Page 49 of Gunner

Jesus.

To admit that to someone…

I shook my head. Now wasn’t the time to be distracted.

We stopped before apartment thirty-two, and I knocked.

“How’re you going to get him to let us in?” Gunner asked.

“I’ve got a plan.”

“Who’s that?” asked a masculine voice.

“I’m Joe Stanton with the Riverton PD.” I flashed my badge before the peephole. “Our captain spoke with you earlier, but we have some follow-up questions.”

“What else could you want to know?” he growled, but the door opened just like I wanted.

Paddy was nothing like I’d expected, though from the high-end apartment building, I should have had a clue. He wore adeep purple robe, unknotted to reveal silk pajamas beneath, and had a cigar in his hand.

“Hope you don’t mind, Officer, but I wasn’t expecting company,” he said.

“No problem. We’ll make this quick. Do you mind if we talk inside? The topic is sensitive, and we wouldn’t want anyone to get wind of it, you know.”

Paddy glanced from me to Gunner, who had yet to say anything. He raked over Gunner with a deep gaze, then frowned. “What did you say your name was? I’d like a closer look at your badge too.”

Fuck.

“It’s—”

Gunner shoved his way in front of me, brandishing an unsheathed knife. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Paddy. You choose.”

Paddy stepped back, and Gunner moved forward to keep him within arm’s reach. I followed them inside and prayed like hell no one had been looking through their peepholes.

“Who exactly are you?” Paddy asked. “And why are you pretending to be the police?”

“I’m not pretending. I’m with the Smoky Vale Police Department.”

“Smoky Vale?” He widened his eyes. “What does that have to do with me?”

“We’re here to talk to you about your brother Butcher.”

“Look, man, you’re wasting your time. Like I told the captain, I don’t know anything about what happened in Smoky Vale. My brother and I haven’t spoken in years. You can imagine why. The kind of life he lived is far different from mine.”

“Then you won’t mind talking to us.” I tapped Gunner’s wrist for him to put the knife away. “Can we sit?”

“And if I refuse to talk to you? Why don’t I call the real police captain and hear what he has to say?”

“You don’t want him to take his knife back out, do you?” I cringed. Threatening someone wasn’t the way I handled my cases. “Let’s have a seat and a nice little chat.”

We walked into a living room that displayed Paddy’s wealth. The polished marble floors reflected the soft, ambient light from the crystal chandelier that hung like a crown jewel in the center of the room. Each piece of furniture was a work of art, and in one corner, a grand piano sat, its ebony surface shining. He was right about one thing. He and his brother had lived different lives.

Gunner stood to the right of Paddy’s chair like he was waiting for just one wrong move and he would enjoy using the knife he had hidden somewhere on his body.

“What’d you do for a living, Paddy?” I asked.

“I’m an investment broker.”

“Name of your firm?”

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