Read Online The Collected (A Jonathan Quinn Novel) by Brett Battles - Free Book Online Page B

was no one else present, watched him from the shadows across the room.
    Finally, Quinn gave Orlando a nod, and he moved forward, making it to within ten feet of the man before the floorboard groaned.
    Pullman started to turn, his gun rising. Quinn took two quick steps forward and grabbed the gun. A boom filled the apartment as Pullman pulled the trigger, the bullet flying over Quinn’s shoulder and into the ceiling.
    Quinn wrenched the gun out of the man’s grasp, tossed it behind him, and slammed the butt of his SIG into the side of Pullman’s head.
    Pullman wheeled backward, a shout of surprise and pain escaping his lips. Quinn followed right after him, this time whacking an open hand against the man’s ear.
    Pullman jerked in response, his hand flying up to protect himself as he cried out again.
    Quinn grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him at a stuffed chair next to the couch. When Pullman’s legs hit the seat, he crumbled backward.
    “Please, please,” the broker said, his hands raised protectively in front of his face. “This is all a mistake.”
    “You’re damn right it is,” Quinn said. “I am not a fan of being shot at.”
    “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…Look, I didn’t realize who he was. Okay?”
    Quinn cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “Didn’t realize who who was?”
    “The senator. Um, uh, Lopez. Right? That’s his name, I think…Yeah, yeah. Senator Lopez. I swear. I didn’t know.”
    Senator Lopez? Who the hell was this guy talking about?
    He glanced at Orlando. She shrugged, as confused as he was.
    As he turned back, Pullman started to push himself out of the chair.
    “No one said you could get up.” Quinn knocked the broker back down. “Tape,” he said to Orlando, his eyes never leaving Pullman.
    There was a loud rip, and a second later Orlando came around his side, a loose end of duct tape in one hand and the roll in the other.
    Pullman pushed back in the chair. “Wait! Wait! I told you I didn’t know.”
    “Arms at your side,” Quinn ordered.
    “Please!”
    Quinn pointed his SIG at the man’s shoulder. “Take them down or I will.”
    Pullman dropped his arms.
    “Take off your shirt.”
    “What?”
    “Take it off.”
    “Okay, okay,” the man said. He pulled off his shirt, revealing an abnormally hairy chest.
    “Drop it on the floor.”
    As soon as the man did, Quinn grabbed him by the nape of the neck and pulled him forward several inches so Orlando would have room to work. Orlando stuck the end of the tape to the broker’s chest, then wrapped it around the man’s body several times, pinning Pullman’s arms tightly to his side. Once that was done, Quinn pushed the man back, and Orlando wound more tape around the chair, creating a web that would keep Pullman where he was. She then ripped off a small piece and stuck it over the man’s mouth.
    Pullman yelled in protest, his voice leaking from the bottom of the strip.
    “See, that just pisses me off,” Orlando said.
    She tore off two more pieces. The first she put over the lower half of the man’s mouth. The other, longer strip she wrapped under Pullman’s jaw and up the side of his face so that it held down the ends of the other two.
    “Yell again,” she said.
    Pullman stared back, silent.
    “You heard her,” Quinn told him.
    Pullman gave a halfhearted yell. This time his voice was sufficiently muffled.
    “Better,” Orlando said.
    Quinn leaned forward a few inches. “You brought this on yourself. If you hadn’t tried to shoot me, we might have had a nice, pleasant conversation. But you just couldn’t help pulling the trigger, could you?”
    Pullman mumbled something.
    “I’m going to let that pass, but from now on this is how it’s going to work. Your mouth stays shut unless I give you permission to speak. Understood?”
    Pullman nodded.
    “I’m going to ask you a few yes-or-no questions. A nod for yes, a shake for no. Easy, right?”
    Another nod.
    “Excellent. All right,