Gunner watched the pretty teacher — Lola — walk back out to him, his heart slamming in his chest. How was this going to play out? His baby girl, gone, his sister-in-law, gone, and he had absolutely no idea how he was going to get either one of them back, despite his show of bravado to Lola. It was probably an idiot idea, telling her not to involve the cops, but it also seemed like the only possible idea. Involving them could only lead to disaster; he was absolutely convinced of it. It was just too convenient – the weird race that Billy Calhoun had pulled a gun on him over, and then dropped it the second he pushed back at all. The fact that someone knew enough about his life that they grabbed Laurel and Grace, both at the same time. It could be that they knew Gunner helped out his sister-in-law, for memory of his dead girl, but what were the odds, really? It was all too convenient.
I should’ve pulled away farther. I should’ve set up some kind of dummy account to send Laurel money. I never should’ve shown my face around that kid. I should’ve just let Laurel be her mother and been content, knowing she was safe. Look what I’ve done now.
He forced himself to stop. He hadn’t been responsible for Sam’s death, and he wasn’t responsible for this. The people who were responsible were the people who perpetuated the violence. No one else. But he needed to figure out what was going on, and fast. Did the Vipers have a connection to this? And if they did, how deep did it run?
He went around to his side of the Buick without opening Lola’s door, then kicked himself and started to go back. Lola had already opened the door and slipped into the low seat, however, and was running her hands appreciatively over the custom dash he’d installed.
“Nice,” she said as he swung into the driver’s seat.
If it had been any other goddamn day, he would’ve offered to pull off her leggings with his teeth and give her a ride. The sight of a woman like that running hands over leather made his cock iron hard in moments. But he had to keep his eye on the prize, and sexually assaulting Grace’s teacher wasn’t going to help him get the girl back. But maybe later. Connections forged in times of trial. Something like that. Maybe later we can let off some steam together. God, no. He was not thinking this way.
He started the car, shifted, and then passed his phone to Lola before he started to drive.
“Open up the contacts and call Colton,” he said. “Put it on speaker, and then keep quiet. All right?”
“Sure,” Lola said, following his instructions. She held the phone out towards him so that he’d be able to hear clearly and speak back. Good girl, he thought to himself and liked the way it made his body feel.
Horse answered after a few rings. “Yeah, Gunner?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “What do we know?”
Horse sighed. “Nothing yet. I’m digging. Laurel’s car just got picked up, out by the highway. From the chatter over the scanner, it’s just pinging as abandoned, no one’s talking about foul play yet. So, the cops aren’t doing anything.”
“Anyone notice that things got interesting at the school?”
“Not yet. What about the teacher?”
Gunner looked away from the road for a moment, looking at Lola, who was gazing back with her eyebrows raised. He made his decision. “She ran out there with me, trying to catch the guy who snatched Grace. I convinced her not to call the cops.”
“Can you trust her to do it?”
“For a few hours at least,” he flubbed, hoping he was a better liar over the phone than he was in person. And it wasn’t entirely a lie anyway. It was easy to convince Lola not to call the cops when she thought he could help. A few hours from now, if he had no leads and no ideas, it would probably be a very different conversation. “If we get to the evening news, and there’s not a story about a little girl snatched and then returned to her family, I think she’s going to get worried.”
“Then we move fast,” Horse said. “I’ll keep digging. Call me if you come up with anything. You’re going to work your angle?”
“You know it,” Gunner said. He nodded his head at Lola, and she interpreted it correctly as a direction to hang up the phone.
“What’s your angle?” she asked. It was a sensible enough question. He liked that she was keeping her head, or at least if she was panicking, she was keeping it to herself.
“We’re going to Laurel’s place. I have a key,” he said when she raised an eyebrow. “I want to look around, see if there’s anything there that might give us an idea who grabbed them both.”
“I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record,” Lola said, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “But isn’t it possible we’ll be destroying valuable evidence the police need? You know, if that pretty schoolteacher goes all weird and female and calls the police as if an actual crime had been committed?”
“They’ll make it worse. I keep telling you.”
“Are there dirty cops in town or something? Are we in some strange alternate timeline Law and Order scene?”
He was ready to snap back, but her eyes were sparkling with laughter, and in that heartbeat, all of his anger, all of his fear, all of his disgust at somehow fucking this one, simple thing up so massively turned on its heel and channeled itself into pure, intense lust. His cock was rock hard, trapped painfully by the leg of his jeans, and if he had been anywhere else, on any other day, he would have pulled the car into a secluded parking lot to see if she’d let him get a hand up under those pretty leggings.
She wanted him, too; he’d seen it crystal clear when they were flirting in the doorway. He’d tried not to notice then, so focused on getting the girl, but the sparks between them had been heated and intense. They hadn’t gone away, they’d just gotten buried under the fears of the moment.
“NYPD Blue,” he said, forcing the words out so that he could stop staring at the curve of her breasts under her top. “That was the one that always had dirty cops.”
“They both did.”
