Gunner (Devil's Tears MC Book 1)

by Daniela Jackson

  Ice fills my veins at the thought that he could go on a date. I am selfish. I am selfish for my son. No woman will take Gunner’s attention away from Asher. Over my dead body.

  A sense of shame surges through me at my nasty attitude. Then I kill my thoughts.

  “So,” I say to my brother. “You, Christa, that’s fucking—“

  “You’d better be quiet,” Hawk growls.

  He puts his hand on the back of Christa’s neck and sinks his fingers into her hair. I see fire in his eyes, a wild, consuming fire. It’s the fire of love that one wolf can give to another wolf.

  “When is the wedding?” I ask.

  “Soon,” Hawk says.

  Tyler shakes off Celine. “What wedding?”

  “Christa and mine,” Hawk says.

  “You haven’t spill anything, you dick,” Tyler says. He turns towards the bar and rumbles, “Prez, there’s going to be a wedding in our family.”

  “Yours?” Zane says with sarcasm.

  “Do I look like I want a wife?” Tyler says as Celine’s eyes turn glassy.

  I feel sorry for her as I watch her rush towards the bathroom.

  Tyler is so rude, but handsome as hell. Women behave like they have no brain when they’re around him. They can’t resist his grey eyes bringing an impression of a storm cloud to one’s mind. His hair is brown like Zane’s, who’s his dad, and it falls down to his shoulders. He’s well built as is every man in our family.

  A malicious voice in my head hopes Tyler finds a woman who’ll make him fall for her and who’ll trash him.

  The sound of someone’s footsteps makes me look over my shoulder and see Ashley Ruiz walk in. Her blue eyes shine as she corrects the low bun made of her auburn hair. She’s wearing her uniform.

  “Our lovely sheriff,” Tyler says, approaching her. He tosses back his hair. “In the ‘Jilly Jet’. What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Back the fuck up, Tyler,” Ashley says. “Mr Holme.” She waves her hand to Zane.

  Zane moves closer to her. “I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

  “Can we have a chat somewhere private?” Ashley says. “About Takis—“

  “It’s being dealt with by us,” Zane says, his voice cold, sending a warning.

  Tyler throws his arm over her back. “Have a drink with us, Ashley. Relax.”

  Ashley shakes his arm off as repulsion paints her face. “I’m on duty.”

  “It’s a Friday evening, darling,” Tyler insists as his arm encircles her waist.

  Ashley moves away from him, her chin trembling. “Mr Holme, please make sure this won’t happen again.”

  Zane bows his head as Ashley exhales with an audible sound and storms off.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Takis beat a motherfucker who wasn’t nice to Tete,” Hawk says.

  Gunner

  Sol kisses Asher who hops in Dimitri’s arms and pulls his hair.

  “Solnishko,” Dimitri says. “Only three weeks. He won’t die.”

  Rey shakes her head and loops her arm through Dimitri’s. “We’ll take care of Asher and you, kids, enjoy the trip.” Her voice has this eerie tinge, like she’s a beautiful alien.

  It’s after the accident she had a very long time ago.

  “I cook his eggs for exactly three minutes,” I say as flutter goes through my chest.

  “I know how to cook fucking eggs,” Dimitri rumbles. “Go.”

  “Three minutes, Grandpa,” I repeat as Rey chuckles and her olive cheeks flush.

  “Three fucking minutes.” Dimitri looks at me with an urge of murder in his glance. “Fine.”

  I decide not to piss him off more so I salute him and jump on my bike then shoot towards the metal sliding gate, as Sol’s bike roars right behind me.

  She chose that means of travelling. I suggested a sports car, but she wanted our bikes. Good. I haven’t seen her on her bike for ages.

  We pour out into the road and jump between two trucks. A sense of freedom wafts through me. The engine roars furiously, but it’s music to my ears. Only Sol’s sweet moans of satisfaction are more pleasant to me. The wind smacks me as she takes the lead.

  She’s good. I almost forgot how good she was.

  I ride at full speed, meandering among cars and outrun her. She wants to race? Fine. Let’s race.

