Page 55 of Gunner
After standing outside the door, listening to Doc and Piper talk to Sadie while he stitched up the gashes across her lower back, I went to Smokey, the new president, and demanded vengeance for her. He and Bullet took two prospects with them to the house where she was taken. I don’t know the full extent of what happened to her, but I can guess, and that’s bad enough.
I flipped past the next page and started reading again.
April 19, 1999
Smokey told me he killed the men in the house and burned it to the ground as a message that you don’t mess with the family of the MC. He’s been a good president the last few months since Torch died, and I trust that he destroyed the men who hurt Sadie. I don’t know if she will ever heal from what they did to her, and I wish I had been the one to kill them.
I exhaled, remembering when I came back home filled with shame and fear, only to see the house was no longer standing. After that, no one messed with me or my brothers.
May 9, 1999
I stumbled onto something I wasn’t meant to know about, and I don’t know how to handle it. Smokey and Bullet decided the club needed to start dealing weapons to fill the coffers, and our road captain, Price, turned in his cut over the decision. When I went to discuss it with them, I overheard a conversation with a man that let me know they made some kind of deal with the devil and neither one was happy about it.
Page upon page of speculation followed, and I swallowed down an unreasonable fear of something that happened a decade ago.
July 11, 1999
I followed the man who delivered the guns to the back gate of the clubhouse today, and after three days of watching him, I discovered the truth. The man is an ATF agent who is supplying unmarked, confiscated guns to the MC and pocketing the money for himself. Smokey and Bullet are selling them off and spreading the wealth to the members, encouraging them to turn a blind eye to the influx of new weapons. This could land all of us in jail, and I know Torch wouldn’t have approved the deal. I don’t know what led them to make this dangerous decision for the club, but I’m determined to find the real reason we are now in bed with a crooked fed.
I wiped my eyes and exhaled, not understanding why Uncle Mick would write all this down, knowing it could cause trouble for the club. And why did he need to document everything that was happening? Was it a habit that he wrote in a journal, or was there more to it? Racheal knocked on the door, and I slipped the notebook into my apron pocket and checked my reflection before opening the door.
She looked at me and stepped into my office, closing the door behind her. “Are you okay?”
I nodded and wiped the stray tears from my cheeks. “It just hit me that Uncle Mick is really gone.”
It was the closest thing to the truth I could muster. How do you tell someone that your greatest shame had been documented for anyone to see? That the knife of betrayal was piercing my skin, threatening to bleed me dry?
I wanted to find Kade and Dalton to ask them about it, but I didn’t want to leave the bakery shorthanded. She took me by the hand and led me to the loveseat along the side wall. I sat down, and she looked at me with hollow eyes as she explained, “You have to remember that everyone’s ride ends the same. Your uncle loved you and your brothers so much. People who love you that much never leave you. Not really.”
I smiled sadly and asked, “Was there something you needed?”
“I wanted to let you know we have an order for Friday that needs to be started tomorrow. I put it on the schedule but wanted to tell you in case we needed to order anything else.”
I followed her into the kitchen and wrote down what we would need for the order before checking inventory and verifying we had enough flour, sugar, eggs, and butter to cover everything until the truck came in on Monday.
It felt like the red notebook was burning a hole in my apron as Racheal and I went over the order to ensure we had everything baked on time. Thirty minutes later, I grabbed my coat and purse and told her I was going home to do the paperwork, and she waved as I walked out the back door.
The sun was melting the small dusting of snow still on the surface of cars and sidewalks, but I didn’t feel the warmth of its rays. On instinct, I reached over, opened the glovebox, and pulled out the snub-nosed .38 Mick gave me a few years ago, checking the cylinder to make sure it was loaded. I stared at it for a moment, then slipped it into my purse before pulling away from the bakery.
It was a little after one, and I had at least two hours before Kade came home, so I drove to my house and locked myself inside with Bear. After changing out of my sugary clothes, I got the fireplace going again and settled onto the couch with Bear resting his furry head on my lap.
I looked down at him and asked, “Why did Uncle Mick keep all this?”
With a fortifying breath, I opened the red ledger of pain and continued to read.
August 22, 1999
Smokey and I were taking a walk on the property when he brought up Torch. I always had a secret position in the club that documented the goings on. It was Torch’s idea after one of our out-of-town brothers raped and murdered a hitchhiker. He said that everyone, even outlaws, needed a reckoning. I didn’t understand then, but my attention to detail and my ability to remember conversations made me the perfect Scribe for the club. When Smokey asked why I was being so nosy over a part of the club I wasn’t involved with, I finally told him the truth. The look in his eyes let me know I needed to watch my back.
Was Smokey a danger to the club? Were Dalton and Kade in danger? Is this the reason my brother was so pissed after Uncle Mick’s funeral?
Too many questions swirled in my head, and I placed the book on the coffee table. Resting my head against the back of the couch, I closed my eyes and tried to understand all of this. None of it made sense beyond the musings of Mick, and I rubbed Bear’s head before I picked the book back up.
November 19, 1999
If I didn’t know it would put a target on my back, I’d take that motherfucker out myself. There were only three bodies recovered from the burned-out house.
They lied.
