Gunner felt like shit, and it wasn’t his injuries making the worst pain.
Leah stayed in the kitchen until the machine turned off. When she turned the corner, she stopped in the dining room, holding a pill bottle and a glass of water.
She seemed terrified and vulnerable, staring at him with those baby blues. She wasn’t particularly short, but she seemed to shrink into her overalls while she stood there.
“Leah…” Words failed him, so he closed his mouth.
A hesitant little cough before she spoke. “I’m not mad. Everything with us has been happening so fast, and I know you had a life before me. I just need to know if you want to stay with her. If you do, I’ll go. I don’t want to be one of your girls. I want to be your only one, but if you don’t want that, I understand. Don’t feel like you have to let me stay here because of what happened with my dad. I’ll figure something else out. And I’ll make sure there’s somebody to take care of you. Don’t think you have to let me stay because you need help, either.”
Every word had been prepared beforehand; that was as obvious as if she’d stood there reading from index cards. She’d been thinking about this for days—fuck, she’d probably heard Evelyn leave at least some of those messages. Obviously she had. Fuck.
Yeah, this had to be love, because all he could think of now was making her feel better. She’d made that big, brave speech and was standing there in her baggy overalls, not quite meeting his eyes, and none of his worries meant shit. If he could have done it with any kind of grace at all, he would have gone to her and wrapped her up in his arms.
Though he wasn’t ‘with’ Evelyn, what he had with her was more complicated than simply sex. She hadn’t even crossed his mind since the night of the party, but it was more than a matter of deciding he didn’t want to see her anymore. He’d need time to work that out. For now, he’d focus on what he knew for sure he wanted: Leah. The rest would figure itself out.
“Leah, come sit. I don’t want you to go.”
She came, handing him the water and meds before she sat. Gunner shook out a couple of pills, then thought better of it and dumped one back into the bottle. He looked her in the eye as he did. She held his gaze but didn’t comment with word or expression.
As he set the pill bottle and the glass on the floor next to the sofa, he said, “You want to know about Evvie?”
“That’s her name?” Leah stared at her lap, twisting her fingers together.
“Evelyn, yeah.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“No. She’s married.” He set his hand over hers to stop their manic contortions.
Finally, she looked up, pinning him with her shock. “You sleep with a married woman?”
They didn’t sleep, but Gunner managed to restrain himself from making that flippant remark. “For about a year and a half, yeah. Closer to two years, I guess. She’s married, kids, house in the ‘burbs, the whole bit.”
“Why?”
“Why’ve I been fucking her?”
“Yeah.”
“We give each other what we need.”
A frown knotted her forehead. “What’s that?”
And that was the limit of what he would say about Evelyn. “Leah, no. It’s not like I’ve been cheating on you. We fucked one night, and since then, I’ve been in the fucking hospital.”
“Two nights. The rave was the first time.”
The rave had been important to him, too, but he hadn’t remembered her well enough to consider that their beginning. “If you’re asking if I was celibate from the rave until the party, the answer is no.”
She winced. “That’s not what I’m asking.”
“Then ask.”
“Are you going to break up with her?”
The obvious answer was yes. Of course he was going to break it off with Evelyn. If he loved Leah, and he thought he did, if he was living with her, and he definitely was, then there was no other answer.
But what was between him and Evelyn wasn’t just sex. What he got from her he absolutely could not ask of Leah. But he needed it, and with underground fights forbidden to him, he didn’t know where else he could get it. His brothers wouldn’t fight him the way he needed. Those that could deal it out hard enough held back too quickly.
There was only one answer he could give, so he gave it and hoped it was true: “Yeah. Of course I am. I’m with you.”
She smiled and expelled a shaky, relieved breath, and Gunner thought it could be true. Making her happy felt good. He pulled her close and kissed her, and he was calmed.
~oOo~
There was something about waking up in the middle of the night and finding himself not alone that struck Gunner deep. He hadn’t slept well in years; unless he crashed drunk or stoned, he usually woke up three or four times a night and got a total of about three or four hours of sleep—and that had been before his gut was full of holes. In the hospital, he’d done okay, because he’d had his happy morphine button, but since he’d gotten home and had been trying to go easy on the Percs, his sleep had been even choppier.
His stitches were gone, and he was mostly healed, but nights continued to be long and wakeful. He didn’t mind. He liked lying in bed while Leah slept beside him. She slept well and deeply each night, not waking unless he got out of bed. He could happily just be still, just lie in bed and watch her, until her innocent peace settled him and drew him back into slumber.
On this night, however, Gunner had other things in mind. He was feeling pretty okay—a little stiff across his midsection, but otherwise normal. He had a follow-up with the doctor in a couple of days that would clear him for normal activity.