  Sol

  We stop at a parking lot in front of a five star hotel. Yep, that’s our hotel. I want to kill Dimitri. I hate such places.

  Gunner jumps off his bike and joins me. We climb the stairs, passing four palm trees, and go through the glass door. My boots thump against the marble floor as we move towards reception and stop by the desk made of granite and wood.

  “The reservation is for Adriana Krastev,” I say.

  The receptionist, a young brunette with big boobs, nods at me. “For Adriana Krastev and Michael Krastev, a king bedroom.” She hands me a key card and shoots Gunner a flirty glance.

  Some things never change—all the women of the world always flirt with Gunner.

  “There must be some mistake,” I say. “I asked for two separate rooms.”

  She glances at me like I’m an idiot then types on the keyboard and shakes her head. “No, only one king bedroom.”

  I glance at Gunner, but he stares out the window adorned with heavy velvet curtains that’s on our left like this conversation doesn’t concern him at all.

  “Michael,” I say.

  Gunner turns his face to mine and smirks at me. “Adriana.” He waves his hand as a hotel boy takes our bags.

  “One room,” I say as I bob my head in frustration.

  “Looks like we’re going to save our marriage, darling,” he says as the receptionist chuckles.

  I inhale deeply and stifle the urge of murder boiling inside of me.

  We go to our room and the richness of the décor makes me freeze in the doorway. It reminds me of the Middle Ages and feels claustrophobic—a huge four-poster bed stands at one wall as two cream thrones with a round table stand at the opposite wall.

  Gunner removes his cut and pulls his t-shirt over his head then grabs his toiletry bag and goes to the bathroom. I hear him turn on the water in the shower cabin. Ten minutes later, he steps out of the bathroom, pulls on a fresh t-shirt and leaves the room. Just like that.

  I stand still for a moment then shuffle to have a shower. My stomach growls so I decide to eat something in the hotel restaurant. I enter the room filled with elegant people and drop into a vintage chair to enjoy my solitude at the table by a window that offers a view over the hotel’s swimming pool. I wolf down my food, order a glass of wine and stare at the hotel guests. The wine tastes horrible, but I sip it anyway.

  As I finish my drink, I rise to my feet and go for a walk around the swimming pool. Passing two flower urns, I notice Gunner. He is sitting at one of the tables sheltered by a red umbrella. And a woman is sitting beside him.

  My heart freezes then starts thundering.

  The woman has an elegant dress on. It’s black with a very low back, a plunging neckline and long sleeves. My eyes scan my t-shirt with a bleached skull printed on the front and my black leather trousers put in boots. Fire seizes my chest and it burns violently. Burns like never before. It hurts so much.

  I hate Gunner like never before and I hate that woman beside him. I hate her so much my hands itch to break her nose.

  I step back, but Gunner notices me and waves his hand to me, inviting me to sit at his table.

  Well, I can’t be a coward.

  I huff out, force myself to smile, and join him at the table. The woman raises her black eyes to me. She’s really attractive, like the 20s actress, thirty years old at most. Her flawless white face enhances the beauty of her full carmine lips.

  I have no make-up on. My hair is styled in a messy high bun whilst hers falls to her shoulders in perfect raven-black waves.

  “My wife, Adriana,” Gunner says. “Darling, this is Beatrice.”

  The woman’s jaw dro
ps as does mine, but she composes herself. And so do I. We shake hands. Her palm is soft to touch whilst mine is dry and calloused. Embarrassment floods me.

  “A honeymoon?” Beatrice asks.

  “Yes, and we don’t do threesomes,” I say as Gunner kicks my foot with his under the table and lowers his head to hide his grin.

  Beatrice blinks a few times then flashes me an elegant smile. “It’s late. If you excuse me…”

  “Nice to meet you,” Gunner says and she walks off.

  “She was very elegant,” I say. “Your women are always so elegant.”

  His face turns into an emotionless mask. “Do you want a drink?”

  “Yes.” A bottle of vodka would do me good. Two bottles of vodka would do me even better. “A glass of wine, please.”

