Under the Gun (CEP Book 3) Page 9

  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.”

  He saw the confusion on her face as she looked up at him. When her look turned to defiance, he snorted.

  “We’re never going to work, Gunner. We’re both too hardheaded.”

  “We’ll fucking work. And I’m staying.”

  “Fine. But you’re sleeping in the guest room.”

  He pushed off the wall to face the front again and just as the doors opened to the lobby, he declared, “Fucking am not.”

  He stepped out and walked to the front doors and on the curb hailed a cab, hearing her heels clicking quickly behind him the whole time.

  “Then I’ll sleep in the guest room!”

  He opened the door to the cab for her to get in saying, “Fucking will not.”

  Once inside the cab, she turned and looked at him. “What are you doing?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “For a psychologist, you’re not too sharp on the uptake there, Dr. McDonnell.”
<
br />   Her brow wrinkled. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she snipped.

  “Means you missed it.”

  She threw herself back against the seat with an annoyed huff. “You’re so confusing.”

  He chuckled.

  They rode in silence the rest of the way.

  Quinn came into the living room after showering and changing into a huge NYU sweatshirt that hung off one of her shoulders showing she wore no bra, jeans that were completely wrecked with rips and tears everywhere, and her hair still wet up in a messy bun atop her head.

  Fuck.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, heading into the kitchen.

  “I called to have something delivered,” he explained.

  She stopped and looked back at him. “Yeah? What?”

  “Lombardi’s. Quaid’s bringing it over.”

  “Oh, my God, I love Lombardi’s,” she said, a huge grin on her face that he loved.

  “Good. Quaid gets here, I need to leave for a bit.”

  “I—I don’t know Quaid,” she stammered.

  “He’s a good guy. I’d trust him with my life. With your life…”

  He saw the concern on her face turn to acceptance. “Would you like some wine?”

  There was a knock at the door and as Gunner got up from the couch to answer it, he told her, “Later.” Opening the door, he let Quaid in and made a quick introduction. Then going over to Quinn, he bent down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back.”

  As he left, he snorted when he heard Quaid say, “Let’s get this fuckin’ party started, Red.”

  “What’s that, there,” Gunner said pointing at the screen.

  Oz leaned in and looked closely. “Looks like a watch.” He looked at Gunner. “This kid wear a big watch like that?”

  “Don’t know.”

  They continued watching the video they’d gotten from Quinn’s apartment building superintendent, following the guy who was their suspect. Brock had pieced the clips together so it ran fairly smoothly with only one dead spot where the guy disappeared from the screen. But the watch was the only thing they could see clearly as the suspect wore a hoodie, hood up, which was pretty fucking nondescript as was everything else he wore.

  Oz sat back in the chair he was sitting in in CEP’s main meeting room. “Didn’t that guy Quinn brought to the party wear a big watch?”

  Gunner scratched at the scruff on his chin. “Yeah, he did. Fuck.”

  Oz picked up his phone and called his wife. “Hey, baby. Yeah. We’re looking at it. Quaid asked what? Fuck.” Oz laughed.

  Gunner’s curiosity was piqued and he frowned at Oz, who waved him off.

  “Yes. What’s the name of the guy Quinn brought to the party? Rod Vance? Rod short for Rodney or Roderick? Gotcha. Office name? Mental Health Matters. Okay, thanks, babe. I’ll be home in a bit. Be naked.”

  When Gunner started to question him, Oz cut him off. “Quaid asked if Quinn’s ever been into the BDSM scene.”

  “I’ll fucking kill him,” Gunner mumbled.

  Oz laughed. “Don’t worry, Quinn took care of it. She asked if that stood for ‘Big dudes seeking males.’ Tilly said Quaid shut the fuck up after that.”

  Gunner snorted. That was his girl.

  He now opened up Google on the computer. “Mental Health Matters?”

  “Yeah. Rodman Vance.”

  Gunner snorted again at the pretentious name and typing it in, got an instant hit and pulled up the clinic’s website. Once there, he typed in the name. “That’s him. And that looks like the watch.” He pointed at the screen.

  “Yep. Gotcha, motherfucker,” Oz said.

  They drove to a small town on Staten Island pulling up in front of a decent-sized house that looked well cared for.

  “Looks like the asshole’s married,” Gunner remarked, pointing to the two sedans in the driveway along with an SUV.

  Oz shrugged. “Might have grown kids too. That or he really likes vehicles.”

  “Let’s go,” Gunner said, getting out of his Camaro.

  “Let me handle this, Gun. You’re involved. Don’t need you getting bitchy on the guy,” Oz said with a chuckle.

  “Fuck. You might have to hold me back, man.”

  Oz rang the doorbell and they waited a few minutes before the porchlight came on. A tall, dark-haired, pretty middle-aged woman answered.

  “May I help you?”

  “Uh, yeah, Mrs. Vance?” Oz inquired.

  “Yes?”

  “Is your husband Rodman home?”

  She frowned. “He’s not here at the moment. What do you need him for?”

  “We just need to talk to him,” Gunner jumped in. “You have any idea where he is?”