He was ready for some normal activity right now. He and Leah hadn’t fucked since the night at the clubhouse. He hadn’t gone this long without getting some play since his Army days, and he was definitely ready.
The dream he’d woken from, full of light and touch and heat, was not making things easier. Neither was the way her threadbare little Christian day camp t-shirt had edged up high, exposing a satiny swath of tight belly and a fucking sinful swell of underboob. Fucking Christ, his girl had a body.
No, that was not making things easy. That was making things very, very hard.
He scooted closer and curled his hand over the slope of her waist, letting his thumb swing out and brush over her belly. Her muscles spasmed lightly, and she sighed, a small, kittenish sound. Easing his hand up, over her ribs, he arced his thumb over that firm, perfect swell of tit. Her nipple went tight under the faded cotton of her shirt.
“Leah…Leah,” he whispered. “Wake up, baby.”
A little smile lilted over her full, pink lips, but her eyes didn’t open. Gunner thought he liked her better without makeup. She looked so different from almost all the other girls he’d been with. She was so different.
“Don’t call me baby,” she murmured.
He grinned and brushed his thumb over the hard knot of her aroused nipple. “Then wake up. I need you.”
Her eyes flipped open. The room was dim, just the nightlight over the bathroom sink filtering weakly in, but he could see the concern flash across her face.
“Are you okay?”
Before he answered, he scooted right up against her and pushed her t-shirt up over her tits. “I’m great.” As a period on that declaration, he bent to her chest and sucked her nipple into his mouth.
Her gasp and arch was like a spray of lighter fluid over his already burning need. He grunted and rolled her under him, setting his leg between hers, feeling the silk of her panties on his belly.
“Gunner—Gun, wait! Wait!” she protested, and he eased his mouth away, but he didn’t let her up. “We’re supposed to wait until the doctor says.”
He nibbled at her lip. “Do you always do what you’re told?”
“You know I don’t.”
“Excellent point. Then why now?”
Her hands came up and settled on either side of his head. Since he’d let her give him an undercut, s
he seemed fascinated with the feel of the super-short hair. He was pretty fascinated with the way her hands felt there. He might have to keep his hair this way for a while.
But her smile had sputtered out and become that ghostly thing that meant she was trying to be brave about something. He leaned away, propping himself on an elbow. “What is it, Leah?”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“The stitches are gone. It’s been a fucking month. I feel good. I see the doc in two days. What difference is two days going to make?”
She didn’t answer, but her smile faded a little more. Holy fuck, did she not want to?
“Fuck, Leah. What is it?”
“I’m…I just…I…”
Gunner took a deep breath. When she got stuttery like this, she was afraid—specifically, she was self-conscious and afraid of what would happen if she said what was on her mind. He shifted so that his cock wasn’t pressing into her hip, and he pulled her into his arms. “You can tell me.”
Her chest swelled and ebbed as she breathed deeply. “I told you before. I’ve never done it sober. I’m scared.”
He’d forgotten—but now he remembered the way it stung. “Of me?”
“Of me. What if I’m not good?” She ducked her head and put her face against his throat. “I’m so embarrassed.”
He leaned back and lifted her head so they were face to face. “Don’t be embarrassed. Leah, I want you even more right now than I did a couple of minutes ago, and I was going crazy then. To be your first like this—that’s…fuck, it’s like an honor or something. You are beautiful and sweet, and I love you. There’s no way it could be bad between us.”
Her eyes had gone wide as he’d spoken. “You—you love me?”
Had he said that aloud? Gunner replayed his words. Yeah, he sure as fuck had. Well, it was true. Might as well own it. “Yeah, I do.”
The tentative fear and self-doubt disappeared from her face. She smiled brightly and threw her arms around him. “I love you, too! I love you, too!”
When Gunner kissed her, she was right with him, meeting his passion with her own. All that innocent shame was gone. He’d eased her mind and her body by giving her what she needed. There was a power in that, a potency, he didn’t think he’d ever felt before. He’d made her feel better. He’d made her happy.
Feeling mighty and well, he rolled onto her again, and laughed into her mouth when her hands snaked between them to yank impatiently at her panties. He pushed into her as soon as he could get there, and she gasped and grunted and whimpered with his every thrust, writhing under him and clutching at him with wild, unashamed abandon.
And yeah, it was every bit as good as he’d told her it would be. They called MDMA Ecstasy because it stirred up the nerves and senses to a fever pitch and turned to whole world into an orgasming organism, but this—this was better.
Love. It was love.
~oOo~
“Welcome back to the table, brother.”
At Delaney’s words, Gunner’s brothers slapped their hands on the table before them, turning their welcome into a drumbeat. He grinned; it felt good to be sitting in his chair again. He was finally healed and back to normal. It had been more than two fucking months since he’d broken his hand, and in all that time, until the day before, he’d ridden a single day—the day he’d taken Leah back home from the clubhouse.