  Gunner rises from his chair and goes to the bar as I bite my nails. My heart hammers in my chest. Something squeezes my throat like a cold hand.

  Gunner returns to the table, putting a glass of white wine on the top.

  “Thank you,” I say as he gives me a nod that could mean anything.

  He sits beside me and we stare in one direction.

  “Ashes has grown,” I say to interrupt the uncomfortable silence between us. “He can count to five.”

  “To ten,” His tone is informative.

  I sip my wine. “You’re a great dad.”

  “You’re a great mom.”

  Fucking hell. What’s happened to us? We once were best friends. We could almost read one another’s thoughts. We had sex together.

  I know what’s happened.

  A selfish, ungrateful bitch has happened. A blind bitch has happened.

  Music starts to play and it’s that fucking theme from the movie ‘Ghost’. I look at Gunner and I feel like some invisible force is ripping my heart out. Like I’m losing Gunner forever. And I want him so badly, need him so desperately. He once belonged to me, but I didn’t see that. I was enveloped by the greyness of my guilt.

  Now, my world is crystal and light and I want Gunner to be mine.

  He will never be mine again. He’s a stranger, a memory, the pain of loss I’m going to carry.

  Tears prick my eyes, and I rise to my feet, pushing the chair back.

  “I’m tired,” I rasp. “I’m going to clear off. Maybe I’ll have some sleep, you know. It’s kind of late.”

  “Sure. I’ll have a few drinks—“

  A few drinks with a few elegant women who’ll invite him to their hotel rooms. Awesome.

  My hands shake. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I.. Doesn’t matter. Have fun.”

  He looks at me like I’m six. Then a grin crosses his face and he watches me with cold eyes for a moment. “Yeah, you’d better have some rest. You’re tired.”

  I nod and turn around then hurry towards the glass door leading to the building. Tears leak from my eyes. As I stand by the elevator, the sound of somebody’s heavy footsteps fills my ears. I push the button and a big hand squeezes my shoulder.

  I turn my face to meet the broodiness of Gunner’s glance.

  “Sol,” he rasps.

  The elevator dings, and I jerk my head as the door pulls away. Gunner shoves me inside and slams his fist on the button. The door closes. There’s only me and him and our heavy breaths. Then my tears and his dark glance. He looks like a doomed character from a romantic poem.

  “I’m sorry,” I shriek as the elevator moves upwards and I have this feeling of weighing more than I actually do. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

  Gunner’s eyes fill with menace then with tears. His hand travels to the back of my neck and he grips it, causing me pain. A second seems like an hour.

  His lips slam on mine.

  My legs wobble and I almost pass out.

  My hands claw at his neck, and I kiss him like we’re going to die in a few minutes.

  Gunner grips my waist and lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He slams me on the mirrored back wall of the elevator and crushes my lips with his. His tongue searches for mine.

  The elevator dings.

  “The key card,” he growls into my mouth.

  “What?”

  “The key card.”

  I reach to the back pocket of my jeans, taking it out, and we tumble out of the elevator, making three people jump away. Their laughter echoes behind us as Gunner carries me to our room, taking the key card from my hand, and we tumble inside.

  He cups my face in both his hands. “Fuck, Sol, we need to talk.”

  “I know.”

  I lean in to kiss him, but he growls furiously. “We need to talk.”

  I nod. “Let’s talk then.”

  Gunner puts me on the bed. I remove my boots and toss them onto the floor. Gunner does the same as I and he sits opposite me, sweeping a few wisps of my hair away from my face.

  “Talk to me,” he says in a threatening voice, his knee bent.

  I suck in a breath, my feet tucked under my bottom. “I—“

  “You?” He props his elbow on his knee.

  I clench my hands against my stomach, my heart racing. “You—“

  “Yes me.” His lips curl into a beguiling smile.

  I raise my hand and run my fingertips down his unshaven cheek. Suddenly, there is this crystalline certainty in my head and I know what to say. “You’ve been a husband to me since Shay died. You’ve been good to me and to my… I mean our son. I—“

  “You needed more time.”

