Gunner's Flame

by Lynn Burke

  A few slow rolls of his hips as we devoured each other’s mouths buried him deep against my womb, and I gasped as he nudged my cervix.

  “Goddamn, Shelby.” He groaned, his hands like a vise on my hips. “Please tell me it’s not too much.”

  “It’s not too much,” I whispered past the rushing in my ears.

  “Fuck.” Holding my gaze, Gunner pulled out, barely keeping his flared head inside my body and sank back in on one slow glide. We both cursed at the same time.

  “More.” I bit on the inside of my lip as he repeated the action, losing myself in the darkness of his eyes, the desire, the connection swelling between us.

  “Tell me you feel that,” he growled, buried deep once more.

  “I feel every inch of you,” I whispered, strangely wanting to cry since I knew exactly what he’d asked. Had he made any sort of claim, I’d have agreed without thought. The energy rippled between us as he continued to fuck into me slowly, every whimper and moan we emitted only fueling the fire rising inside me.

  Eyes still locked, we rocked against each other until I panted with need I’d never known before.

  “More,” I whispered, my fingernails finding a hold in his shoulder blades.

  He groaned and lifted me off the counter, shuffling a few feet to his right, and pressed me against the wall, thrusting deep. We attacked as one, lips and teeth gnashing as he fucked into me hard and fast, every bump against my cervix pulling a gasp from me.

  “Harder,” I pleaded as he yanked my head to the side and latched onto my neck.

  He gave me what I wanted, his other hand grasping my ass in a bruising grip that only heightened my desire.

  “Want you to come all over my cock,” he said against my neck, his teeth sharp, the sting shooting straight to my clit. “Soak me… milk me, sweet thing.” He ground his pelvis against me, and I bucked, needing him right there.

  My climax stole my breath, clamping my pussy down on his thrusting cock.

  “Goddamn.” He grunted with each thrust, prolonging my release as I cried his name over and over again. “Your cum is dripping off my balls, Shelby. So goddamn good. So fucking hot.” Another rush swept over me, and I clutched at his back, squeezing the life from him with my legs.

  “Fuck!” He buried deep, his cock jerking inside me. “Goddamn!” A few more sporadic thrusts, and he stilled, our heaving chests pressed together as he nuzzled against my hair.

  His cell phone vibrated on the table.

  “Fuck.” He heaved a sigh, lifted me into his arms, and set me on the counter, his cock slipping from my body. “Hold on.” He grabbed the phone and glanced down. “Shit.” He slid his thumb over the screen and lifted the cell to his ear while striding to the sink. “What?” he barked, grabbing a handful of paper towels. “Already?”

  I couldn’t make out what was said on the other end even though I strained to hear. My ex had been too fond of his cell, paying more attention to it than me whenever we’d gone out to dinner.

  “Fuck.” Gunner blew out a breath, testing the water pouring from the faucet with his fingers. “Yeah. Be there in a bit.”

  I hated that a zing of pain that shot through my chest, but I kept my mouth shut as he hung up and tossed his cell on the table, wet paper towels in his other hand.

  He took his time wiping between my thighs before dealing with the condom still clutching his semi. “Too much?” he asked once finished and standing between my lax thighs hanging over the counter’s edge, his calloused palms sweeping up and down the outsides of my legs.

  “Not at all.” I tried for a smile, but his brow furrowed.

  “I have to go.”

  “Okay.”

  We stared at each other a few seconds as I tried to make sense of the emotions rolling through me.

  “Come here.” Gunner wrapped me in his arms and carried me back upstairs. He set me on the bed, pulling the comforter up over me as I curled on my side. Same as the night before, he crouched beside me, brushing my hair off my face as I peered at him, trying to read through his dark eyes into his mind. “Are you going to be okay?”

  I nodded, not trusting my voice.

  “I’ll leave my number down on the table. Call me if you need anything -- even if it’s just an ear.”

  “Will I see you again?” I hated my voice made me sound like a needy woman.

  His resulting grin eased my worry. “Count on it, sweet thing.”

