Page 51 of Gunner

“Your time’s running out, Paddy.” I flushed the toilet, and he shuddered, holding a hand up.

“No, n-no, please, wait.”

“Are you willing to talk to me now?”

“I don’t know anything. I swear to god I wasn’t—”

I grabbed one of Paddy’s legs and dragged him back toward the toilet. Holding his leg, I shoved my boot in his crotch and applied light pressure. He squealed like a stuck pig.

“I didn’t hear you clearly,” I said.

“I didn’t do anything. I swear to god!”

I pressed my foot harder down into his crotch.

“Gunner, stop!”

I jerked my head up. Witter stood in the doorway of the bathroom, his face a sickly green. How long had he been standing there? Had he watched me flush Paddy’s head until he pissed himself? From the wary look in his eyes, he had.

He’d always called me a monster, but this was the first time he looked at me like one.

“He doesn’t know anything,” Witter said.

“I don’t believe that.”

“Don’t you think if he knew something, he would have told us by now?”

“Ex-actly.” Paddy sobbed. “I really don’t know.”

“You’re falling for this crap?” I asked, ignoring Paddy. “This asshole is the link you’ve been looking for to get answers. If you’re squeamish at the sight of blood—which is a hoot, considering what you do for a living—go make yourself a cup of hot cocoa and wait in the other room.”

I yanked Paddy up from the floor. He had a nasty gash on his forehead where he’d cracked it against the porcelain toilet. It was one of those expensive ones too that cost several thousands of dollars, with a motion-activated cover and seat with even a damn foot warmer.

“Sorry for putting a dent in your toilet, Paddy,” I said. “My aim was off, but I won’t miss again.”

He screamed, which became muffled groans as his face hit the water. He struggled to be freed, but I held him down until bubbles appeared on the surface, and his body went slack.

“Gunner!” Witter cried. “You can’t kill him.”

I pulled up Paddy’s head. He was sobbing and throwing up water he’d swallowed. “Why not?”

“If you say he has answers, we still need them from him.”

I dropped Paddy. The pathetic mess curled into himself, retching and shivering.

“Please,” he begged. “No more. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”

“There you go.” I picked up a towel from the warm rack and tossed it over Paddy’s body. “Ask your questions, Witter.”

“Did you talk to your brother before he died?” Witter asked and stood next to me. Damn, why did he smell so fucking good? I wanted to turn my head and bury my nose into his neck.

“Y-y-yes.” Shaking, Paddy sat up, the towel wrapped around his shoulders. “He wanted me to clean a huge sum of money. Even more than the usual. Something went wrong, and he couldn’t siphon the money in smaller sums like he used to.”

“You were the one who handled Butcher’s cut?”

“But Butcher died broke,” I said. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“He only appeared to be broke. He didn’t spend money like I did and gave it to me to invest. But not just Butcher. I did all the money laundering.”

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