Gunner: Tempest Elite MC Book #3

by Reagan Phillips

  Gunner

  Tempest Elite MC Book #3

  Reagan Phillips

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Note From The Author

  Confess

  Also by Reagan Phillips

  Chapter 1

  Lexa

  It's pretty bad when the only bright spot in life is the dive bar across the street from your hotel.

  There. I said it, and I'm not ashamed.

  The minute I got myself checked in and changed into a comfy pair of jeans and a plain tee-shirt, I hoofed it across the street and to the front door.

  The place is dark, and while there are plenty of cars outside, there are more bikes than anything else. All makes and models from all different makers. I'm a Harley girl myself, but the black Indian with the chrome rims catches my attention. Mostly because of the skulls inside the wheels and on the ends of the handlebars.

  I'm not a dark kind of girl, but in my present mood, chrome skulls make me laugh, and laughter is what I desperately need.

  Inside, I grab a stool at the bar and order my usual Jameson and ginger ale. I get a smirk from the barkeep when I ask what's good on the menu.

  It's only been twenty-four hours since I turned my life upside down, but the nerves are already fading, and I'm starving.

  I'm also a big girl. Maybe that's what earned the reaction from the very fit and very hot bartender.

  "This stool taken?"

  The voice grabs my attention, and I turn from the menu I'm studying. The wings looked pretty good until my train of thought was interrupted.

  There are at least half a dozen places to sit that don't include right next to me, but I'm nursing a broken heart and a recent breakup, and the voice's owner is kind of cute. "Not that I know of," I answer.

  I nod up to the muscle and tat mountain of a man behind the bar and place my order. "I'll take the mild wings. Extra carrots, and another one of these as soon as this one is gone." I hold up my drink.

  "Put it all on my tab," my new friend interjects. "And keep those drinks coming for…" he glances at me until I supply my name. "Keep them coming for Lexa, here. Whatever she wants."

  "Thanks," I say, bringing my straw to my lips. I'm not sure what this guy thinks he's getting in return, but he's way off base.

  I'm in town to start a new life, and I don't intend to limit my choices just yet. A week ago, I accepted a new job working as a physical therapist to fill in for a friend's maternity leave. When faced with packing bags and driving to the airport, my boyfriend of the last year and a half decided the taxi line at the airport was a great place to dump me.

  Now I'm here in a new town with a new job and single for the first time in way too long, and I don't even have a place to live.

  Fuck my life. Well, except for the stranger buying my drinks for the rest of the night.

  "You're new in town, aren't you. I'm Bret. I manage the Shop N Save out on the highway."

  I nod and sip. Small talk has never been my thing. "Lexa," I add. "But you already know that."

  "I do," he says, then gives me a full once over that has my skin crawling. "Such a little name for such a big girl."

  I'm not sure how to take that comment, so I look away from him. The bar is full of exciting characters. Some are in work clothes or tees and jeans like me. Some are covered in leather and patches. I've been warned by my new employer to stay clear of them.

  Then my eyes land on something I can't resist staring at, and my throat dries instantly. I press my knees together to stop the sudden tingle from below, and as quickly as I looked, I pull my gaze away.

  He's hot. No. Hot isn't a strong enough adjective for what I just had the pleasure of noticing. He's all hard muscle under a polo shirt his body stretches to the max over his tone chest and bulging upper arms. He lifts a beer bottle to his mouth, and it's too dark to make them all out, but he's tattooed all the way down to his hands and fingers.

  I twist on my stool, still trying to quiet the sudden awakening of my core muscles. Fuck, he is gorgeous with greying hair slicked back off of his face and a short pepper colored beard outlining his strong cheek and chin bones.

  "You need another?"

  "Huh?" I turn to find Bret eying my glass. While watching Mr. Make-Me-Forget-My-Name, I sucked down my entire drink and now am slurping at the ice on the bottom. "Oh. Yeah. Sure. I'll take another, but you don't need to buy me anything. I'm good on my own."

  "Oh, come on now." His voice rises an octave, and the hair on my neck stands at attention. I know this tone. It's never a good sign. "You were being so friendly and now the cold shoulder? What gives?"

  "Nothing gives." I look him square in the face. "I'm just letting you know this isn't going to lead where you think it will. I'm not looking for anything more than a meal and a drink before I return to my hotel room, alone tonight."

  He leans back on his stool, and I know I'm about to regret ever letting him sit beside me in the first place. When will I learn men only buy a drink when they think they're going to get repaid with something else.

  "Bull," he says, and I think he's calling me out until the bartender steps over in front of us. "She needs another and make this one a double."

  I laugh and glance between them. "Excuse me? I don't need anything but for you to take a hike."

  "That's a real nice way to talk to the guy who's taking you home tonight."

  I can't believe the balls on this guy. He's been sitting in my space for all of a minute, and he thinks he owns me? "Fuck off already," I say and scoot a stool down, but not before he reaches for me and wraps an arm around my middle.

  "That's not how this works, sweetheart. I bought you drinks."

  "And," I say loud enough to get some of the bar's attention. This guy is a full-on creeper dude, and I'm a second away from kicking him where it counts.

