Page 108 of Gunner

Giant:Twelve years too long.

Slipping my phone into my back pocket, I ignored the last text. Moving to my kitchen, I pulled out the food and sat down. How did he always get it right? Three times a day, Gunner had been sending me food. Always exactly what I wanted.

Maybe what made it so appealing was that I didn’t have to choose for myself. I didn’t have to cook it, and I didn’t have to clean up after it, either.

I was so freaking tired. Tired of being alone. Tired of carrying everyone else’s burdens for them. When I became a therapist, I was young and stupid. I didn’t understand the emotional toll it would take on me.

Not that I would ever give it up. I enjoyed helping people. I just needed someone to help me.

That’s what Gunner is trying to do.

I knew that. I just… I just couldn’t put that pressure on someone else. He had an entire club to take care of. I had done my research when I came home and found the MC had moved in. I knew he had important responsibilities as the club’s Sergeant at Arms.

Gunner was responsible for the safety and welfare of everyone in the club. That included the old ladies and children. As it was right now, he had over two dozen people to take care of. It would be irresponsible of me to add to that burden.

Decision made; I would still enjoy the food he sent me. Tomorrow I would start refusing it. Sending it back to wherever he was ordering it from.

Yes, I knew it was rude not to accept a gift, but at this point he had no one to blame but himself.

As I was putting away my leftovers, there was another knock at my door. I’d had more visitors in the last two weeks than I’d had in the last two years since coming home.

I was distracted. That was the only explanation for not looking through the curtain before opening the door. Had I checked like I did every other time, I never would have opened it.

I wouldn’t have had to do the unthinkable.

Reaching for the door, I turned the knob, and as soon as the latch let go, the door slammed open, knocking me onto the ground. Struggling to inhale the breath that had been knocked out of me, I looked up and saw the man Gunner and the others had been looking for.

Greg.

The man who had been drugging and raping women for the past six months or so. The man who had drugged and raped Aspen. The stench of stale alcohol clung to him as he leered down at me, a cruel, sinister sneer twisting his lips. Without a word, he turned and closed the door. With a resounding click, he locked us both inside.

“What do you want?” I forced a calm tone into my voice as I spoke, though a cold sweat slicked my palms.

He stalked toward me as I crab-walked backwards, hitting the kitchen island. My home had an open concept. I loved the space growing up. But now, there was too much open space for me to run.

“What I want is Aspen. But she’s hiding in that fucking club. So, you’re it,” he said, holding his arms out wide. “Normally I would just go to the bars. Find a girl who was lonely, distracted. Slip her a little courage and she would open right up for me. Walk them out, take them somewhere we could be alone.” He crouched down to my level. “Aspen though, she was my downfall. I couldn’t wait. I took a chance. That was my fault. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Then why come here? Why not go back to the bars?” Fear gripped me, and I was unable to move, stuck to the floor like a statue, the cold seeping into my bones. I knew the longer he talked, the longer I had to come up with a plan.

“See, that’s your fucking fault.”

He must have noticed my confusion because he just kept on talking.

“That fucking biker you brought to her house. I know he was the one who drew up that picture that is posted in every fucking bar in the area.”

“Have you ever tried getting a girl the old-fashioned way? Maybe talking to her, or you know, paying her.”

“Bitch.” He reached down, his grip like a vise on my arm, yanking me roughly from the floor. “Why pay for something I can just take?”

He held both my arms, pushing me up against the counter and pressing his body against mine.

“You know I’ll just tell the sheriff. You won’t get away with this.”

“You won’t be able to tell the sheriff anything. See, I learn from my mistakes. You won’t be making reports, no eyewitness statements. Just a dead girl in her home. Killed by the fucking biker who’s been stalking her.”

“What?”

Stalking? Gunner has been stalking me!

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