Page 133 of Gunner

How were they pulling this off so effortlessly?

The door creaked. “What’s it, buddy?” I asked without looking away from the board. “Time for your walk already? I’ll be there in a sec.”

I was missing something, but what?

“No need. I’ve already taken him out.”

I whipped my head around. Gunner. He shouldn’t be here. The information on the board was sensitive, but he was no more looking at the board than I was shooing him out. He seemed…different. I was used to him barging in and taking up my space whether I wanted it or not, but he hovered in the doorway as if waiting for an invitation to enter.

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“A while. You were busy so I didn’t disturb you. Thanks for the dinner. I assume it was for me.”

“Yeah, it’s the least I could do after you stocked up my pantry. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I felt like it.”

Something was definitely off with him. My stomach flipped. Was I making a terrible mistake of telling him how I felt about him?

“You said you wanted to talk,” Gunner said before I could formulate words.

“Yeah. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

I walked past him, but Gunner placed a hand on my arm, halting me. “Before you say anything, I want to take you somewhere with me. Will you go?”

I frowned. “It’s not somewhere illegal, is it?”

“I know you better than that, Chief.” He was so close to me the cigarette on his breath tickled my nostrils. The scent used to repulse me, but now I wanted to lean into him and inhale deeply to reassure myself he had come back.

He didn’t leave.

“All right.” I owed him that.

“We’re taking my motorcycle. Will Zeus be okay alone for a while?”

“Yeah, especially since you walked him. He’ll probably sleep for a bit.”

“Good. It’ll take about an hour.”

“Let me get my wallet and—”

“You don’t need it. Just trust me.”

Trust. A simple five letter word that weighed so much.

I was still mulling over how much I trusted him when he parked in the church lot with a handful of other cars, a motorcycle, and a bike. Confused, I climbed off the back of his motorcycle and handed him the spare helmet.

“This is a church.”

“So it is.”

“Are you trying to tell me you found religion or something?”

For the first time since he showed up at my place, Gunner cracked a smile—one of his lopsided grins. “What? You wouldn’t like a holy man the way you do a biker?”

“Honestly? No.” Because there was only one man I liked, and he was a biker.

“You might be surprised what those clergymen do when they’re in their offices.”

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