Gunner's Flame

by Lynn Burke

  “What are you doing, Shelby?” His low question had the phone to my ear again.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I need you to do this for me.”

  He’d always been a bit odd, but the threatening tone he took on furrowed my brow. Was he after money? The tiny inheritance I would have once all the paperwork was sorted with my mom’s lawyer? I heaved a sigh. “Are you in trouble, Pauley?”

  His chuckle didn’t sound right. At all. “No more than usual.”

  “You need money?”

  “No. I need to meet that man you were talking to yesterday.”

  My heart stumbled along with my feet as I made my way downstairs. “What man?”

  “Don’t act all innocent, Shelby. I knew he’d go for you -- he always had a thing for redheads.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Pauley?”

  “I knew he’d find you, and with your red hair, I knew you’d draw him out of the crowd. Make for an easier target. That’s why I told you to meet me there along the road.”

  The blood drained from my face, and I pulled up short in the kitchen, my knees weak. “Pauley, what have you done?” I managed to whisper.

  “I saw what went down,” he said with another chuckle that bordered on manic. “That fucker and his buddy didn’t catch any bullets, but their time will come.”

  “Pauley!”

  “You’re going to meet me at that café -- and you’re going to invite your new friend to join us.”

  “Paul --”

  “And if you breathe one goddamn word about this, even to him, I’ll hunt you down and slaughter you like that little piglet, got it?”

  A memory I’d buried deep, one of us as children when my parents had taken us to visit my aunt and uncle in the sticks of West Virginia surfaced, stealing the air from my lungs and constricting my chest.

  A baby piglet -- gutted, all four limbs chopped from its body, a mere five feet inside the woods where Pauley had taken me to play.

  I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from heaving.

  “Remember that little piggy who never got to squeal wee wee wee all the way home?” Pauley whispered, his voice hard. “That’ll be you if you don’t do as I say.”

  The line went dead.

  “Oh, God…” I muttered around my hand, my phone dropping to the floor as I clenched my eyes shut. “Oh, God!” I rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before spewing from my stomach what was left of the breakfast Gunner had made me.

  Gunner, Mitch Flannigan, an ex-SEAL like my cousin Pauley. Gunner had lost two fingers -- I’d heard Pauley muttering once about the fucker who’d gotten most of their team killed and only lost a couple fingers in exchange not long after Pauley went AWOL.

  Light-headed and heart pounding, I slumped onto the bathroom floor, my head tilted against the wall, eyes still clenched shut.

  My cousin, my only blood relative that I knew of left on the earth, and he’d sent me into the line of fire for some fucked up reason. I could have been killed -- obviously not that he’d have cared.

  I needed to call the FBI -- I needed --

  Someone knocked on my front door, and my heart slammed in my chest. Stumbling to my feet, I peered down the hallway toward the front door, but only saw dirty blond curls peeking through the windows in the top of the door.

  Not Pauley since his was closer in color to mine.

  Shaking to the point I could barely stumble to the door, I peeked out the side window.

  Drac -- and a brown-haired man I didn’t recognize.

  Devil’s Outlaws, Gunner’s brothers. I swallowed, wondering if I should fear Pauley’s threats over the gang members on the other side of my door. Did Gunner know who had shot at them? Did he know Pauley had used me as bait of sorts to draw him out of the crowd to the edge of the memorial where my cousin said he’d meet me?

  The knock sounded again.

  “Yes?” I managed to raise my voice enough they ought to hear me.

  “Shelby?” Drac called out, tilting to the side to peek in the side window.

  I managed a shaky, fake smile and waved.

  He grinned. “Gunner sent us to pick you up.”

  “W -- Why?”

  “We think we know who was behind the shooting yesterday and we think your life could be in danger.”

  My life was in danger, all right, and I was beyond fucked.

  “He wants us to take you back to the compound to keep you safe.”

  I nodded, but didn’t open the door. “I -- I’ll be right back.”

