Gunner (Devil's Tears MC Book 1)

by Daniela Jackson

  She’s short and slim, but her black wrap top and skinny jeans show off her nice tits and round ass. Not to mention that her voice sends heat to my dick each time she speaks. It’s lower than I expected, tinged with a subtle raspiness, the voice of a temptress.

  “Get her a glass of water,” I say and sit on my heels on the floor in front of her.

  The sounds of the people gathering up the equipment to pack it into two vans come to my ears in scrunches, screeches, swear words, bangs, and clinks.

  The girl curls into the armchair and shoots bullets of anger towards me with her eyes. Her thick black eyebrows arch like a seagull’s wings and her long eyelashes flutter. She has no make-up on. She doesn’t need it. She’s absolute perfection.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “None of your fucking business,” she growls.

  Coyote chuckles behind me.

  I’m intrigued.

  Women love me. They love to spread their legs for me even more. They suck my dick with just one encouraging glance from me.

  This chick hates me at first sight. Unexpected.

  No—

  That actually pisses me off.

  “If you want the autograph,” I say, “tell me your name.”

  “I need this fucking autograph,” she growls as Coyote hands her a glass of water and guards his stomach to stifle his laughter.

  “Aren’t you busy, Coyote?” I ask in a bit of a sharp voice.

  “I’m hungry,” he says, jutting his chin towards the table in the corner of the room.

  “So grab a sandwich and get lost,” I say.

  Coyote grins at me, but follows my suggestion. I’m two years older than him and he admires me like I’m his older brother not his cousin. He sends a smirk towards the girl then walks off with a plate piled with food in his hand.

  “Tell me your name,” I insist and lock my eyes on the girl’s.

  She takes a sharp breath. “Eavan. My name is Eavan. Happy?”

  Of course, it must be Eavan. It suits her perfectly, plasters her like skin, belongs to her; it’s unique and mysterious like her.

  “I will drop you to your place,” I say.

  “No.” She empties the glass and raises herself. There is fear in her eyes as though she’s a wild animal caught in a trap. “I need this autograph,” she says in a softer voice. “I can pay.” She puts the glass on the armrest and pulls back and forth.

  I rise to my feet and stand in front of her, blocking her between the armchair and my body. Her chin trembles as I raise my hand, urged by some dark force and stroke her hair. It’s sleek to touch, thick and straight. Wonderful.

  “So kiss me and we’re even,” I say.

  “Get off me,” she says as her lips part, a pink flush painting her white cheeks.

  I take my hand off her as her tantalising smell of green tea and her own mask hits me. She smells of something else, it’s wild like the wind in the mountains, pristine and irresistible.

  “Where is the exit?” Eavan asks.

  “Wait for the autograph,” I say.

  Fucking hell, this chick is driving me mad.

  “I don’t need your fucking autograph. Changed my mind. Sorry.” She passes me and looks around then aims for the black curtain separating the room from the narrow corridor leading to the stage.

  Fuck. Everything inside me screams to stop her. To keep her. Like I’m fucking insane or something. I leap towards her and wrap my arms around her from behind, pulling her to me, sheltering her.

  She emits a desperate sigh as her back rests against my chest, her body wriggling. I immobilise her in my embrace.

  “Wait for the autograph, Eavan.”

  “I don’t want it,” she shrieks.

  “I’m sorry, okay?”

  “I need to go.”

  “Wait for that fucking autograph.”

  She wriggles again, but I tighten my embrace around her, almost certain that I’m causing her pain. It’s madness. A thought wavers on the edge of my consciousness. She will vanish the moment I release her. She will vanish like a ghost. A primal instinct awakes inside me. That instinct wants to keep her. Kiss her. Fuck her.

  Fuck her hard, fast. Fuck her rough like an animal.

  I loosen my embrace and she turns around, her glance meeting mine, her breath ragged, droplets of sweat adorning her forehead like diamonds.

