GUNNER: Southside Skulls Motorcycle Club (Southside Skulls MC Romance Book 3)

by Jessie Cooke

  “Hey, kid, you gave us a scare,” Kinley said when he was close enough to hear. Gunner ignored him and shrugged out of his jacket. The sound of Kinley’s voice was fueling the growing fire in his veins. The crowd mumbled louder when they got a look at Gunner’s torso. It was obvious that the big Indian probably outweighed him by a hundred pounds. Gunner was cut but his muscles were lean. The Indian looked like he was chiseled out of granite. Gunner knew well that looks were deceiving and sometimes lethal didn’t always look that way. If this was a fair fight he had no doubts he would win. He was about to walk away from Kinley when he heard the old man say, “You got this…right?” Gunner felt a snap inside of his head before he spun on the old man and got into his face.

  “How fucking dare you get Eddie involved in this shit without even telling me? Do you know who he is, Kinley? Do you have any idea who you’re messing with?”

  “Gunner, man, I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I borrowed the money to save the farm. You know what this farm means to me. It’s been in my family forever. Once you win this fight, Eddie will take his money and he’ll go away and we can…”

  “If you believe that, you’re a fucking fool. Eddie owns you now, Kinley, but make no mistake about it, nobody is going to own me.” Gunner turned away from Kinley and back toward his opponent. Kinley didn’t matter to him any longer and neither did Eddie. After this fight was over, the only people in this room that Gunner ever planned on seeing again were Patty and Billy.

  Up close he could see that Red Crow had a long, jagged scar that ran from the top of his left eyebrow all the way down to the corner of his mouth. Gunner wondered if he’d gotten that before he got big enough to fight back. Maybe that was what made him want to be a fighter. Or maybe he got the scar in the accident the night he ruined his career. Maybe it was just a simple souvenir from one of his fights. Gunner was curious about what motivated people to do the things they did. He wondered what motivated the big man to put his body on the line for men the likes of Eddie Munster.

  The Indian came out of his corner toward the center of the ring. His hands were wrapped up with tape and so were his feet. He was bouncing on the balls of them. He was ready to go. Gunner felt a big pair of hands on his shoulders as he was propelled out toward the center. He pulled away from Kinley again, adjusted the wraps on his hands, and stepped up to his opponent. The makeshift announcer in the middle introduced them both, and just before the crowd began to roar Eddie made eye contact with him and mouthed one word that fanned the flames already burning inside of him. “Win.”

  Gunner turned back toward his opponent and a wicked right hook landed squarely on his jaw. He struggled to get his head in the fight, and as soon as he had it there, he blocked the big fist, staving off the second blow. The Indian was a lot quicker than he looked, and Gunner spent more time blocking punches than he did throwing them. He found out quickly that the professional training the Indian had made a hell of a lot of difference. Gunner’s fighting style was to stay alive and when you wore your opponent down, go in for the kill. This guy was playing with him like he was a big-ass cat and Gunner was the mouse. He blocked another punch and then finally he came up, swinging hard. He hit the big guy square in the face and blood spurted from his nose, spraying Gunner and the people in the front row with a fine spray. Gunner didn’t hesitate as the Indian looked stunned and began to stumble backward. He attacked, lunging forward and unleashing everything he had on the guy. The Indian seemed too stunned to fight back. He put his hands up in front of his face, so Gunner moved lower and threw a left and then a right into his ribs, listening to the distinct sound of more than one of them breaking as he did.

