Page 48 of Gunner

I remain perfectly neutral, granting these men what I’ve always given them here. Nothing of myself other than the truth I had to tell.

“If her father takes her back to Italy, I can’t go there. It might have been years since I left, and chances of new enemies cropping up and old vengeance dying hard and slow is probably realistic, but one step back there and I’m back in it all. I can never go back home. That risk is beyond anything that makes sense. Diletta still can if her father allowed it. I want her to have that option in the future. Family is everything to her.” I pause, weighing my next words, then decide that it has to be said. “I tried to leave here. It’s been my plan for years—I never wanted to bring my shit to your doorsteps, but she won’t let me.”

Tyrant and Raiden exchange a look so sappy that it’s sickening, but the other men who don’t have old ladies just stare at me blankly. They don’t know what it is to be owned by someone, to have them consume your entire existence, to have them fight for your body and soul. And if they did, and lost it?

I don’t know how they could even be sitting here still alive.

More than a few moments pass in weighted, tense silence again. We’re in that middle part of the year, transitioning between seasons, where there is no heat or AC on, so the quiet is absolute.

“We’re not going to sit here and judge,” Raiden sighs. “We’ve all done shit. We all have a past. Any one of us could have our demons coming after us, corporeal or otherwise, am I right?”

Gradually, every single one of the men around the table nods.

“You have every right to want to belong. There’s this misconception about men on the wrong side of the law. We might be big and tough and whatever other token shit people think, but I believe that every man is just that. A human being.” Tyrant’s words slice through me the same way Diletta’s did.

We share a loaded look, and it’s to his credit that he doesn’t hold it against me that I lied to him that night when he stitched up my arm. It’s obvious where I was and when I said that there wasn’t trouble coming for us, I meant it.

As far as I know, there still isn’t. There might never be.

“I refuse to go back to living in lockdown. It was hell on our families, and it was hell on us. We don’t need to shut this place up tight. We’re already vigilant. We already have extra security measures in place that we haven’t relaxed and won’t ever do so again. The compound gets razor wire, the windows in here are getting changed out. We’re doing it. Other than that, life goes on as it has because otherwise, we’ll lose our fucking minds. We protect each other, support each other, and we ride with each other. Axe, you’ll organize a ride. Not to move product, or for a meeting or for any other reason than the fact that we all need to feel alive. We don’t need another community thing, butsomething for the women and children out at the cabin would be great. Summer’s coming and I wanted that cabin to be a refuge. It’s been too long since we had everyone up there camping out. We’ll have another party this coming weekend.” Tyrant pauses, looking each man in the eye. He leaves me for last. “Your old lady…” Even he can’t believe how strange it sounds saying it and he chokes on that last word. “She’s no wilting flower, but maybe tell her not to come wearing something that’s going to set you off this time, yeah? We’d all like our throats intact.”

That shame still burns red hot. “I’ll make things right with Bullet.”

“He made things right last night. There’s nothing you have to do or say to belong here, Gunner. You took your vows when you patched in, and you’ve made good on them. You’re here now, not putting anyone or anything, yourself and your old lady, above this club. Anyone who was coming was only ever coming after you. I don’t believe they would have had anything to do with this club and if you got a sense they were coming, you would have been gone, protecting us and this town. I’ll reiterate. Every person has a right to family. They have a right to safety and belonging. The world might try to prove that time and again, that’s not true, but I don’t believe anyone is too far gone.”

That’s because Tyrant is too good a man for his own good. Truly. But we all love him for it, most of us as a brother, some of the older ones like a son, but also a friend, for being so wise and unthinkably gentle, for speaking a language most of us didn’t understand, but translating it through action all the same.

“You’re still a part of this club, Gunner, until you tell us that you don’t want to be. No one is chasing you out. We’re all at your side and your back, no matter what you need. You and your old lady. She’s one of us. Let’s get through this week, get this shittaken care of with the clubhouse’s security measures, and let’s get to the weekend where we can unwind, since we all still need it. Let’s get to that ride and to the good times up there at the cabin. Let’s live, and let’s live hard.”

A loud roar echoes through the room, fists and open palms thundering down on the old tabletop. Tyrant doesn’t need to ask for a vote. The men’s consensus is clear.

They stand, one by one, ready to leave. Tyrant gives the signal, dismissing the meeting. I head for the door, letting the others go first. Crow stops me while most of the rest are distracted.

“Thought I saw you,” he says low enough that only I can hear. “I thought we were alike, but we’re not.” I get what he means. He dresses entirely in black, all the time, and with his long black hair and brutish form, he has a scary presence that has cleared out a room many times in the past. He’s parted seas of men in a crowd, all of them making way rather than stand before him or beside him. If anyone thinks I have dead eyes, they should get a load of Crow’s.

I bow my head and let him pass. He’s not looking for a response. I feel like I’ve disappointed him because I’m not that cold, dead persona that I’ve perfected.

Tyrant and Raiden stop at the door when everyone else has gone. I approach them, sensing that we’re not done having words. I might as well start.

“I’m in no position to ask for a favor and I know how much shit I have to make right here, with Bullet and everyone else.”

“That’s what we were trying to tell you. Sometimes the hardest shit to hear is what’s being yelled the loudest, right in front of our face.” The words are gentle, not sarcastic.

Raiden reaches out like he’s going to set a hand my shoulder, but he lets it drop. “You’ve had a tough run of it, but if prison taught me anything, it’s that we have to get over ourselves, our righteous anger, all the other shit, and get the fuck on with it. You can’t sit and lick your wounds for the rest of your life or all they do is fester.”

How very biker poetic. This place is full of idealism, which most days is less than idea at best, annoying as getting a sliver wedged straight up your asshole at worst. Either way, I’m in no position to say anything right now. A splinter would feel great compared to what this group of men should want for me. If I was them, I’d want to make me suffer nice and slow, although others’ pain was never my jam, even when it was my job.

“I need to get my shit together. I hear you. That being said, can I borrow the cabin for today and tomorrow? Gotta have Diletta back by Monday morning for work, but she deserves an apology as well.”

Tyrant and Raiden both blink at me like I’ve handed them the tweezers for my splinter problem and offered a hefty bribe to do the honors. They stare so long that I’m starting to wonder if I’ve grown said asshole in the middle of my forehead.

“Today is the first day I’ve ever heard you ask anyone for anything.”

Absolutely. There wasn’t anyone else there when I went crawling to Diletta in the pouring rain, asking for cuddles like a kicked dog.

Kick me again, because I need time to decompress after this church and the only place I can think to do that is away from anything and everyone else after a long ride on my bike with my woman pressed up tight at my back. I’ve never had anyone in that seat before. That back seat on a bike is sacrosanct to most bikers. I want her arms wrapped around me that whole way, using me as her human shield against the cold wind.

I want to be held.

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