Page 4 of Gunner

Mason swallowed. As if realizing he’d given me more information than he’d planned, he released me and stepped back. “He’s a good cop. We need more like him on the force. And he’s my partner. I can’t look the other way while you casually talk about ending his life.”

“Is that all?”

“What else could there be?”

I studied Mason, but his mask was back on, that impenetrable stare of his that gave nothing away.

“We’ll see.”

“Gunner. I know you don’t owe me shit, but leave him alone. I’m serious.”

I hooked my thumbs into the loops of my jeans. “Have drinks with me later tonight, and I just might let it go.”

The invitation/threat hung between us. Just how important was this Ben to him?

“I won’t have drinks with you to save Ben’s life,” he said. “But I’ll have drinks with you if you’re asking me out.”

After all these years, was it that easy? What tricks did he have up his sleeve?

“You remember what drinks meant, right?” I bit my bottom lip as images flashed through my head of alcohol-infused breathsmingling, sipping liquor from each other’s tongues while we fucked through the night.

From his flushed cheeks, I wasn’t the only one on memory lane.

“It has to be out of town,” Mason said. “Somewhere no one will recognize me.”

“I can do that.”

Holy fuck. For Mason, I would go through hell and back.

1

BEN

The way Ben looks at me sometimes, I swear he knows. But then he smiles, and I forget all my guilt.

The scent of antiseptic tickled my nostrils as I stared at the man lying motionless on the hospital bed, his face a maze of tubes and wires.

To the world, he was dead, but for me, he wasn’t allowed to be.

The doctors and nurses assigned to him had been instructed to do whatever it took to preserve his life. He was the only direct link I had to the baby farm case I’d been working for over a year. All the others we’d had in our sights were now dead or MIA. He was the sole survivor—barely. Without him, I may never find out who were the masterminds behind the disgusting business.

Beeps and whirs from the surrounding machines punctuated the silence in the room. For his safety, the patient was in a secluded wing with only a handful of staff knowing who he was and why he was so closely guarded. Had he been awake, we would have handcuffed him to the bed, but a few weeks had passed, and he remained unconscious. The outlook was bleak,but I was hopeful. I’d worked too hard to crack this case to wind up nowhere.

Out of desperation, I might have even done something out of character. Working alongside that lawless bastard, Gunner. He knew the members of his club and their movements better than me, though, so for now, working with him was beneficial to me.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and I jerked my head up. A petite blonde nurse entered.

“Chief Witter,” she said softly. “Dr. Collier is ready to see you now.”

“Thank you.”

I followed her out of the room, leaving a word of caution with the police officer on duty. No outsider knew about the patient, but how long could we hide it? Luckily, his family had understood this might be his only chance for survival and had agreed to us covering up his alleged death. Otherwise, we would never have been able to pull this off.

The nurse led me down a set of corridors until we came to a stop at a door bearing the nameplate Logan Collier, MD, PhD, Division Chief. She knocked twice.

“Come in.”

She turned the knob and gestured for me to enter.

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