Page 37 of Gunner

From the blueprints Mav was able to dig up, Reaper would have the best vantage point to get a look inside from the house across the street. He’s stationed over there now with his precious custom Remington rifle, ready to back me up, if needed. It doesn’t take long for him to locate Striker since the idiot is in plain view, pacing across the living room floor.

He really is an arrogant son-of-a-bitch.

Reaper gives us the green light, and we surround the abandoned house, crouching low to stay out of sight and avoiding the front of the home. Sentinel and Country move up the left side, while Venom and Throttle approach from the right. That leaves me and Crusher positioned at the back, where two bedrooms are located. Since Reaper didn’t spot Caleb with his binoculars, I’m hoping like hell he’s in one of these rooms.

We can hear Striker shouting at someone on the phone through the busted-out windows above us. “What the fuck are you telling me? The kid is mine. Mine to keep, kill, sell… Whatever the fuck I want.” He sounds unhinged, so we better make a move soon before he completely loses it. “I ain’t giving him back, Ratchet. You can fucking forget that shit. No way I’ll ever let my blood become part of those Disciple bastards.”

I figured that’s who he was talking to.

The Outlaw’s Prez was also conveniently absent from our brawl today. But he’ll get what’s coming to him too. He should’ve done a better job of keeping his boys on a leash. He doesn’t deserve to be an MC Prez anyway, judging by how he lets them talk to him. Clearly, there ain’t no respect.

Striker continues to argue with Ratchet, remaining distracted while we advance under the cover of darkness. Crusher and I peer through the back bedroom windows, and relief floods through me when I locate Caleb. His hands and feet are tied with some kind of fabric as he huddles in the corner, sitting on an old sleeping bag. He rocks back and forth, quietly sniffling as tears roll down his stained cheeks. And my chest aches with a mixture of renewed rage and something else…

Just another sign this kid is mine.

Crusher and I notify the others that we’ve found Caleb and communicate our intent to go inside, using hand-signals. They need to be ready to get to Striker, while we extract my boy from the back. There’s a heating and air unit beneath the window, and I hoist myself up, mindful of the noise. Then I strip off my cut, wrapping it around my fist before punching more of the glass in.

Shards hit the wooden floor and I hold my breath, waiting to see if Striker noticed. Crusher directs me to proceed, seeing as the dumb fuck is still ranting and raving to Ratchet on the phone. Instead of knocking out the rest of the window, I reach inside and flip the latch, lifting the pane so I can crawl through.

Caleb’s eyes are wide while he peers at me through the shadows of the room. Once I step into the moonlight and he identifies me, he begins to cry harder and I raise my index finger to my lips, indicating he needs to stay quiet. “It’s alright, buddy. I’m gonna take you home.”

He hisses a warning to me while I free him from the strips of cotton tightly tied around his wrists and ankles. “There’s a man out there!”

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of it.”

“He said you were dead. And Mommy’s dead too,” Caleb cries.

“All lies. I’m right here and I’ll take you to your mama soon. Just hang on for me.”

As soon as he’s loose, he flings his tiny arms around me and buries his face in the crook of my neck. He feels so small and fragile that I’m concerned I might break him. I give him a second, feeling his racing heart beating against my chest before I pull back to look him over.

“We gotta move quick, now. Your mama’s waiting for us.” I glance over to the window where Crusher’s standing on top of the AC unit. “You remember my friend?”

Caleb follows the direction of my hiked thumb and nods.

“Good. He’s here to help you too. Now, let’s get outta here.” I scoop him up and carry him over to our makeshift exit before carefully passing him to my brother. “You know what to do.”

Crusher confirms his understanding with a lift of his bearded chin while Caleb protests, reaching out for me. Panic spreads across his face and tears at my heart, but I have to let him go. Striker needs to be dealt with.

I watch as the two of them dart across the empty field behind the house, headed toward the ridge where Doc is waiting on the other side. Then, I crack open the bedroom door, a firm grip on my weapon while I clear the hallway, noting the silence in the house. Striker must have ended his call and will likely head this way to check on Caleb. I need to move fast if I want to surprise him, aware that my brothers are ready to rush the room once they see me.

My boots feel heavy as I slowly approach the front of the house. He’s pacing the empty space with his phone in one hand and his gun in the other, oblivious to my presence as I crouch to one knee. I could kill him now, end this the easy way. But this motherfucker doesn’t deserve easy. I want to see him suffer because he dared to fuck with what’s mine.

I hide in the shadows, noting the deranged look in his eyes as his quick strides eat up the unfinished floor. Wanting to get this shit over with, so I can get back to Caleb and take him to Lily, I aim for his ankle and fire. I’m a damn good shooter, even with a moving target, and I take him down, watching as he howls in pain. That’s got to hurt like a bitch, but I’ve no time to gloat, because the crazy motherfucker starts popping off bullets, spraying them around the room.

“Fuck!” I yell when searing heat burns my outer thigh.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

I fire at his thrashing body, wanting to keep him alive, but needing him to stop shooting before he kills one of us. I manage to hit his forearm and he drops his weapon just as my brothers come crashing into the room with guns drawn and intense expressions.

Throttle kicks the fucker’s weapon away, then drives the toe of his boot into Striker’s ribs. That’s the least he deserves for the shit he’s caused and plenty more is coming. I rise from my position and limp over to my brothers as they surround the bastard presently twisting on the floor and clutching at an arm.

My thigh throbs, feeling like it’s on fire. But I’m lucky this is just a flesh wound and the bullet is lodged in the outer part of my leg. Doc can fix this up, but that’s the least of my worries at the moment as I turn my attention to the piece of shit laid out at my feet.

“Did you really think you’d get away with this shit?” I snarl at him before spitting on his cut.

“Fuck you, Gunner,” he seethes. I’ll give him credit for showing some grit, but we’ll see how long that lasts once he’s in Crusher’s kill room.

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