  The crowd was on its feet and screaming at Red Crow to do something. Gunner went in for another strike. He got him in the throat, and that seemed to piss him off and fire him up. He threw out a hard left that landed in the soft part of Gunner’s gut. It knocked the breath out of him and he stumbled backward. While he was off balance, Red Crow threw another punch that caught him on the chin. The crowd roared as Gunner teetered back and forth, finally catching himself before he fell. He threw a left and then a right and another left, rapidly and with no mercy, connecting with the big guy’s body every time. For a few seconds he forgot what he was doing and he was fighting the way he’d always fought, to survive. But as he was about to throw the punch that would have undoubtedly taken the big man down to his knees, his eyes locked onto Eddie Martini’s again and he remembered what he was doing. Eddie’s smug, self-satisfied look made Gunner want to vault the ropes and beat the living shit out of him. He didn’t throw that next punch, and he held Martini’s gaze as the Indian’s giant fist clocked him upside the head and knocked him down to the mat. Gunner heard the buzzer. He smiled through the blood in his teeth at the scowl on Eddie’s face. He’d just lost the first round; one more and Eddie would know that not everyone could be bought.

  Kinley’s boys rushed Gunner over to his corner, and as Kinley wiped the blood off Gunner’s face and chest, one of the boys poured water in his mouth and over his head. As soon as his ears stopped ringing and he could focus, Gunner sought out Billy and motioned at him to come over to the ropes. He leaned through and whispered something in Billy’s ear. What he told his friend was for no one’s ears but his, and the look Billy gave him wouldn’t have ordinarily instilled confidence in a man, but Gunner knew Billy, and he knew that his best friend…his “brother”…would never let him down.

  Billy walked on shaky legs from the ropes back to where Patty was sitting. He reached for her arm and pulled her to her feet. She looked confused, but the fight was beginning again and the crowd was roaring loudly, so she didn’t even try to ask any questions. Billy led her through the crowd and out the side door, past one of Kinley’s overgrown country bouncers. The night air felt good compared to the sweat box that it had been inside, and for a few seconds they just walked and replaced the thick air in their lungs with something easier to breathe. Once they were past the cars and out in the center of the dark field between the barn and the bar, Billy stopped walking and said:

  “He’s going to lose this fight.”

  Patty sighed. “That stupid little shit.”

  “He’s not being stupid, Patty. If he wins this fight, Eddie will own him.”

  “If he loses it, Eddie will kill him.”

  “We’re going to get him out of here.”

  “Eddie and those boys are armed to the teeth. How do you suppose we’re gonna get him out of here without getting his pretty head blown off?”

  “He wants me to make a phone call. Did you see that group of bikers sitting on the other side of the room? The Head Hunters?”

  “Yeah, I saw them. They’ve been venturing out of Medina and spending a lot of time in our town lately. The two of them that snitched Gunner out about the vest are here.”

  “They have some kind of alliance with the Skulls, I guess that’s why they were so pissed about the vest. But anyways, Gunner seems to think the Skulls give some kind of shit about him. He’s hoping the money Kinley brought in tonight and the lack of decent security will be like a bonus. Anyway, I need you to go get the Mustang. Wait as close to this back door as you can with the passenger door open. We’ll be out soon.” Patty rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she didn’t argue with him. Billy watched her go as he slid Gunner’s phone out of his pocket. He pressed in the number for Dax and waited. After three rings, a deep voice answered:

  “Yes?”

  “Hi, um…is this Dax Marshall?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “My name is Bill Riley. I’m a good friend of Gunner’s.”

  “Okay.”

  Billy sighed. “Gunner asked me to start out by saying he’s sorry to bother you.” Dax chuckled and said:

  “Go on…” Billy told him exactly what Gunner told him to say. When he finished talking there was a long pause and for a second he thought he’d lost him. At last, with what sounded like a resigned sigh Dax said
, “I’ll take care of it.”

  The fight was in full swing when Billy made it back to his seat. He saw Gunner hit the big guy in the belly. The Indian hunched forward and Billy saw the left hook Gunner threw at his face, and the casual right undercut that hit the big guy in the nuts. He fell to his knees and Gunner smiled at him as the crowd went wild. Most of them hadn’t seen that hit, but from the way the Indian was hunching forward it looked like the fight was over. All Gunner had to do was hit him one more time, and everyone that had bet against the Indian was telling him to do so at the top of their lungs. The Indian pulled his head up and his long brown hair fell out of the way. He was still on his knees but something had changed in his eyes. The Indian didn’t want to lose this fight any more than Gunner wanted to win. Gunner had flipped his switch. The fight was really on. Red Crow brought up his fist and connected with Gunner’s side. Gunner went down to the mat and the Indian straddled him and began to throw punch after punch to alternating sides of his face as blood, sweat, and spit sprayed everywhere. Billy was on his feet. He wanted to do something. He was desperate to help. Gunner was being killed right before his eyes and no one was going to stop it, or so he thought. The explosion that rocked the barn in the next few seconds stopped the fight. It stopped everything for a second and then utter pandemonium ensued.

