Page 9 of Gunner

Sitting in church, I listened as Colt went over the books. I listened as Jack went over the events we had scheduled for the upcoming season. And I listened as Blade went over the new routes we would be riding this year.

I had been sitting there quietly, waiting for my turn.

As SAA, it was my job to look out for the brothers.

It was my job to protect them. Even from themselves.

Looking around the table, I paused on each of my brothers.

King had a lot of shit going on. Learning his parents were actually his grandparents, his brother was actually his uncle, and his actual father was the head of the Irish Mob would fuck up anyone’s head.

Not to mention denying himself the one thing we all knew he truly wanted.

Grace.

Cash, well, it wasn’t hard to figure out where his head was. He was drinking himself to death over the death of his old lady.

I got it, I really did. But I wasn’t going to stand by and let him destroy himself in grief.

Blade had a lot of shit he still hadn’t dealt with.

Same with Jack. Abandonment, rejection. He was textbook.

Jingles needed to deal with the shit from his past, too. Leaving behind his sister almost destroyed him, and then the shit his parents pulled. I shook my head just thinking about it.

Ghost was obsessed with a woman he had a one-night stand with when he was in Oklahoma a few months back. It was all he talked about. He acted like she had a magic pussy.

Pussy wasn’t magic.

It was great, don’t get me wrong. There was nothing better than sinking your dick into a hot, tight hole. But it was a hole. That alone wasn’t a reason to settle down.

Nav wouldn’t leave his computer long enough to let the sunshine beat down on him, never mind actually trying to have a life outside the club.

And Colt.

He might just be the most fucked up of us all. The way he grew up would fuck with anyone’s head.

That left me.

The only one in this room who had some semblance of a normal, healthy lifestyle. I didn’t deny myself the things I wanted. I didn’t live with the guilt and shame of a fucked-up childhood. My obsession was with my bike and my club.

Both healthy outlets that kept me going.

So, it was my job to make sure my brothers were good.

“Ok, Gunner, you’re up.”

I looked up at King and wondered what he would think of my idea. He might balk at first, but I had my spiel ready to go.

“I met a woman.”

That was as far as I got before the ribbing started.

“Shit.”

“Batten down the hatches.”

“Better prepare Dec, King. Shit’s about to hit the fan again.”

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