Page 24 of Gunner

“Gunner?” A petite woman, half my height, smiled. She was younger than I’d expected, not more than twenty-five, but the lines on her face spoke of a harsh life.

“Sylvie, how are you, gorgeous?” Gunner smiled.

I blinked. This was the first genuine smile I’d seen from him. A smile without malice, manipulation, and his usual smirk. Was he always this handsome? Usually, my reaction whenever I saw him was irritation. I’d never noticed how inky black his hair was nor how the waves framed his oval face.

“I’ve been better.” She looked at me, and her smile dropped. “I’ve seen you on the news. What’re you doing with a cop, Gunner?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you, now do I, Sylvie?”

The woman straightened, and the mood shifted. The friendliness and familiarity I’d associated with them dissolved under Gunner’s stare, establishing his superiority over her. Fear flashed in her eyes as if she expected the worst from him.

He’s really as bad as I think, isn’t he?

“Hello, I’m Ben,” I said before Gunner could make things worse. “Sorry to disturb you this late, but may I come in? I understand you had a relationship with Nathan Good, also known as Butcher?”

Sylvie glanced at Gunner as though waiting for a cue.

“Let us in, Sylvie.”

Her hand shook as she released her hold on the door.

“Thank you,” I said gently, hoping to set her at ease.

We entered the living room of the dingy apartment that had mold on the walls. The bucket on the floor and the water stain on the ceiling were a clear indication the roof leaked. The place reeked of stale air, days-old beer, and sex, which might have to do with the half-naked man sprawled on the couch, snoring. A condom wrapper lay on the coffee table.

Oh shit. The spots on the carpet made my stomach crawl. As soon as I got home, I would have to burn these shoes. Dammit, they were my good shoes too. I never wore them unless I was going on a date or a special occasion. Why had I put them on tonight?

Gunner was watching me. Fuck, I might have let the revolting state of my stomach show on my face. I blanked my expression and held my hands in front of me.

“Morty!” Sylvie shook the man’s shoulder. “Morty, get up. Your time’s up.”

A client. She’d just serviced a client.

Gunner walked over to the man and pressed the lit end of the cigarette into the man’s exposed stomach.

“Gunner, what the hell are you doing?” He didn’t know the man from Adam. At least it didn’t seem that way. How could he so casually injure the man? Yelling, Morty reared up from the couch and promptly fell to the stained rug.

“What the fuck?” he shouted, eyes still glazed from sleep. “You burned me, you motherfucker. I’m gonna…” He scrambled up with an arm pulled back, his eyes wide. Pain exploded in my chin. The bastard had changed course and punched me instead. It was just a clip but with anger-packed heat behind it. I stumbled back, clutching my jaw.

Fuck, my face was just healing from what Gunner’s men had done to me.

Morty shouted, his tone full of fear. Gunner had driven him up against the wall, a knife pressed to the man’s throat. Blood beaded on his broken skin. Gunner’s voice was a mere whisper, making it impossible to hear the words he said to the man. Whatever they were, they were enough for the man’s face to pale.

“Gunner, don’t do anything stupid,” I said.

“Yes, listen to the cop, prez,” Sylvie said. “He’s just a regular who knows nothing. Let him go. This will be bad for my business if one of my clients turns up dead.”

Gunner didn’t seem ready to relent. I marched over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Tension radiated through his body. Fuck, he was angry. Was it so important to him to show he was the alpha who called the shots? He wasn’t even the one who got punched.

“That’s enough, Gunner,” I growled. “Put away your pissing stick. We have more important things to do here, and I’ll be livid if I have to leave to write you up for murder. You know I’ll do it.”

Gunner scowled, but he released his grip on the man. “Get the fuck out of here.”

The man stumbled from the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. I let out a sigh.

“You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?” Gunner looked as if he wanted to knife me. I took a step back, not underestimating him.

“Me?” I gaped at him. “You were the one about to behead a man in front of the police chief. With a knife!”

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