  The air around us thickens and I feel like I’m in the middle of a bad storm throwing snaps of lighting down onto a field, burning the wheat bending with each gust of the wind. Something violent courses through me as Eavan’s eyes widen at me and fill up with tears. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than her in this movement. She’s like a crying saint from a medieval church.

  “Wait for the autograph,” I say gently as my hand travels to the back of her neck and I sink my fingers into her hair. “Or wait. I have a better idea. There is a party later this evening—“

  “I can’t.” She pulls back but I hook the back of her neck and encircle her waist with my arm to immobilise her.

  “No, wait. A very small party. A very private party. In my friend’s house. Just the band and a few more people.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Bring your sister. I’ll sing for her.”

  She sighs and shakes her head.

  “A really small house party,” I insist. “I will give your sister five t-shirts and ten posters. Fifteen autographs. Don’t make me beg you.”

  Eavan chuckles. “Okay.”

  “Alma Avenue 67. At nine.”

  “Okay.”

  “So you’re coming?” Fucking hell, I am begging her. Me? I’ve never begged a chick.

  “Yes,” she says with a breathless exhale.

  The curtain waves and Tony walks in, followed by my manager, Tania. They look pissed off.

  Eavan wiggles out of my embrace and backs up. I step forward, but Tony blocks me with his enormous body. I hear the sound of Eavan’s light footsteps drifting farther and farther away from me.

  “Back off,” I growl.

  “Are you fucked up or what?” Tony rumbles and pushes at my shoulders.

  I push him back and fling myself to the side, but another bodyguard obstructs my way.

  “Back the fuck off,” I rasp and swerve.

  I pull the curtain, and walk into the corridor then onto the stage, but I can’t see Eavan. She’s vanished like a ghost. Something heavy sits on my chest, crushing me, stripping me of oxygen.

  “We need to talk,” Tania says from behind me. “Seriously.”

  “Where is she?” I say with a high-pitched crack in my voice, my hands spread as I spin.

  “We need to talk,” Tania growls. “Seafra, what the fuck is wrong with you? Look at me. We need to talk.”

  I roll my fingers into fists. “What?”

  “There are rules,” Tania says as I turn to face her. “They must be at the legal age and there must be consent.”

  “What do you want from me?” There is a dense fog in my head and her words stab me like a knife.

  “I just want you to obey a few simple rules.” Tania’s voice drills into my brain.

  She raises her hands like she wants to grab my arms and shake me, sheer anger flickering in her brown eyes. Her palms travel to her generous hips and she tilts her head as her red side bangs reveal her high forehead marked by two thin lines.

  “I always obey the rules,” I say.

  “Really? The girl cried. She was scared.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Okay,” Tania continues. “What about earlier? You put your life at risk.”

  “She collapsed.”

  “I don’t fucking care. I’m here to make sure that you won’t end up in jail or die. Understood?”

  “Fuck off. I know the rules.”

  “So, obey them, okay?”

  I salute her.

  One corner of her thin lips crooks up. “Good.”

  I sweep my hand furiously, rustling
the curtain obscuring the stage from the pub and roam my eyes over the tables and chairs by the walls adorned with spray paint and old newspapers in antique frames. My glance travels to the gallery supported by wooden pillars then to the exit. No trace of Eavan left. I move back behind the stage then walk to another room.

  Eavan will come to the party. She wants that fucking autograph. My mind claws at that thought like my life depends on it.

  As I enter the room, I notice Hale, our drummer and my other cousin, shooting his load into a blonde’s mouth. He’s sitting in the armchair and she’s crouching on the floor between his splayed knees. He pulls his dick out of her mouth and zips his leather trousers up. The girl wipes her lips with the back of her hand.

  “Get out,” Hale says to her and inhales a joint.

  He’s twenty-four years old, my age, but is kind of introverted and crazy, definitely loves weed and women too much. Alcohol is his companion on a daily basis. He plays, fucks and floats in another realm for the majority of the time.

