Page 2 of Gunner

Her name is Diletta. It means beloved. Her father’s gem. Born to him when he and his wife were old and had given up hope of ever having children of their own blood.

She goes by Haley Black now, which doesn’t suit her at all.

I lower my hand slowly, realizing that I’ve been holding it in the air for far too long, framing Diletta’s sweet face. I’m so careful. Always.

But there’s always that time when you’re not careful enough.

Her head snaps to the window. In an instant, the spoon in her hand clatters to the casserole dish. Her serene expression transforms to one of horror, but there’s rage there too. It’s something to behold, this woman changing from the passive, innocent schoolteacher with a penchant for baking, to a warrior goddess.

I’m instantly hard as granite.

And dumb as fuck.

Instead of running off after giving myself away like a goddamn amateur, I stand transfixed, watching her whip out a Glock. I find the weapon distasteful myself, but in her hands, it looks right. My chest swells with pride. Her father told me that she’s been well trained. She could hold off one attacker, maybe two, but against many, she didn’t stand a chance.

I wasn’t the first kidnapper in her life.

Just the last, and so far, the only one who ever stole her to give her back her freedom.

Diletta gets away from the window and kills the lights. Smart woman. I approve.

But then the back door creaks open, slowly and carefully, and my brow creases beneath my mask in a frown. That’s stupid. If it was anyone else out here, she’d be at the disadvantage. Bravery is often just another word for stupidity, no matter howit’s done, and intentions count for nothing in the kind of lives we’ve led.

She steps out and away from the door.

“Hello?” Her voice is as sweet as all those desserts she pours her soul into. At first, there’s the slightest hint of fear, but then her tone hardens. “Who’s out here? I don’t need to call the police, asshole. I know how to use the gun I’m holding and you’re trespassing.”

I’m gone in an instant, turning and hauling myself over the fence. One of the boards is cracked and jagged at the top. I noted it months ago. There are nails sticking out all over the place, rusty and unsafe. I’ve wanted to fix that for Diletta for ages, but I can’t without giving myself away.

One bites me straight in the ass tonight. Or rather, in the forearm. My hoodie catches on it, and I tear it away with a hard, soundless jerk. Fabric tears. Not so soundless. I have a t-shirt on underneath, and when the hoodie gives way, there’s nothing there to save my skin from the nail.

It’s not just fabric that tears. I feel the metal biting into my skin. Deep. There’s going to be blood.

Another rookie move.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t stop to analyze why I’m suddenly worse at this than when I was a little punk kid, stealing shit from all over the place just to have something to stave off the endless gnawing of hunger.

I keep to the shadows, my escape route well planned, and my body well-conditioned. The fire in my arm only adds to the adrenaline spiking my bloodstream. I use it to power down thestreets, eating up the blocks without so much as a heavy breath, even in my combat boots.

The sigh let out when I reach my bike, parked nearly a mile away, is one of utter disgust at myself. How fucking stupid to leave my DNA behind.

It’s not like Diletta is going to call the police. Not when she’s in hiding.

I kick the Harley to life, the low growl a clear signal that one of Satan’s Angels is out tonight and people should steer clear and mind their fucking business. We might be a better club than most, but we own this town. I might not be wearing my cut, but I don’t need to be. A man as huge as I am, is easily recognizable.

And isn’t that just a fucking problem?

I doubt Diletta saw anything but the ghost of a shadow from where she was standing, but she knows now that someone was there. She’ll be more vigilant. I want her to be safe. I need her to be safe.

I’m not in love with her. Love is a laughable word.

I’m so much deeper. I’m fucking obsessed. Going a single night without seeing her will destroy me, but how can I go back to her yard again when I compromised everything?

Diletta can’t be the one who pays for this. I need to be there to protect her. I need to watch. Guard. Always.

Mine.

I need to fix this.

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