  I sighed as he walked out, his naked ass and legs flexing in a show of power I wanted to feel once more. Heat rekindled between my thighs, but I stayed put while listening to him dress and tidy up the kitchen before letting himself out.

  My heavy sigh sank me into my mattress, and I closed my eyes, determined to stay focused on short-term memories.

  Chapter Five

  Gunner

  “Whatcha got, Val?” I slid into my office chair at the Outlaw’s club, gaze focused on our tech nerd who’d graduated from MIT with high honors or some such shit. What I knew for fact, the man knew how to hack, and he did a damn good job. Crooked politicians were more than happy to toss extortion money to the anonymous bastards -- us -- in order to keep their dirty secrets from spilling across the Net. “FBI has a few leads.”

  “They didn’t find the fucker yet?”

  Brow furrowed, he clicked away on the laptop he set on the edge of my desk as both Brewer and Drac lounged on chairs beside him, neither seeming too pleased. “Nope, but there’s something I think you need to see.” Val spun his computer my way, his hazel-eyed stare on my face, and I pulled it closer.

  The buzz of my window unit AC filled the silence as I glanced down over an obituary of a name I recognized -- Ash, a fellow SEAL killed in a car accident.

  “Open the other tab,” Drac grumbled.

  I did as told and found an obituary of another SEAL who’d made it home in one piece, only to be shot down in a hunting accident a few weeks earlier.

  “The fuck is this?” I muttered while scanning over the write-up of the second of the two SEALS I’d toured with in Afghanistan.

  “Both died under mysterious circumstances, but nothing ever came of the investigations.”

  I lifted my attention to Val’s face. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “I think it means someone is trying to off our team.”

  I shot my focus on Brewer’s scowl. “What?”

  Arms crossed, he returned my stare without a hint of fear in his blue eyes.

  “What else could it mean?” Drac muttered, sounding just as pissed as Brewer looked. “Someone lost their shit and thinks taking out his old team will ease the fucked-up fuckery in his goddamn head.”

  Even though quite a few of our gang had spent time in fatigues, we didn’t chat a whole lot about our pasts and how we dealt with them. I knew that like me, a few other brothers met with therapists on occasion, but that too wasn’t something most liked to discuss.

  “If he’s going alphabetically, you’re next.”

  My head jerked toward Val. “What?”

  “Flannigan.”

  “Shit.” I glanced back at the computer, switching between the tabs twice. Two others in our team whose surnames came before mine had been taken out in my final fight -- because I’d failed to make the right decision when under fire after our two officers had been killed.

  My throat dried. “You think that drive-by at the memorial…”

  “Fucker tried to take you out.”

  “But how would he know I’d be there? Why not set up a sniper shot on the compound? At my fucking home?”

  “Last two years we hung there for a couple hours, shooting the shit with others like us.” Brewer shrugged. “Maybe he’s gone a little farther off the deep end and wants to make a statement.”

  I peered at Brewer but couldn’t read any emotion in his eyes.

  “There’s another on the list before my name,” he continued as though unfazed, “but I’m sure he’d wouldn’t have been upset if he’d gotten a
bullet in me yesterday.”

  “Fuck.” I sat back and scrubbed a hand down over my face. Memories flitted through my brain, faces of the men I should have done a better job of protecting when the care of them had landed in my lap -- unwanted. “Who do you think it is?”

  “Only three others left.”

  I mentally ticked names off the list of seven of us who had made it back to safe ground -- almost whole men. Like me, Brewer had taken a bullet, but his embedded in his hipbone. A slight limp was the only evidence he’d almost bled to death beneath a scorching desert sun.

  “Pots, Mikey, and Donahue.”

  “Last I’d heard, Mikey and Donahue were still over there.”

  I nodded absently at Brewer’s words. “Pots always was a bit off in the head.”

  “Smoked too much weed,” Brewer agreed. Thus, the nickname.

  “Smoking weed won’t fuck up your head,” Drac grumbled, pushing a mass of blond curls off his forehead.

