by Aiden Bates
I imagined Gunnar swallowing my cock to the base, the intensity of it causing spit to drip from the corners of his mouth. He’d be unrelenting, his hands on my hips keeping me pinned to the car as he blew me.
I came with Gunnar’s name in my mouth, in my fantasy and in the motel room. My orgasm hit me like a punch to the gut; I shuddered through it, and then lay on the bed, breathing heavily as my heart rate slowed. I slowly withdrew my hand from my shorts and cringed at the stickiness.
And I did feel better: a little calmer, and sleep was definitely in my future. But I needed to get a grip—I had to be careful. This attraction was only going to make it hurt more when Gunnar pushed me away again. I had to remember that’s all this was, and all it would stay—a fantasy.
Well, no way in hell was I climbing into these dingy sheets. I pulled my leather tight around me, a comforting blanket that smelled of leather and sweat and bike exhaust. As I drifted toward sleep, I wasn’t haunted by worries about Vipers, nor distracted by the fantasy I’d concocted.
No—I thought of the softness in Gunnar’s eyes when he’d asked me what was wrong.
7
Gunnar
After my third attempt to guess Raven’s password, his desktop computer locked me out.
“Fuck!” I slammed my fist hard on his desk.
Raven hadn’t been in his room when I’d returned to the clubhouse after a night at Ballast. I hadn’t slept much; I’d been straining all night to hear the sound of the clubhouse door opening and Raven sneaking up the stairs. It never came.
But as soon as my alarm had gone off, I was awake. I pulled on sweatpants, not even bothering with a shirt, and pounded on Raven’s door again.
Still absent. For nearly two weeks now he’d barely been home, and no one had any real idea of what he was doing—not even Priest. He checked in with Priest, but only to confirm that he was okay. No details. No timelines. No real information.
It made me furious. Not only was it dangerous, it was disrespectful to the club. We had rules for a reason. He couldn’t just disappear and think I’d let it slide.
I’d tried to do some recon of my own. Blade had asked me to do it, but he hadn’t needed to. It was my duty as sergeant and as Raven’s friend to keep an eye on him, especially when he was being so cagey. But my attempts to follow him, or at least figure out why he was sneaking off, hadn’t turned up anything. Same way he’d ditched Coop, he ditched me.
I turned away from the computer. If I were Raven, where else would I keep information?
That was the problem at the heart of all this, wasn’t it? I couldn’t keep up with Raven. He was smart enough to set up his computer to lock out prying eyes, smart enough to ditch any tails, smart enough to run some sort of investigation with no help from the club. This was a doomed endeavor.
I couldn’t just give up, though.
I’d thought we had connected a little bit that day at Ankh’s crash site—or at least that the walls he kept up had started to crack. But maybe he was just telling me what I wanted to hear so I’d lay off him. He’d been so weird after that, and I’d started to wonder if whatever he was digging into had something to do with Ankh’s death. But what was there to investigate? We’d done all the verification we’d needed at his time of death.
Grief was funny like that, though. Definitely wasn’t linear. Maybe going to the crash site had irritated that barely healed wound. Maybe he was just diving into random research to distract himself.
Maybe I’d been too hard on him.
It had been the only way I’d known how to put distance between us, though. The first time he’d really caught my eye was—Jesus, seven years ago. He’d just turned eighteen, and I’d been thirty-two.
It had been summertime, and we were spending a few hours at the lake—Blade, Priest, Ankh, Raven, and me. It had felt like an idyllic family trip. A few other members had planned to join us after taking care of some club business, but for a short while, it was just us.
As soon as we’d parked our bikes, Raven had made his way to the end of the Elkin Lake dock and set up his towel and his cooler. He’d tilted his face up to the sun and sighed with pleasure at the warmth.
Then he’d stripped off his t-shirt and jeans like it was nothing. His swim trunks underneath had been barely long enough to graze his mid-thigh. His legs were long and muscular—when had that happened? And why couldn’t I stop thinking about running my hands up his legs from ankle to hip?
“Help me out, please,” he’d ordered me as he tossed me a bottle of sunscreen. I fumbled with the bottle as I caught it.
“Hope this is SPF one hundred,” I’d grumbled in faux-protest. I’d stood behind him and smoothed sunscreen over the lean, muscled planes of his back. All that smooth white skin. My hands had looked so rough and tan in comparison. And he’d shivered slightly under my touch—from the chill of the sunscreen or something else, I didn’t know.
I’d done a thorough job, smoothing my hands over his shoulders and nape, working methodically down his back. Finally I’d reached his lower back, dimpled just over the small, pert curve of his ass. I’d rubbed the sunscreen in carefully, across his back, around his hips, and then, because I was apparently insane, I’d dipped my fingertips under the waistband of his shorts and spread sunscreen delicately over the very top of his ass.
Raven had shuddered beneath my touch.
“All done,” I’d said, and my voice had sounded rough to my ears.