  I rushed back to the kitchen and grabbed my cell. My finger shook as I dialed the number Gunner had left on the table.

  He answered after only one ring.

  “Gunner?”

  “Shelby.” The relief in his voice eased my anxiety. “Are you okay?”

  “Y -- Yeah. I, um… I think, so.” Absolute lie. My stomach twisted, my head pounded from the stress.

  “Did Drac and Val get there? I asked them to bring you to me.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Long, fucking story -- but an AWOL ex-SEAL is knocking off our team one by one. I don’t think yesterday was an accident, and to be honest, I don’t like that you’re alone.”

  My heart thrummed. If Gunner knew…

  “Shelby?”

  “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I’m here.”

  “Will you come to the compound and let me watch out for you until this is ended?”

  I hardly knew Gunner, but I trusted his tone, his words. Sure he hadn’t made the connection between me and my cousin, I agreed, hung up, and went to let his brothers into my house.

  I could be wrong, but I wanted to go. Gunner had brought peace of sorts to my messed up head. Perhaps he and his gang would find Pauley and get him handed over to the police before he made another attempt on Gunner’s life.

  But, if the Devil’s Outlaws found out that Pauley used me to get to their president… if they made the connection between us, even if I inadvertently set him up, I expected my life would be forfeit.

  My mind and body teetered on the edge of a panic attack, and I caved into the habit I’d thought beaten, sucking down two cigarettes before I climbed into Drac’s truck. I settled onto the front passenger seat, the dark-haired man named Val behind me. Every mobster movie I’d seen where a man got strangled to death while sitting in the passenger seat flitted through my mind, and until we arrived at a gated community, I could barely breathe.

  Chapter Seven

  Gunner

  I paced until the gate opened, letting Drac’s truck into the compound. A few strides took me to the passenger door, and I pulled Shelby into my arms before she slid out of the cab on her own. She melted against me with a shuddering sigh.

  “Okay?” I murmured into her hair that smelled of herbs and cigarettes, squeezing her tight.

  “Mmm.” She nodded, and I set her down, lacing my fingers with hers as she stared at my chest. “I’m gonna put you up in one of the club’s rooms -- it’s the safest place for both of us right now.”

  I nodded my head at Drac and Val in thanks, grabbed Shelby’s bag from Val’s outstretched hand, and led Shelby into the main building that housed the bar and lounge area with the hotel-like rooms above.

  A handful of guys lived there full-time including our Sergeant at Arms, Austin, who played bouncer over at the strip lounge Bowie oversaw. Both men had been self-proclaimed bachelors for life, but Austin was the only one left once the little angel with the body of a siren had stormed into Bowie’s life and staked her claim. She’d also tattooed herself as his property, and fuck, was she ever.

  “Want anything to drink?” I asked, ushering Shelby into the lounge ahead of me. “Eat?”

  “I’m good,” she whispered with an attempted smile, “but thanks.”

  I tipped my head toward the door on our right. “Stairs.” We headed there together, her hand holding tight to mine. “Isn’t much,” I said, opening a door int
o one of the rooms, “but it’s safe and clean.”

  Shelby stepped over the threshold and glanced around, arms wrapping around her middle as I shut the door behind us and placed her bag on the bed.

  “Sometimes the boys get rowdy and loud downstairs, but that’s mostly on weekends.”

  She swallowed, still not meeting my gaze.

  I moved toward her and grasped both her elbows. “Hey.” She finally tilted her head a bit to look me in the face. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  Her smile trembled, and I leaned down to kiss her gently, but she tasted so damn sweet that I lingered, stroking my tongue along her lips until she opened to me. I tugged her closer, wrapping her in my arms and lifting her off the floor.

  “I could kiss you all damn day,” I murmured against her mouth, kissing her again, hating that I could taste the lingering scent of cigarettes on her breath -- and wanted one. I’d kicked my need for those years earlier, and I wasn’t about to take it back up.

  She draped her arms over my shoulders, her hands in my hair, and wrapped her legs around my waist.

