Page 7 of Gunner
“Your place is closer,” he replied, and I slid my arms under her neck and knees, lifting her from the dirty concrete.
Mick, Skid, Smokey, and a trembling Jacob followed us through the throngs of members, each watching us with a curious gaze. I wasn’t one who was generally gentle, so I’m sure it was a shock to see me carrying the small woman, whispering words to get her to wake up.
Skid opened the door to my small home, and Bear, my German shepherd, ran to the door and sniffed Sadie as I gently lowered her to the bed. The door closed behind us, and my small room became even smaller as we all checked on her, assessing her injuries.
Skid turned to his little brother and lowered to his level as Mick wet a washrag in the sink and started cleaning the blood from her face. “Jacob, what happened to Sadie? Is this her blood on you?”
Jacob’s small voice cut through the room. “No.”
The little boy burst into tears, pulling Skid into him and wrapping his arms around his big brother. I made eye contact with Mick, who in turn looked to our President, Smokey, for what to do.
“Let’s take Jacob outside and see what happened to him. Gunner, you sit with Sadie in case she wakes up. Doc’s on the way to check them both out,” Smokey decreed, and Mick, Jacob—who was being carried by Skid—and Smokey left me and Bear alone with Sadie.
I checked her pulse and found her heart rate to be erratic. She shook, so I covered her with a blanket. Bear, my faithful companion, crawled gently into bed with her and placed his head over her lap as I finished cleaning the blood. She had a minor cut on her head with a knot forming, but otherwise, she appeared to be unhurt.
Bear whined, and I reached over, rubbing his head. When I first prospected with the Hounds, I was still having nightmares. Waking up in a cold sweat and always on edge, I was struggling to move past the pain and impending doom that being in Iraq instilled in me. One afternoon, a few weeks after I moved into the tiny house behind the clubhouse, Bullet knocked on my door, and in a state of panic, I pulled him inside and shoved a gun into his temple.
He talked me down, and I thought for sure I was about to be killed. Instead, he and I got on our bikes and rode for two days. No words, no explanations. Just the open road and the wind rushing past my face to help me finally calm down. When we arrived at our destination, it was another chapter of the Death Hounds in West Texas.
Not knowing what to expect, it surprised me when he introduced me to a brother who bred dogs to be trained as service animals. When we walked around to the kennels, I saw Bear, and the moment I approached his cage, I knew he would save me. They trained him to know when my anxiety was growing too much, and when my PTSD flared beyond what I could control, he was the only thing that could bring my focus back to now.
A few days later, Bear was delivered to me in Portstill, and it’s not often someone sees me without him. I wanted to give him the night off with the party raging outside, but to see him lying against Sadie, his neck across her lap and his eyes scanning the room, I realized my buddy was sensing something deeper than an unconscious girl.
Hearing loud voices from outside my door, I reached over and scratched behind his ears. “Keep an eye on her. I’ll be right back.”
He sighed and his ears perked up as I gently stood from the edge of the bed and moved to the door. Glancing back at Sadie, I realized how beautiful she was and something deep inside me shifted. I fought the urge to adjust my dick as I stepped outside and quietly pulled the door closed.
Bear would protect Sadie until the Death Hounds could figure out what happened.
Then all hell was going to rain down on whoever hurt her and Jacob.
Chapter 4
Sadie
My footsteps were quickas I juggled the three bags of groceries, trying not to drop them as I moved faster down the broken sidewalk. I never wanted to be out past dark, but my teacher kept me after school, trying to engage me in the idea of college. I took extra classes, hoping to graduate early and be able to earn some money for my family, so I was the only fifteen-year-old senior in my high school’s history.
