Page 6 of Gunner
On instinct, I turned and kneed the man in the crotch, and he dropped to his knees. I looked up and saw more than a few Death Hounds turn their angry eyes on me. I tried to step back but was met with a large body stopping my escape.
My vision turned spotty as the memories surrounded me from all sides. The last thing I remembered was falling to the ground and my head bouncing off the pavement before everything went black.
Chapter 3
Kade
Iwas enjoying theevening, our brothers celebrating not only mine and Skid’s patching in to the Death Hounds but a successful alliance with the Devil’s Handmaidens MC down in Georgia and Alabama. They would be additional security for the club when we needed to go through their territory, and they had good connections to a few arms dealers we wanted to do business with. It didn’t hurt they were a group of badass females who were easy on the eyes and tougher than most men I knew.
Even though I was relaxed, sitting under the picnic pavilion, there was a part of me that was always on alert. Downside of military service was they taught you to always be looking for an incoming attack, so when I saw the gate on the far side of the yard slide open, my eyes took in the old car. I dismissed it as another member or possibly the girls from the MC-owned strip club in Rockhampton.
“You want another beer?” Skid asked, and I shook my head, breaking my attention on the car.
I lifted my half-full bottle, and he nodded. Taking a sip of the warming beer, I found myself in a conversation with Smokey about the newest shipment of ammo arriving this week. Finding legal guns was easy, but finding ammo was growing harder and harder.
“Maybe we should offer re-loads for the range, and we could make a decent profit. It would ease the need to source new ammo for target practice, and we could do all the work in-house,” I reasoned, leaning my arms onto the wooden table and lowering my voice.
While we were all brothers, each member had a unique role in the club, and we didn’t openly discuss business in case a hanger-on or club slut was around. A murmur from the side of the yard made me turn my head, and when I saw a small boy running through the brothers and screaming Skid’s name, I jumped up and quickly caught his attention.
Memories of scared children running from insurgents in Iraq filled my vision and I fought to keep myself grounded in the present. My hand trembled and my heart raced as Skid came around the table and saw the boy running toward us.
The look on his face was pure panic as the little black-haired boy saw him and increased his speed. Stopping in front of us, the boy placed his hands on his knees and fought to catch his breath before he fell to his knees.
“Jacob?” he asked, and when the little boy stood up, the blood splatter on his shirt was visible to all the brothers sitting under the pavilion. “Jacob, are you okay? Where’s Sadie?”
Realizing this was the little brother Skid adored, seeing him covered in blood and utter panic on his face, I swung around, trying to figure out why he was here and where his sister was. He looked over his shoulder toward the gate, and we all turned our attention to the quickly growing group of brothers closing in on someone.
He pointed to the beater car parked near the gate, and when I saw a brother fall to his knees, the circle of Hounds grew tighter. Skid sat him down and barked “Stay” while my feet carried me to the disturbance. Getting closer, I could hear Skid running behind me, and as I approached the group, I realized his sister was on the ground, bleeding.
“What the fuck?” I shouted, pushing brothers aside, trying to get to the center of the group. Reaching Sadie, I crouched down and saw she was bleeding from a gash on her forehead. I bellowed, “Who the fuck hurt her?”
“She passed out,” someone replied, and the group stepped back, giving me room. “No one touched her.”
Skid fell onto his knees in front of her and leaned over, brushing her dark hair from her face, patting her gently on the face as he urged, “Sadie, wake up. What the fuck happened?” he yelled as the gate opened and Mick, a non-active member of the club, pulled in.
The older man quickly parked his car and ran to us, dropping down, his knees cracking as he inspected her for injuries. Her clothes barely covered her small, tight body, and when she moaned, I gently rolled her onto her back. Seeing she was still unconscious, I whispered to Skid, “Let’s get her to your room.”