  "Okay. Fine. You like to be seduced. I get it. All you girls have your games. I'm just here for the ride. You tell me when and where and I'll be ready."

  I lean as far away from him as I can without falling off my seat and give him the evilest, unimpressed look I can muster while buzzing on a whiskey high. "Are you fucking for real?"

  "As real as you are fat."

  The inferno of shame flares up quicker than I expected, but I keep it well hidden under my desire to see this bastard knocked on his ass. No one in the bar makes a move to defend me. No one says a word, even though I know Bret's voice traveled far enough for all to hear.

  This is the kind of place I've decided to start fresh. This is the community I'm supposed to be calling home now.

  Not likely. I grab my bag and pull out my wallet. I'm short on cash, but I'm not going to wait for my card to be processed before I get the hell out of dodge. Bill paid, I stand, drink in hand, and I give Bret my final parting thoughts.

  "Small men usually have small penises, so I'm guessing the only way you ever get any is to get a girl drunk enough she won't remember in the morning." I throw my drink in his face and begin to walk away, only to find my feet won't move forward, and something solid and unyielding squeezes at my chest.

  Fuck. I went too far.

  Gunner

  I've watched the whole thing happen from the time she walked in the bar until now when Bret has her locked between him and the bar counter.

  Tonight was supposed to be about the guys. Doc and Bear and Hawk and I all need a break from the club. With a turf war heating up and the need
to stay on guard, it's been tense. Some of us older members like to step out without our patches, or the weight of the club hanging around our necks.

  Tonight should have been an easy one, but as soon as the blonde in the tight jeans and the ass of my dreams walked in, I lost all desire to hang with the guys.

  She is something else. Walked in here with a head full of curls and a string of fucking pearls hanging over her tee-shirt. I thought for sure she was lost. No one around here looks as polished as this chick. She's young, way too young for an old crow like me to fantasize about, but I still can't take my eyes off her.

  I'm captivated all the way up to when she hands Bret his ass on a silver platter and makes her move to leave. I'm also steaming from his last comment about her being fat. Men like Bret aren't smart enough to know a good thing when they see it, and this woman is one hundred percent perfect.

  I'm already up from my chair with a plan to head her off at the door? I don't know what my next move would have been once I stopped her, but I don't get to find out either.

  Halfway across the bar floor, I spot Bret using his body to trap her, and my annoyance shoots up the charts to pissed. I have a daughter this girl's age, and if an asshole ever manhandled her like this, the police would find his body parts spread over three states.

  "Ma'am," I say once I've reached Bret's back. He doesn't turn around to see who I am, but the pleading pull I catch from her eyes is enough motivation to take out the trash.

  "Fuck off," Bret says before I grab him by the flab on his underarm and haul his ass away from the bar.

  By now, Doc and Bear have noticed, but it's all three-hundred fine-tuned pounds of Hawk that's shaking the floor as he stalks in our direction.

  Bret's about to spew something when his eyes clash with mine, and he realizes he's talking to a real man. Not some Thursday night stool jockey, but a real-life skull-crushing, ass whipping biker.

  "It's fine." Curly Sue is trapped, and she's looking at me as if I'm the last thread holding her safety rope together, but she's telling me she's fine. I'm gonna fucking lose my shit on this guy.

  "No, it's not," I tell her over my shoulder, and I position Bret in front of me, making him Hawk's target. "But it will be." I smile at Bret. He's been a piece of shit on the bottom of the bar's floor for far too long. Time someone finally stomped his ass into the ground.

  Hawk doesn't say a word. He drops one humongous hand on Bret's skinny shoulder and out the door, they go in tandem. I'd expect screaming, but the fury I saw burning in Hawk's eyes isn't going to do Bret any favors. He'll be out cold by the first punch.

  "You don't have to hurt him."

  The soft voice hits my back, and a thin ribbon of heat drops from my spine all the way to my balls.

  "Bret's a big kid. He knew he had one more chance to disrespect a woman in this bar before he had his ass beat. You don't need to waste any worry on him."

  She's shaking. Fuck. I hate not knowing if she's burning off the adrenaline from what just happened or she's scared I'm going to harm her.

  "Here." I pull out a stool. "Why don't you take a seat and calm down." I nod at Bull to get a glass of water. "When you're ready, I'll call you a cab."

  "I don't need a ride," she says, sinking into the seat that puts her right in front of me. She turns the most alluring pair of crystal blue eyes up to me, and I feel myself harden and my gut clench. I'm drawn to this woman, and I don't even know her name. "I'm staying across the street tonight."

  "Then, I'll make sure you get back to the hotel safely." I take the seat next to her when Bull hands her a glass of water. "I'm," I stall. I'm Gunner, right-hand man to the prez of the most well-known motorcycle club in town, but as I look down at myself tonight, I look more like a plain closed regular old guy, and right now, that's probably more comforting to Curly Sue than the truth. "I'm Micheal."

  I reach out my hand, and she takes it. "Alexandra."

  Bull gives me a cock-eyed stare, and I shoot him a narrow-eyed, fuck you. For one night, it wouldn't hurt to play along and be someone else.

