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Quinn moved at a snail’s pace down the small hallway, trying his best to muffle the sound of his black shoes as he made his way forward. As much as he could hear the other person, it also meanthecould be easily heard as well.
Their guest was making enough noise to wake the dead, clearly unbothered by anyone overhearing them. It did help Quinn to mask his approach.
He peeked through the ajar door to the kitchen and saw a man with hunched shoulders, bent over as he looked through a drawer. He pulled out the cutlery holder and dropped all of the cutlery onto the floor as he shook it. He flung the empty holder on top of the cutlery.
Definitely looking for something. Without worrying about whether he was making too much noise. Either he didn’t pay attention, or Quinn’s car blended into the neighbourhood more than he’d thought.
Quinn spied Grady closing in on the other doorway. He waited a second for Grady to get into place and then burst out, gun aimed steady with two hands. “Police!” he barked out loudly. “Get on the floor, hands on your head.”
The man startled and whirled. He jerked towards the hallway door, saw Grady, and stopped short. His panicked gaze darted to the back door.
“On the floor, now,” Quinn repeated in a strong voice, making sure to clearly enunciate. He took a deliberate step towards the only remaining exit, situating himself halfway between the back door and the room he’d just come from. Quinn recognised a runner when he saw one, and if he were going to do it, Quinn would rather he do itinthe house where it would be easier to catch him. He fuckinghatedstreet chases. His knees did not appreciate climbing fences and appreciated the landing portion of the climbing even less. What went up had to come down. Idiots saw the suit and figured that Quinn wouldn’t follow them up and over a six-foot fence. They were wrong; he just preferred to not have to.
“Don’t even think about it,” Grady growled. “I’ll put one in your fucking back.”
“Make this easier on yourself and just comply,” Quinn said. “Turn around, hands on the back of your head, and get on your knees.”
Their warnings were ignored. He chose instead to slide one of the steak knives out of its slot and charge towards Quinn.
Quinn pulled the trigger, aiming for somewhere non-lethal that would still put him down. The shot went wide as he swerved to avoid the brandished weapon. Quinn gripped the wrist that held the knife and squeezed, forcing his assailant to let go. The knife clattered on the hardwood.
He went to headbutt Quinn, and Quinn reacted instantly, dropping his gun as he gripped the man’s cheeks with flat palms. He twisted, elbowing him across the throat and bringing him forward to jam his knee into his stomach. A pained grunt filled the air.
Quinn used the momentum to twist the man and kick behind his knees, forcing him to the ground and yanking his hands behind his back.
“All right?” Grady asked, his gun still trained on the threat as he handed over a pair of cuffs.
“Yeah,” Quinn said. He clicked the cuffs in place. “You’re under arrest.”
“You have just as little right to be here as me,” the man said, wheezing. “We’re both trespassing.”
“What makes you think we’re trespassing?” Grady asked.
“Where’s your warrant?”
“We’re not obligated to show anyone but the resident of the house the paperwork,” Quinn said. “We’re both aware that you aren’t that person. Stay down.” He swiped his gun from the floor and slid it back into the holster on his hip, clipping it securely. He shared a look with Grady, and he knew they were both wondering the same thing.
What the fuck were they going to do now?
As much as he hated to admit it, they couldn’ttake him in. They were just as much in the wrong here as he was. They couldn’t let him go either. So where did that leave them?
“Checkmate, bitch,” the man said.
“Shut the fuck up,” Grady told him, looking two seconds away from kicking him.
“Are you going to kill me?” he jeered. “Not very friendly for cops, are you?”
Quinn gritted his teeth and ignored the jibes. Murder was not on their list of options. They just needed to work out what was. “What were you looking for?” he asked.
No response.
“Nowyou’re gonna be quiet?” Grady drawled. “What a shock.”
“Tell u—” Quinn cut off at the sound of a new voice.
“Knock, knock.”
Quinn swiftly pulled his gun out, aiming it at the back door, where a man in ratty jeans and a light-green hoodie was standing in the open doorway. Quinn narrowed his eyes. He knew that face. How?