“Fine. But no. There aren’t any dirty cops in town. That I’m aware of.”
“I’m just saying, when the victims try to take justice into their own hands, things never work out well for them.”
“Nonsense. Didn’t you see Taken? It’s an entire movie series about Liam Nielsen fucking over people who came after his various family members.”
“Point.” She was quiet for a bit, then pulled out her phone. From her cleavage. Wow. He filed that image away for later consideration. She had rather a lot of cleavage, and he imagined a man could get lost in it. That would be just fine with him.
“Huh,” she said.
“What?”
“My friend Cassidy has sent me a bunch of text messages. She’s asking me to meet her for drinks.” There was something in her tone.
“That’s not normal for her?”
“If it were a Friday? Totally normal. Middle of the week? Not normal.”
His stomach curled in on itself, the fear rising up to wash out his desire again. “Do me a favor, please, and turn your phone off?”
“You think something’s wrong?”
“I think that right now, we can’t afford to be too careful.”
She watched him for a long minute, then turned the phone, so he could see and powered it down. Before sticking it back into her cleavage. Dammit.
***
Lola tried not to pay too much attention to Gunner’s eyes tracking her hand as she slipped her phone back into her bra. Served him right for not letting her take her purse. She was feeling less and less secure about this plan as they drove. On the field by the school, with Gunner’s hand on her arm, it had seemed like the obvious choice, but now? No. There was something painfully off right now. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She wished she had a way to turn back time and take a different path. She should’ve called the police.
What would he have done if she had? The question sent shivers up her spine. He seemed like a man who had the capacity for incredible violence if he was provoked. She didn’t want to find out.
She forced herself instead to concentrate on the rather obvious stiffness in the leg of his jeans. He was just as turned on as she was, it seemed — by the situation, by the fear, by her, it almost didn’t matter which one. It was a distraction from the intense fear that was trying to choke her off at the throat, drop her into total anxiety and misery.
She turned her attention outside, watching the city roll by. Based on what she knew about Grace and Laurel, she’d expected to see Gunner turn the Gran Sport towards the older, more neglected part of town. Instead, he was heading into the newer, recently developed part of the city, where houses were expensive and apartments were luxurious. In fact, he parked the Gran Sport in the underground garage of a building that Lola had looked at once, coughed, and walked away from. But he didn’t look awed or surprised at all as he stepped out of the car. When Lola lagged behind in getting out, he walked around and opened the door for her without a trace of irony or irritation. Wow.
“This is where Laurel lives?”
“Yeah,” he said, either not catching or ignoring her tone. He started across the garage, and after a moment, she hurried to keep up. He used a pass to access the elevator, then rode up several flights. He walked without any hesitation or any sense that he didn’t belong; Lola tried to maintain the same level of clear confidence, but there were so many places she’d gotten into more trouble for looking like she belonged that it was difficult to keep pace. On the sixth floor, he led her down a long hallway towards a door, which he unlocked and walked into. She followed and closed the door behind him.
The apartment was lovely. Her own little place — in the old side of town — was fine. It was bigger than this and closer to some of the retail areas, but it wasn’t as light, as cleanly designed, or as well furnished. This apartment looked like something right out of a magazine layout. It was so clean, it seemed impossible that a child lived here, but everything also all went together. It just wasn’t what she’d expected at all.
Well. She didn’t know anything about them, really. Just that Grace was at the school on a scholarship, and there were many different reasons that happened. She wasn’t about to start inferring anything about Laurel based on just this. But the apartment was truly gorgeous.
She glanced at Gunner, who was standing perfectly still, looking around with a careful, studying gaze. She got the idea that he wasn’t missing a single thing in the apartment — and he probably knew it better than she did, so it wasn’t like she was going to find something he wasn’t. She waited as long as she could stand, and when the silence got overbearing, she asked, “Do you see anything?”
He shook his head. “And that’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t you work with kids? Can you imagine a child living here?”
She found herself laughing. “I was kind of wondering. I mean, Grace isn’t a disaster at school, but she’s also not preternaturally neat. This place is… pristine.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And Laurel is not pristine. Never has been. There’s… something’s really wrong.” Which was kind of a funny thing to say, from Lola’s point of view. Only now was something really wrong? Before, having his sister-in-law and niece kidnapped, that was just regular wrong? What kind of world did this guy inhabit?
She suspected that the answer when she eventually got it, was going to make her feel very afraid. She tried to push that sense away; it wasn’t going to help right now. Not unless she was going to try and make a break for it.
“What are we looking for?”
He sighed. “I was hoping for a scribbled note or a help me message written on the window in lipstick. Something obvious. It looks like someone’s been through here.”
“Could she have just hired someone to clean for her? Something less sinister?”
He shook his head without even looking at her. “Not Laurel. She hates having people in her space. I’ve been offering to hire someone for her for years, but she refuses. Says she’d never trust anyone being here without her watching over them, and it even then she’d be worried about blinking.”
“How would she feel about me being here?”
