Gunner (Devil's Tears MC Book 1)

by Daniela Jackson

  I am lonely.

  Ruby and Jack are gone.

  I sleep two hours a day, fearing that something bad can happen to them. So far, no cop has appeared at my doorstep so I continue my routine. My morning sickness is getting worse and worse. A walk, my job, a thousand of doubts, nightmares are my grey blurry reality.

  Tonight, I’m sitting on the stone wall around the Cathedral.

  I have just sent another text to Seafra: I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused you. I wish things were different for us.

  Then I bath in the pleasant environment of my happy memories.

  I’m holding a birthday cake in my hands.

  “For me?” Jack asks.

  “For you, birthday boy,” I say. “Ruby and I made it for you. It looks horrible—“

  “Looks great.” Jack turns his face away to hide his glassy eyes.

  We sit around the table and Ruby cuts the cake with a big knife. “Happy birthday, Jack.”

  “Just don’t sing, Ruby,” Jack says. “You can’t sing, you know that?”

  Ruby takes a deep breath and sings as loud as she can. I burst into laughter then join her. Jack’s face lights up and a genuine smile crosses his face.

  A man sits beside me and uneasiness surges through me. I zip up my hoody, shoving my hands into the pockets and shoot him a warning glance as a cloud of vapour leaves my mouth. It’s cold, but I don’t want to go to my house yet. The emptiness there is killing me. The memories are tormenting me.

  “It’s a lovely evening,” the man says in a husky voice. “Very cold but lovely.”

  “It is indeed,” I say.

  Our glances meet and the flicker in his blue eyes reminds me of Seafra. Fucking hell. Every man is Seafra for me.

  I look for him among the crowds I pass every day and among the people I serve. I crave his arms and kisses. I want him to find me even though I know it will never happen.

  We have to forget about each other. Well, it’s the ultimate hypocrisy given the fact that I text him almost every day.

  “Such a pretty face shouldn’t be so sad,” the man says.

  “I’m not sad,” I snap.

  “Charlie,” the man says.

  “Fuck off, Charlie,” I say and rise to my feet, but nausea pins me down and I collapse back onto the wall.

  My mind spins and I retch.

  “You okay?” Charlie asks with concern.

  “None of your fucking business.”

  “Are you pregnant?” There is even more concern in his voice.

  “Fuck off, man, before I call the police.”

  He raises his hands in a warding gesture. “Just trying to help. You look like shit. Sorry, but you really do.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  Charlie chuckles. “When is the baby due?”

  “In four months.” My insides turn solid like rock and I scold myself for my honesty in my head.

  It’s none of his business. We shouldn’t even be talking, yet I can’t move, unsure whether this is my pregnancy or my need to be with a human being for a moment.

  Charlie nods several times, his eyes sweeping over the Cathedral. “The father?”

  “Are you interrogating me or what?”

  “Yes, I am interrogating you.”

  I burst into laughter. “Do you interrogate every woman you meet?”

  “No.”

  “So I must look very miserable.”

  “More than very miserable.”

  I suck in a breath and choke back tears. “The father is a good guy actually, but my life is too shitty for him. We can’t be together.”

  “But it seems like your life is not too shitty for your baby.”

  His comment stabs me like a knife. “I didn’t plan that. I’m just trying to figure out what to do.”

  “Maybe the father will know what to do.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Would you like him to take care of you?”

  “Maybe.”

  Charlie rises from his seat with a sigh as though he’s very tired and stands in front of me. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

  “No offence, but I want to stay alive. You look like a nice person, but no, thanks. You might be a rapist or a serial killer, no offence. My life is really hard now but I like being alive.” As I finish my monologue, Charlie extends his arm and we shake hands.

  “Good luck then,” he says and smirks at me.

  “Thanks. The same for you.”

  “You need it more than me.”

  “Maybe.”

  He winks at me and walks off as I remain frozen, stunned by the conversation I’ve just had with a complete stranger.

