by M. Merin
“She made me waffles this morning, I think Gunner’s safe. Fucking snitch.” I growl and Jas doesn’t even pretend he’s not laughing at me anymore.
“Come on! It’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while, Flint!” He barks out. “I mean, I feel like I should ask your intentions at this point.”
“I had her dog relocated to make her life easier. You fucking kept Emma against her will! That worked out alright.” I point out. “I didn’t give you shit about that.”
“Yeah, I just expect you to be more dignified, Old Man.” He still can’t wipe the grin off his face.
“That’s an awful thing to say to me after all these years, Jas.” I head out, grinning to myself.
*
Bree’s bathroom job falls behind and she’s smart enough to understand why. I keep my word and stay away from my house but I still go to see her every shift she takes at the bar. With the delay she’s gone back to eating while standing with the bar between us, her eyes narrowing every time I talk to her.
Staying with her as she deals with her books each night has gotten harder, especially since I decided no more sex until she’ll let me take her out.
“Knock that shit off, Bree!” I growl, desperately wanting to spank her ass as she backs it into me a third time. “You want to fuck? Let me take you out.”
“Flint, I’m not sure we’re compatible that way; can’t we just…” I slam the office door and head back up to the bar to wait for her.
I hate that she’d be here alone with that much cash otherwise. I can’t help but shake my head over this fucked up situation.
Somehow I’m the one holding out; Jesus Christ, if my Brothers ever got wind of this I’d have to leave the state. But I keep coming back. I guess she knows it’s only a matter of time before I cave in to what we both want.
The only night I miss at the bar is the night Jasper and Emma’s twins are born.
The night all hell breaks loose.
Chapter 9
Gunner
I’ve almost done assembling the cribs for Jas and Emma’s twins in the nursery they’re preparing when I hear Emma cry out.
“Emma?!” I call out, striding towards their room. Shit, she’s in the bathroom. “Emma, you ok in there?”
“Gunner, I haven’t been feeling well. I think these are labor pains but…” Fuck. What do I do? I hesitate to open the door, not knowing what state she’s in.
“OK, um, do you need help getting out? I’ll take you to the hospital.” The door opens from her side and she reaches for my hand.
“The bag is in Jasper’s truck, Gunner.” She looks really worried about that, but I have no idea what the significance is.
“He’ll meet us there, just let me take you now.” I’m sweating worse than she is. “Shit Emma, I don’t know what to do? Do I carry you?”
Shaking her head, she heads toward the door, slipping on some shoes. I grab our phones and hit Jasper’s number on mine.
“Jasper. Emma thinks she has labor pains.” She lets out a wail as I get her in my truck. “Fuck, man.”
“Gunner, calm down.” Jasper spits out while Emma starts some weird breathing shit. “I hear your engine, I’ll meet you at the ER. You fucking drive safe, you got me, Brother?”
“Yeah, here, talk to her.” I pass the phone over.
Emma pauses her loud breathing. “Jasper, I thought I had indigestion but it kept getting worse.” She’s looking over at me, “Hold on, Jas.”
“Gunner, you have to drive faster than twenty or you’ll be delivering the babies, ok?” Fuck, she’s right.
My hands are gripping the wheel so tight and I have to force myself to ease off, and live with the shame of temporarily driving like a senior citizen. I don’t hear the rest of her call; I just know that when she restarts her breathing exercises I join her.
Standing in the ER with my arm around Emma’s shoulders, I am way past my comfort zone when Jasper finally arrives. “Thank fucking Christ, man!” I yell, before jumping back as I feel something spray over my jeans and boots.
Jas and Emma cry out at the same time; Jas in shock and Emma in dismay at the mess. Her water just broke all over my favorite boots.
Once he gets her into a wheelchair, he looks back at me. “Want to be a Godfather?” He widely smiles at me before they’re taken off to a room.
I’m still standing in the puddle with a big grin on my face a few moments later when Flint strides in. “Shit, Gunner!”
I just shrug, “I’m gonna be a Godfather.”
“Great. Uh, this could take a while, why don’t you head out and get cleaned up? I’ll be here.”
