Page 65 of Gunner

The only solution is that I get to Ronan and get this figured out with my father. I need to move us that much closer to the happily ever after that I’m claiming for us. I can’t think about us any other way.

After immobilizing the men I run upstairs to get my cellphone, I’m sure that Ronan’s club brothers will be on their way—that’s assuming there was some kind of security monitoring on this place—but I need to tell them to head to Seattle. Though when I get to the bedroom my phone is gone.

Fucking bastards.

I should have known that my father’s men would remove any communication devices. I run back to the kitchen, check that the men are still secure, then grab the phone Thug Number One left on the counter and stuff it in my pocket, then pick up their weapons before running to their vehicle.

Chapter 19

Gunner

Ican’t say that I’d ever dreamed of what it would be like to be strung up like a slab of beef in a walk-in freezer in what appears to be a legit butcher shop, but here I am.

My head aches so badly that I can barely keep track of what’s happening. However, there is something to be said for swimming in and out of consciousness. The black is somewhat of a relief against the pain from the various beatings I’ve taken.

Not a relief?

The fact that I have no idea what happened to Diletta.

I woke up to a bunch of these ugly fuckers storming the cabin, put up a fight, and never saw her. Either she wasn’t there, or they’d got to her first. Seeing as my Harley was our way out, unless she was hiding in the woods, it had to be the latter.

So far, the way these assholes have roughed me up speaks volumes as to how uninvolved with the mob they are. These men are professionals.

The door cracks open, letting in a blessed gust of warm air with it that only lasts for a few seconds. Walk-in meat lockers fucking suck, especially when you’re alive in one, but I guess the alternative isn’t an attractive option.

The guy who just entered is big and blocky. Typical thug with an ugly mug, scars scattered around, menacing black eyes, a square for a head, and the body built by steroids. My headhurts like hell, my vision is off, and my stomach keeps wanting to crawl up my throat. I wouldn’t mind spraying one of these fuckers with vomit for their troubles, but I need to hold onto whatever calories I have in me to fight off the hypothermia.

I haven’t been in here long enough for my body to numb out the pain and discomfort of the fists and kicks that landed all over me as soon as I was strung up here. There was definitely a line that wasn’t to be crossed, and someone called it off before I blacked out. They walked out, shutting the door behind them and leaving me in here.

If I was a regular guy, I’d panic about this whole thing, but as far as shitty situations go, this isn’t the worst that I’ve been in. I know that keeping a cool head and chilling the fuck out can save your life.

Chilling. Ha. Like I have any other choice right now.

“You frozen yet, cocksucker?” Carlo asks, his English heavily accented.

I have no idea what his name is, but he strikes me as a Carlo. He speaks Italian to the other men, the sound of it bittersweet, coming down on the bitter. Fucking obviously. His accent is Sicilian, so strong anyone not born on the island would have trouble understanding him. The fact he’s speaking to me in English tells me that they don’t know who I am. That it’s not Romeo looking for payback. Which leaves only one other option—Luciano Cosmo. What if this wasn’t about me, but was about Diletta’s father keeping her safe?

That thought at least brings me some comfort, if this is the case then Diletta won’t be hurt.

I gauge the distance and try to work the odds out of pulling up on my arms. They’re screaming from being nearly wrenched out of their sockets and bound above my head, but I know I have more than enough strength in me to swing up and get my legs around this guy’s neck to choke the life out of him.

It would be satisfying, but I’m not sure there would be any real point. Killing this prick won’t undo my hands or get me out of the freezer. I can barely see straight. I’m in no condition to fight however many men are out there. I’m betting on there being more than ten.

“My nipples are at perfect peaked condition. Want to have a feel?”

Carlo has no sense of humor. His face scrunches up and he pulls back his fist, launching it into my naked side. I have my boxers on, but nothing else. They didn’t have to strip me down. That’s what I tried to fight my way out of the cabin in.

Pain explodes from the impact. He hit just below my ribs, but not hard enough to damage me. I believe these bastards have orders to keep me alive, and I believe those orders came from Luciano Cosmo himself.

What other Italians would I have pissed off? Everyone thinks I’m dead, I’ve already ruled these guys out as being mob, so really, that leaves only one option.

I just hope that I’m right, because if not… I can’t even think about that.

If not, then Diletta isn’t safe, and if I die here, I have no way of getting to her. My dying would upset her, even if it’s still unfathomable to me that she cares. I can’t hurt her by turning into a block of ice or getting my ass beaten into the ground.

It’s simple math, really.

I can’t fucking die.

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