  Compose yourself. Pregnant women are allowed to do stupid things.

  I pull myself up with effort and cringe into myself at the coldness of the wind then move towards the Cathedral’s main entrance, passing it and entering the narrow passage. My feet shuffle through the autumnal leaves layering the pavement like the carpet of tiny mummified bodies. The rustle fills me with melancholy like a sad ballad then a thought blasts in my head.

  Maybe I should tell Seafra about the baby. Maybe he’d want to live with me in some place far from here where nobody could find us.

  Can I ruin his life like my father ruined Ruby’s and mine? No, I can’t. He doesn’t belong to my world and I don’t belong to his. Our baby is in between, connecting us like a bridge, but neither of us can step onto that bridge. We’re condemned to stay at the opposite ends of the bridge, to crave each other, but never touch each other.

  I approach my house and notice two figures standing at the doorstep. Fuck, they’re cops. I take a deep breath and flash them the sweetest of my smiles.

  They interrogate me for two hours. I’m playing a sweet idiot.

  “Really? Escaped?” I say. “Jack and Ruby went to do some shopping two hours ago. They’ll be back in a minute or two.”

  The cops don’t seem to believe me, so I play a really stupid person.

  “Maybe you mistaken us for somebody else?” I say.

  They leave the house, shaking their heads.

  Two weeks later, I walk from work. A slim figure is sitting on the steps by the front door of my house. My heart stops beating as I recognise Ruby. Her eyes shift to mine and I see death in her gaze.

  Chapter 13

  Eavan

  Ruby hasn’t gotten up for three days. It has happened for the third time within a month.

  Her soul is sick again.

  Jack and she tried to get to Alaska, but the cops caught them and shot Jack dead. The blonde bitch, Natalie, who is looking after Ruby and me now, was very straightforward about it.

  “We had to take him,” she said. “For the alleged kidnapping.”

  “He was our friend,” I yelled, knocking over the chair I was sitting in.

  The banging sound echoed in the interrogation room I’d visited four times so far as another cop walked in, a man in his fifties, anger pervading his glance.

  “We had to follow the protocols,” Natalie said.

  “You killed my friend,” I said. “You killed my sister again.”

  “Your daddy killed you both when you were born,” the male cop said. “We’re just trying to deter the moment you and your sister rest in your caskets. Behave or you’ll be on your own. And that will mean bye-bye life and welcome the afterlife.”

  “Jack was one of you,” I said, sobbing, and the man glared at me.

  Natalie tilted her head towards the door. “Give us a minute, Mike.”

  Mike left the interrogation room as I fixed my eyes on Natalie. She dropped into the chair, waving her hand towards me so I lifted my chair and sat down.

  “Ruby didn’t see his death,” she said. “We took him outside of the motel whilst she was having a shower.”

  “You killed a cop. A. Cop. Your colleague.”

  “Jack stopped being a cop the moment he broke the law and started an intimate relationship with Ruby.”

  “They lo
ved each other.”

  “Jack wasn’t allowed to have feelings for any of you. He was supposed to do his job properly and ensure your safety.”

  “He saved us twice. He was a good man. A good man who deserved to be happy.”

  Natalie’s eye twitched. “I’m sorry. Sometimes good people make very bad decisions in life.”

  I breathe in the cold air rustling the lilac curtain hanging in Ruby’s bedroom.

  “How are you, honey?” I ask and stroke her head.

  “Not bad,” she shrieks.

  I remove my trainers and lie down beside her. We’re facing each other. Ruby’s hand travels to my pregnant belly.

  “How is our little treasure?” she asks.

  “Very naughty.”

  “You should tell him.”

  “You know I can’t contact him. Natalie—“

  “Screw Natalie. Let’s pack our clothes and go to where nobody can find us. Let’s take Seafra with us. Let’s go to a nice place far from everybody else.”

  “Like where for instance?”

  “To Alaska,” her voice falters as her body shivers.