  I groaned as she settled her pussy against my stiffening dick, erasing all thoughts of cancer sticks, and within a matter of seconds, our lips turned almost frantic as though we both needed with a fierceness because of the shortness of life.

  “Please, Gunner.” Her moaned words as I squeezed her ass made my dick jerk in its prison. “Make it all go away again.”

  More than willing, I laid her back on the bed, kissing her jaw, her neck, my hands at work on the buttons of her shirt. A lacy black bra covered her tits, but I pushed the cups down out of my way and smothered my face with her softness, licking the velvety skin around her tight nipples. Grazing over the hard nubs had her grasping at my head, her back arching.

  So damn sensitive, so damn delicious.

  Like an all-consuming fire, Shelby’s scent and taste, her whimpers and moans, whipped my head into a fucking frenzy.

  I yanked her jeans down and pulled them off one leg, my stare on the patch of red hair above her protruding clit. “Such a pretty pussy,” I murmured, gliding a fingertip around her slick hole and up over the hardened nub. She gasped and arched again, her hands fisting in the comforter beneath her. “I think I need a taste.”

  Settling onto the bed between her spread thighs, I dove in, groaning at the sweet taste of her. Shelby lifted her hips, thrusting against my mouth as I ate her out like a man starved of a female for too fucking long.

  My dick throbbed, but I took Shelby to the edge time and again, leaving her hanging, heightening her need for me. I shoved my tongue into her pussy, licking at her inside walls, desperate for more of her cream. She squeaked when I trailed my tongue lower over her puckered hole, but didn’t shy away.

  I wanted to be balls deep in her ass -- but it could wait.

  Feeling drunk on her, my head buzzing, I yanked off my T-shirt and leathers, rolled a condom over my leaking dick, and planked over her. Eyes glazed, she stared up at me, lips parted and panting. I gyrated my hips, rubbing the back of my dick through the slickened mess between her thighs. I wanted to tell her she belonged to me -- felt that fact down to the goddamn tips of my toes -- but that, too, could wait until I was sure she wouldn’t freak and bolt.

  I hardly knew the woman, but holding her gaze while pressing into her pussy made me feel otherwise. She felt like home around me, her scent and her taste lingering on my tongue.

  She bit down on her lower lip as I filled her, my dick nudged against her cervix.

  Swimming in the pale blue of her eyes, the darkness of her pupils sucking me into her soul, I dragged out of her hold, her pussy walls clutching at my dick. I fought to keep my eyes from rolling back into my head and pushed back in.

  “Goddamn, do you feel good.”

  Shelby grabbed my head and pulled me down, our mouths coming together in a rush. Flames licked between us, and my self-control snapped. I thrust into her with abandon, grinding and angling to hit her just right.

  “Gunner --” she gasped and convulsed beneath me, her pussy clamping down on me so damn hard stars exploded behind my eyelids.

  I angled deeper, my dick jerking with every spurt, and I groaned, wishing like fuck I could pull out and watch my cum drip from her hole. Face buried in her neck, I shuddered one last time and collapsed.

  Our hearts thundered between us, eventually slowing together.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her hands soothing down my back.

  I rolled, pulling her atop me, my dick still buried in her body. Cradling her face in my hands, I lifted her head so I could see her eyes. Her unease still lingered, but at least I’d given her something else to think about for a time.

  “Can’t keep my hands off you,” I told her with a small grin.

  “I don’t want you to.” While she didn’t return my smile, her eyes lightened a bit more.

  “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want, but I can’t promise I’ll let you get much sleep every night you’re under our protection.”

  “And when I decide to leave -- would you still be interested in keeping me awake all night long?”

  I grinned. “Better fucking believe it.”

  She sighed, and I pulled her down, softly brushing my lips over hers. My heart ached in the best damn way possible, and I wondered if I was falling in love with her. I’d been burned a time or two, but I couldn’t find a single fuck to give whether Shelby might leave me aching the same way I’d experienced in the past.