  Gunner’s ears were ringing. He saw Red Crow stand up, and he felt the blood from the big guy’s knuckles drip down onto his face. He rolled over onto his belly. The people in the crowd were all on their feet and looked to be trampling each other as they tried to make it to the door. Gunner couldn’t see Billy or Patty. He hoped they were okay. He couldn’t see Eddie or any of the guys in the fancy suits. He did see the bikers. Two of them stood posted at the back door with their beefy arms folded, looking like doormen as they redirected the crowd to the other side of the room. Gunner felt a hand on his shoulder and he was about to fight it off until he realized it was Billy’s. “We have to go, man, now.”

  Gunner tried to push up but his arms and legs both felt like wet noodles and his head was throbbing. Billy had to pull him to his feet and practically get underneath him to hold him up. Billy dragged him toward the ropes and when they got there he pushed him through, into the arms of a burly biker with a coarse white beard that reeked of weed. The guy half-pushed/half-carried him over to the back door and propelled him out into the fresh air. It was like being drunk as soon as he hit the air. Gunner doubled over and began emptying his stomach onto the dirt.

  “Jesus, man, stay back from the car.” Billy’s car was running and the door was open. As soon as Gunner stopped puking Billy pushed him into the backseat and got into the passenger seat up front. One of the bikers handed him in a phone. Gunner was in and out of it, and he felt like he was watching a play where he kept drifting off every so often and had to figure out where he was every time he woke up. He watched Billy talk on the phone but he couldn’t hear what was being said. He thought he heard gunfire and sirens. He was sure he heard the loud winding of motorcycle engines…lots of them. The motion of being in the backseat as Patty pressed the accelerator to the floor was making him sick again. He pulled himself up to see if he could find something to puke in and he looked out the car window. Thick clouds of dust swirled up around them, and between that and the darkness, the only other thing Gunner could see was the occasional flash of chrome. He smiled and dropped back down onto the seat. Dax had come through for him.

  10

  Every time the guy in the bed opened his eyes, Tamara almost literally had to remember to breathe. He had the most beautiful haunting eyes that she’d ever seen, and it pissed her off that they had such an effect on her. The guy still had no idea where he was, or what his own name even was, as far as she knew. He needed to be in the hospital, but every time she even mentioned it, she was met with opposition by everyone.

  “Are you awake?” The guy with the blue eyes and the long, dark eyelashes and dreadlocks looked at her like he was trying to remember her. He’d be hard pressed to do that, since the first time they’d met was two nights ago when her twin brother Tommy and her Uncle Bull had half-dragged/half-carried him into her house and put him in her bed. “Here, can you drink some water?” She put the cup with the straw close to his mouth, but he just looked at it like he didn’t know what to do. She poured a tiny bit of water on a cotton swab and did her best to moisten his mouth. He continued to stare at her without speaking, this time keeping his eyes open longer than he had before. His face was swollen and although she’d done her best patching it up in places, he’d probably have lots of ugly scars. She didn’t think he’d have to worry, though. As long as he had those sexy eyes women would want him. “Can you talk to me?” He blinked and looked like he was trying to talk, but ultimately, he closed his eyes again without saying a word and seemed to slip back into a deep sleep. With a frustrated sigh, she slipped out of the room. She shuddered as she wondered if he had some form of brain damage that they were only making worse by keeping him there.

