Page 53 of Gunner

“Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone?” he said. “I was done. I’m no longer a part of it. Why must you still ruin my life?”

“Hey, asshole.” I grabbed the back of Witter’s jacket and yanked him back, stepping in front of him. “I’m the one who almost drowned you half a dozen times in there. You want to take your anger out on someone, take it out on me.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Witter whispered fiercely.

“Stay out of this,” I snapped at him.

“All I wanted was to be rich.” Paddy waved the gun around. “How was I supposed to know they were selling babies, for fuck’s sake? I just wanted to make some extra money, have a nice life. Do you know what it’s like growing up poor and being fucked over by every goddamn body who should have taken care of you?”

“Actually, I know that pretty well, and you still don’t see me selling babies. Blame it on us all you want, but you fucked up, Paddy. This is all on you. If you cooperate with us, you might get a light sentence. Kill me, and you compound the issue. You’ll get life for sure, but if you kill me, you’ll have to kill him too. Do you know what they’ll do to you for killing the police chief?”

Paddy’s grip on the gun wavered. Ben finally broke free of my hold on him and stepped out from behind me.

“He’s right, Paddy. Ohio hasn’t executed anyone recently, but it’s not off the books. This is just the sort of thing to revisit using lethal injection. Right now, if you’re cooperative, you may serve what? Eight years in prison? Not to mention a plea bargain if your information leads us to capture those at the top and you agree to testify against them. It’s your choice. You can fire that gun or hand it to me.”

Witter cautiously approached Paddy, whose shoulders dropped. He placed the gun in Witter’s hand.

“It’s not loaded,” he said.

Motherfucker.

Witter placed a hand against my stomach, stopping me from lunging at the guy. He was getting too good at reading me. Some distance between us would do us some good. Instead of ripping Paddy’s head off like I wanted to, I cracked my knuckles.

“You don’t point a gun at anyone you don’t intend to shoot, Paddy.” Witter tucked the weapon into his waistband. “That’s the sort of thing that gets you killed.”

“I…I just lost my head there for a minute. If they find out about this, they’ll kill me for sure.” Paddy rummaged into the box, took out a spiral-bound notebook, and gave it to Witter. “That’s everything I have, I swear. People expect you to keep electronic evidence, but it’s too easy to be hacked. I record everything on paper and destroy everything else.”

Witter thumbed through the pages. “This has dialogue.”

“I transcribed all the phone calls, recorded all the text messages. It’s my safety net in case anything went wrong.”

“This is…amazing. I’m sure this will be helpful.”

“Now what?” I asked. “He just held a gun on you. You’re just going to let him walk?”

“The gun was empty.”

“Like that fucking matters. If he’s bold enough to point a weapon at you, he can get his ass beaten. Better yet, I’ll shatter his fucking kneecaps. Bet he thinks twice before he tries that shit again.”

With that little stunt, Paddy had forced me to expose myself, jumping in front of Witter to cover his ass. Luckily, Witter was so concerned with the case and getting what he needed out of Paddy he hadn’t internalized what I’d done.

“We got what we came for.” Witter took my arm tightly, even though his attention was on the other man. “If you fear someone will come after you, I’d suggest you stay somewhere else for a while. I’m with the police department in Smoky Vale. You need anything, call me. Go take care of yourself. We’ll see ourselves out.”

I reluctantly followed Witter but couldn’t resist one last barb. “I wouldn’t sleep too comfortably tonight, Paddy.”

Witter kept his shit together until we were in the elevator. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you supposed to be in your forties?”

“What? My performance earlier was too good to be true for a man in his forties?”

He scowled. “I’m talking about how hot tempered you are and your inability to see the bigger picture.”

“What’s a bigger picture than that man who drew a weapon on you?”

“Shush.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors parted. We crossed the lobby, and Witter pasted a smile on his face. “Thanks again for your assistance,” he said to the doorman. “Appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

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