  Coyote and I have tried to reason with him, but he’s resistant to our persuasion. Tania will keep him for as long as he does his job properly. Coyote and I hope that he’ll fuck up soon and wake up from his hazy existence.

  I grab a bottle of vodka from the table by the wall and take a sip as the blonde storms out of the room.

  “You fucking dick,” Hale says. “Tony wants to break all your limbs.”

  “She was worth it.”

  “I heard. A moth queen, according to Coyote. Very unique.”

  “Very unique,” I repeat like an echo then tip the bottle up to my lips.

  As the smell of alcohol hits my nostrils, I put the bottle down. I need a shower and fresh clothes. I need to be sober. I have a date, after all. My first date since I was fourteen.

  Chapter 2

  Eavan

  I run, bouncing off the people I pass, my feet like two concrete blocks, tears blinding me. My chest feels like a cage. There is no oxygen in my lungs. I wheeze and slow down. Everything is slow in my life because of my insomnia-my soul, my brain, and my limbs. Everything is tiring, but the problem is that I can’t afford to be tired. I should be fast, my brain should be sharp, and my life plans should be narrowed to taking care of my sister.

  My mother’s words course through my head like fire arrows.

  Watch over Ruby.

  Be a good girl.

  Be invisible.

  Don’t enrage your father.

  Behave. Be quiet. Be polite.

  Don’t dress like a slut.

  My feet scrunch against the path meandering among the majestic trees of the park near the house I’m renting. Dust is rising from underneath my soles, forming small clouds. Two people with dogs pass me, shooting me concerned glances.

  I take a rapid breath and pick up the pace.

  Seafra touched me.

  No—

  He was holding me in his embrace as though I was his possession. It can’t happen again. I can’t afford to be distracted by some jerk.

  I will go to the party because Ruby wants his autograph desperately then I will throw him out of my mind, erase every memory of him as soon as my sister and I leave.

  I cross the road and struggle along the pavement, climbing the hill, my breathing laborious, dizziness whirling in my head. My stomach feels like a noose of a rope is strangling it. His face is still lingering in my head, burned into my memory, as though my brain has been branded. I can still smell him, earth and rain mingling with his sweat, intoxicating like sweet poison. Calling to my primal instinct. Dangerous like standing on the edge of the cliff and irresistible.

  I turn right and go down the concrete stairs, sliding my hand against the metal railing then turn left and knock on the brown door with a fanlight adorning it. I love that historical feature, serpentines, cast iron, and coloured glass bringing images of Victorian ladies to my mind. The bay window on my left is my favourite as well. I’ve always dreamt of buying a small castle and living like a princess there. I can’t afford to dream of a prince though.

  Ruby opens the door for me. “You okay?” She widens her grey eyes at me and tosses back her thick auburn hair. It reaches down to her waist. “What happened? Did you cry? Eavan, what happened?”

  I enter the house and remove my trainers. “A jerk happened.”

  “I told you not to go.”

  “I just wanted to make you smile.”

  I go to the lounge and collapse into the blue sofa, elbows propped on my knees, a few wisps of my hair clinging to my face. A coil spring digging in my ass.

  We have to get rid of this ancient sofa as soon as possible. The furniture by the wall is in an even worse condition. Well, this is the whole beauty of renting a house-one has to be happy with the ugly and old furniture. And with the walls. They’re always painted in magnolia silk emulsion.

  Ruby sits next to me. “What happened?”

  “An invitation to the party happened.” I raise my eyes to meet hers.

  “What?” Her jaw drops and she looks at me as though I’m a clown in a circus.

  “You heard me. Your favourite singer has invited us to his party for some mysterious reason.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, Ruby. Seafra’s invited us to his party.”

  “We can’t go.” Fear shadows her porcelain face and she puts her palm on her freckled cheek. “I can’t go. You go. I can’t go.”

  “You can go. This will be a small private party and he’s going to sing for you.”

  Ruby’s lips curl into a timid smile then she shakes her head. “No.”

