Gunner's Flame Page 6

  “Bowie.” Gunner clasped his free hand as they drew near then nodded at the blonde. “Angel.”

  The blonde woman smiled, leaning into Bowie.

  Gunner had told me about the new couple, and his jealousy came through loud and clear. Seeing them, I understood completely. They moved as though one, hands caressing, gazes lingering with emotion I hoped to one day experience.

  Totally gone on one another, and I experienced the same green monster in the pit of my stomach that I’d felt sure Gunner did.

  I blinked as Angel settled onto the stool beside me and Bowie settled on the other side of Gunner. “They call me Angel, but my real name is Hannah,” she said, still smiling. “I’m Bowie’s.” Young and innocent looking, just like an angel. That was even her stage name at the stripper’s club.

  “I’m Shelby.”

  Her eyes twinkled and she winked. “Oh, I’ve heard about you.”

  I glanced over to find Gunner and Bowie in deep conversation. “What?” I asked, turning back toward Hannah.

  “These boys gossip worse than women.” Her laughter, tinkling like a bell, drew heads as she leaned toward me. “Bowie says Gunner doesn’t visit a woman’s bed twice and that he’s completely smitten with you.”

  Heat flushed through me, flooding my face.

  “Your freckles are so beautiful,” Hannah said with a sigh, propping her chin in hand while leaning on the bar.

  I grimaced. “You wouldn’t think so if you had them all over your body.”

  “All over?”

  I nodded, surprised to find myself laughing as she giggled. “I heard you have a tattoo.”

  “Yep!” Hannah pulled up her shirt while straightening in her seat, and shoved the front of her leggings low enough an unshaved woman would have revealed her true hair color to the world.

  Property of Bowie in scripted black ink bowed over her pubic bone and was hot as anything I’d seen.

  “Know what it means?” Hannah asked, her voice lowered as she righted her clothing again.

  I shrugged, biting back my smirk. “Pretty obvious in some ways, but I heard through the gossip grapevine here at the club that it means you’re under the Outlaw’s protection, too.”

  “It also means if anyone lays a finger on me other than Bowie, they’ll be lucky to escape with only losing a few fingers.”

  I glanced over at her lover. His light brown gaze tracked her every movement with a stamp of ownership that my skin shiver. What I wouldn’t do to have Gunner look at me like that. But if he knew of my secrets…

  My mouth dried, and not because the moisture pooled between my thighs, and I shifted on the stool, dropping my gaze.

  Hope and fear battled inside me, twisting my stomach to the point I pushed my plate away. “You’re a dancer?” I asked, needing my mind to focus on something other than the truth I withheld -- and the sure results that would come about because of it.

  “At the strip club,” Hannah said, smiling at the bartender who handed her a Shirley Temple.

  “Doesn’t Bowie hate other men seeing you like that?”

  “I don’t take it all off,” Hannah said and popped the cherry from her drink into her mouth, “and as long as he or Austin is front and center while I’m dancing and everyone keeps their hands to themselves, all is good.”

  “How are the tips?”

  She shot me a sly glance. “Looking for a job?”

  I snorted on laughter.

  “What?” Hannah said, turning to face me fully, drink in hand. “You’re tall -- have great curves --”

  “And I can’t even sway to a rhythm without getting offbeat.”

  “Oh. Well.” Lips pursed around her straw, she studied my face. “I think Darling could use some help behind the bar if you’re interested.”

  “Darling?”

  She laughed. “Pretty boy in charge of the bar, and yeah, that’s actually his real name.”

  “Poor guy.”

  Her eyes twinkled, and she sipped her drink. “Don’t feel bad for him -- he gets more ladies than any other Outlaw. That’s the word, anyway. He’s also one hell of a tattoo artist,” she said with a wink, patting above her pubic bone.

  “I could definitely pour beer and shots,” I said, thinking that if I worked for the Outlaws, I’d get to see Gunner regularly. “I don’t have any experience with mixed drinks, though.”

