Under the Gun (CEP Book 3) (19 page)

“Are you asking or telling?” she inquired, glancing at him again.

He smirked. “Telling.” At her eye roll, he said, “Come here.”

He could see that she almost balked at his command but saw she decided against it because she stood with a sigh and went to him. Snaking a hand behind her neck he bent as he pulled her into him, putting his forehead to hers.

“Want you in my life, baby. If that’s gonna happen, you’ve gotta meet my family. Okay?”

And, fuck, he loved the smile that brightened her face. “Okay,” she agreed, tiptoeing up to kiss him.

Keeping his hand on her neck he stated, “Now, I’ve got to take off but Boone should be here in about ten minutes. Follow me out and lock the door behind me.” He brushed his lips against hers, then putting his arm around her neck, took her with him as he left her office.

At the door she asked, “How long will you be gone?”

“Not sure. But let Boone know when you’re ready to leave and he’ll take you to your apartment. I’ll try to give you a call and let you know when I’ll be back.”

“Okay, honey. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” he answered, bending to touch his lips to hers then he walked out the door watching as she locked the door behind him, waved giving him a big smile then went back inside her office.

Chapter 17

Ten minutes later, someone knocked at the main office door. Just as she got up to see who it was, her cell phone buzzed.

“Hello?” she answered, walking out of her office.

“Hey, Quinn, it’s Boone. Just letting you know I’m almost there, okay?”

“Oh, hey, Boone. Okay, I’ll let you in when you get here,” she replied, hanging up and dropping her phone into her jacket pocket just as she saw a tall dark-haired woman from the cleaning crew standing outside the outer door, her hot pink work shirt declaring, “Jason’s Janitorial” on it. “Can I help you?” Quinn asked through the glass.

“I’ve lost my keys. Can I come in and use the phone to call my boss?” the woman explained.

Quinn didn’t see any harm in doing this, so she unlocked the door and let the woman in.

“Thank you so much,” the lady said, going to the desk to use the phone.

“You’re welcome,” Quinn said, locking the door back and watching the elevator, waiting on Boone to arrive.

“So you’re the famous Dr. McDonnell,” Quinn heard from too close behind her. Spinning, she saw the woman was right there in her space, standing at least nine inches taller than her, with a crazy evil smile on her face and she was holding a knife that had a long thin blade. What in the world? “I hope you know you’re going to die,” the woman said in a boyish voice just like the voice on the messages Quinn had gotten.

“Wh-what? Who are you?” Quinn stammered, all the air suddenly seemed to be sucked out of the room.

The woman laughed answering in the same eerie voice, “I’m your killer.” She then quickly drove the knife into Quinn’s right side and just as swiftly pulled it out.

Quinn was too shocked to scream as she looked down seeing blood starting to seep through her light gray suit jacket turning it red. Her mouth hung open as she looked back at the woman who only grinned at her.

This must be how people feel when they’re getting attacked. Like it’s not real. It can’t be real.

And this couldn’t be real. It had to be a nightmare. That was it. She’d fallen asleep at her desk and this was all just a bad dream. Things like this didn’t happen.

But when the woman kept speaking in the falsetto voice, ordering, “Now, get your coat and come wif me,” then shoved her in the back making her almost fall, she knew it was real.

Well, fuck.

Briefly glancing at Justine’s desk Quinn saw the stapler and quickly snatching it up, turned and smashed it into the woman’s head then she ran for her life, making it to the door but fumbling at trying to get it unlocked. Damn it!

The woman had recovered and coming up behind her, stuck the knife into the back of Quinn’s left side and pulling it out, which made her shriek.

“Get your fucking coat, I said,” the woman hissed into her ear.

“I—It’s in my office,” Quinn explained turning to see the psycho woman had blood running down her face from where the stapler had gotten her.

“Get it!” the woman screamed, her face contorting, the blood aiding in making her look even crazier.

Shit!

Quinn hobbled into her office, holding her side, her mind racing trying to figure what was going on and who the woman was. Was her child a patient? A former patient?

