Gunner jumped out of Brock’s car that was parked across the street from the brownstone on the Upper East Side they were keeping an eye on. “Keep looking around! I’ll call you back,” he said and hung up. He then called Quinn’s phone but got no answer.
“What’s going on?” Brock asked.
“Quinn’s gone. Boone said there’s fucking blood in her office,” he explained as he pulled up his GPS tracker and put in her number. When it pinged, he stated, “Boone’s right. She’s still in her office building. Come on!”
He and Brock got back into the Mustang and took off to the Upper West Side. The most frustrating part was that they were almost straight east of where her phone showed, but getting around Central Park and through traffic was a whole other story.
“She’s still in the building. You see her phone anywhere?” he asked on speaker when Boone picked up.
“No. I’ve looked fucking everywhere,” Boone replied.
“Open fucking desk drawers! Break down a goddamned door if you have to and see if it’s there!” Gunner yelled. Looking at Brock he ordered, “Call my dad and let him know. Then have him call Detective Jared.”
“There’s nothing,” Boone answered.
“Wait! It’s showing she’s out of the building. Go, now!” He hung up and tried Quinn again but still got no answer. “Goddamn it!”
“Right,” Brock said into his phone. “Yes, he wants you to call Jared. Let him know what’s going on. Okay. Yeah.” Brock hung up with Hank and looked at Gunner. “We’ll find her.”
Gunner bit down hard on his teeth making his jaw muscles pop. “Never should’ve fucking left her alone. Fuck!”
Traffic wasn’t light and Brock was doing the best he could to get there but Gunner was about to come undone, calling Quinn over and over then spewing curse words each time she didn’t pick up.
Then his phone rang. “You got something?” he asked Boone.
“It’s showing she’s heading east. I’m close but I don’t see her.” Gunner could tell he was running as he talked. “Bunch of fucking shops around here and shit tons of people but I’m not seeing her.”
“Keep going!” Gunner’s phone beeped and he saw Detective Jared was calling. “Stay on the line,” he told Boone before switching over to take Jared’s call. “Yeah?”
“I’ve got units in the area,” Detective Jared said.
“GPS is showing she’s still on Amsterdam right at 78th.”
“I’ll call it in. Hang tight, son. We’ll get her,” Jared said and hung up.
Gunner switched back to Boone. “Anything?”
“No! Not a fucking thing!”
Gunner watched his phone. “Where are you?”
“Amsterdam and 78th but I still don’t see her.”
“Mine just switched to 79th. You there yet?”
“Yeah. Okay, we’ve got Mexican, French, pizza, Goodwill, looking in all of ‘em,” Boone said.
Gunner heard door chimes going off every few minutes then Boone would tell him he had nothing.
“We’ll be there in five,” Brock stated.
“Hear that?” Gunner asked Boone.
“Yeah. I’ll call if I find her,” Boone answered hanging up.
It was exactly seven minutes later when Brock pulled onto 80th Street where the GPS showed her phone was, zipping into the first parallel parking space he found.
When they jumped out of the car, Gunner yelled, “You take the north side, I’ve got south,” and took off running.
Stopping in every restaurant and shop there was, he did a scan of each place then ran back out not giving a fuck at people complaining when he ran into them or looking at him funny as he searched.
“Where the fuck are you, baby?” he mumbled as he ran past a restaurant under construction then slipped inside the next store and got nothing. “Anything?” he asked when Brock picked up his call.
“Nothing.”
“Fuck!”
And on and on it went, the GPS dot staying where it was and him running into every business but not finding her. At the end of the block, he met Brock who’d run across the street.
“I got nothing,” Brock said.
“You check everything?” Gunner asked.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah. Going back down again. You do the same,” he said. “Bathrooms, kitchens, dressing rooms!” he yelled before going back inside the Thai restaurant he’d just come from, looking more thoroughly, checking every part he hadn’t the first time. On his way out he called Quinn’s phone again just to get the same damned thing: a whole lot of nothing.