  “It’s mostly men that come in,” Angel said, still smiling, “and they like the hard stuff anyway. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “While it’s probably not the type of job you’re trying to land, at least it’s something. What did you want to be when you were little?”

  “A soldier,” I didn’t hesitate to reply. “You?”

  “A ballet dancer.” She giggled again. “I got the second half of that dream accomplished, at least.”

  She went on to tell me about the strip club a few blocks away, the other women who danced and took off their clothes for cash. Beyond the fact I couldn’t dance, the thought of stilettos, hair spray, and heavy makeup were added negatives in my opinion.

  We chatted for about an hour, and although she was sweet and kept me entertained, I couldn’t ignore the rock in my stomach and the worry over what would happen once Gunner found out.

  I should have come clean to Drac and Val the second they’d shown up -- I should have told Gunner the truth when I’d called him from my home that day. A bad choice put me on a slippery slope, and the longer I went without spilling my guts, the worse the outcome could be.

  Two hours later, I stared at the dark ceiling of my room, Gunner’s heavy breathing and the war in my head -- and the driving need for a cigarette -- keeping me awake. I hadn’t turned on my phone since leaving my house with Drac and Val. Perhaps if I ignored my cousin long enough, the authorities would find him. Perhaps telling the truth and begging Gunner to let me stay until they had my cousin behind bars would be the best route.

  But would he allow me to stay after withholding that kind of truth? Would he trust me enough to keep me in the private compound, offering me protection until I could safely return home?

  Without knowing how he felt toward me beyond the lust, I couldn’t decide.

  Eventually, and regardless of the anxiety twisting my insides, I drifted off.

  A knock jerked me awake.

  Gunner grumbled a bit before hollering, “What?”

  “It’s Val,” his brother hollered back. “Got a minute?”

  Heaving a sigh, Gunner rolled off the bed and pulled the door open. Light from the hallway spilled into the room.

  “Sorry.” Val met my gaze and quickly shifted his focus back on Gunner. “Can we speak privately?”

  “Yeah.” Gunner ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll meet you downstairs in the office in a few.”

  Val nodded his head and turned, and Gunner shut the door again.

  “You can turn on the light,” I said as he rifled around the room for his clothing.

  I blinked in the brightness as Gunner yanked his T-shirt on overhead.

  He leaned down over me, brushing his lips across mine, his eyes still squinted from sleep. “Go back to sleep, sweet thing.”

  His raspy voice shivered my skin, and I nodded, my focus on his ass as he moved across the room.

  Once he flicked off the light and the door closed behind him, the anxiety returned. I pulled my cell from the bed stand where I’d stashed it the first day I’d arrived at the club.

  Dozens of calls and texts -- all from Pauley.

  Heart in my throat, I listened to the one voicemail he’d left. He knew where I was and promised me the motorcycle gang couldn’t protect me.

  “Do this thing for me, Shelby, and you’ll live. Otherwise…”

  He’d ended the call without finishing his threat, but he didn’t need to. The image of that piglet flashed in my mind, twisting my stomach into knots.

  I tossed my cell back in the drawer, curled on my side, and let
the damn tears flow.

  Gunner was the type of man I’d been looking for, the type of man I could see myself partnering through life with. He’d been nothing but honest and open with me, and I returned the goodness of his heart by lying, putting him and his brothers in harm’s way.

  The hope I’d held earlier in my head shriveled into nothing. My only option was to wait for Gunner’s return and spill the truth that would leave me alone and aching once more -- if I was lucky to live.

  Chapter Nine

  Gunner

  “What?” I asked, sure as fuck I hadn’t heard Val right.

  He peered at me from across my desk, gaze unwavering. “Pots is Shelby’s cousin.”

  “Fuck.” I sat back in my office chair, eyes closed and hands running over my hair as a million thoughts slammed into my head. “No fucking way her showing up was a coincidence -- why the fuck… Goddamnit.” Scowling, I sat forward again. “What else do you know?”

  “On the situation concerning Shelby, nothing, but the FBI found the truck and gun he used.”

  “Wiped clean, I’m sure,” I grumbled.