“Only you could about get yourself killed over a party fuck,” Eight Ball teased.
Gunner could hear in his tone that Eight hadn’t meant any more offense than the usual gibes they all exchanged, but he was offended. “Shut the fuck up, asshole.”
“Easy, bro,” Eight chuckled, putting his hands up like he was warding off a blow. “I like the little teenybopper, and I get that she’s your girl. I’m just sayin’—she wasn’t when you were gettin’ your shit kicked all over the road, right?”
Gunner didn’t answer. Eight Ball didn’t look away.
Delaney huffed a loud, aggravated breath. “Alright, put ‘em away, fellas. Let’s get to business. I got some news, and we got some work to do.” He shifted in his seat, leaning forward. “First up: Mav got word on his sentence.”
Gunner leaned forward, too, ignoring the lingering pull of recently healed muscles in his gut. While he’d been in the hospital, a lot of shit had gone down with his friend. Maverick had done Irina Volkov’s dirty work; he’d shanked Lincoln Jennings, a lieutenant in the Dyson crew, in the showers at McAlester. They’d thought he’d gotten away clean, that Irina had greased all the palms she’d needed to grease, and she probably had—except that Maverick had been ratted out to the Dysons. They had more presence and influence in McAlester than the Volkovs, and they’d retaliated. Rather than kill him, they’d done much worse. They’d planted the evidence that Irina had arranged to be cleaned.
He’d been framed for a murder he’d actually committed.
“How bad is it?” Gunner dug his fingers into his thighs, steeling himself for the answer. Maverick was supposed to be out at the end of August. He was supposed to be down to his last fucking month.
“Not as bad as it could have been. Irina fixed it some, but there’s political shit involved, and the thing got press attention…anyway, it could have been worse, but between Irina and Clayton, he only got another year.”
Percy Clayton was the club lawyer. It was like Maverick was some kind of puppet, his strings being pulled behind the scenes by a bunch of assholes in uniforms and business suits.
What must it be like to be a skimpy few weeks away from freedom, to have life close enough to reach out for, and to have it snatched away at the last minute? A whole fucking year.
“Fuck,” Gunner muttered.
“He was looking at long time, Gun. And we got it handled fast. He’s been in the hole all this time, but we’re gonna get him back into gen pop, and it’s short time.”
He doubted any time was short time for Maverick now. “The Volkovs did this to him.” He slammed his fist on the table. “Fuck! We did this.”
Dane shook his head. “It’s club business. We all put our necks on the block for the club. Mav did his duty. Steady your head, Gunner. Steady your head right now.”
Delaney nodded at his VP’s admonishment. “We all do what the club needs. So what you need to do is keep your cool, Gun. That business is closed. Irina got her kill. Dyson got their pound of flesh from Mav. End of story. Irina wants it done, and we can’t war with Dyson in the middle of fuckin’ 44. We got guns to move. We need to move this discussion on and talk about run plans. We need you to do your thing with the shipment we got in yesterday, Gun, before we move ‘em on to the Riders.”
Gunner was not ready to move the discussion on. “I need to go see Mav.”
“He’s not out of the hole yet, and he won’t have visitor privileges for a while after that. There’s nothin’ you can do for him right now, so you need to keep your cool.” Delaney leaned toward him. “Actually, if you’re feeling strong enough, we got something to help you work some shit out.”
“What d’you mean?”
Delaney nodded at Apollo, who did their intelligence work. He had contacts with most local law enforcement, and some skill with computers so he could get information he wasn’t necessarily supposed to have.
“Sheriff Bill Lucas.” Apollo smirked at Gunner. “Friend of yours, right?”
Still thinking about Maverick, Gunner wasn’t in the mood to banter—though he was interested in information about the asshole sheriff. He waited for Apollo to continue.
Apollo had a manila folder set before him on the table. “He’s taking a week off in August, going fishing up at a little trailer he has. Taking his brother-in-law with him. That brother-in-law happens to be one of his deputies. Married to Lucas’s little sister. I think you might know him.” He slid a piece of paper from the folder down the table, and Gunner caught it. It was a printout of a deputy’s badge record, with his official photo—it was the fuckhead who’d pissed on his bike.
“How’d you find out about this?”
“I’m like God, brother. I got mysterious ways. And there’s a hot little piece in that office. Not so hard to sweeten her up. Anyway, you’ll never guess where his trailer is.” When Gunner didn’t bite, Apollo sighed. “The Osage, man. Near the lake. Our fuckin’ back yard!”
The club had a cabin in the Osage Hills. Gunner’s head tried to shift from Maverick to this new thing. Apollo was saying that the sheriff was vulnerable. That they could catch him off the clock and away from home. In the fucking woods. “When?”
Twist (The Brazen Bulls MC Book 2) Page 18