“Gonna find you, baby…if it’s the last thing I do…”
Chapter 19
Gathering resolve from somewhere, Quinn pushed herself up to sit, wincing as she curled her legs to the side, and looked around seeing she was in an unfinished restaurant. Tables and chairs were lined up against a wall to the side, a maître d’s podium stood at the front, double doors led to what she assumed was the kitchen.
“Is this your restaurant?” she asked, looking up to see the woman gazing wistfully around the place.
“Everything was going to be perfect,” she said, dropping to the floor next to Quinn, the knife scraping against the fancy Italian tile. “We were so excited to open it.” She looked at her. “It was his apology, you know. This restaurant. He felt terrible about that night at the restaurant.” Using the hand holding the knife, she brushed her hair off her brow. “I didn’t want to forgive him but he explained that you were upset over a boy. One who wore a bracelet with an eyeball in it.” She chuckled. “That’s so strange.” She picked something off her pant leg. “He told me all about the kid’s stepbrother making him do weird things. How he made him steal things. Once made him cut out a dead dog’s heart.” She sighed, her soulless eyes now boring into Quinn’s. “He said he was only trying to help you.”
Oh, God. She was talking about Rod, who been the only one she’d told everything about Ben.
That’s how the woman had known about the bracelet and to send the pictures.
Elaine was his wife.
And she was having a fucking psychotic break. Shit!
Elaine’s eyes cut right through her. “But then he kept helping you. At first, I thought you were one of his patients and I thought he was being nice. But the more he was gone, the more suspicious I grew. My sister told me how to track his phone and I followed him one night. Right to you.” Another cackle came out of nowhere. “Did you like fucking my husband?” As she said this, she swung the knife, slicing across one of Quinn’s calves making her scream and fall face to the floor as her tears ran down to drip onto the cold tile.
“Please,” Quinn begged. “I didn’t know he was married.”
She felt herself start flagging, on the verge of passing out, losing too much blood, and knew her adrenaline was the only thing keeping her coherent at that point. Because she felt that the minute she passed out, that was the end. God.
She watched as Elaine got comfortable now, leaning back on her hands and crossing her feet in front of her outstretched legs. “He was the love of my life, you know. We met in college. He was always so gentle with me. Said I was fragile but he’d keep me safe.” She looked dreamily off into the distance.
So she had a history of mental illness, Quinn gathered from that statement. And wasn’t she the lucky one getting to be here to witness the breakdown.
Elaine continued. “We tried having kids but I couldn’t. He understood, though. He was very sweet about it.” Her eyes instantly went dead as they landed on Quinn who was watching her. “But he didn’t keep me safe. So I took care of it.”
She took care of it? What did that mean? Oh, God, had she killed Rod?
Quinn kept her cheek to the floor because the coolness of the tile was strangely comforting as she asked, “Where is he?”
“Who?” Elaine looked at her, confused.
“Where is Rod?”
Elaine burst out laughing. “Somewhere he’ll
never hurt me again. But don’t worry. You’ll be joining him soon.”
“Elaine?” Quinn called.
That stopped her laughing. “Don’t call me that! You don’t know me!” She stood and looked smugly down at Quinn. “Not so high and mighty anymore, are you? You’re pathetic.”
“Did you hurt your husband?”
Elaine giggled, fucking giggled, as she reached into her front pocket and pulled out a bloody handkerchief. She opened it and what looked like an ear fell out onto the floor making Quinn fight to hold back the retching motion her body wanted to make.
Nodding at the ear on the floor, Elaine declared, “I’m going to make orecchiette with ricotta and a white wine reduction. It’ll be delicious!” She then smirked at Quinn. “As for you, I’m thinking a nice kidney pie.”
Holy fucking Christ.
Quinn’s cell phone in her suit pocket began to buzz loudly against the floor causing her to gasp since she’d forgotten she’d had it.