“Thanks, I’ll be back by later.” I nod and start to leave.
“Wait, can you stop by Rusty’s after you change? Bree is working tonight; just see if she needs anything?” Fuck, he’s not letting that one go. Never thought Flint would tie himself down again. Not that I don’t understand that need; once you finally meet the right woman.
Over an hour later, I’m turning into the bar’s parking lot when I hear a gunshot ring out. Throwing the truck into park, I grab my tire iron from under my seat and run towards the door. A few more shots ring out before I yank it open and I immediately see people crouching under tables, their cell phones all out. A small Hispanic man is walking around the side of the bar with a gun in his hand.
He’s yelling in Spanish and so focused that I’m nearly on top of him before he senses me. Swinging the tire iron to hit his extended gun arm, he turns at the last minute and I slice him across his face. As he falls back, the sound of his head smacking the bar seems to echo throughout the room.
Kicking his gun away and checking behind the bar, I bellow. “Get a fucking ambulance NOW!” Fuck.
Fucking Bree.
Randy lies beside her with half his head blown off, but it’s a bloody Bree who is staring up at me with pain filled eyes that terrifies me. “Come on, Bree, shit. Shit, where you hit, Pretty Lady?”
I see and grab a stack of bar towels, as she whispers up at me; “It hurts, Gunner.”
“That’s good, here let me see. Pain means you’ll live.” I feed her one of combat’s myths. Locating two wounds, her left shoulder and just below her left hip; I press towels into each. Fuck, she’s too good to go out like this is my first thought. My second is if Flint could take it.
“Ragnar, please Gunner. Ragnar…Flint’s house.” She pleads with me, and it kills me that her first thought is for her dog. She’s lying in a big ass puddle of blood and she’s worried about her dog.
“Shhh. This is gonna hurt.” I press a fresh towel harder into her lower wound that seems to be bleeding heaviest, causing her to cry out. “Don’t you worry about your dog; you know how much he likes me, Pretty Lady.”
Comforting her, I miss the sound of sirens and am still holding her when Sheriff Michaels points his gun around the bar. “Shit, Alex. You armed?”
“No, Sir. Dropped a tire iron over there somewhere.” I respond calmly, making sure he doesn’t get twitchy right now.
“Stay there another minute, paramedics are right behind me.” He says, lowering his weapon.
“This guy’s dead, Sheriff.” Officer Kennelly calls out. “He the perp?”
“Get her taken care of then we’ll sort it out.” The Sheriff can at least prioritize.
The paramedics hurriedly move in and care for Bree, before Michaels indicates a table for me to move to. Holding up my hand, I call Flint. Briefing him is more important right now.
“What?” He answers.
“Listen to me and don’t interrupt.” I start. “Bree’s gonna be alright, but she’s heading there in an ambulance now. There was a shooting at the bar, she was hit twice and Randy’s dead. Looks like she was behind him when the guy started shooting.”
Silence, I can hear him breathing so I know he heard me. “I want that gunman, Gunner. He’s fucking mine, you hear me.” I’ve only heard that tone from Flint twice; I just hope it’s never aimed at me.
>
“No, Boss. I cracked him with a tire iron. He hit the corner of the bar on the way down and died on the spot.” I answer, looking Michaels dead on, so he won’t think I’m bullshitting him later.
“Too fucking good for him, Gunner.” I can hear him seething over the line.
“I hear ya. I gotta deal with the Sheriff and Bree asked me to check on Ragnar; then I’ll get back to the hospital. Call me if you need anything.”
“Gunner,” He calls to make sure I don’t hang up. “Thank you.”
“You know that’s not needed.” I disconnect.
I turn to see the Sheriff has been listening to me. “Is Bree dating Flint?”
“They’re close.” I can’t even fathom how to sum those two up, so I don’t try.
“Let them test your hands for residue, then start at the beginning.” I hold up my bloody hands. “Just covering my bases, Alex.”
“Stop with the fucking ‘Alex’,” I growl at him as a tech starts to swab my hands. “Mrs. Riley is the only one who gets away with that shit.”
