Gunner's Flame Read online

  “What else have you lied about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Your stint in the Army?”

  “True. I got back three weeks ago just like I’d said.”

  “Your mother?”

  Tears sprang to haze my vision. “She died last week.”

  “Fuck.” Gunner heaved a breath and put both the gun and my cell on the bed stand. “I’ll try my best to protect you, Shelby, but this club has laws when it comes to shit like this.”

  I swallowed, fear choking the sudden hope that had lifted my spirits. “What do you mean?”

  “You might not have put three bothers’ lives at risk intentionally, but you withheld telling the truth about it -- about your connection to the man responsible for civilian deaths. There are some here who will want you to pay.”

  My heart seized. “Wh -- What can I do? Tell me, anything, and I’ll make this right! Please, Gunner, you have to help me. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen -- it wasn’t my fault!”

  “It was mine.”

  I snapped my mouth shut.

  “If I hadn’t failed Pots -- our entire fucking SEAL team -- this wouldn’t have happened.”

  His pain, his grief, overshadowed my fear, and I reached out a hand to him. “What happened?”

  Gunner slumped on the edge of the bed, head in hands. “We were ambushed, and all three officers were killed. The men looked to me for leadership, and rather than stay put and wait for incoming backup, I ordered the team to attack. Make the fuckers pay for killing our brothers.”

  I swallowed and tentatively put my hand on his shoulder. He shook beneath my touch, but I didn’t know what to say, how to make things better.

  “Four more men lost their lives, and Brewer and I were lucky to survive.”

  “It’s not your fault that Pauley went AWOL,” I whispered. “He’s always been sick in the head.” I went ahead and told Gunner about what happened with the piglet and the rest of the threats Pauley had spewed at me. “The man is sick, Gunner. He has been since childhood.”

  Gunner inhaled deeply and sat up, turning toward me.

  I dropped my hand to my lap, the other resting across my chest.

  He ran his fingers through my hair, pulling it over my shoulder to fall in waves to my waist. “He could have killed you.” His brow furrowed as he pushed my arm off my chest.

  I didn’t fight him as he tugged the sheet lower, uncovering my breasts.

  “The fucker could have ripped you from this world without giving us a chance.”

  I bit the inside of my lip as he brushed his knuckles over one of my nipples.

  “Fuck, Shelby.” His whispered words stole my breath, and the emotion in his eyes as he lifted his gaze to my face sent a rush of warmth through my body.

  He leaned in and captured my lips, one arm snaking around my body to pull me close. Hunger, anger, lust… pain… I felt it all in his kiss, with every slash of his tongue and nip of his teeth. My blood boiled, every thump of my heart heightening my need for him.

  “I won’t let them hurt you,” Gunner growled into my mouth, scooting back to lay me down. He stood and yanked his shirt off, his fingers rushing to unleash his straining dick. One yank pulled the sheet entirely off my body.

  Hands fisted at his sides, tension lifting his shoulders, Gunner scanned down over my trembling body and back up. His gaze caressed my face, my tingling lips, and he closed his fist around his cock.

  “Please, Gunner,” I begged, spreading my legs and grabbing hold of the sheet beside my waist.

  He lifted his focus to my eyes, his hard as nails as he worked his length. “You’re going to set up that meeting with your cousin.”

  “No --”

  “And it sure as fuck isn’t going to be out of guilt.” Holding my stare, he climbed onto the bed between my thighs. “You’re going to do it because it’ll give me the opportunity to take the fucker out.” He shoved inside of me with one thrust, arching my back and stealing my breath.

  He pumped in and out of me hard and fast, his hands fisting in my hair as he planked on his elbows over me. I groaned, my ankles holding his ass, my fingernails digging into his back.

  “He could have fucking killed you.”

  “Gunner…”

  He slammed into me over and over, sliding my back along the mattress until my head smashed into the headboard.

  “Mine,” he growled, pulling my hair hard, exposing my throat to him, and grinding his pelvis into me. “You’re mine, Shelby and no one -- not your fucking cousin or my brothers--will ever lay a hand on you or threaten you ever again.”

