Page 102 of Gunner

“I do.”

“Even if I ain’t fucking here?”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I stayed in my seat, raising a single brow, daring him to disagree. “Even if you aren’t fucking here. I get paid for my time. If an hour of my time is booked, I get paid for that hour. What you choose to do with that time is completely up to you.”

Seeing his lips part, I stood before he could say any more. “Let me walk you out.”

I preceded him to the door. Opening it for him, I held the door and waited for him to walk through it. When I turned to him, he was still standing in the middle of my living room. I waited quietly.

I knew what was going on.

He had come here expecting me to push him to talk. I suspected he thought he could pressure me into some kind of arrangement where he didn’t have to show up and I wouldn’t tell King.

I had seen it before. Not just from men, women tried it too.

When they realized I wouldn’t force them to come, but would still get paid, it tended to take the wind out of their sails.

Not always.

But with men like Cash. Men who I knew were good men dealing with a tough time. It was textbook.

Cash rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before relenting. He walked to my front door and stopped in front of me.

“What if I wanted to meet twice a week?”

“We could do that,” I assured him, giving nothing away.

“Ok.” He nodded. “King’s an asshole. You should get whatever you can out of him.”

Pressing my lips together, I struggled not to smile. Cash really was textbook. It might take a while for him to open up, buthe would make those meetings. And he would put the onus on King as to why he was coming to see me.

“Ok. How about four days from now?” I eyed him. “Same time?”

“Yea,” he grunted and then left.

I watched as he walked to his bike and swung his leg over it. I was more than a little concerned about him driving without knowing if he had been drinking. But his words weren’t slurred. He smelled like whiskey, but that could be explained by drinking all night and then being hungover.

I had to believe that as president, King wouldn’t let him on his bike if he was drunk. I knew he took care of his men. That was why he had approached me about Cash coming to see me.

I had a small amount of time before my next online session. Opening up the file I’d started on Cash, I made some notes, as well as adding his next appointment to my calendar.

A few hours later and I was done for the day. After two weeks of not having to decide what to eat, I stood in front of my empty refrigerator, assessing my options.

Making something was out of the question. It required going to the store, and I was just too tired. I contemplated ordering some food. Pulling out the drawer filled with takeout menus, I sighed.

Maybe I wasn’t hungry after all. A bath, a glass of wine, and an early night sounded preferable.

A knock on my front door had me scowling. Who would be here this time of night? Who would be here at all? The last unexpected knock on my door was Amber. I wasn’t supposed to see her until tomorrow though.

Cautiously, I walked toward the front door. Whoever stood on the other side knocked again. This time louder and more incessantly. I peeked through the curtain and spotted Kirby Lennon standing there.

Opening the door, she ignored my surprised expression and held out a bag.

“What is this?”

“Food.”

“I didn’t order anything.”

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