  “Yes. We’ll go, have fun for an hour like two normal people and then come back here.”

  “We’re not normal,” Ruby says with sarcasm.

  “We’ll pretend that we’re normal for an hour, okay?”

  She nods at me and her face lights up. Fear and excitement wrinkle her expression and I know there is a battle inside her. “Okay,” she squeaks. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  I throw my arm over her back, pull her to me and kiss her temple. “One hour.”

  “One hour.” Ruby’s body shivers against mine and pain courses through my heart.

  “Don’t be nervous. Everything will be fine.” I stroke her head like I’m soothing a frightened animal.

  She nods several times and curls into my chest.

  The wall clock shows 7.30 pm so I raise myself and go to the kitchen to grab a glass of water then have a shower. Ruby orders a taxi and we go through the front door of our house at 8.40 pm.

  My sister’s decided to wear a dress. The strapless top shows off her full breasts and the wide 50s hem lies gracefully atop a black petticoat.

  “You look beautiful,” I say as my throat tightens at her courage.

  “I look horrible, but thank you. It’s a party so we should wear dresses.”

  I scan my black top and jeans. “Well—“

  “Yes, dresses, Eavan.” She purses her lips into a horseshoe and looks at me sternly.

  “Okay.” I can do that for her even though I hate wearing dresses. They make me feel exposed, vulnerable and I hate that feeling.

  I run upstairs to slide into a black dress. This is for Ruby. Passing the mirror hanging on the wall in the corridor, I correct the sleeves and the purple clutch bag under my arm. The open back of the dress exposes my snow-white skin. Well, I look like a corpse, but that’s fine, desirable even-no man will pay attention to me.

  My heart jumps up to my throat. For some mysterious reason, Seafra noticed me. Well, he must like corpses.

  Seafra

  I see a taxi stopping in front of the house and watch her get out of it. A wave of relief washes over me, liberating, weakening, then my heart starts beating faster and a hunter’s instinct awakes inside me. I will have her tonight.

  Coyote shoots me a glance of pity as I pass him and go to open the door. The voices of the people gathered in the living room turn into droning to me. The music irritates my ears and Ali
ce blocking my way irritates me even more.

  “Hey,” she says in a sweet voice, twinning her fingers with her ginger hair.

  She’s my lay each time we have a concert in this town. Her rich daddy owns the house I’m in, but he’s always travelling on business so Alice can enjoy partying with us. She’s twenty-five, but has no occupation. Her life passes with shopping, gossiping with her two friends, Laura and Claire who are her age, and partying.

  I’ve always had weakness for redheads, freckles or not. My experience with them has always been intense and funny.

  Alice knows what to do; her mouth is filthy enough, her throat has been trained enough to make me want her more than once. Not tonight though.

  I want only Eavan tonight.

  “Hey,” I say and pass her as though she’s a cheap canvas on the wall.

  “Seafra,” Alice shrieks as the doorbell rings.

  “Not now,” I growl and pull the door handle as Alice emits a sigh and walks off.

  The door creaks open and my eyes slide over Eavan then travel to the girl clinging to her arm. My heart feels like a cold hand is squeezing it.

  Fucking hell. I am an asshole. The worst kind. Pain jabs my chest like a needle as my glance meets Ruby’s. Her face winces and she trembles as though she wants to escape.

  “Come in, sweetheart,” I say and step forward, grabbing Ruby’s wrist. “We’re here to entertain you. Such a beauty like you needs proper entertainment.” I pull her to me, wrapping my arm around her waist and help her into the house.

  I don’t know whether I’m doing the right thing or not, but Ruby has two prosthetic legs and I don’t want her to trip over.

  She walks in with a springy elegance I didn’t expect and I guide her to the living room through the hall. Her white walking stick clicks against the floor. Her nervousness touches me with the stiffness of her movements, the heaviness of her breath, the panic in her wide eyes. As we walk under the crystal chandelier, passing a row of antique side tables, I stroke her back.