Page 1 of Gunner

PROLOGUE

GUNNER

“On the ground! Get on the fucking ground now!”

At least a dozen cops, their faces set grim, rushed forward, their drawn guns glinting like the eyes of predators. But I focused on only one—him. The burly cop with the broad, hulking shoulders, who shouted orders in a booming voice that thundered and echoed across the parking lot of the warehouse.

Fucker.

He was too late. Everything he’d come to the warehouse to find was gone. They’d only caught up with me because I’d been double-checking we hadn’t left any evidence behind. I’d just gotten on my Harley when they’d pulled up on me like vultures.

Once they recognized who I was, their fear simmered in the cloying summer heat. Why else would a dozen men draw their service weapons against one suspect?

I was just a lone rider.

With a hell of a reputation.

“You make any sudden moves, and I’ll put a bullet through you!” The cop in charge roared, his begrudgingly handsomeface twisted with loathing. “One move. Just try me, you filthy scumbag.”

He had a mouth on him. This cop.

“Instead of yelling orders at me, Officer,” I said with a smirk. “You could put that mouth to good use. On your knees.”

The cop’s nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge, his attention slipping as his gaze darted downward to my crotch. Color tinged his cheeks. I’d never seen a grown man blush like this.

He snapped his eyes back up. They were a raging ocean of blue. I raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t my fault adrenaline made me hard. Nor that he could see through my jeans how much I was packing. Too bad it wasn’t the sort of heat he was expecting to find on me.

I’d never seen him before, but given his commanding tone and the way the other men waited for his instructions, he was an old pro. Maybe a transferee. That’d explain why he was acting all tough. He hadn’t been here long enough to understand how his job worked. He didn’t work for the city. He worked for me. And if I had a hard dick, he got down on his knees and thanked me for the gift.

“Slowly raise your hands,” he said.

I complied, although everything inside me barked to ignore his request to see what he would do. But I couldn’t end up dying. Not before killing this cocky motherfucker. I would enjoy opening him up with a hacksaw and listening to his screams as he watched his guts derail from his body.

Sweet.

“Cuff him.” He nodded at a redheaded cop who approached me with handcuffs dangling from his finger.

“Mind telling me what I did, Officer?” I drawled.

“For starters—”

“In case it wasn’t fucking clear,” I snapped at the cop pulling my arms behind my back. “I wasn’t talking to you. Do you know what happens to men who don’t mind their own business? They disappear. Poof. One minute they’re here. Another minute they’re not.”

The man gulped. “You’re n-n-not exactly supposed to threaten a p-p-police officer.”

“Just making conversation.” I shrugged. The handcuffs were cold around my wrists, but the tremor in the cop’s hand left me satisfied.

“Lennon, don’t talk to him,” Cop-in-Charge said. “Everyone knows he’s a manipulative son of a bitch. Just read him his rights.”

“You know a lot about me,” I called when he turned his back to me. “Want to even the game so I can identify you later?”

With my threat hanging in the air, he stalked over to me, grabbed me by my T-shirt, and shoved me back up against the squad car. “Detective Ben Witter. That’s B-E-N W-I-T-T-E-R. Give it your best shot.”

“Now ain’t that courteous of you, spelling it all out for me like that. Nice to meet you, Detective Ben Witter.” I grinned. “Why am I in handcuffs?”

“The better question is why haven’t you been in them before, but we’ll get it right this time.” He stalked off, yelling orders at his men. Three of them were in charge of watching me while he entered the warehouse with the rest of the squad to search for stolen items I was allegedly keeping inside.

The cop read me my Miranda rights. I crossed my ankles and whistled softly. For a place that was empty, they were sure taking their time.

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