  I snorted a laugh. “Keep tokin’ away, brother. Your head is already fucked up.”

  “Fuck you, Gunner.”

  “No thanks.” I grinned despite the situation. “Don’t need a dick up my ass.”

  “What if that fiery redhead wanted to strap one on and take you for a ride?”

  My grin morphed into a scowl. “Shut the fuck up, Drac.”

  He grinned and sat back on his chair, arms folded over his chest as he tipped onto the two back legs. “How many times did you fuck her?”

  I shouldn’t have fucked her at all, but she’d wanted it -- asked for it. And, I’d do it again in a goddamn heartbeat. “None of your goddamn business.”

  “You never stay the night at a woman’s place.”

  I glared at my VP until he glanced down. “She was this close to losing her shit,” I said, holding up my thumb and index finger about an inch apart, “and when she asked me to stay, I wasn’t going to leave her to fend for herself. You know how hard it is to transition back -- never mind being shot at in downtown fucking D.C. in the middle of the fucking day.”

  Silence hung for a few seconds, and Val finally broke it by pulling his computer back around. “I think you and Brewer both need to lay low for a while.”

  Brewer dipped his head, as did Drac, and while I agreed, the thought of staying away from Shelby twisted like a knife in my stomach.

  “Bring her here,” Brewer said, drawing my attention again. He studied my face as I did his. “Unless you can stay away. Otherwise, you go sniffing around her ass and she might end up catching a bullet meant for you like she very well could have yesterday.”

  Fuck. The image of the chalk outlines on the ground near the memorial flashed in my head. Less than twenty feet away from me -- all three had eaten lead that could have been intended for me and Brewer.

  “Fucker’s a bad shot if your thoughts on this are right.”

  Again, Brewer shrugged. “If Pots is working alone, he drove -- and shot a M16 one-handed through an open passenger window. I doubt even you could hit accurately doing something as stupid as that.”

  I chewed on the information tossed my way as Val closed up his computer and Drac got up to pace. While I’d left my number for Shelby, I hadn’t gotten hers programmed into my phone. “Drac, I need you and Val to go get Shelby,” I said as the thought entered my brain. “Bring her back here where I know she’ll be safe.”

  Drac paused in his pacing to peer at me, one eyebrow raised. “You gonna do a background check on her first?”

  I ordered a thorough background check on everyone allowed entry into our private compound -- demanded it -- but the urge to have her near with all the shit going on, overruled.

  I jotted down her address on a scrap of paper and handed it to Val. “Just have her call me when you get there. I’ll explain the situation.”

  “Think she’ll just leave her life on hold to come stay here until you say it’s safe to leave?” Drac asked.

  “Her mother passed two days ago. She’s been home from Afghanistan for less than three weeks and hasn’t even started looking for a job yet. Whatever life she’s trying to readjust to could use some distraction, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Lips pressed in a line, he dipped his head, but I could read the disapproval in his eyes. Over the fact I’d made a decision to let her in unchecked or out of jealousy I’d spent the night in her bed rather than him, I didn’t give a fuck.

  “And, Drac? Hands off.”

  His gaze narrowed. “You claiming her?”

  I held his stare. “Not as my old lady, but until this shit is settled, she’s under my protection -- under the Outlaw’s protection. Go get her.”

  Drac nodded his head and left, Val on his heels. The door shut behind them, and I grabbed the bottle of whiskey from my bottom drawer. A good, long pull on the bottle burned my throat. Brewer shook his head when I offered him a drink.

  He preferred beer -- his home-brewed shit -- to the hard stuff.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked, stowing the bottle back where I’d found it. No sense in drinking myself to the wind when I’d hopefully be putting Shelby into one of the rooms upstairs in the next hour or so.

  “I think we need to get in contact with Pots and invite him over for a friendly drink.”

  Brewer and I had served beside Pots. Been shot at, showered and shit with him in closer proximity than most men would appreciate with their buddies. “I won’t hesitate to take him out if he’s the fucker who did this.”