  Val nodded.

  “You find the fucker yet?”

  “No. There’s no trace of him. Zero.”

  I heaved a heavy breath. “I want him here,” I growled, smashing my index finger on my desk. “On the compound and tied down tight to a goddamn chair.” Pots had been a brother once upon a time, but he’d shot that to shit with an M16, leaving innocent civilians lying in D.C. in the middle of the day.

  “I’ll keep looking.”

  “Maybe you ought to just drop an anonymous tip to the FBI and let them capture the fucker. The thought he’s out there and knows where to find Brewer and me…” My stomach hardened, and I rubbed a hand down over my face. “Fuck.”

  “I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Gunner, but I’d prefer to take care of this problem ourselves so we don’t have to worry about him ever getting free. We need to off the fucker for good and dump him in the ocean to feed the hungry sharks.”

  I nodded absently, my focus more on the woman waiting for me upstairs -- naked and who the fuck knew how innocent. “The fuck should I do about Shelby?”

  Val worked his jaw as though chewing the inside of his lip while studying my face. “Depends on how you feel about her,” he finally said.

  “Fucking falling for her. Bad.”

  “Then give her a chance to explain herself. You’re a great judge of character. What’s your gut tell you?”

  “No fucking way she’d help out that bastard to get to me. Maybe at first -- Pots knows me well enough I’d be drawn to her red hair.”

  Val bit back his smirk.

  “Shut the fuck up, Val,” I grumbled. I’d been on the butt end of my brothers’ redheaded lover jokes enough over the years to know what he thought.

  “Is it really red?”

  “Fuck you,” I said again.

  Val sighed as though bummed I wouldn’t elaborate on the color of hair between her thighs. “Confront her,” he said, all serious again. “Get the truth out of her, see if she knows where Pots is and what his strategy is for taking out the rest of your team.”

  I cursed a few more times. Getting the truth out of someone usually meant having them strapped to a chair and my ordering either Austin loose with his fists or Bowie with his knife to get the information we wanted. The thought of Shelby in that situation rolled the bile in my stomach.

  “I’ll talk to her,” I managed past gritted teeth.

  “And if she’s in on it?”

  “Don’t fucking know.”

  “If you want, I’ll call Austin. Have him take care of her so you don’t have to.”

  “No.” I shot out the word as visions of Austin using his fists to get to the bottom of the truth turned my stomach. “No.”

  Val opened his mouth but snapped it shut again as I glared across the desk. He would want to remind me of our laws, of the promised retribution for crossing the Devil’s Outlaws MC. Memorizing our commandments had been a part of pledging -- and I’d carried them out for years as the gang’s president.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said, same as I’d said over the Kitty situation, my voice low but firm, thank fuck. “Anyone else know what you just told me?”

  “No.”

  “Keep it that way.”

  He nodded his head after a few seconds and stood. “I’ve got your back, Gunner.”

  I rounded my desk and clasped his hand. “I know you do, brother. Thank you.”

  It took three long pulls on the bottle of whiskey in my bottom drawer to calm my goddamn nerves down and straighten out the truth of the situation in my head. There was no fucking way my meeting Shelby hadn’t been set up. Shit like that didn’t just happen, and the more I stewed on that fact, the harder my gut clenched over the truth I faced.

  She was one hell of a fucking actress. All that wide-eyed nervousness the first time I’d seen her hadn’t been anything but goddamn fear over getting caught in her cousin’s crosshairs. Had she even told the truth about her mother or the fact she’d just returned from Afghanistan?

  Anger simmered inside me, and I fought to keep it contained. I’d never been played so well in my life.

  And I still wanted her.

  “Fuck.” I yanked open my top drawer, pulled out my Sig, and checked the chamber. It was time for a chat with the lying whore who owned my goddamn heart.

  Every quiet step up the stairs tightened my stomach, and until I stood in front of the door she slept behind, I wanted to vomit the whiskey roiling inside. Get it over with.

  I pushed in the door and stepped inside, quietly shutting it behind me while my eyes adjusted to the dimness.