She put in the code to unlock the door to retrieve her coat taking her time hoping Boone would arrive to help. She also kept an eye out for anything she could use for a weapon but there was nothing. Lifting her right arm to put it into the sleeve, she moaned at the pain in her side.

Oh, my God! I’m going to bleed to death! I’m going to die today!

“You need to fucking hurry!” the woman hissed from the door, now using her own voice.

Psychology. Fucking use it!

“I’m really hurting. I don’t think you meant to do this,” Quinn stated, trying to remain calm as she faced the woman seeing her wiping the blood from her face with tissue from Justine’s desk. “If you’ll leave right now, I won’t say a word. I promise. Just go.”

The woman abruptly cackled. Just as suddenly she stopped and stared Quinn down before screaming, “You’re so stupid! So stupid! You think I didn’t know? You think I didn’t know!”

Quinn now stood paralyzed because it hit her that she’d seen her before. But where? “I know you,” she stated.

That seemed to get through.

The woman frowned, looking so sad and lost for a moment before she let loose again. “No! You don’t! You don’t know me!”

That’s when Quinn remembered. “You…you’re a chef. I saw you. Y—you were coming to my table but you stopped.”

She and Rod had been out to dinner at one of NYC’s finest restaurants and the waiter had told them the chef would be coming to the tables to speak with the patrons.

This woman had been the chef and had been making her way around the restaurant to various tables. But when she’d gotten to theirs, she’d pulled up short giving Rod the saddest look and had turned and rushed back to the kitchen. When Quinn had questioned what happened, Rod had explained that the woman was a patient of his and he guessed she’d gotten embarrassed.

“No! You don’t know me!” the woman snapped.

“Yes, I distinctly remember it now,” Quinn declared. “You’re a wonderful cook. That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

Hurry, Boone!

“I love cooking…” There was the forlorn look again.

“You definitely have a gift.”

Quinn saw several emotions move across the woman’s face—sadness, hope, despair—and she thought maybe she’d gotten through but then her features hardened. “I know what you’re trying to do! Stop! You’re a bad person! You broke up my family! You took away my dream!”

What?

She didn’t have time to think because the woman stepped to her, grabbing her by her right arm which made her yelp in pain again. Quinn was then tugged out of her office to the main door which the woman unlocked in no time then she continued pulling her out into the hallway toward the stairs.

Shit! Where the hell was Boone?

“Where are we going?” Quinn asked.

When they got into the stairwell and started down, the woman said, “You’re going to die where my dream died. It’ll be perfect.”

By the time they made it the twenty-one floors to the ground level landing, Quinn knew she was bleeding profusely. She’d kept her hand pressed to the front wound but she knew the back one was bad. She also felt beads of perspiration on her forehead.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” she whispered.

“You’re fine. We have to go only a few blocks then we’ll be there,” the woman answered. “The cold will stop the blood flow.” She looked at Quinn like she was an idiot for not knowing that. Then she flippantly tacked on, “And I’m so glad your coat is black so it doesn’t show the blood.”

Trying to think of something to stall her, since the woman was wearing only the short-sleeved t-shirt of the janitorial company, Quinn pointed out, “But you don’t have a coat.”

“What do you care? And it doesn’t matter now.” Taking Quinn’s arm, she led her to the door. “I’m warning you, if you try anything, I’ll stab you again and leave you to die.” Leaving the stairwell, they walked into the lobby where the woman put her left arm around Quinn’s shoulders holding her tightly, her right hand holding the knife tip pressed up into Quinn’s armpit inside her coat. “Walk.”

Quinn had no doubt she’d stab her again because, hello, she’d already done it twice. The thought of running crossed her mind but really held no promise because she was so weak from loss of blood and the woman was so much bigger than she was, she’d only end up being chased down then stabbed several more times and would die right there on the ground level floor of her apartment building. Not good.

As they walked through the lobby, looking around, Quinn saw no security.

“They’re on a shift change,” the woman said. “I’m not stupid.”

Damn. She’d covered every base.

As they got nearer the front doors, Quinn asked casually, “So what’s your name?”

