Page 30 of Gunner

“What would be the point? To send a message?” I ask him, throwing my leg over my bike and cranking the engine.

“That, or get you away from the house.” He shrugs.

As the road captain for Satan’s Disciples, I’m usually on every shipment drop. But, since this one was a reoccurring exchange with a long-standing client, we left it up to Sketch, Murphy, and Reaper. They’ve been patched in for years and know what to do and how to handle themselves if they run into trouble. Reaper’s a fucking sniper and Murphy’s a marine who’s seen a few tours during the time he served.

But that doesn’t explain how an outsider knew I wouldn’t be on the run today. Unless… they’ve been watching me. Or watching Lily.

Fucking cocksuckers.

“That motherfucker Snake gave some kind of warning to Lil. Said he’d be keeping an eye on her. I thought it was more talk than actual threat, but I warned him to stay the fuck away from her and her kid when we ran into his stupid ass the other day.”

“Guess he didn’t take your advice.” An invisible shade drops down over Crusher’s face and I know exactly what it means. He’s gone to that place in his head that results in very bad things.

Good. That’s exactly what I need right now to make all this fucked-up shit right.

My own head is a mess, worried about Caleb and filled with fear over what I’ll find when I get to my woman. I knew those fucking Outlaws were up to no good, but I never thought they’d go this far. Of course, hitting our decoy truck was just a distraction. After Snake fucking manhandled Lily at the grocery store, I should’ve known the Outlaws had her in their sights and it wouldn’t be long before Striker came out of whatever hole he was hiding in.

We’re about to pull out onto the highway, when Boner runs toward us, waving his arms like a maniac. He knows I’ve got to get to my girl, but the look on his face says this is just as serious.

“What? I gotta go, brother.”

“The back of the truck. Now!” His tone is grim and I already know I’m not going to like what I find there. Boner doesn’t fuck around.

Crusher and I follow after him, stopping short when we see a woman face down in the truck. She’s naked from the waist up, revealing a mermaid tattoo on her shoulder. Her matted hair falls around her in ginger ringlets and her skin is mottled and covered in bruises.

But that hair… And that tattoo. I know her.

This girl is one of the waitresses at the Emerald Club, the strip joint we own on the outskirts of town. I’ve seen her from time to time when I’ve stopped by for a drink. Quiet, but sweet, working there to pay off her student loans.

I didn’t think I could get any angrier than I already am, but now… Now, these motherfuckers have plucked an innocent girl from our strip club and dumped her here like trash. Rage simmers beneath my skin as my heart beats faster.

I take a step closer and notice the small pool of blood around her body. “Jesus,” I mutter when I see where it’s coming from; they fucking carved up her back and pinned a note to her flesh. My eyes widen when she twitches, apparently still alive, but barely. I lean forward to read the message, my wrath begging to be unleashed.

12

GUNNER

That slut of yours should be dead.

You’ll never see the boy again.

Walk away or you die too.

“Fuck!” I roar into the air.

This message isn’t for the club. It’s for me, but I’m not sure why. Why would Striker give one fuck about me being with Lily and Caleb? And why now? He doesn’t want them, but no one else can have them either? Is that it?

I kneel by her side and brush away the messy curls from her bruised face. Her crystal-blue eyes pop open, filled with dread and fear and pain. Her gaze locks on to mine and she freezes.

“R-ru…” she mumbles.

“Shhh… We’re gonna get you some help. You’re safe now.” Without knowing the extent of her injuries, that might be a lie. But I’ll tell her anything if it’ll ease the panic I see staring back at me.

“You… Run…” What little strength she has remaining drains from her body, taking the last flickers of her life with it.

That’s when I notice the metal clamp in her hand, a homemade device I’ve seen before. Not a chance I’ll try to free her of it because I’m not a goddamn bomb expert. And we’d probably be dead before I could even make an attempt, knowing it’s a matter of seconds before her grip relaxes and sets the fucking thing off.

“GET THE FUCK BACK!” I shout, hating to leave her like this, but knowing if I don’t, we’re all dead.

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