  “Is he awake?” Tamara looked at the guy named Billy. If she felt sorry for anyone in this black comedy that her family had thrust her into, it was him. The night they’d brought the blue-eyed guy in here half dead, Billy’s face had been practically green. While the older lady paced and cussed and smoked like a freight train on the patio, he’d sat quietly waiting to hear how his friend was doing. He’d barely slept since they’d been here and he hadn’t eaten much either. His lanky frame didn’t look like it could afford to lose much weight. He was a good-looking guy, with longish brown hair and huge brown eyes, but he was way too thin for her taste. As soon as she saw him she had an urge to fatten him up.

  “He had his eyes open again,” she told him, as she went over to the kitchen sink and washed her hands, “but he didn’t say anything.” Poor Billy looked crestfallen. Tamara had been so tired and so pissed for the past few days that she hadn’t taken any time to figure out who these people were and what they were doing in her house. She simply trusted that if her family left her alone with them, she was safe. Billy seemed harmless, and as crusty as Patty was, she did too. Tamara lived alone, but she wasn’t unused to having strangers in her house. She wasn’t a patched member of the MC, mainly because she was a girl, but she was a respected and trusted member and her house had been used as a sanctuary more than once. She was never worried about it because she knew her family wouldn’t let anyone close to her that would ever cause her any harm. Even in her personal life, her dad, brother, and uncles “vetted” anyone that came close to her. “You want a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure.” Tamara poured two cups and sat them on the island between the kitchen and the living room. She could see the woman, Patty, sitting out on the patio, smoking and staring off into space. Billy got up and came over to one of the stools at the island. He gripped his coffee cup with both hands like they were cold and he was trying to warm them up. “You think he’ll be okay?”

  Tamara honestly had no idea. She had done her best to patch him up, but she wasn’t a doctor. She didn’t have the heart to tell Billy that, though. It was obvious that his friend meant a lot to him. “I think he’ll be fine,” she fibbed. “He just needs to rest.”

  Tamara had just graduated from the registered nurse program at Texas A & M six months before and she’d only recently passed her boards, yet her family suddenly saw her as their resident medical expert. She hadn’t even worked as a real nurse yet; she’d only spent time doing her clinical rotation at one of the local hospitals and several of the clinics in town. She had recently interviewed for a job in the busiest emergency room in the county. Emergency medicine fascinated her and it was what she’d always wanted to do. She grew up watching Stitch, her father’s friend and an ex-Army Ranger, patch up the guys when they couldn’t go to the hospital or the doctor. The gunshot wounds were always her favorite. She knew how twisted that would sound to anyone else, but in her world it was practically a normal sentiment. When she graduated from high school with honors, her f
ather was not only proud, but pleased to pay her tuition at A & M.

  It had been three weeks since her interview at the hospital and she hadn’t heard back from them yet. She was sure they did a background on her and that’s why they hadn’t called. She’d wanted the job so badly that she made sure she did everything right. She had dressed professionally, careful to cover up all her tattoos. She had acted like a professional during the interview and most of all, she’d known her stuff. She had graduated at the top of her nursing class at A & M and she’d aced her nursing boards. The interviewers told her they needed someone right away for the night shift and she’d told them she had no problem with shift work. She made sure they knew she wasn’t married and had no kids. Nothing to get in the way of on-call shifts or overtime. They had seemed impressed with her by the time she left and she was sure she’d gotten the job. She couldn’t imagine any reason why they wouldn’t hire her, except for the fact that she was the daughter of the VP of the Head Hunters MC. It was a fact that in this county she couldn’t escape.

  “It’s been three days, you don’t think he should be in the hospital?” Billy asked her.

  She nodded. Tamara had friends who worked at the local hospital, a little place called Sacred Heart. They kept her supplied with IV bags and tubing, pain medications and antibiotics and a few other things she’d needed to keep Blue-Eyes alive, but the bottom line was, she had no way of knowing what was going on inside his body, or in his head. She barely slept because she was scared to death she’d wake up and there would be a dead guy in her bed. “I do think he needs to be in the hospital,” she said, “but it’s not up to me.” Billy nodded just as the patio door slid open and Patty came in, followed by a cloud of smoke.