“You have your phone?” Elaine shrieked looking panicked. Then promptly her look turned excited. “I have to hurry!” Hopping up, she dashed through the double doors and Quinn heard pots and pans clanking.
While this went on, Quinn reached a shaky hand down and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Bringing it to her face and checking the screen with blurry eyes she saw that Gunner had called numerous times and she hadn’t even noticed.
Huh.
She guessed being sliced up by a lunatic kind of held one’s attention.
Just as she pressed the button to call him back, she passed out.
Chapter 20
Gunner put a hand on his head and pulled his fucking hair, seeing as he’d exhausted every possible place where Quinn could be.
As much as he hated it, this felt exactly the same as when Nate had died in his arms. Exactly the fucking same with him being helpless and having no answers and he found that what he wanted to do was run. Just run. Get the fuck out of there and never look back.
And it was all because he was afraid which made him loathe himself.
“You motherfucking pussy!” he roared at himself as passersby scurried around him, leaving a wide arc in their wake, some looking behind them and murmuring to each other as they did.
Irritated as hell, he answered his phone when it rang not bothering to see who it was. “What?” he yelled. When all he heard was clanking in the background, he pulled his phone back check who the call was from and with relief, cried, “Quinn?”
When she didn’t answer, he called her name again and still got nothing. Damn it!
Brock and Boone came running up then.
“Anything?” Boone asked.
“She called. We’re still connected but she’s not talking.” He put the phone on speaker so they could hear the noise in the background.
“What the fuck is that?” Brock asked.
Gunner shook his head just as puzzled and began walking down the rows of businesses again trying to figure it out.
“Sounds like pots and pans,” he suggested.
“It does,” Boone agreed.
“Like a restaurant?” Brock added.
“With no customers?” Gunner questioned.
They looked in every window they went by, restaurants especially, but each one had patrons inside.
That’s when they came to Elaine’s, the only place he’d passed by several times because it’d been under construction.
“Fuck! This has to be it!” he told them.
“There are lights on inside,” Boone commented looking through the window.
“You armed?” Brock asked.
“Always,” Gunner replied, handing his phone to Boone as he drew his weapon out. “Stay here and keep her on the line. And call Jared from your phone. Let him know where we are.”
Boone nodded watching as both men had their guns ready as they crept just inside the door.
When Gunner saw Quinn lying on the floor, her leg cut and blood pooling around her, he’d only known such anger and terror one time before—when his unit had been attacked.
“Tell Boone to call for an ambulance,” he hissed quietly at Brock, barely able to contain his rage. Keeping an eye on the doors where the noises were coming from, he crept to Quinn and bent down next to her reaching a hand out to check to see if she had a pulse, knowing it was the hardest fucking thing he’d done in his entire life. And praying to God that she was alive, he put two fingers to her neck and waited.
Brock came back in and watched, the fear on his face almost matching what Gunner was feeling. When he picked up a very faint pulse, Gunner let out a sigh of relief and nodded to his coworker who also appeared relieved. And as badly as he wanted to get her out of there, Gunner didn’t want to risk injuring her any further, which he knew took years off his life in having to leave her there.
But he had to take care of the asshole who’d done this to her first.
Fuck.
He gave Brock several hand signals, letting him know he wanted him to go to the right to be his backup at which Brock nodded then headed the way he’d been told. Gunner went left approaching the kitchen doors and when close, took a quick glance through one of the round windows trying to see who and what he was dealing with.
When he saw Elaine Vance, he frowned and stepping back, looked over at Brock in confusion. Brock shook his head in question not understanding what he was trying to tell him. But, hell, Gunner didn’t fucking understand either. When he mouthed her name, he saw that Brock read it but he still looked as perplexed as Gunner felt.
What the fuck?
He saw movement near the door and looked back to Brock holding up a finger to wait. Then pressing himself against the wall to the side of the door, he too waited.