“Yeah, and once she gets wind you were here, she’ll be on my ass about this first thing. So let’s just make sure I don’t have to take any shit over you.” He smirks at me as he starts to take my statement. Usually, I would have lawyered up, innocent or not; but times-a-wasting right now. “You’ll have to explain that connection to me sometime, but…”
An hour later, I finally get the blood off and check in on Ragnar. Little guy is smart, it’s like he knows something’s wrong and starts whining. I try to comfort him the best I can, refilling his water and food then head to the hospital. I’m sure I’ll be making lots of trips back to take care of him during the following days. He likes me, but I know he’ll be miserable until Bree’s back with him.
Chapter 10
Flint
I stand outside the ER, waiting for my woman. Gunner’s call was a punch in the gut like I never experienced, not even when my ex packed it in; there are the hits you see coming and the ones you don’t, this was the latter. I know what a machine Gunner can be in a bad situation and am grateful he was there for Bree.
Watching the ambulance pull up and unload, I only get a quick glimpse of her before they’re through the “Do Not Pass” doors. I head straight to the nurse’s desk and start the argument of how I’m Bree’s partner. Her man, just anything I can think of to give me rights to be updated and to see her. The nurse finally throws out the term Domestic Partner and I grab onto that like a lifeline.
“Yes, we live together.” She doesn’t look like she believes me, but she’s eyed my cut a couple times and finally adds me to a list. Bree is currently living at my home, so I supply that address, her place of employment, coming up short when it comes to her birthday and insurance information. Luckily the Sheriff arrives and immediately backs up my claim. Another hat tip to Gunner for that small courtesy from the Sheriff.
During the next four hours, Jasper becomes a father. Christopher and Ruth Anders are born healthy to an exhausted Emma, and Jas is the most excited I’ve ever seen him.
The kid deserves this time so I don’t mention Bree, but he’s been around me most of his life and as usual; he never misses much. He not only reads me but notices the looks being passed around his MC Brothers’ that are present, so I finally relent and tell him about Bree. I hadn’t wanted to take away any of his happiness.
“Whatever you need, Flint.” He promises needlessly. “I’ll be down to check on her when they allow it, alright?”
“Flint Kelly?” A doctor calls out.
“Yeah!” I hit Jasper on the shoulder and head over to an exhausted looking man.
“Ms. Lynch is in recovery. We got both bullets out and don’t expect any organ damage but won’t know about any nerve damage until she’s awake; she also needed a transfusion by the time she got in here. Someone will notify you when you can go back to see her.”
Thanking him, and feeling as tired as he looks; I head back to my Brothers and deliver the good news.
Once they get her in a room, I ask Gunner to move into my house to take care of her dog for the duration of her stay and I settle into the typically uncomfortable hospital chair near her bed. I do nothing but glare at anyone who suggests I can’t stay there; somehow, they all get the message to move along.
Not long after Jasper briefly visits, an orderly suddenly wheels in a recliner. Apparently, the maternity ward is better equipped and Jasper wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Some hours later, I awake to see her watching me. “Is Ragnar alright?”
“Yeah, Doll, you know the Big Guy will take good care of him. And you’re going to be fine. Y’know, in case you were worried.” I cross over to the bed, offering her some water.
“Randy’s dead, isn’t he?” She asks next, tears streaming down her face. Her speech and her eyes showing the effects of the pain meds.
“Shhh, let’s just worry about you right now.” I look at her, confused as she shifts backwards from me.
“Lay down next to me, Flint?” She’s on her right side and after some work, I’m able to get in facing her. “Are there more men coming for me?” She mumbles as she drifts off.
The next day, I wake up nose to nose with Bree. Her eyes are open and more alert than the night before. “You’ve been shot too, haven’t you, Flint?” She asks.
“Yeah, I’m afraid so,” I reply, not wanting to get into my past right now.
“It hurts like hell, doesn’t it?”
“What about your morphine drip, Baby?” I twist my head around looking for the line and realize I’m lying on it. “Fuck, sorry.”