  “Elaine? Rod’s on the phone,” a younger dark-haired woman who looked a lot like Rod’s wife came to the door. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “They’re looking for Rod.”

  “What do you want with that asshole?” the woman asked.

  “Sara!” Elaine scolded.

  Sara looked at her then back at Gunner and Oz and stated, “Sorry. My sister’s delusional. He’s a cheating manipulator. She just won’t acknowledge it.”

  Elaine looked devastated and Gunner felt sorry for her. “Look, we just need to find him and ask some questions is all.” He handed her his card. “Call me if you have anything.”

  He and Oz turned to go back to his car when Sara came running up.

  “He should be at Spanky’s. A strip club over on Dixon. Beat the shit out of him while you’re there, please. He’s hurt my sister enough,” she said then turned and walked back to the house.

  Oz gave Gunner a look that made him laugh. “I always say you should never disappoint a lady.”

  “Nice joint,” Gunner said sarcastically as they walked inside Spanky’s.

  Oz choked out a laugh. “This is nothing compared to some I’ve been in.”

  At the bar, Oz ordered two beers then they looked around the place.

  “There,” Gunner said nodding toward the stage where a fully-nude woman was gyrating all over the place.

  Walking up, Gunner sat on one side of Rod and Oz the other. Rod moved his eyes from the woman to first look at Gunner then Oz then back to the stage. Moments later, he looked back at Oz again.

  “I know you,” he stated.

  “Yeah, you do,” Oz agreed.

  Rod looked to his left at Gunner. “I know you too.”

  Gunner nodded.

  “We need to talk to you,” Oz said. “Can we step outside?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  All three got up and went out front.

  “What’s this about?” Rod asked.

  Oz looked carefully at Gunner as he said, “You have a relationship with Quinn McDonnell.”

  “Had,” Rod emphasized.

  “Had?” Gunner asked.

  Rod now gave him a disgusted look. “Yeah. But she’s got something for you and called it off.”

  Well, that didn’t make him feel horrible.

  “You know anything about a bracelet, kinda weird, has an eyeball in it?” Oz questioned.

  Rod looked back at him. “Yeah. A case she had. A young boy who killed himself last week used to wear one. Why?”

  Gunner’s eyebrow went up and now he was pissed. “So it was you.”

  Rod shook his head. “Was me what?”

  Holding his hand out to Gunner to calm him down, Oz explained. “Someone left a bracelet just like it in front of Quinn’s apartment.”

  “What?” Rod asked.

  “She’s received phone calls too. Know anything about that?” Oz inquired.

  “Look, fellas, I’ve got my own shit going on right now. Crazy-assed wife threatening to leave me, fuckin’ DA wants to cry during every session with me. I don’t have time to terrorize someone.”

  Gunner grabbed Rod’s hand and held it up, pointing at his wrist. “How many watches do you own?”

  Rod jerked his arm out of Gunner’s grip. “Don’t
fuckin’ touch me, man.” They had a small stare down before Rod continued. “And I’ve got three. What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Just know we’re keeping an eye on you,” Gunner said. “Let’s go.”

  In the car, Gunner was gripping the steering wheel so hard he was about to break a chunk of it off.

  “You need to get a grip, Gun,” Oz suggested with a chuckle. “Not sure if it’s him. We need to check out the stepbrother. You got the address, right?”

  “Yeah. Got it today. Quinn said the funeral’s tomorrow, which I advised her not to attend but she’s stubborn so we’re making an appearance.”

  Oz snorted.

  “You gonna give me shit? Bitching these last two years about how I won’t commit to anyone? Really?”

  “Nah. Fuck, I’m not anywhere near giving you back all the shit you gave me,” Oz replied. “But I’m a very patient man. Paybacks will be given. Count on it, buddy.”

  “Fuck,” Gunner mumbled but he had to grin. “I’ll check the kid out tomorrow and if I think something’s up, we can go Thursday and check him out again if you’re free.”

  “Yeah, I’m good unless I get called out. Just let me know.”

  Gunner dropped him off at his and Tilly’s house in Brooklyn then headed back to Quinn’s, pissed about the entire situation. Mad that someone was fucking with Quinn, but mostly angry that she’d been spending time with a married man. That shit was not cool.

  When he opened her apartment door, he chuckled.

  “And that’s Kourtney. She’s a bitch. I love her. Khloe’s also cool because she tells it like it is,” Quinn explained.

  Quaid looked at him from where he sat on the couch all, Fuckin’ save me, which made Gunner outright laugh.

  “Hey!” Quinn said over her shoulder from where she sat in the chair near the couch.

  “Hey,” Gunner answered with a smile. Fuckin’ cute, that one. He looked at Quaid who’d stood, ready to get the hell out of there. “You like big-assed chicks. Maybe you should hook up with one of them.” He nodded toward the TV.

  Quaid grinned. “Since I’m on a first-name basis with ‘em all now, I think I might just do that.” He looked at Quinn. “Thanks. It’s been fun.” Glancing back at Gunner as he walked past him, he murmured, “Got your fuckin’ hands full with this one, Gun. Good luck.” He snorted and was out the door.