Page 4 of Gunner

“Office now, Sarah!” her father ordered firmly.

With a huff, she did an about face and stormed into the back. Mike lowered his gun and grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt. “I like you, Gunner. Like all the boys in the club but let me be very clear. You go anywhere near my baby girl, and no one will ever find your body. Got me?”

I gulped, nodding profusely.

Mike released me, patted my shirt, then smiled. “Now. Go see Beth and get yourself a cup of coffee and a scone. She tried out a new recipe. You will love them.”

“Yes sir,” I muttered, heading back to the counter.

Life after that day became a long, arduous game of hide and seek. My only saving grace was when fall arrived and Sarah started college. I’d never been so thankful for freshmen week.

With temptation several states away, I went back to my whoring ways as if everything was copacetic. I was still alive, and Beth and Mike were once again nice to me.

That was almost a year ago and still the thought of young Sarah had my dick thinking all kinds of salacious, dirty things. The good thing for me was that instead of coming home for the summer, Sarah was going to be touring Europe with friends, courtesy of King and his baby jar that Beth started for him.

Nevertheless, I had fleeting moments when I thought of young, beautiful Sarah, my dream girl. Mike couldn’t shoot me if I kept my thoughts in my head. It was safer that way. Mike got to keep his baby girl chaste, I got to keep my balls intact and King got his coffee.

All was as it should be.

Chapter Two

Sarah

Dropping my bags at the door, I leaned against it and sighed.

I was finally home.

Thank fuck!

It was a long bus ride from Rhode Island. One I never wanted to do again. If I had the money, I would have flown, but like most college students, I was dead broke.

Instead of catching a flight with my friends to Europe, I was standing in my parents’ living room, wondering how the hell I was going to tell them I screwed up again.

Okay. For the record, it wasn’t my fault.

Well...not technically.

So, I might have failed a few too many classes and I may have spent the trip money on clothes, but in my defense, those classes were really hard and I needed retail therapy to cheer me up, so I went shopping.

I wasn’t a brainiac like my brother, who was Mr. Perfect in my parents’ eyes. With his perfect grades, perfect girlfriend, or perfect driving record. One little fender bender and the insurance company classified me as a liability.

A liability!

I just wanted to sit around the house and forget about what I was missing. God, I really wanted to go on that damn trip. It was all my friends and I talked about. We planned everything down to the last detail. Well, they did. I was more interested in all the shops I wanted to visit. I wasn’t interested in the traditional sightseeing like they were. All I could think about was the multitude of high-end shops I could go shopping in.

Fashion was my life.

I loved everything about it, from the fabrics to the designer labels. For as long as I can remember, all I ever wanted to be was a fashion designer. I always stepped outside the box when it came to fashion. I kept up to date on all the latest trends and immersed myself with all the up-and-coming fashion designers.

My first foray into the field was when I received my first Barbie.

God, I loved dressing and re-dressing her.

She was my inspiration. As I grew, my parents fed my addiction to fashion, catering to all my whimsical wishes. I only wanted my first cell phone so I could start posting my ideas, thoughts and designs.

When social media exploded on the scene, I was right there in the thick of it. I had several social media sites all devoted to anything and everything in the fashion industry, from clothes to make-up. I was trending and had a big following. I was making a name for myself and it was only a matter of time before sponsors began calling.

I couldn’t wait for that day.

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