Page 47 of Gunner

This meeting is officers only, but it takes me back to that unconventional time Tyrant called church and allowed every single man in the club, prospects included, to have a say on what direction we were going. He was half broken then, literally, afterhis should have been dead dad reappeared from the grave and had him tortured. Our Prez was ready to give up his spot in the club, even though it would have killed him, because he felt like he’d lied to us and betrayed our trust by not killing his own father when he said he would.

I wasn’t around when this old warehouse was refashioned into our clubhouse. I don’t think this room saw much remodeling. The huge table we’re gathered around now was never removed. The raw brick and huge wooden beams, and all the open duct work in the ceiling stare back at me when I tilt my head up.

The room is utterly silent.

I’ve just spent the past twenty minutes breaking my vow never to put my past into words, mostly because of the level of danger involved to everyone else.

Now, every one of these men in this room has a decision to make.

We just faced down a year of threats and lockdown because of Zale and his fucked-up retribution. We were starting to get back to some version of normal. What I just confessed could have half these men evacuating their families, placing extra protection around our business associates, and installing goddamn razor wire on the compound fence. Granted, we did discuss that at our last regular scheduled church meeting anyway, but no one wants to go back to living like caged animals.

I’m no coward and I’m not going to duck my head, even though the shame I feel is a red-hot brand thrust into me. Every single one of these men might as well have one. That’s a whole lot of impaling to contend with and my lungs aren’t working properly as I sweep my gaze around the table.

The air in the room is thick and tense. If this wasn’t a club full of men I know and trust at some level, I’d be reaching for something to fashion into a weapon and readying myself to fight and claw my way out of here.

Crow and Reaper, our enforcers, look like they’d rather lay into me than keep the peace. Wizard sits at the far end of the table, seemingly disgusted with himself for missing this. He’s not just an IT genius, I’m sure he does plenty of hacking. He probably thought there was no one he couldn’t find, no background that couldn’t be motherfucking checked. Our road captain, Axe, is slowly cracking his knuckles above the table. He’s middle-aged, but burly and huge. He’d rather be cracking my skull at the moment, I’m sure. Scythe has his head bowed, hiding his face. Raiden and Tyrant share their weird secret communication thing they’d always had, compliments of knowing each other since they were five and being brothers in every way except actual DNA.

Wizard scratches his head. He’s the first one to speak. “How did you get rid of your accent?”

“My grandmother was Irish, she raised me until I was seven and I ended up back with my mother. I grew up bilingual, and I never really had an Italian accent when I spoke English. With watching movies and American TV shows during my teens I guess my natural accent became more American sounding. That’s why for my cover I chose a New York Irish background as it was close to the truth.”

That earns me another round of frowns around the table. The whole thing is too much to believe, and I started right at the start. From birth going forward. I might have given just a sketch of my life, but that outline was more than I’ve ever told anyone, even Diletta the other night.

“How did she?” Wizard asks.

I fight the thrashing urge in me to protect Diletta by silencing anyone who might know her secrets and could expose her or hurt her. I gave a far briefer version of her life, but seeing as she voluntarily gave Lark and Ella that info in the kitchen all on her own this morning, I knew it was only a matter of time before it was public knowledge. “Private tutors. She was educated at home, the best money could buy.” That was public knowledge, when I bothered to glean it years ago, which of course I lapped up as I started my journey into becoming a first-rate stalker. “I have no idea how many languages Diletta speaks, but I’m willing to bet that she’d far surpass my skills in French and Spanish.”

Tyrant runs his fingers along his jaw. He’s worn his beard shorter lately, like Bullet does. “It’s been years. How do you know that the man you saved is still running things? What if his son gets hold of his empire? You don’t think he’d be coming for you for stealing his future bride and humiliating him?”

“Diletta would know about any major changes like that. Her father would get word to her somehow. I’ve changed my appearance drastically. I would be hard pressed to recognize my own self now.” I need to be fully honest. These men deserve nothing less. “But… you’re right. If that ever happened, I’d be doubly a target.”

A restless creak of leather rustles around the table as men shift in their seats. Raiden is usually on the same wavelength as Tyrant. “At the same time, you saved this man’s daughter and it’s clear that he’s not a small player. If you wanted his protection…”

“He paid me. That’s all I asked for. Enough money to start a new life.” I leave the rest unsaid this time. If he had any ideawhat that life looked like, he’d be the one sending hired killers after me so fast that I wouldn’t have time to see them coming.

It’s understood anyway.

Meeting her today and hearing my story is just another stark reminder of just how little we all know about each other’s backgrounds. We swore brotherhood and oaths to this club, to this thing greater than all of us. That means upholding that family by being willing to die for the man on the left and right of you. Brothers, but still ultimately strangers.

“And if Diletta pointedly asked her father for your protection?” Axe asks roughly, clearly uncomfortable with speaking.

She mentioned something along those lines. “I don’t want her to have to do that.”

“It could have the opposite effect. Drawing attention here,” Tyrant points out.

“That’s exactly it. She might think her father will listen, but if I was him, I’d remove her from this situation by any means possible.”

That settles for a few minutes. It’s impossible that anyone here could feel sicker about all of this than I do.

Raiden bangs his fist on the table lightly. His eyes track to me. His face is hard. he’s digging in. An ally. “It’s been five years. As far as anyone knows, you’re dead, if you did a credible job faking that.”

“I believe I did.”

“You believe?” Wizard croaks.

“That’s all anyone can do, isn’t it, while they’re still actually alive? I covered all my tracks thoroughly. I did everything I could do. I’ve taken painstaking care to change my appearance as much as I could without surgery. I’ve been cautious. I’m here to keep Diletta safe and that meant ensuring I didn’t bring the danger straight to her.”

“Are you sure that her going back to the protection of her family isn’t best for her?” Axe asks savagely, uncaring how his words wound.

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