Gunning for Penance

GUNNING FOR PENANCE A JO GUNNING THRILLER RENÉE PAWLISH CONTENTS Author’s Note Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Free Book Deadly Connections From the Author Acknowledgments About the Author Renée’s Bookshelf Gunning For Penance A Jo Gunning Thriller First Digital Edition published by Creative Cat Press copyright 2023 by Renée Pawlish AUTHOR’S NOTE I have exercised some creative license in bending geography, settings, and law-enforcement agencies to the whims of the story. This is, after all, a work of fiction. Any similarities between characters in this novel and real persons is strictly coincidental. CHAPTER ONE The three men were sitting at a table in a nondescript room in a nondescript office building like so many in the Washington, DC, area. But also like at so many buildings in the area, things happened in this place that would have shocked the average citizen. The room was quiet, no windows, no noise filtering in from the hall. Frank glanced around nervously. “You’re sure?” Dale asked. He was a tall man, big-boned and with broad shoulders, as if he carried the weight of the world on them. And in some ways, he did. Frank nodded. “Pretty sure.” He fiddled with a Coke can, pulling at the tab then pressing it back down before setting it on the table. Dale and the other man, known only as Fox, stared at him. Frank was diminutive, with wire-rimmed glasses perched on a small nose, and under their gaze, he shifted in his uncomfortable chair. He didn’t know much about Fox—had no idea if that was the man’s first name or last name or a nickname. Whatever it was, his stony expression made Frank’s blood curdle. Dale raised his thin eyebrows. “How do you know?” Frank cleared his throat. “Others reported that she went through some files, and that she might’ve taken pictures.” “That’s not good,” Dale muttered. The coolness from another sip of soda soothed Frank’s parched throat. He never liked these kinds of meetings, never knew what Dale was thinking, or what he might do. After as long of a pause as he felt he could take, Frank said, “She was asking a lot of questions as well, about things outside her area.” He felt Fox’s eyes on him still, so he glanced the other way, at the stark white wall. “What kind of questions?” Dale asked. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter. After igniting one, he shoved the lighter and pack back in his pocket. There was no smoking in the building, but as far as Frank could tell, Dale didn’t think the rules applied to him. And none of them had gotten where they were by following rules. Dale blew a long stream of smoke into the air and looked at him. “Questions about the project,” Frank said. He waved a hand in the air to dispel the smoke, but Dale either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I’m told she knows more than she should. What she does with that knowledge . . .” “She was out there why?” Dale asked. Frank adjusted the glasses, pressing them against his nose. “She was working on the last stage and was needed at the facility for testing.” He shrugged. “We had to send her out there, but no one had any idea what she was really doing.” Fox shifted ever so subtly in his chair, and Frank glanced at him. Then he looked back at Dale. The man took another long drag on the cigarette, the ash growing. As he blew smoke, he glanced around. Frank looked too, realizing there was no ashtray. He pushed his Coke can across the table, and Dale tapped the ash into it. The man smoked for a moment, the room filling with the acrid odor. Then he stared at both men across the table from him. “We have to know for sure.” Frank nodded, his eyes on the Coke can. He felt a dry lump in his throat. “I’ll make some calls, confirm things. But I think it’s a done deal.” “Then we’ll have to remedy the situation carefully. We can’t let her compromise our plans.” He fixed his hard eyes on Frank. “It’ll ruin you and me, and a lot of other people.” A lump rose in Frank’s throat, but he swallowed it. “I’m aware of that.” Dale tapped the table with a finger. “No one can know what happens.” He looked at Fox. “What’s on your schedule?” The mysterious man finally spoke, his voice low and menacing. “I can do what needs to be done, go out there if I need to.” Dale seemed to think about that, then nodded. “It’s not quite November, but it’ll be getting colder soon. If we have to take further steps, will that complicate things?” Fox shook his head. “It shouldn’t. If it gets cold, snowy, that might be a good opportunity.” Frank stayed quiet, trying to ignore his growing discomfort. He really didn’t like being in these kinds of conversations. It made him an accessory. Then again, they were all accessories to something that could very well be horrible. He snorted. Horrible for some people, at least. At the sound, Dale looked at him, and Frank shrugged. “Do you have a problem with any of this?” Dale asked. “No. Before