  "You been in town long?" I ask to break the silence.

  She takes a sip and never looks at me. "Just got in today. I'm relocating."

  I nod. "And your first introduction to town was Bret. That's fucking fantastic."

  She laughs and turns to look at me. Damn, those eyes have souls of their own, and I'm their slave in two seconds flat. "The welcoming committee could use a little work, but you're not so bad if I'm being honest."

  "Flirting," I grin. She can't seriously be into a guy old enough to be her father. "At least you still have a sense of humor."

  "After my last twenty-four hours, it's the only thing I have." She takes a deep sip of the water, but I have a feeling she's ready for something stronger.

  I drill my knuckles on the bar to get Bull's attention and order her and I shots.

  By the time Bear and Doc step back in to let me know the coast is clear, Alexandra has told me all about her prick of an ex and moving to town for a new job. I play it safe, telling her I tend bar at a place in town and am retired military. I even tell her I have a daughter, hoping that it makes me safe in her eyes.

  She's a couple of shots in and beginning to relax when I mention getting her home. There is nothing more I'd like to do than throw her on the back of my bike and take her to the club, but she's had enough of jerks for one day, and according to her, she meets her new boss in the morning.

  "I've got that," I say and take her bag when she wobbles after standing. "I should have cut you off after one."

  "I'm not drunk," she insists, yet she wraps her arm around my neck, and for a second, we're standing eye to eye. It'd be so easy to take advantage. I can taste her plump pink lips on my tongue already, and it'd be nothing to pull her belly into my hard erection.

  But something in the way she's blindly trusting me to get her home safe makes me pull back.

  "Come on," I say, placing my hand on the small of her back. "Nothing good happens in a bar after midnight."

  And nothing good will happen once I'm home alone either. But at least I'll know Curly Sue is safe, and I'm still the man my daughter thinks I am.

  Chapter 2

  Lexa

  I'm about as far from drunk as I am from home, but if Micheal wants to assume, I'll let him. He's such a gentleman. He doesn't let go of my hand all the way across the busy intersection and into the hotel.

  When I suggest he sees me up to my room, his eyes got big. It only takes the tiniest amount of begging to convene him to join me on the elevator.

  I'm going straight to hell for seducing this man, but damn, his physical hotness is only eclipsed by how attentive and genuine he is.

  "Where's your key card," he says at the door. He's standing in front of me, so I turn my back to the wall and lay one hand on his chest.

  "It's in my bag." The same one he's been carrying since the bar. This big, burly, silver minks of man has my pastel pink hobo in his oversized hands, and I am dying from the cuteness.

  Michael takes one look in the bag, then hands it to me. He's overwhelmed by the size, I'm sure. Since my luggage went straight to storage except for this bag and a carry-on, it's packed full.

  I find the card and hold it up for him to take. Like the nice guy he is, he scans it and opens the door, but doesn't step inside.

  "It was nice meeting you, Alexandra." He grins, and my ovaries clench. "Take care of yourself now."

  "What," I tease my finger along the front of his polo. I'm laying it on thick, I know. "You aren't going to come in?"

  He glances inside the room then at me again. He wants to come in, but something is holding him back. Maybe it's our age difference? Or I could have read him wrong at the bar.

  "You have a big day tomorrow."

  "And I'm nervous as hell. Maybe just for a little while. Just to take the edge off?" If he says know this time, I'm not going to push. I know I saw interest in his eyes before, and the heat I'm picking up off them now
is more than a slight burn.

  He shoves his hands in his pockets, almost as if he's reminding himself to keep his hands off before he steps inside.

  As I close it, I bump into his back. He's solid. And Big. I'm not used to being with a man who has me beaten in both the height and the width department, but Micheal fits that bill. He's all hard muscle where I'm soft curves, and he's dark where I'm light.

  Like two complete opposites, flipped to fit together perfectly.

  "I haven't really had a chance to unpack," I began, moving to step around him. I never make it past his shoulders before Micheal turns on me and presses me to the door with his chest.

  He stares into my eyes as if we're both about to be burned at the stake together. I say burned because Lord, has the room gotten hot. Then, he lifts my chin up with a single finger and closes his eyes before our lips collide.

  Micheal snakes an arm around my back and catches me the minute my knees turn to slush. He's devouring me like a hungry, starving beast staring down his first meal in weeks, and my body responds by molding into his until every inch of me is consumed by his heat.

  When he finally lets me go, I'm freezing, and lonely, and fingers tingle with a desire to pull myself back into his embrace and never step out of it again. I have no breath left to speak, no bones to hold me up—no will to let this wondrous feeling sinking down into my core go.

  "Michael," I'm finally able to whisper. "Please."

  I shut my eyes, afraid to see if rejection meets my request, but my feet are lifted off the ground, and I'm tucked tightly between the solid wall of his chest and the amble curve of his upper arms. Cradled. Like a child.

  I'm afraid I'll hurt him, but Michael makes it all look so easy. So effortless. By the time I open my eyes again, he's made his way past the bathroom and small sitting area, and I'm hovering over the bed.