Page 45 of Gunner

This is no doubt an unofficial official meeting of the old ladies. Rita might be the one who usually organizes shit and looks after everyone, but Lark is now our queen and Ella is our VP’s old lady, and our Prez’s half-sister. She and Lark weren’t friends when Ella arrived, but they mended that situation quickly enough. Being as Ella was forced by her father to marry Raiden—Tyrant’s best friend, and Lark is Raiden’s sister who became Tyrant’s old lady, it was a bit of a mess until the two women bonded over having to endure some life or death shit together.

Someone sets a coffee mug down on the table. “We’re not here to scare you off, but some men here are… different than others.” Lark. She sounds uncomfortable. “Even the sweetest ones are a handful.”

“Gunner is- uh- he can be, erm…”

An evil grin carves itself into my face at Ella’s discomfort, but only because she and Lark are here, trying to warn Diletta that I’m more than she can handle. They’re trying to be nice about it. I can hear the warmth in their voices. They aren’t here to sabotage me.

They don’t know that Diletta tried to throw down with me yesterday, has held a gun to my head, set booby traps around her yard, has basically drugged me, stitched me back together, and handcuffed me to the bed. Maybe it’s the other way around, and fuck if knowing my woman is the ultimate badass doesn’t make me hard as steel in my jeans.

“You’re a kindergarten teacher.” Ella can’t find the words, so she changes the subject. “You’re probably from a good family. The good girl turned bad girl thing might seem exciting but think about all the things you could stand to lose. Your job, for one.”

They think of Diletta as Haley Black, the sweetest, most unassuming, innocent, gentle woman in this entire town. They have no idea how ironic what they’re saying is.

I still have to set my palm on the wall to ground myself and swallow back the rising tide of white-hot rage. Sisterhood is one thing, but no one is going to tear Diletta away from me.

Which was ironic, considering my plan was to sneak out of here and be in another state by now.

“The club might basically own this city,” Lark whispers, “But if you think that someone won’t say something about you being with a biker, then you’re wrong. Even if the club came down hard and demanded that you keep your job because work and life should be separate, would you really want to keep teaching there knowing that people don’t trust you around their kids? It wouldn’t be right, what they’d be saying. It would bejudgmental and mean, but we’re trying to help you be realistic. We’re a family all on our own, but living on the outside of society isn’t for everyone.” Lark clears her throat, grief heavy in her tone. “My brother was disowned by my parents for years before my mom died. That made my dad wake up. For years, I had to live without my brother. He was in prison. It was unbelievably hard.”

They certainly know I’m here. My bike is out front for the first time ever. The fact that they’re whispering doesn’t mean that they hope I’m not going to hear. They’ve also made an uneasy peace with me, especially after I shot those men who wanted them dead. I know they’ll let Diletta make her decision. They’re just trying to ensure that she has all the facts straight.

“I’m sorry,” Diletta responds softly. Another mug scrapes across the table. “But trust me, I know what I’m getting into.”

“You might think so,” Ella interjects, “But—”

“I noticed that you have a gun under that leather jacket you’re wearing. May I?” Diletta interrupts her.

I don’t smile easily or often, but my lips turn up now into my second shit eating grin of the morning. I can hear the rustle of clothing, Ella’s sharp inhale at Diletta’s request.

“Don’t take the clip out. Please. Let me show you.”

My grin grows wider at the unmistakable sound of a gun being field stripped. Quickly. Diletta has it done in under a minute and then, just as quickly, puts it back together again.

“What the fuck are you?” Ella asks, accusation sharp in her tone. “I swear if you’re a cop and you’re—”

Diletta laughs loudly. “My god, no. Not a cop.” I feel like at this point, she must lean across the table. “My father is one of the most notorious criminals in my country. That’s just the start of it. It’s a long story, and one that I won’t be telling anyone anytime soon, for their protection as much as mine.”

What the fuck is she doing telling them this? I know that Lark and Ella can be trusted, butshecan’t know that. She just met them and has known them for all of five hot minutes.

I almost trip over my own feet since I’m in such a damn hurry to get into that kitchen, before she says something she shouldn’t.

“Gunner!” Diletta’s already standing by the time I burst around the corner. She heard me coming. Did she know I was up, dressed and listening? Very likely. There was no way she was going to let me slip out the back door and disappear on her, though the fact that she uncuffed me shows some basic level of trust.

She’s back to looking like a sweet kindergarten teacher this morning in a fifties style skirt and cream sweater—which was probably one of the reasons Ella was so shocked at how she was so familiar with guns. Pin up girl to Rambo in a single motion. The disconnect is real.

She brushes my arm with her fingertips, arches into me for leverage, and kisses my cheek.

Merda.She’s so sweet, but she’s real too. Fierce. A bundle of the most intriguing contradictions. She disarms everything I am, pushes back the static in my head and the anger constantly simmering in my veins recede down to nothing.

She spins away with effortless grace, going straight for her fancy espresso machine to load it up with freshly ground coffee.

It feels like it’s been half a lifetime since I tasted good coffee. My throat closes up because I already know that she uses authentic shit. As soon as that machine starts hissing out that rich, dark stream, I’m already transported home.

Diletta steams milk in a little silver cup and makes me the most perfect drink I’ve ever seen or smelled.

While I stand there and sip coffee out of the little pink mug with flowers on it, Lark and Ella stare at me in disbelief. Clearly wondering what dubious things I’ve done to this woman they’re trying to take under their wing to ensure that she makes an informed decision about me, the life, and the club.

Diletta slips her arm around my waist.

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