  We connected on a level deeper than any woman I’d dated before. Shared life experiences, shared mental troubles, both of us lacking in family, both of us… in need.

  Once cleaned up and properly rid of clothing, we laid beneath the comforter, pressed together from chest to hips, legs entwined.

  I wasn’t one for pillow talk -- hell, if a woman got me to even lay back down on the bed after fucking, she deserved a gold medal in the art of persuasion or manipulation. But with Shelby, I wanted it all. Her memories and heartaches, the things that turned her on or wrinkled her nose. Most of all, I wanted to know her, who she was, what made her mind tick.

  “You were pretty much raised to be Army, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” She whispered the word as though resigned, as though that wasn’t what she’d have chosen for herself with a different upbringing.

  “If you weren’t an Army brat determined to honor your father’s sacrifice, what would you have done?”

  Shelby trailed her fingertips over my face as though memorizing every wrinkle and smile line. “I never gave it much thought.”

  “You can now.”

  A soft puff of laughter escaped her. “I can, can’t I?”

  “Ever since I can remember, I wanted to be a soldier.”

  “You must have been torn up when this happened,” she murmured, lacing her fingers through the three on my ruined hand.

  “Initially, but the country is losing what used to make it great, and with the corruption in government, I’m glad I chose to not let them boss me around anymore.”

  “Every time I think of my father’s death, I get angry.” Her brow furrowed as she rubbed her thumb over the blunt first knuckle of what used to be my whole hand. “He gave his life for his country -- including the assholes who have no sense of appreciation, no sense of honor.”

  “Tell me about him.” I settled in, my cheek on her long hair as she filled my head with stories, laughter, and tears.

  Every hour, I found myself falling. Harder. And before we eventually drifted off, my heart settled on keeping her safe -- and never letting her go.

  Chapter Eight

  Shelby

  For two entire days, we did nothing but eat, sleep, and talk ourselves hoarse when not fucking. Gunner said he couldn’t keep his hands off me, and I couldn’t get enough of his touch. We existed in a cocoon of warmth, and within those hours, I learned more about Gunner than my ex had shared in three years. I ended up telling him about the relation
ship that had ended so horribly, but I assured him he wasn’t a rebound fuck. He joked he wouldn’t care if he was because I was just too “damn delicious.”

  We connected on a deeper level, almost as if we’d known each other our whole lives. Curled on the bed with him made me feel untouchable by the outside world, as if we could live eternally with no altercation, no eternal conflict to threaten what we’d found.

  While it was much too soon to be making any declarations, I was falling for him, hard and fast. The president of an outlaw gang, badass-looking monster of a man -- with an empathetic heart most humans never developed. He was more self-aware than any man I’d ever dated, and the fact we discussed his going to a therapist weekly, something even his brothers knew, made him worthy of respect in my eyes as well.

  Gunner cared deeply for his brothers, looked after them, even the young pledges determined to patch in.

  I learned a lot about how the club worked, but I didn’t ask, nor did I wish to know how they made money to keep the compound as nice as it was.

  The second evening, rather than Gunner bringing food up to the room, he invited me downstairs to the club to eat at the bar with him. One of the older Outlaws had gone to culinary school in his younger years and ran the small kitchen behind the bar. He served typical bar fare, but I loved a good burger.

  Same as when Gunner had first brought me through the lounge to the staircase, I was surprised by the quieter music -- hard rock, of course -- but not ear-splitting like I’d expected. No hazy, white cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air, either.

  Gunner had admitted to half a lifetime of sucking down what he called cancer sticks, but when he’d quit, the club’s lounge did, too. Those needing a few puffs took their butts outside. He’d also taken what was left of the pack I had stashed in my bag and ripped them to pieces before flushing them down the toilet.

  The fact he cared so much melted my heart a bit more.

  We sat at the bar, juicy burgers half-devoured, a dozen introductions made as men came and went. A dark-haired man with light brown eyes came in, a blonde bombshell hanging on his side like a leech, staring at him all googly-eyed.