Page 14 of Gunner

The music is loud, blaring from the speakers that Wizard set up. He’s in charge of the music and was warned to keep it family friendly, but generally his choice in music is questionable at best anyway. Today his playlist is mainly classic rock which seems to be going down well.

This will go on for hours, the visiting and chatting and making like it’s a PG rated place, instead of a haven for criminals, but later, when the party moves inside and all the guests and kids have gone home, the real debauchery will happen. The hard alcohol will start flowing, the music will thrum through those old wooden floorboards—the acoustics in the ancient warehouse turned clubhouse are perfect for a good bassline, the air will be so thick with weed smoke that thelounge will be obscured from one side to the other. Through the night, the men might start disappearing into their private rooms—especially those who have old ladies, but there’s always a few who will just find a dark corner or get a blowjob from one or maybe two of the club whores right there on the couch, and probably later pass out not far from that very spot.

“You look like you’d rather eat shit than be here.” Bullet sidles up, a beer in each hand. He tries to pass me one, but I shake my head. “Sorry, babe,” he drawls sarcastically. “I forgot for a second there that unless you have a weapon in your hand, you’re chronically no fun. Should I get you a grape soda instead?”

I debate the merits of sticking my fingers into his eyeballs and tearing them from the sockets, but given that he runs the town’s only gun range and it’s the one place on earth aside from Diletta’s backyard that I find even a fraction of peace and satisfaction, and on top of that, I generally do like the guy, his eyes should probably stay where they are.

“Have a burger. Standing over here looking like the lovechild of a pissed Norse god and a serial killer is scaring the kids.”

I let my eyes rove over the whole sprawled out assembly again. The kids are laughing, running around and chasing each other, causing all sorts of chaos. Half of them are bratty, wild offshoots from my club brothers, which means they’re rough and ready to cause trouble. We haven’t had any blood or punches thrown yet, by children or adults, so the day is quite young.

I grunt.

“That’s what I mean. You wear your inner caveman on the outside. It’s feral. If you gave people half the chance instead ofacting like a stone-cold mercenary, they’d see that you have this dry sense of humor, and you could make a few friends.”

“Watch your shoes. They’re about to be plastered with vomit.”

Bullet laughs. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He shifts the beers to one hand and smacks me hard on the back.

I’m a big man and Bullet is average height, but he puts all his weight behind that smack. For someone who was ex-special ops, he’s alright. His appearance wouldn’t suggest an unruly man. His dark hair is nearly trimmed, and his short beard is well groomed. His dark eyes are always laughing with good humor. Not what you’d expect from someone who has seen some real shit, but I guess it’s been some time now, and unlike some of the guys in this place, he’s dealt with his demons.

“Christ, it’s not even two and look at that.” Bullet whistles, standing aside so I can see Raiden carrying his old lady fireman style over his shoulder. She’s being a good sport about it. Shocking, given that Ella can more than hold her own.

Bullet chugs down most of the one beer and cracks the second. “Can’t say I wouldn’t rather be at the range.”

“Shooting something is always preferable to social interactions.”

“Honestly, though, everyone loves this. It’s not just the people from town that get to come and go and see that we’re not all big, scary boogeymen.”

“Pretty sure ninety percent are just here for the free food.”

“Nah.” Bullet sweeps his hand over the crowd.

Tyrant and Lark are working the crowd, Penny’s up on her dad’s shoulders. Patti Patterson, who owns the club’s favorite bar on the outskirts of town, is chatting with the club’s physician, Adam Archer. He has a good cover story, in that he’s actually a legit plastic surgeon. No one but us know about his basement clinic. Patti’s two boys are running around the place being typical ten and twelve-year-old terrors.

“Someone better intercept those boys before they run into Justice and Stone.” Preacher and Rita’s boys are around the same age and singlehandedly always manage to put the demon in demon spawn. “Unless we’d like the place blown up.”

“I don’t think there’s anything here they could get their hands on to use as a bomb.”

I’m not holding my breath on that one.

Atlas, who looks like a movie star, and his old lady, Jody, are moving off to the shadowy edge of the building. They’re both young and even though they’ve been together for a few years, it’s like they just met.

Decay and Grave, the club’s terror twins, mill around the place like they can’t wait for fight time. They’re really only happy when they’re knocking heads together or bashing skulls in.

I instinctively search out and find both Reaper and Crow, standing on opposite ends of the crowd. Some clubs have two enforcers. I wouldn’t say we need it, but they take their job of keeping shit in line seriously. Crow always dresses in black. If I wasn’t here, he’d probably get the title of the club’s scariest motherfucker. Scythe, the club’s sergeant-at-arms, is over talking with Reaper, his tattooed head glistening in the sun.

The other men are dispersed around, swallowed up by the crowd, the prospects nearest the compound because technically, they’re still pulling guard duty.

What in the absolute fuck?

I wouldn’t have said it was possible to surprise me, but the second I catch sight of that pinup style halter black dress with lemons all over it, raven black hair, long legs, and spiked yellow heels, my heart arrests and my breath stops. It’s like Bullet decided to throat punch me for being an insufferable ass ninety-nine percent of the time.

I choke, coughing to clear my airpipe. Bullet gets up in my face.

“What the hell, man? Are you good?”

I whip my eyes down to the ground and take an instinctive step back, right as Diletta’s dainty jaw lifts and her soft brown eyes scan the crowd like she’s looking for someone specific.

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