Page 1 of Gunnar

Prologue

Fifteen years ago…

“No, Gunnar. You can’t do this.”

“It’s done, Hannah. Go home before anyone sees you here.” I tried to keep my voice soft, but there was an almost overpowering rage inside me threatening to explode. My sister, my twin, should never have to be exposed to something like this.

Hannah sobbed and threw herself at me. “Please don’t do this, Gunnar. Please. I can’t not have you with me.”

“I’m so sorry, Hannah. And no matter what, I’ll always be with you. Go home and clean up. Don’t say anything to Mom or Dad.”

“I can’t do that. Dad has to know.”

“NO!” I snapped the command hard at her. “This can’t come back on you.” I pushed her back slightly but framed her face with my hands. “Go clean up. Burn your clothes.”

“He was going to r-rape me, Gunnar.” Her voice was so soft I barely heard her. Had I not been looking straight at her I would have missed her words.

“I know. But he didn’t. Right?”

She shook her head. “No. I s-stopped h-him.”

“Good. That’s all that matters. Now go. Do as I say.” I tried my best to be gentle with her, but the fact was, this was really a shit show.

“Daddy told me he didn’t like him.” Now, Hannah turned to look at the man she’d stabbed to death ten minutes before. Thank God I’d been close when she’d called. Just like our father had taught us, Hannah’s blade had found his left kidney several times and he’d bled out. The result was a Godawful fucking mess. There was no way for me to clean it up without leaving evidence behind and the only way to ensure it was completely clean would mean getting Bones MC involved. Which I would never do. Not for this. Yeah, there was some sketchy shit going on from time to time in Bones, but Dad and Bohannon tried to keep it clean. This wasanythingbut clean.

“I know. Don’t worry about that right now. Just go home and do what I told you. And not a word to anyone. Go home. Go to your room. Take a shower and scrub all the blood off. Don’t forget to get under your nails. Use peroxide on your hands. It will bubble if it touches even dried blood, so you don’t miss anything.” She held my gaze with her fearful, pain-filled one. “Burn all your clothes, Hannah. Take them to the woods deep inside the compound, away from everyone. Everything. Including your underwear and socks. Be careful, but use gas or lighter fluid. You have to get it all and sift through the ashes to make sure everything is burnt. Understand me?”

She nodded before hugging me once more. “I’m so sorry, Gunnar. So sorry…”

“None of this is your fault. He crossed a line and was asking to get killed. Just take care of yourself. I’ll talk to you soon.”

I watched her go. At sixteen, she should never have had to go through this. Now it was up to me to protect her, and I would. With everything in me. I’d give up everything to protect my twin. Even if I called my older brothers, I wasn’t sure they could fix this. Not without risking the club and I’d never put my dad in that situation. Every single member of that club was like family to me. I’d known them all my life. So, the only way to protect Hannah without risking any more of my family was to do this myself.

I gave Hannah a few minutes to get on her way. I spent that time getting my hands bloody. I had no intention of them doing a thorough job investigating this crime scene, but I wiped down the blade Hanna had used before covering it back in blood and making sure my own prints were on the knife.

By the time I’d prepared for my next call, I’d had time to think about what I was doing and consider the consequences. No matter which way I looked at it, the only path I could see to keep my sister, brothers, my father, as well as Bones MC and my father’s company, ExFil, away from risk was to take responsibility myself. My decision would probably cost me my relationship with my father and the club I’d grown up in, but Dad could take care of himself as well as mom and my sister.

The legal battle that followed was short and painful. Short because I pled guilty from the first and would not let anyone convince me to do anything different. I never wavered from my story that I’d killed the bastard, but I’d told them it was because he’d threatened my sister. I think even the judge was baffled by my refusal to allow my lawyer to negotiate for a lesser charge. Or go to a fucking trial!

Dad was pissed as shit. I think he knew something was up, but I wasn’t saying anything and, just like I’d instructed her, Hannah didn’t either. When she’d visited me and could get me away from Mom and Dad, she’d plead with me over and over to change my mind. To let her tell Dad what happened and have him sort out the whole mess. I’d refused and she’d respected my wishes, but I knew what her decision cost her. She felt doubly guilty. Hannah would never survive incarceration of any kind. She was too gentle and empathetic. The juvie population alone would eat her alive. I couldn’t even contemplate her in an adult female prison.

My mother said Hannah cried a lot for no apparent reason. She asked me if I thought she loved that bastard enough to mourn. I told her I had no idea. I let them think Hannah was mad at me and she likely was. Just not for killing her boyfriend. She was angry because I was going away to prison, running headlong like I was looking forward to it. The reality was, I was fucking terrified.

“Son, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“What’s goin’ on is I killed a man who threatened my sister. I did the crime. I’ll do the time.” I didn’t mean to be belligerent, but it was either that or break down and give it all to him straight. Along with a lot of tears and snot. I knew what the consequences of this were. My childhood ended today.

Deep down, I knew I needed to tell Dad. He could take care of all this. You know. If I’d told him to begin with. Looking back, keeping him out of this might not have been the best decision of my life. Oh well. Done was done. I’d do this for my sister because she deserved to be happy and to not be punished for killing the son of a bitch trying to rape her. I absolutely would not take a chance on some overzealous prosecutor painting her as the victim. She’d been through enough. I’d do this, because I wanted to be the man Dad raised me to be.

As someone once said, if you pray for the rain, you have to deal with the mud too.

“They’re talking about sentencing you as an adult which means twentyyears, Gunnar. More if they decide to sentence you on murder instead of manslaughter. You didn’t even negotiate what you were fucking confessing to!” Dad stood abruptly and paced across the room before returning. In what was probably a fit of frustration and anger, he smacked the chair over so it skidded across the narrow strip of floor between the table and the wall. “Christ! Have you even thought about what that means? You’ll get to do your first couple in the juvie camp, but the day you turn eighteen, they’ll put you in with the big boys.”

“Yeah, Dad. I thought about it. I went over everything with my lawyer.”

“Did he also tell you this prosecutor is going for the maximum sentence? You killed an unarmed man with a knife. You did it in private so it looks like premeditation, and no one can dispute your account of the story.”

“I know.” I was starting to feel like a kid. My dad was a bit overprotective, even with us boys. Though I was only sixteen, my dad had raised all his kids to be men and women. I’d come this far so it was time to man up.

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