didn’t know that’d work!” the blonde said looking up at him in shock. Looking back at the kid she snapped, “Now, let’s go!”

Jerking him up by his arm, she stomped out of the office leaving Gunner to look at Quinn and they both burst out laughing.

On their way down in the elevator, Quinn asked, “You think it’s okay for me to stay at my apartment tonight? I mean, nothing happened today.”

He looked down at her from the side. “That’s what they want you to think. And it’s always when shit happens.”

She let out an exasperated huff. “Well, I’m telling you, I’m staying at my place tonight.”

He stared straight ahead but couldn’t help the twitch at the side of his mouth. Such a fucking firework, this one.

“You wanna stay, stay. But I’ll be there too.”

Another sigh. “Look, Gunner, I didn’t hire you.”

Still staring straight ahead he stated, “Point being?”

“Point being, you don’t have to do this! God!”

He turned to her now, backing her against the elevator wall. Putting both his hands above her head, he bent to get in her face. “I know I don’t have to do this. I want to do this. Soon as you get that through your head, shit will get figured out.”