Page 43 of Touch of Innocence
TWENTY
The job sucked, just as Gunner had known that it would. He had never been under any illusions about what sort of job it would be, or what sort of place he would be living in. But the little room above the bar came with the job, and he was making a surprising amount of money.
It was exactly what he would have expected, in short. When had he ever been afraid to work hard? He just had to last it out long enough that he could buy a new bike. Or he had even had some fantasies about calling Mike back, telling him that he would be back for his bike once he had enough money to pay for all of the parts and repairs.
It shouldn’t be that long. If only Mike didn’t just laugh his head off at the suggestion, but then, why did Mike keep calling? Once every few days, Gunner’s phone rang, and that seemed like a lot of effort for Mike to go to if he just wanted to yell at Gunner.
Even now, even two weeks, almost, after Sam had kicked Gunner out, Gunner’s phone buzzed, and when he glanced down at the screen it told him that he had a call coming in from Mike. As always, he rejected it, but for a moment or two, just a split second, really, he thought about taking it.
It was stupid. The best thing to do would be to cut off all ties completely, and he knew it. He was still too close, and what he should probably do was leave Texas completely. Maybe go down and hide in Mexico, give his incredibly rusty Spanish a workout. Though what the hell would he do there?
Or.
Or he could go back.
The idea caught at his imagination, and this time, he let it. What would happen if he just walked out of this bar forever, if he left the grubby walls and the stench of cheap beer and cigarettes behind him? If he hitched a ride back to town, grabbed his bike, and …
And that’s where it had to end because where else could that go? The rest of the fantasy was impossible. Mike might be willing to hand Gunner his bike, since it was, after all, his, but being so close to town, to Sam and his family, would he be able to resist going to see them?
He knew it was impossible. Sam had made that very clear, and by now, Sam would have certainly passed on what he knew to Ben and Isaac, who were probably thanking their lucky stars that they’d gotten rid of the dangerous ex-con.
This was how it had to be. So when someone pulled open the door to the bar, Gunner raised his head, intending to greet them. He knew most of the regulars already, and most of the people who came into a dump like this were regulars, so he completely expected to know the man who walked in.
His words of greeting died a slow, wilting death on his lips, and first there was disbelief. Then the fear hit, hammering away in the pit of his stomach, sending adrenaline flooding through his body, the urge to run, or to fight, mingling inside of him to the point where he couldn’t seem to make himself do anything at all other than stand there like his feet had been blasted to the floor and clamped there.
“No,” he finally whispered. No, it wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t. Of all of the things which had happened to him, this one rankled the most. All of the things he had given up, lost to him forever, because of this man.
“Hey, babe,” Chad spoke as casually as though he and Gunner had been parted for mere moments. Like one of them had just stepped out to grab some milk from the store, not like they had been put in jail together.
“Oh my God,” Gunner whispered, and at that moment, he prepared himself for death. In the image he had seen from the cops, he had noticed the gun in his former lover’s hand. Where would he be shot? In the head? Through the heart? Or a gut shot, so that he lingered on in pain longer?
“Relax,” came the offhanded comment, plus an amused smirk, the same smirk that Gunner had perfected himself. It had come from this man originally, as had all of his protective mannerisms. “I’m not here to hurt you. I know what happened.”
Those words weren’t exactly reassuring, and Gunner straightened his shoulders and stared the other man right in the eye. If he was meant to die now, he would die as a man, facing down a dangerous situation, not shying away from it like a coward.
“Last I heard, you were going to, what did you say? End me for betraying you?” Gunner remembered. He remembered everything, even though he had tried so hard to put it all out of his mind. Some things just could not be forgotten.
“Yeah, but you didn’t, did you? I asked around. You refused to turn me in. Your sentence was so much lighter than mine, but not because you ratted me out.”
“No,” Gunner admitted. “It was because it was my first offense, and the judge gave me a lighter sentence.”
“Right. So I’m here to get you. You don’t have to keep running. It’s kind of funny that you’ve been running from me, so scared, and all I wanted was for you to come back. No one has ever been as good as you, babe. We could take on the world.”
Gunner still held his phone in his hand, and carefully, hiding his movement behind the bar and not even daring to look down at what he was doing, he typed in three numbers. Then he turned off the phone’s ability to speak, though not to listen. He wanted all of this heard.
“People are looking for you,” Gunner pointed out, carefully setting his phone, still transmitting the call, onto the counter. He just had to hope that there was someone on the other side listening. “The cops. Feds. They came to my place. You’re gonna get yourself into trouble.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll be more careful. They’ll never catch me again.” One of this man’s flaws was and always had been overconfidence. Once, it had enthralled Gunner, appealed to him greatly. Now, having tasted something like stability, Gunner found it sadder than anything else.
He had cared so much about this man, and now, there was nothing left but pity. The most important relationship of his life for years and this was what there was left between them. Just the ashes of passion, and regret. A wish that he had never met him.
“Come on. They’ve caught you before. Lots of times.” Gunner scoffed, trying to keep his nerves out of his voice. If it was found out what he was doing, then somehow, this nice act would all disappear, he knew it. The gun would come out, and Gunner was fairly certain he wouldn’t survive.
Chad had always taken a dim view of betrayal, which was, of course, why Gunner had been running all of this time. And that had just been a perceived betrayal. What he was doing now was real.
“Not this time,” Chad murmured, and then he took a step closer to Gunner, who tried to gather himself, bunch his muscles in case he needed to spring away, as his former lover approached. “Because I have you.”
That was quite the assumption, but Gunner knew that he had to let the guy think what he wanted to think. He needed to distract him, just a little bit longer, so while he took a little step back, increasing his distance from the other man, he was careful to keep his hands at his sides and open, very cautious as he revealed that he wasn’t holding anything, that he wasn’t a threat.