He gave her a baleful look and didn’t say anything. “I hope that she gets to yell at me about it. I really do. I might have to buy her a new apartment.”
That was an interesting comment. “Did you buy her this one?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “When Laurel moved up here, she didn’t have a lot of cash, and she had a brand-new baby to take care of. I helped her get set up. The firm selling these condos owed me a favor, so we cut a deal. It’s a safe place. Good building to raise a kid in.”
“You’re a good brother-in-law.” She’d said it without thinking, just the kind of compliment people were supposed to make. The way he winced surprised her deeply.
“I try,” he said. “I’m going to go look in the bedroom. Can you check out the bathroom? I don’t know what the hell kind of crap she has in there. You wear—” he gestured at her in a vague sort of up-and-down way “—makeup. You’ll know if something’s out of place.”
Well. That was annoying and dismissive. Just because he was right, she was wearing makeup, didn’t mean that she had a damn idea what this particular woman should have in her cupboards and drawers. But doing something would distract her from the awkwardness of being in someone else’s space when that person wouldn’t want her to be present. So, she followed his directions down the hall, to the small bathroom, and started opening the medicine cabinet and drawers.
The first thing she noticed was that Laurel clearly spent a lot of time on her hair. Lola was familiar with some of the products from keeping her own curls under control, but she would’ve guessed that Laurel had more intense curly hair than she did; lots more moisturizing masks and creams than Lola had ever needed herself. The next thing she noticed was that the woman had as many anxiety prescriptions as she did. She counted two separate antidepressants, one as-needed anxiety med, and one expired bottle of a pain medication. It had been prescribed to Laurel Jenner, though, so that was a positive sign.
Her own small orange prescription bottle pressed into the flesh of her breast. She absolutely never left the house without her prescriptions. Most of the time, just knowing the bottle was available was enough to make sure that she didn’t need it, but sometimes, when it was panic attack or meds, having the option readily available was so important. Maybe Laurel had a smaller, less noticeable pill bottle that she carried with her, but still. She doubted that Laurel would purposefully disappear without her meds. Unless… her meds were off, and she’d done something to hurt herself.
But that wouldn’t explain what had happened to Grace. Lola pushed that thought away as far too depressing and useless and kept looking. She found midrange cosmetics, facial cleansers, tampons, birth control pills, and basic medications in both child and adult doses. Under the sink were spare toilet paper, cleaning products, and a blow dryer and flat iron. The shower was cleaner than Lola’s at home, and even the area around the toilet was clean of dust and dirt. The bathroom was completely spotless.
She left the bathroom and walked back into the main room. Gunner wasn’t there; she glanced into the master bedroom—still horrifyingly clean—and didn’t see him there.
There was a second bedroom, further down the hall; she glanced into it - what had to be Grace’s room - and saw him standing over the bed, his face in his hands. He’d shrugged off his leather jacket for the first time, which meant that she could see the tattoo around his wrist.
Her blood ran absolutely cold. There was only one group in the city that would have a tattoo of a horned devil in chains wrapped around their left wrist; anyone else who tried to wear that mark would find themselves burned. She’d seen members of Satan’s Breed at the various clubs in the city. They were generally decent guys, for guys who deliberately joined outlaw organizations and worked as enforcers for various medium level bad guys in their neighborhood, but they were no one she fucking wanted to associate with. And here she was, trapped in an apartment with someone she barely knew, someone who had the authority to call around and tell people what to do, demand that she not call the police, and had the physical strength to force her to comply with any plan he had.
As carefully and quietly as she could, she stepped back down the hallway and into the living room area. She moved a little faster then, hurrying into the bathroom as she pulled her phone out of her cleavage. She hit the power button, flailing a little bit as she waited for it to stop flashing its logo and find a cell tower. Her heart was pounding in her ears, the blood throbbing through her so fast she struggled to focus. As soon as her contacts were available, she tapped Favorites, and then the picture of Cassidy. The phone started to ring and then went to voicemail.
“Cass,” she whispered, hushed. “Cass, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I think I’m in trouble.”
And then, like a scene from a horror movie, she glanced up at Gunner, standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and fury on his face. He swiped the phone out of her hands, tapped to end the call, then dropped it in the sink. Lola rushed him, her mind dazed with fear and fury at his control, but he caught her easily, twisting her hands up. The move put her up against the door and stole her breath from her. He pressed up against her, hips to shoulders.
He was trying to be fierce, she could feel it in his eyes, but he was also magnetized, pulled hard to her the same way she was against him. She could feel him, still hard against her, and she didn’t think it was just the adrenaline. She rolled her hips against him and felt a strange sense of relief as his lips tightened.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice tight with more than anger.
“Being afraid,” she said. “Because something’s wrong, and you’re not telling me everything.” She turned her head, glancing pointedly at the tattoo on his wrist.
He followed her gaze, and his expression flared with horror. She thought he’d step away, she thought he’d hit her. She did not expect him to drop his head, placing his lips just a breath away from hers. She was shocked when she closed the distance, pressing up onto her toes to lean into the kiss.