  Shelby didn’t stir as I made my way across the room. Enough light emitted from the alarm clock’s red numbers on the bed stand beside her that I could make out her face. Eyes closed, her brow relaxed, and lips parted in sleep.

  Seemingly so innocent.

  I clenched my jaw and pressed the barrel of my gun against her temple. “Wake up, sweet thing,” I said loudly, all trace of nicety gone from my voice.

  Chapter Ten

  Shelby

  Oh fuck, oh fuck… I froze and blinked up at Gunner’s looming bulk, the cold metal against my temple and his pissed tone letting me know I’d lost my chance to save my ass.

  “You better start talking -- and fast,” he said, his voice hard as fuck.

  I tried to work some saliva in my mouth.

  “Now, Shelby.”

  “My cousin…”

  “I know all about your goddamn cousin.” He all but spat, the scent of whiskey rolling down over me.

  Gunner had been drinking -- I didn’t have a chance.

  I closed my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. “He asked me to meet him at the Memorial on Saturday, but I didn’t know what he’d planned to do.”

  Gunner hesitated long enough I opened my eyes and tried to make out his features in the darkness.

  “You didn’t know he wanted to take me out?”

  “No.” I swallowed, my focus on the lessening hardness of his voice. “I promise, Gunner, I had nothing to do with it. He asked me to meet him there, that’s it.”

  He lowered the gun a bit. “Don’t fucking move.”

  I swallowed again and watched his form move across the room. The lights clicked on, and I blinked, desperate to keep track of his movements while my eyes adjusted. Fighting the need to curl into a ball and hide my head, I waited for him to stalk back, gun still trained on me.

  “Why should I believe you, Shelby?”

  I peered up at him, tears stinging my eyes at the anguish in his own. I wanted to tell him that I wouldn’t lie -- because I’d already done so in the worse way possible. “I’m sorry, Gunner,” I whispered past the thickness in my throat. “I should have told you the truth right away, but I didn’t even know it was Pauley until you’d left my house the other day. He called and --”

  “Sit up.” Gunner g
estured toward the headboard with the gun, and I obeyed, pulling the sheet up over my chest, my hands shaking like mad. “Keep talking,” he said, lowering the gun to his side, but staying close to the bed’s edge where a mere punch would smash my face in.

  “He told me he’d been the one shooting that day -- he even admitted to using me to draw you out of the crowd.”

  “Because of your red hair.”

  “Yes,” I whispered, hating my hair color ten times more in that moment than I’d done in my childhood.

  “Did he tell you why he’s doing this?”

  “No.”

  “What else, Shelby?”

  I licked my lower lip, glancing at the bed stand. “He wants me to take you to a café in D.C. to meet you.”

  “He’s fucking full of shit,” Gunner said, his voice lowering. “Fucker only wants to put a bullet between my eyes.”

  “Why?”

  Gunner stared down at me, his dark eyes shifting over my face, full of conflicting emotion -- pain being what I latched my hope upon. “I failed our SEAL team in Afghanistan. Pots went AWOL, and it was my fault, but he’s been taking out those of us who survived one at a time.”

  “Oh my God.” I bit the inside of my lip. I’d known Pauley had always been unstable -- and I shouldn’t have kept my mouth shut all those years ago after the pig incident. “My cell…” I nodded toward the bed stand, and Gunner yanked the drawer open.

  He tossed it to me. “Turn it on. Show me what you want me to see.”

  I powered the phone on with one shaking hand, the other still clutching the sheet at my neck. I played the voicemail, my focus on Gunner’s face as my cousin threatened my life.

  “I wasn’t going to do it, Gunner, I swear.”

  His jaw clenched, anger glinting in his eyes. “Power it off.”

  “Please,” I whispered while obeying and handing him the cell.

  “When were you going to tell me the truth, Shelby?”

  Tears once more stung my eyelids as I blinked up at him. “Tonight when you came back, but I fell back to sleep. I’ve been so damn torn up over this, the indecision of spilling or waiting and hoping the cops would find him first.”