  The steel in Brewer’s pale eyes didn’t waver. “Neither will I.”

  I nodded, glad to know we were on the same page. “When Val gets back, I’ll have him hunt the fucker down, and we’ll get this settled. Quietly. We don’t need the goddamn feds breathing down our necks more than they already are.”

  We’d had one hell of a mess with Hannah, aka Angel, the runaway eighteen-year-old who had claimed one of my brothers, Bowie, known for his love of knives -- and knife play in the sack. Her affluent preacher father had put out a reward if she were found, but I’d had Val cash in on that shit and then some, landing a pretty two million in our bank account.

  The law ended up breathing down our necks when they got a false tip we had kidnapped her, but it had been Hannah’s word and that of her old roommate, Cadence, that had cleared us. She ended up Bowie’s old lady and her dancing at the Devil’s Strip Club drew horny men from far and wide -- cautious fuckers who knew better than to try touching her lest they end up on the sharp end of Bowie’s knife.

  Turned out, another of our dancers, Kitty, had called in the anonymous tip that led to the raid on the club and Hannah’s supposed rescue from her kidnappers. While the Outlaws’ law required snitches like her to find their end by bullet or blade, I’d sent her packing -- scared as shit with piss covering the front of her leggings.

  “What are you going to do, Brewer?” I asked with a heavy sigh, turning my mind on the shit at hand rather than that of the past.

  “Sack out upstairs until this is over.”

  I nodded absently, my mind fuller than I liked. At least Brewer didn’t have a woman to worry over, because I sure as fuck worried over Shelby, a woman I hardly knew.

  “We’ll get this figured out,” Brewer said, drawing me back to my office. “We’ll find Pots, take him out, and move the fuck on with our lives.”

  “Damn right.” It’s what I wanted more than anything, but I had a strange feeling it wouldn’t go exactly as planned.

  Chapter Six

  Shelby

  I didn’t expect to fall asleep again -- and I certainly didn’t expect to rest without the usual nightmares. An insistent buzzing pulled me from sleep, and I blinked a few times before realizing someone called my cell.

  Feeling fully refreshed, I glanced around my room and realized the ringing came from across the hall.

  Gunner had put my fatigues in the hamper without knowing my cell phone was shoved in one of the pockets. Two missed calls -- both from my cousin, I noted, while ambling back
into my bedroom. I’d never called him like I’d said I would. I hit dial.

  “Shelby?”

  “Hey.”

  “Did you hear about the shooting?”

  I rolled my eyes. My cousin had the memory capacity of a pea from all the pot he’d smoked. “Yeah. I was there. Remember? I texted you yesterday to tell you I was okay.” Memories flashed in my mind, but I pushed them away, focused on my bureau and getting something to throw on.

  “Heard three people were killed. Any idea who they were?”

  Brow furrowed, I held the phone between my cheek and shoulder while tugging on some underwear. “Two women, one man.”

  “You were there, weren’t you?”

  “I just told you that I was,” I grumbled with a frown, “and I am okay, in case you were wondering.”

  “Who were you with?”

  “I went to meet you, but you sent me a text saying you couldn’t make it. Good thing, too.”

  “Who were you talking to?”

  I grabbed a T-shirt. “What?”

  “Who were you talking to?”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  A shiver slid down my spine as the memory of gunshots echoed in my ears.

  “Never mind. Listen.” My cousin fumbled with his cell for a few seconds, and I wondered if he dropped it. “I gotta run, but can we meet for lunch in the next day or so? Maybe that café our parents liked down on NJ Ave.?”

  I had no wish to go back to D.C. and told him as much while putting him on speaker so I could pull my shirt on.

  “Come on, Shelby. It’ll bring back good memories.”

  I couldn’t remember having met him there a single time with our parents -- and I didn’t have a single memory of him I would call good. I clicked him off speaker and put the phone back up to my ear, ready to be done with our conversation. “How about I give you a call in a few days. We’ll set something up.”

  He was quiet long enough I pulled the phone away from my ear to see if the call had disconnected.