  He thrust deep, sending my climax rushing over me. “Gunner!” I shrieked as my pussy clamped down on him, and he buried his face in my neck, growling and grunting.

  “Fucking mine.” He slammed in deep, and his cock pulsed deep against my womb, a rush of heat erupting inside me.

  I fought for breath as he filled me with his cum, words of ownership muttering from his mouth as he slid his lips across my neck, along my collarbone… to my lips. He took my mouth in a bruising kiss as his body stilled, and I clung to him, pouring all my relief, all my emotion into our kiss.

  “So sorry,” I whispered the second I could breathe.

  Gunner lifted onto his elbows and cradled my face in his hands, his dark eyes like liquid pools of warmth filling my soul. “I’m falling in love with you, Shelby, and… Fuck.” He clenched his eyes shut.

  He’d thought I’d lied to him, that I’d been in on the attempt on his life.

  I touched his pursed lips with my fingertips. “I’ve already fallen, Gunner,” I whispered, and his eyelids jerked open again. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do to make this right, to help bring Pauley down -- and I’ll do it because you belong to me and no one will hurt what’s mine.”

  He crushed his mouth to my lips again, his cock twitching inside me. I squeezed my inner walls around him, and he nudged deeper, stiffening again.

  “Mine,” he whispered into my mouth.

  “Yours.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Gunner

  “Are you ready?” I asked Shelby as she perched on the edge of the bed, her cell in hand, sunlight glinting off her fiery red tresses from the east-facing window.

  Face pale and eyes wide, she nodded. We’d only gotten a few hours of restless sleep, both of us waking from nightmares. Over coffee, Shelby filled me in on her cousin -- every memory she could recall, giving me some more insight into the man I’d once known, or thought I’d known.

  I’d told her my plan and promised to stay beside her to the end.

  I stood before her, hands fisted, my heartbeat slow and steady. “Call him on speaker.”

  Shelby’s hands shook as she powered on her phone. She swiped and pressed a few buttons. It rang.

  “Shelby.” Zero trace of affection laced Pot’s voice. “’Bout time you fucking returned my call. Where the fuck are you?”

  “At a friend’s place. I -- I’m still really shook up about the other day.”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Shelby. I know where you are.” Pots breathed heavily into the phone as Shelby stared up at me. “Are you fucking him?”

  “What? No!”

  “Lying bitch.”

  “It’s not like that, Pauley,” Shelby whispered, her pale face making me wonder if she was about to spiral down into a panic attack. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called you back.”

  “Well? What’s it going to be?” the fucker asked, finally getting to business. “Squealing piglet or beloved cousin who I’ll be indebted to forever?”

  Gaze latched on me, Shelby swallowed. “You’re the only family I have left, Pauley. I -- I’ll help you -- if you promise you won’t hurt me. Don’t put me in the line of fire again.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to be a drive-by shooting.” Pots chuckled, and I didn’t wonder about his sanity. His cackle revealed it all. “I had my sniper rifle all set up and ready to go, but the damn security where I hid
started snooping around before Brewer even made it to the memorial. Had to pack up and go with Plan B.”

  “You could have killed me, Pauley,” Shelby whispered, tears coating her eyes.

  “Nah. I’ve been shooting my M16 one-handed for years. Easily done with a modified stock. I wouldn’t have hurt my only living relative, now would I? Especially when she’s coming into an inheritance and will share with her poor cousin.” He chuckled again, twisting my stomach. I wouldn’t let the fucker anywhere near Shelby ever again.

  The bastard was going down -- one way or the other.

  “I’ll help you out if that’s what you need, Pauley.”

  “What I need is for you to bring your friend to the café for a little spot of tea,” Pots mocked with an English accent before chuckling again.

  “When?” Shelby whispered, her gaze still latched on my face.

  “Friday. Noon. And if you don’t show,” Pots said, his tone dropping, “I’ll saw your limbs off nice and slow so your squeals ring in my ears for days. Friday. Noon.” He hung up, and Shelby slapped a hand over her mouth, sprinting to the bathroom.