A few minutes later, Elaine walked out of the kitchen, bloody knife in hand and in a sing-songy voice said as she approached where Quinn lay, “Okay, Dr. McDonnell, it’s time to get down to business! I need your kidneys!” She laughed heartily at this which made Gunner’s stomach clench.
She was only a few feet from Quinn when Gunner called out, “Freeze!” stopping her in her tracks.
Turning and seeing the two men pointing their guns at her, she laughed then gave them a huge smile. “Hello, gentlemen. Welcome to Elaine’s. Our specials tonight will be a fabulous orecchiette with ricotta and a white wine reduction and a divine kidney pie. I’m sure you’ll find both very much to your liking.”
Holy fucking shit. The woman was completely insane. Gunner chanced a quick glance at Brock who did the same to him then they looked back to her.
“Are you ready to be seated?” she asked still smiling radiantly at them both.
“Elaine?” Gunner called making her look specifically at him. “I need you to put down the knife.”
This made her laugh again. “Oh, I can’t do that. I have to get the items I need for the specials.”
She turned and took a step toward Quinn, closer than she needed to be, and Gunner yelled out, “Don’t make another move or I’ll blow your fucking head off!”
Stopping and turning back to look at him, she tilted her head to the side. “Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say.”
When she went to turn once more, Gunner warned her again. “Lady, I’m not fucking around here. You want to live, you’ll drop the goddamned knife.”
He could hear sirens in the distance and knew the exact moment she did too because her entire demeanor changed. He watched as her pleasant disposition turned to one of fury.
“You’ve gone and spoiled it! Everything was perfect and now you’ve spoiled it!” she screamed loudly.
She spun when Detective Jared came through the door along with two uniformed officers behind him, all three with weapons drawn.
“Put the knife down and no one gets hurt!” Jared called out.
Gunner heard more sirens as they waited for her to comply, personally tired of dealing with the crazy bitch and wanting to get Quinn the fuck out of there. Elaine remained facing the police o
fficers for several moments before turning back to look at Gunner and Brock.
“I see my perfect plan is ruined.” She let out a pouty sigh as her shoulders drooped. Then he saw her face brighten. “But I can still keep the ending the same.”
Before anyone could do a thing, she brought the knife to her neck, and holding the blade with her empty hand, sliced right across the front of her throat hitting the carotid artery making blood surge out with each beat of her heart.
She collapsed in a bloody heap on the floor as Jared hollered, “Get a bus here STAT!” He ran to her, pulling his jacket off as he did and balling it up, held it against her throat to stop the spurting blood.
“That was fucking insane,” Brock murmured when he came to stand by Gunner who’d made his way to Quinn and was now kneeling next to her.
The paramedics came in and Gunner hurriedly moved out of the way so they could get to her, watching as they checked her vitals, hooking her up to an IV, and talking to each other and into their radios letting the hospital know what they’d be bringing back to the ER soon.
Gunner followed as they wheeled her out on a gurney. “I’m riding with you,” he told them, at which one guy shrugged and the other nodded. In the back of the ambulance, he worriedly held her hand seeing how pale she’d become. Looking up at the paramedic, he asked, “Is she gonna be okay?”
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” was all the guy responded.
When they got to the hospital, Gunner called Oz who told him that Tilly would call Quinn’s parents and sister and that they themselves were on their way. He called his dad to let him know what’d happened, who also said he’d be there soon. He last called Boone asking if he’d go to Quinn’s office and get her purse which had her insurance information in it.
Standing in the waiting room worried out of his mind, he mentally cussed himself out for ever leaving her alone. He should’ve told his dad he’d be late, making sure to get Quinn home safely first. He was still beating himself up when thin arms wrapped around him from behind.
“She loves you, you know. And she’s strong, including as stubborn-headed as they come. She’ll make it.”
Under the Gun (CEP Book 3) Page 14