She opens her mouth as I try to back off the bed, but stops when she sees the Sheriff enter, followed by a doctor. Once the doc finishes poking and questioning her, he gives the Sheriff ten minutes with her. I hold her hand to let them all know I’m not moving.
“Well, we pieced it out.” The Sheriff starts and Bree tightens her grip on me. “Randy was from St. Louis originally and was wanted in connection to a bunch of pawn shop thefts between there and Chicago. The ID he provided to Rusty was another of his specialties.” Michaels takes a breath. “Gun man’s name is Romero Sanchez and he’s got some loose gang ties in Chicago. Guessing Randy pissed someone off and Romero came collecting as a favor.”
Bree’s color is way to pale and she has a death grip on my hand by now. “Sheriff, no! Randy was great, he’s only been with us a couple months, but…”
“We went over his place, Ms. Lynch, we found a couple pieces of the jewelry listed from the different pawn shops.” Sheriff seems fixed on our hands together. “Witnesses say Sanchez just came in and started shooting. Is that what you remember? Did he speak?”
“I, I don’t know...” She stumbles out.
“Ok, I’ll get a formal statement in a day or two, but the case is closed in my opinion.” He turns to go.
“Wait, Sheriff,” She calls out, “Did Randy or the other man have any family?”
“No one living. You get your rest now, Ms. Lynch.” He nods at us before putting his large, black Stetson back on.
I reach out to caress her cheek and watch her press the button for her pain meds as she stares up at me with sad eyes. Her lids start to droop almost immediately and she murmurs; “This is my fault, Flint. Randy’s death is on me.”
Between that and the fear she expressed the night before, I make a few calls. Connal and Jake are still on the hospital grounds, having just visited Jas and Emma; they turn around and come to sit with Bree. I call Wrench next and have him meet me at the clubhouse.
When I get there thirty minutes later, I catch Wrench’s eyes to indicate he should follow me. Without me asking, Gunner leaves his perch at the bar to follow us back to Jasper’s office. Supplying the names I have, I set Wrench to work on his laptop; trying to piece together a backstory I seem to be missing.
Leaving them in the office, I head to my room for a shower and fresh clothes. All I can think of is the look on her face the da
y after I first met her; when I was being a smart ass and asked if she’d ever committed a felony.
I’m lacing up my boots when Wrench and Gunner enter my room, not bothering to knock.
“Boss, the Sheriff. He was just looking at the dead guys.” Wrench bursts out from the doorway. Gunner pushes him the rest of the way into the room and secures the door.
“It looks like what they said, absolutely; until you dig around with her name.” Wrench is excited but not saying anything that makes sense. Gunner smacks him upside his head, then shrugs at him in apology.
“Right, sorry. Brianna “Bree” Lynch was married to a guy who was shot a couple years ago.” Wrench finally starts talking. “He, uh, the husband, had a different last name but her name was in the obituary. From another news story, I found out that her husband had cleaned up at a charity poker game outside of Chicago; he was robbed and shot in the parking lot. He died the next day. They picked up a guy, but he ended up walking. He was found dead a few months later. Sliced and diced in an alley near his apartment, no witnesses. Case was never closed, he had a long arrest record and no one really cared.”
He looks around, enjoying his moment but pissing me off. “Romero Sanchez, the shooter from yesterday; his brother, Reynaldo Sanchez, more than likely killed Bree’s husband.”
I feel all the blood drain from my face. Looking at Gunner’s face, I can see the reflection of the shock that I’m feeling.
“This stays in this goddamn room, you fucking understand me?” I growl at both of them.
“Of course, Boss. Absolutely,” Wrench swears as Gunner nods. “I gotta go, Boss. I know it’s a bad time but my Ol’ Lady is sick and I gotta help with the kids.”
I nod and he heads out. Looking up at Gunner, “Bree was the target. I have to keep her safe.”
“You think she killed the brother?” He asks, his face unreadable as he leans against the wall with his arms crossed.
“Yeah.” Shit just got complicated. “You’ve seen a wound that’s been super glued shut, right?”