  My gaze trailed after her, my ears filled with the sounds of her retching.

  The fucker would die -- slowly.

  * * *

  I called a meeting with my officers. Drac, Bowie, Austin, Brewer, and Val crowded into my office and remained quiet as I laid it all out on the table -- right down to Shelby keeping secrets from me since I sure as fuck couldn’t withhold information like she’d done.

  “That’s fucked up,” Austin said, leaning against the wall, his beefy arms crossed, and a scowl tugging his dirty-blond beard.

  The others nodded but kept their traps shut.

  “By law,” I said, keeping my voice low, “she shouldn’t be allowed to live, but…” I met each gaze one at a time, letting them see the resolve in my eyes. “She’s redeeming herself by agreeing to help us set up Pots -- her blood, the only family she has left.”

  “But --”

  “No buts.” I met Austin’s stare. “We nab Pots, she’s fully pardoned on my word.”

  Lips pursed, he nodded his head.

  “Is she still upstairs?” Brewer asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And after?”

  “She stays -- under my protection.”

  “You claiming her?” Drac asked.

  I glanced over at my VP, my brow furrowed over his interest in my flame-haired woman, my fist itching to crush his nose. “Yes.”

  “Does she know that?” Bowie asked, drawing my attention to the knife he cleaned his nails with. “Because Angel said Shelby wasn’t too comfortable here at the club. Seemed to think Shelby would rather be far away from everything Outlaw.”

  “If you withheld information from a motorcycle gang with our rep, would you be at ease in their lair?” I asked, not expecting an answer. “Pots wants me to meet Shelby at this café in downtown D.C.” I nodded toward Val, and he handed out printed maps I’d asked him to bring.

  “We can’t stop a fucking drive-by, so what are you thinking?” Bowie asked, sliding his knife back into his boot sheath and taking the sheet of paper from Val.

  “From what he told Shelby, he’d been hunkered down and ready to put a sniper bullet between my eyes when he had to alter his plan,” I said, sitting back in my chair, my fingers itching for the whiskey bottle in the bottom drawer. “This is personal -- he wants me in the crosshairs.”

  “Yeah, but he’s a fucking psycho.” Brewer, our old SEAL team sharpshooter, studied the map, his brow furrowed.

  “What do you think?” I asked him.

  “Perfect place right here,” Brewer said, pointing at the map. “Public building on the corner -- he’ll have access to the roof or any room on the west-facing windows.”

  “Val.”

  Val pulled up the city map on his laptop, giving us an aerial view before zooming in to 3D the building Brewer indicated while the men crowded around the desk.

  “That’s gotta be it,” Brewer said, leaning over Val’s shoulder. “It’s where I’d lay in wait. Perfect spot in the middle of the day, no sun glare.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Austin asked, propping himself once more against the wall, arms crossed.

  “He’ll want to be set up by eleven,” I said, glancing at Brewer for confirmation, who dipped his head while sitting back down. “But, we’ll get there hours earlier. Wait for him to walk into our trap.”

  “Don’t you think he’ll be expecting it?” Drac asked, glancing between Brewer and me. “He might be fucked up in the head, but he’s an ex-SEAL. He knows you -- pretty fucking well.”

  “What other choice do we have?” I asked, giving in to my need for a shot. I pulled the bottle out and drank down a couple swallows before handing it to Val who sat on my right. “Gotta draw the fucker out -- what other way is there?”

  “Why can’t Bowie and I just pay him a visit at his house?” Austin asked. “We’ll fuck him up good, cut him into a few pieces, and feed him to the fishies.”

  “I haven’t been able to find him,” Val said, disappointment and anger lacing his voice. “His parents in West Virginia died in a fire a few years back -- sick fuck was probably responsible for that, too. There’s no record of Pots anywhere. Even his license is expired.”

  “Gotta draw him out,” Brewer said.

  I nodded. “Friday at noon.” I focused on Drac. “Pull in a handful of brothers to help -- civilian dress, no colors, no bikes.”

  Drac dipped his head in agreement. “What’ll we do when we grab him?”