“Thanks.” He’d turned around to take the bottle of sunscreen from my hands. Our gazes had met, but I couldn’t parse what emotions ran in those deep blue eyes. I’d just straightened up and turned away to spread out my own towel on the dock.
Raven had dove gracefully into the lake. When he re-emerged, dripping wet and his jet black hair slicked back, accentuating the angular structure of his face, the spark in my gut had burst suddenly into a roaring flame.
But he was a kid, even at eighteen. And I was a grown fucking man! He was perceptive, though—he’d probably known I'd been attracted to him since that day at the lake, and it had only gotten worse after my poorly thought-out grappling lesson. But that didn’t make my desire any more appropriate. If anything, it just made me feel worse. The older he got, the more I wanted him, and the more I had to push that down. Ankh had given me a second chance with this club. He’d given me a home. And if I abused that trust by fucking his only child, I’d never be able to forgive myself.
Raven was still young. He had so much life ahead of him, and so much ambition. I was just a fucked-up old man with my best years behind me. I’d only hold him back.
But that didn’t mean I was going to abandon my duties as sergeant. It was my responsibility to figure out what was going on.
There was nothing on his bedside table or in his dresser, though. Nothing that would indicate any sort of research—no hand-scribbled notes, no books, no maps, nothing. Everything must be on his laptop or his phone. I rubbed my hand across my forehead. I was wasting my time. I turned back to his desktop, wondering if I could try to plug in another password yet.
Suddenly the door opened.
Raven stood in the doorway and gaped at me. He looked awful—dark bags under his eyes, shoulders hunched, his hair dull and mussed. His jeans and t-shirt were wrinkled like he’d slept in them.
All at once, my frustration beat out my concern, and I couldn’t hold back. “What the fuck is going on, Raven?”
Raven blinked. His gaze darted over me, lingering on my bare chest and the too-low waistband of my sweatpants. I’d barely slept—I was sure I didn’t look any better than he did.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Where have you been all night? Where the fuck do you keep going?”
He huffed a disbelieving laugh. “I should be asking you what the fuck is going on. You’re the one standing shirtless in the middle of my fucking room!”
“Because I’m trying to figure out what the fuck you’re doing!” I barked. “In case you forgot, i
t’s my job to be in the loop. If you won’t loop me in, I have to resort to other methods.”
“Or you could just trust me!” Raven stepped fully into the room and slammed the door behind him. “Like Priest does. Like apparently everyone in this club does except you!”
“Of course I trust you,” I said. “But you’re acting like you know everything! Risk assessment is my job. You can’t do everything on your own!”
“Everything is going fine,” Raven said coldly. “I don’t need your help.”
He didn’t need my help? It sure as hell seemed like he needed someone’s help. Why the hell was he so resistant to accepting it?
“Is this about your crush on me?” I nearly shouted. “Is that why you’re being so fucking difficult?”
Raven went completely still.
Oh, shit. I’d really fucked it up now.
Raven was scarily calm as he lifted his gaze to meet mine. I was used to handling a myriad of Raven’s emotions: frustration, irritation, caginess, and occasionally, warmth. But this stoic, calm reaction was new. And I didn’t like it.
“First off, a crush? Like I’m some fucking kid?” He rolled his eyes. “You think all my decisions revolve around how I feel about you? Which, for the record, is nothing. I don’t feel a fucking thing for you.”
My stomach clenched, and I stepped back like he’d struck me.
“You are such a fucking narcissist,” he said. “The world doesn’t revolve around you. My world certainly doesn’t.”
I was used to Raven’s sarcasm. He could dish it out, and I could take it and even throw a little back. But this wasn’t one of the half-serious, half-teasing verbal tussles we’d had when he was still a teenager. The tenuous bond we had was disintegrating in front of me. Because of what I’d said.
“Wait,” I said. Fear rose in my throat like bile. “That’s not what I meant—Raven—”
Raven threw his hands up. “You know what? Fuck you. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just need to grow up.” He spat that sentence out like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Or even better—if I’m not willing to play by your rules, maybe I should just leave the club colors behind.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” I closed the distance between us and Raven backed up against the door. A slight tinge of color rose in his cheeks. “We’re family. This club is your family. I know you know that. Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”
“You don’t get to decide what I say,” Raven said. “I’m not your property.”
My heart jumped. Is that what I wanted? Not just to protect him—but to claim him?
“Stop acting like this,” I pleaded. “Just let me help you.”
Raven scoffed. He shoved me away, hard, but even as he was rejecting me, his slim hands on my chest sent a spark of desire down my spine.
“Fuck. You.” He threw a pointed look at his desktop computer. “Keep trying to hack into my shit and see how far it gets you. If I needed help, I’d get it. And it wouldn’t be from the club slut.”
My mouth dropped open. Was that really what he thought of me?
Sure, I had fun every now and then, but—
I felt sick.
“Don’t worry about my ‘crush.’” Raven opened the door. “If I ever felt anything for you, I don’t anymore.”