“Shut up!” the woman snarled under her breath as they reached the doors making a man look at her but busily keep on walking. Out on the sidewalk, the woman pulled Quinn closer, digging the knife harder under her arm. “This way. Again, don’t try anything. There’s a major artery where my knife is. You screw up, I’ll cut you there. You’ll bleed out in a matter of minutes and that would ruin everything.”

Yeah. It most definitely would ruin everything because she’d be dead, Quinn thought. And that made her want to laugh. Just fucking chortle away.

Yep. She was losing a lot of blood if she found humor in that. Lord.

As they walked, Quinn leaned heavier into the woman feeling as if she got dizzier with each step. Just when she thought she’d pass out, they stopped, and looking up through hazy eyes she saw a store or shop that had been under construction. Atop the entryway there was a sign that’d been professionally made. Unlit lights surrounded a single name.

Elaine’s.

They moved to the door where the woman opened it with a key.

“Is that your name? Elaine?” Quinn asked.

Inside, the woman threw her to the floor and slammed the door, then screaming down at her said, “You do
not
get to call me that! You don’t know me!”

Quinn swallowed hard then felt her eyes fill with tears at the thought that she might never see Tilly again. Or her sister or parents. As she tried making peace with this, her last thought caused her to let out a small shuddering sob when she realized she’d never see Gunner again.

Chapter 18

“She’s gone!” Boone said into his phone when Gunner picked up.

“What?”

“I’m at Quinn’s office. The door was open when I got here. There’s blood on the desk, man!”

Gunner frowned. “Did you look around? You sure she’s not there somewhere? Maybe cut her hand or something and went to the bathroom?”

“I looked. She’s not in hers or the one in the hall. She’s not here.”

“Call security and see if she’s down there,” Gunner instructed.

“Okay. I’ll call you right back.”

A few moments later Gunner’s phone buzzed. “She’s not at security. She’s nowhere. I’m sorry, man. There was a wreck and traffic was crawling. I got out of the cab two blocks away and jogged and when I got here, I found all this. I’ve got her phone on GPS but it’s showing it’s here in the building but I can’t find the motherfucker!” Boone said.

Gunner jumped out of Brock’s car that was parked across the street from the brownstone on the Upper East Side they were keeping an eye on. “Keep looking around! I’ll call you back,” he said and hung up. He then called Quinn’s phone but got no answer.

“What’s going on?” Brock asked.

“Quinn’s gone. Boone said there’s fucking blood in her office,” he explained as he pulled up his GPS tracker and put in her number. When it pinged, he stated, “Boone’s right. She’s still in her office building. Come on!”

He and Brock got back into the Mustang and took off to the Upper West Side. The most frustrating part was that they were almost straight east of where her phone showed, but getting around Central Park and through traffic was a whole other story.

“She’s still in the building. You see her phone anywhere?” he asked on speaker when Boone picked up.

“No. I’ve looked fucking everywhere,” Boone replied.

“Open fucking desk drawers! Break down a goddamned door if you have to and see if it’s there!” Gunner yelled. Looking at Brock he ordered, “Call my dad and let him know. Then have him call Detective Jared.”

“There’s nothing,” Boone answered.

“Wait! It’s showing she’s out of the building. Go, now!” He hung up and tried Quinn again but still got no answer. “Goddamn it!”

“Right,” Brock said into his phone. “Yes, he wants you to call Jared. Let him know what’s going on. Okay. Yeah.” Brock hung up with Hank and looked at Gunner. “We’ll find her.”

Gunner bit down hard on his teeth making his jaw muscles pop. “Never should’ve fucking left her alone. Fuck!”

Traffic wasn’t light and Brock was doing the best he could to get there but Gunner was about to come undone, calling Quinn over and over then spewing curse words each time she didn’t pick up.

Then his phone rang. “You got something?” he asked Boone.

“It’s showing she’s heading east. I’m close but I don’t see her.” Gunner could tell he was running as he talked. “Bunch of fucking shops around here and shit tons of people but I’m not seeing her.”

“Keep going!” Gunner’s phone beeped and he saw Detective Jared was calling. “Stay on the line,” he told Boone before switching over to take Jared’s call. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got units in the area,” Detective Jared said.

“GPS is showing she’s still on Amsterdam right at 78
^th
.”