  “I needed time.” My throat tightens and I can’t speak for a moment as Gunner watches me with his jaws clenching. “I swerved and pushed Shay into that truck, Gunner.” My breath sticks in my throat as Gunner strokes my hair.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Sol. I killed my brother. My fucking love for being in trouble killed him.”

  “No, our lifestyle killed him. I know this now. We’re who we are. We know the risks. All of us. Shay knew the risks too. His love for our lifestyle killed him. Dimitri asked him three times and he wanted to go. We die for one another if needed, remember?”

  He nods at me, one tear slipping from the corner of his eye.

  “Do you love me?” I squeak.

  “You know I do.”

  “But do you love me because of Shay?”

  “I love you because I fell in love with you as a kid and with each year that passed I loved you even more. You should have been my wife not his. Mine, Sol. My wife.” He pulls my hair together on the back of my neck, causing pain to seize my skull.

  I rest my forehead against his. “I loved Shay. I did love him. But you… You’re so much more. You’re like part of me. Sometimes it feels like we’re one soul and one body. Sometimes we’re so different.”

  “I can’t breathe without you,” he says with a raspy crack in his voice.

  “And I can’t breathe without you.”

  I grab his neck and pull him to me, pressing my lips against his. He kisses me hard, possessively, as I fall on the mattress and he crushes my body with his.

  “That woman,” I gasp.

  I know. I have no dignity, but jealousy floods me like volcanic lava.

  “No women, Sol,” Gunner says into my mouth, sucking on my lower lip. “There have been no women in my life since Shay died. Only you. Always you.”

  Oh my God.

  He’s really been my husband. A faithful husband. The best husband I could wish for.

  “I will be a good wife to you, I promise,” I say as words pour out of me like water is pouring out of the crumbling dam. “You’ll be happy with me, you’ll see. I will change. I will be nice. I will put nice clothes on. I will put make-up on. I will be elegant and nice.” As I finish the last sentence, I feel stupid and childish.

  There are no words to reverse the damage I’ve done.

  “Okay.” Gunner kisses my forehead, amusement coating his voice. “Be a wife to me then. Put your pyjama set on and we’re going to sleep.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”


  I freeze with consternation then jump away from him and rush to the bathroom.

  Chapter 11

  Gunner

  I remove my t-shirt and hear her slam the bathroom door shut.

  A thought hammers in my head. Don’t fuck it up.

  Don’t. Fuck. It. Up.

  Don’t fucking fuck it up.

  I have to be careful and slow. Every movement must be carefully planned in advance, thought out with a cool head. Clean precision like it’s club business—there’s no room for mistakes.

  She wants to be my wife. She wants to change.

  Don’t fuck it up.

  Think with your brain not with your dick as always around her.

  She leaves the bathroom and I pass her, walking inside. I slip into my pyjama pants and brush my teeth.

  Don’t fuck it up.

  My hands tremble. My heart pounds in my chest. My dick is so hard it’s painful. My balls feel like they’re going to explode.

  Don’t fuck it up.

  Sol

  I roll on my side and cover myself with the comforter. The satin fabric feels cold against my hot skin and the red colour makes my arm look snow white against it. Gunner walks out of the bathroom and jumps under the comforter, pulling me to him.

  I have no fucking idea what is going on.

  “There are rules, Sol.”

  Of course, there are rules. I hurt him so much. He has the right to be careful and make the rules.

  “You’re going to move in with me,” he says. No, he’s ordering me. “As soon as we’re back from Slovakia.”

  “Okay.”

  “You will never even look at another man.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ll be spread for me whenever I tell you to.”

  I nod. “This won’t be a problem.”

  “Be quiet, woman. I’m talking.”

  I bob my head. “Okay.”

  “You’re going to put in a lot of effort in order to make me a happy husband. Now sleep.”

  “What?”

  “I said sleep.”

  “But—“

  “I speak, you listen. Not the other way round.” He plants a wet hot kiss on my cheek and the scent of mint settles in my nostrils. “Sleep.”

  Gunner

  She curls into me and her tantalising scent hits me again. I tighten my embrace around her and inhale her, absorb her, memorise her. Reassure myself she’s really resting in my arms.