  “Bring his ass back here and have a little fun,” Austin said, his beard twitching as he grinned.

  I couldn’t find an ounce of pity in me for Pots’ sure end. Austin’s fists, Bowie’s knives… the fucker’s squeals would echo in my goddamn ears for days.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shelby

  I couldn’t keep breakfast down, and until Gunner and I parked his Mustang in downtown D.C., I questioned my ability to even walk. Stomach in knots, legs weak as hell, I sat in the passenger seat as he turned the engine off.

  Even though he and his men had planned -- hoped -- to grab Pauley long before noon, we’d headed south in case something went wrong. Unfortunately, nothing had gone right.

  Brow furrowed, glare thunderous, Gunner stared at the cement wall of the parking garage. “Give me something, Brewer,” he barked into the microphone of his comms device clipped near his wrist.

  I couldn’t hear Brewer’s reply through the ear piece discreetly tucked in Gunner’s ear, but his spewed curses let me know it wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear.

  “Where else could he be?”

  Again, I heard nothing but our heavy breathing.

  “Shit.” Gunner scrubbed a hand down over his face. “Gotta do it. Keep a fucking eye out -- take him out the second you find him.” He muttered another curse.

  “We’re really going to go out there?” I whispered, my throat tight.

  “Fuck.” Gunner slammed his palm down on the steering wheel. “They’ve cleared every goddamn floor of that building. Where the fuck could he be?”

  “Across the street on a bench in disguise. Sitting in a parked car.”

  “I’ve got two men on every block within eyesight of that goddamn café.”

  “He’s crazy enough to walk right by, pull a pistol, and take you out without blinking an eye.”

  “He also has three other men on his list after me.” Gunner shook his head. “It’s personal, but he’s going to make sure he has a good escape. Walking by in broad daylight and pulling a pistol is the last thing he’d do.”

  I chewed on the inside of my lip as Gunner cursed again. “Let’s go back to the compound,” I said. He jerked his head toward me. “This situation is too unstable. We can figure something else out.”

  “We’ve got this opportunity, I’m going to take it,” Gunner said. “He’s not going to hurt you -- it’s me he wants.” He pushed his door
open and climbed out, and I had no choice but to do the same even though my heart ached at the thought he would put my life in danger.

  A dizzy spell -- from lack of sleep, caffeine, and food -- had me clutching the door until I gained my legs beneath me. Shaking and weak, I grasped Gunner’s hand as he rounded the Mustang and held it out to me.

  He drew me against his chest, his arms in a vise around me, his lips pressing against the top of my head. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

  I closed my eyes, breathing him deeply into my lungs, soaking in the warmth of his hard body. “Don’t let him hurt you,” I whispered.

  “My brothers will keep us safe. Val is shutting down all video feeds, all electricity on the café’s block at my signal. No one will see us go in -- no one will see us go out with your cousin in our clutches.”

  My heart beat erratically as he led us out of the garage into the bright, noonday sun. We’d parked three blocks away, and every step tightened my chest. The plan was for me to head into the café alone, be seated at our reserved outdoor table, and wait for Gunner to approach.

  Gunner squeezed my fingers. “Breathe, sweet thing. Eight seconds in, five out,” he said, his gaze scanning the busy streets.

  I fought to focus on what he’d said, my feet stumbling. “Can’t do this,” I whispered, memories of the war flashing in my mind, stealing my breath, my courage.

  We pulled up, and Gunner grasped my upper arms, peering into my eyes. “Shelby?”

  I stared at him, as panic pulled at me.

  “You can do this. One foot in front of the other. Sit at the table. Don’t move, and hopefully, before I even sit down beside you, that fucktwat will be in Outlaw hands. We’ve all got comms devices -- I’ll know what’s going on every second. My men are everywhere. Austin is seated in the café all ready to watch our backs.”

  “I -- I…”

  “Shelby.” Gunner cradled my face in his hands. “We do this, and the threat is gone for good. No more Pauley -- we can go on with our lives, go to therapy together if that’s what you want. We’ll get you adjusted to civilian life again.”