  I watch her as she chokes back tears, takes a deep breath and stops shaking.

  “Ruby...”

  “Jack said we would be happy, you know, just me and him, far from all the shit.”

  “I know, sweetie.”

  “Jack saved our lives twice and they killed him. They killed their colleague.”

  “I know, sweetie. It’s so fucking unfair.”

  “He would have died for us.”

  “I know, sweetie.”

  The mafia found us once. Jack disclosed their hitman soon enough to shove us into the car and drive off, but ended up with a bullet in his chest. He suspected that there might have been the mafia’s spy among the cops working on Ruby’s and my case. I guess I will never know.

  Maybe Ruby is right. Maybe we should vanish, hide where nobody can find us.

  “He made me feel good,” Ruby says. “I felt like a woman with him.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe he was supposed to make me feel better about myself, to make me believe that even without my legs I can have a happy life with a loving man by my side.”

  Her maturity brings both warmth and sadness into my heart. “Maybe, Ruby.”

  “There must be the reason for every tragedy in our lives. I don’t know. Jack showed me what passionate love is. Do you think I’ll find a man who will want to share such love with me?”

  “I hope so, honey. You deserve such love.”

  “You deserve love too, Eavan.”

  “Sleep.”

  “You are annoying, you know.”

  I kiss her temple. “Sleep. I’ll check on you later.”

  Ruby closes her eyes so I correct the duvet around her and watch her tired face for a moment. There are delicate wrinkles under her eyes and her naso-labial folds have deepened because she’s lost weight.

  I’m so furious with my father, for all the shit his actions put our family in, for my mother’s death, for Ruby’s disability and nightmares, for my nightmares. For my unborn baby who will never meet its father.

  I get up and go to the kitchen.

  Natalie is standing by the window, correcting the wide leather belt in her trousers and the gun on her hip. A pale blue shirt makes her face look a bit ashen, not a good colour to match her skin tone, at all.

  “How is she?” Natalie asks.

  “What do you think?”

  “She’s young. She’ll get over this.”

  “She died again with Jack. She died on that night my parents were killed and Jack made her recover. You made her die again, you...” My voice rises and Natalie shoots snaps of lightning towards me with her hazel eyes.

  “I’m not your enemy,” she says.

  “Right, you’re just doing your job.”

  “Yes, I’m just doing my job. The best I can.”

  My eyes sweep over the kitchen table and the documents spread across the top.

  “Samantha Green?” I ask. “It’s the worst false identity I’ve ever had.”

  “You’ll start your job as a receptionist in two days.”

  “Sure. Why not? I’ve never been a receptionist.”

  I’ve been a cleaner, a librarian, a waitress and a florist so far. And of course the older daughter of a lawyer who worked for the mafia, a pretty scary position.

  My family had a beautiful house. There were parties, expensive clothes, and fear clawing the back of my neck as soon as I grew old enough to understand who my father was and who his clients were. He was rotten to the marrow of the bone as were all the men seeking his help to cover up their crimes. Greed was eating him like a parasite, decadence and evil was clouding his mind.

  I remember the hungry eyes of his boss, Adriano; they slid over Ruby and me each time he visited our house. I remember that stormy evening, when I was sixteen and my mother was very unwell, resting in her bedroom, intoxicated by her anxiety medication and Adriano came to our house with his two bodyguards.

  I served food and drinks as the men settled themselves in the living room.

  Adriano pulled me onto his lap. He sank his face into my hair and inhaled me.

  “Untouched?” Adriano asked.

  “Of course,” my father said.

  “How much?” Adriano asked.

  My father said the price, his face like a mask, stripped of emotions, eyes cold like a piece of glacier, and his boss kissed my neck. I knew I’d been sold to him.

  I learnt what primal fear was in that moment, what hatred and repulsion were. I learnt what betrayal was. They were all that stinging and incinerating suffocation, making me teeter on the edge of collapse, making me feel like in a trap. Making me desire death.

