“And?” I pressed, knowing that wasn’t it.
“And I jacked Aven’s car, and sat there for a few hours.” Aven’s car because he knew his SUV would look way too out of place on a street like that, but that Aven’s little lemon would go by all but unnoticed. “Junkie couple went off on foot. Likely to come over to this side of town to score. A single mom took her three kids off to school. An old man wobbled down to get his newspaper. But the last house had nothing. No activity.”
“Worth a look,” I agreed, moving to stand. “You should go crash upstairs. You’re no good to any of us if you’re dead on your feet.”
Gunner’s brow lifted at that. “You just want me to keep an eye on Fenway, make sure he isn’t making a move on your girl.”
Christ.
That was the problem with Gunner; he never kept his opinions to himself. Usually, it was a trait I respected. You always knew what he was thinking, where he stood.
But every once in a blue moon, I fucking wished he knew how to filter what he said.
Because every set of eyes in the room moved to me, brows raised, questions on the tips of their tongues, ready to demand answers.
My girl.
I didn’t know where Gunner got the idea. Though, maybe, there was a bit more softness toward her than my usual client. Maybe there was reluctance to change the focus away from a pro bono case to one that would make us a major chunk of change. True, the business was by no means in desperate need for cash, but my team knew me. They knew that business came first. Smart business.
How I was treating her case simply wasn’t smart.
Add on the fact that Aven was beautiful.
And, I guess, it was easy to draw the conclusion that the reason I was so into her case was that I was into her.
But if something were going on with Aven and me, I would have taken her back to my place and spent the night with her in my bed, not crashing on the fucking couch in my office.
“Watch it,” I told Gunner, keeping my tone even.
“Are you trying to deny it, Boss?” he pressed, really pushing it. Gunner was surly in general, but even more so when he was without sleep.
“Yes. I’m denying it. She isn’t mine.” She wasn’t. That much was true. One kiss didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Even if I woke up in the morning with a raging fucking hard-on just from the memory of it.
“Yeah, okay,” Gunner said, nodding. “Your girl or not, I think she deserves someone who isn’t going to go darting off with some French heiress without a second thought. So I’ll head up. Let me know what you find.”
“Want to head out now?” Smith asked as I heard footsteps above me in Aven’s room. It was ten, but she had been up late. This was the first movement I heard up there since the night before.
“Yeah, let’s get it over with,” I agreed, going into my desk for a lock pick set and gloves.
Gunner wasn’t exaggerating about the crumbling houses on the side street, even in the middle of fall, the grass on several lawns was higher than ankle-height, weighed down in spots with burnt orange and red leaves.
“Pull behind,” Smith told me, keen eyes looking around. “The old man will be the neighborhood watch. If we’re parked here with blackout windows, he’ll call the cops.”
I wondered why he would be cool with junkies next door but would have an issue with my car as I did as Smith demanded, but when it came to the tactical shit, that was what he specialized in. If I wanted a job to go smoothly, I knew I could rely on his input.
“Wouldn’t even need the lockpick,” I said as we rounded the back door, my chin jerking toward the blowing screen door and the broken window on the internal door.
We made our way up, slipping on our gloves.
“So what is the deal?” Smith asked, reaching inside the broken window, turning the lock that opened with a somewhat laughable click. Why even bother locking it?
“What deal?”
“With you and this chick.”
“Thought you knew better than to read too much into Gunner’s shit,” I hedged, moving forward, but he blocked my way.
“Gunner might be a loudmouth, but we both know that what comes out is usually something you can believe. And, not for nothing, Quin, but you’re on call with her? Don’t think I didn’t hear about that. Supposed to be radio silence after a full cleanup.”
That was always the rule.
We didn’t want any contact, any blowback in case they snapped and what they did got around.
“And I maybe heard it from a certain redheaded, coffee-slinger that you were having coffee with a woman who sounded an awful lot like Aven.”