  “Soon, angel,” he said into my ear then turned his face to my father. “What about the other?”

  “She’s too young,” my father said in a sharp voice.

  “I want them both, Carl.” Adriano stroked my hair. “But we can talk about it later. No rush. In a year, perhaps? When Ruby is old enough.”

  My father nodded, anger blazing in his eyes.

  Ruby was born as his mistress’s child and she was more precious to him than I was because Gloria was more precious to him than my mother was. My mother adopted Ruby when she was only three months old and she loved her as she loved me, with her desperation, anxiety and helplessness. Gloria was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all I know.

  Adriano shoved me off his lap, touching my bottom and I escaped upstairs. I was crying in Ruby’s arms the whole night.

  A week later, I was packing my belongings to move into Adriano’s house and my father suddenly changed his mind. My mother and he united, deciding to go to the police but soon, they learnt that no one was allowed to screw with the mafia.

  “I know you didn’t choose your family,” Natalie says, tearing me out of my reverie. “It just happened that you were born in shit. People have worse problems in life.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “Try harder.”

  Her thin eyebrows rise then a smirk crosses her asymmetric lips. “Behave. I’ll check on you next week.”

  I salute her.

  “And eat properly.” Her eyes slide down to my pregnant belly. “Try to walk every day. The baby needs peace otherwise, it won’t let you sleep when it’s born.”

  A strange feeling strangles my throat. It’s warm yet eerie. Natalie is really trying to help.

  Seafra

  Charlie takes a seat in the sofa standing at the wall and puts an A4 envelope on his lap, patting it with his hand. I sit on the carpeted floor with my knee bent, running my fingers through my hair. A cup of tea in my hand disperses a vanilla aroma.

  “The address,” Charlie says and sips his tea as the worn out sofa creaks with his every movement. “Do it discretely.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean it. Like a shadow. Fucki
ng hell, I can’t believe I’m saying this.” He reaches to his back pocket and throws keys at me.

  I catch them and shove them into the pocket of my hoody. “Thank you.” I scramble to my feet and deliver the empty cup to my claustrophobic kitchen looking like a cellar in some dungeons then return to the living area accommodating only the sofa, the coffee table and the low cupboard with the flat screen on top.

  “The passport, the national insurance number, the birth certificate, and the driving licence,” Charlie says.

  “Thank you.”

  “I just can’t believe I’m doing this.” He puts the cup on the coffee table as his hands tremble on his lap.

  He has this tremble when he’s very nervous and I’ve seen him very nervous maybe ten times. Normally, he can hide his emotions behind a mask called a nice guy with a good sense of humour.

  I swallow saliva. “Well—“

  “Are you sure, Connor?” He fixes his concerned eyes onto mine. “There will be no going back.”

  “I made my choice a long time ago.”

  “You have no money.”

  “I will find a job, don’t worry.”

  I’m penniless. Almost all my savings has covered the search for Eavan. But it was worth it.

  “If you needed anything, call me, but each time use another phone and dispose of it immediately after the call,” Charlie says. “Avoid hospitals, crowds, police stations, train stations and all that stuff. Don’t make friends with the people who could expose you.”

  “I know what to do.”

  “No, you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re crazy, but I can’t lock up a grown up man in his bedroom.”

  “I love her.”

  “That’s the whole fucking problem.”

  I rise to my feet, hanging a bag over my shoulder and take the envelope from Charlie’s hand. “Sort the things out with the landlord. He’s a nice guy.”

  “Sure.”

  “And don’t worry about me.”

  “Be careful,” Charlie says.

  “You too.”

  “I may visit you from time to time.”

  “Sure. Thank you for everything.”

  I mean for everything. For his unorganised, crazy ideas of how to raise me, for his harsh words, for his soothing words when I needed them the most, for all his help. We argued, fought like wild animals sometimes and said nasty words to each other, but he was for me each time I was in trouble.