He left, slamming the door behind him.
I stood in the middle of Raven’s bedroom, surrounded by his things: his humming computer, his unmade bed, his laundry on the floor. It was a snapshot of his life—a life I apparently knew nothing about. I’d meant to put distance between us to keep my feelings under control, but I didn’t want him to hate me. I didn’t want him to be a stranger.
His words had left me aching, but something else still had to be going on. Raven had Hell’s Ankhor in his blood. He’d never leave us behind.
Would he?
Had I pushed him to that brink? Had I made him feel so isolated, so alone, that he didn’t even think he could turn to the club for help?
Not a great achievement for a sergeant-at-arms. Shit—I couldn’t let him leave, not in this state of mind. Who knew where he’d go? Or when—if?—he’d come back.
I rushed out of his bedroom. “Raven! Wait!”
Coop was sitting in the clubhouse’s kitchen with a coffee and a bowl of cereal. He stared wide-eyed at me. “Uh, Gunnar? Everything cool?”
“Where’d he go?”
Outside, an engine roared to life. By the time I got to the front door of the clubhouse, Raven’s bike had already disappeared around the corner.
“He left,” Coop said.
I slammed my fist hard against the drywall. “Fuck!”
Coop stood up and chugged the rest of his coffee. “I’ll go after him.”
“Don’t.” I took a deep breath and rubbed my temples. “He’ll just ditch you again, like last time. I’ll give him some time to cool down.”
Coop gave me an odd look. “Seriously. Is everything okay?”
“Honestly?” I joined him in the kitchen and leaned heavily against the counter. “I don’t think so.”
8
Raven
I jumped on my bike and revved my engine hard. Gunnar called my name from the clubhouse, but I didn’t acknowledge it—just revved my engine again and took off.
I gunned my bike, as if I could outrun the frustration and fear chewing at me. I’d covered the distance between El Acantilado and Elkin Lake this morning in the chilly dawn, after my fitful night at the motel. I’d been ready to shower, get a little sleep in my own bed, and then loop the club into everything I’d discovered so far.
I’d finally made some progress, but not in the way I’d wanted. I’d effectively been chasing my own tail until I’d received the second email. How had the Vipers known I was watching? Who warned me? There were too many unknown factors. Too much danger. I had wanted to keep things to myself until I knew more, to protect Pops and to ensure the whole thing wasn’t bullshit, but I wasn’t an idiot. Despite what everyone seemed to think, I had boundaries, and I’d felt in over my head.
I’d planned to ask for backup for the meeting with the informant tonight. But now, stupid or not, that plan was out the window.
Gunnar had been in my room.
In my fucking room! He was apparently incapable of respecting my privacy.
The worst part was—it was like a scene from one of my fantasies. Even better than the one I’d come up with last night.
Gunnar had been in my room, shirtless, in a pair of gray sweatpants so thin they were nearly translucent. He’d been leaning over my desk when I walked in, trying to break the lock on my desktop. As if he ever had a chance.
I had stared at the muscled curve of his ass and the broad planes of his back, his skin a shade paler on his bare back than his arms. When he’d turned around to face me, I could hardly meet his eyes, instead staring at his chest and the definition of his abs and the blond trail of hair leading into his sweatpants. He’d been tense with anger. He was so burly, so strong, even when he’d clearly just woken up. It would’ve been so easy for him to just grab me and throw me onto the bed.
For a moment, I’d thought that’s why he was there. Not because he was concerned about the club, but because he was worried about me. Because he cared about me… And wanted me.
Pathetic. He’d told me to my face that he didn’t trust me, that he considered me a silly, naïve kid. Even worse, he’d thrown my feelings for him directly in my face, like they meant nothing.
Maybe I was stupid. I’d spent so much time growing up, waiting for Gunnar to notice me. There were moments—just moments—when I thought maybe he felt something for me, too. Especially before I left for college, I’d catch his eyes lingering on me when he thought I wasn’t looking. It had happened enough that I thought he just needed a push. To know for real that I wanted him, too.
Even after everything, I’d thought it was something else holding him back—my parents, or the age gap, or simply the idea of hooking up with
another club member.
But apparently it was just me he didn’t want.
The freeway stretched open and inviting ahead of me. I was headed north again, back to El Acantilado. I’d find my father’s killer. I didn’t need the club to help me. This wasn’t about politics. This was about Dad, and as his son, it was up to me to find a resolution for this.
I was used to being alone, anyway.
It was early afternoon when I reached San Francisco. I wouldn’t ride into El Acantilado yet—definitely didn’t need to spend any more time there than necessary. Not if the Vipers were looking for me. Instead, I rode into San Francisco proper for a meal and to do a little research. Better to work from a public computer than my own until I’d scanned it for any bugs after that last email had come in.
In the library, I typed the coordinates from the second email into Google Maps.
The location looked to be another bar. It was east of El Acantilado, the inland side, about an hour’s ride from the center of San Francisco. Even though there wasn’t much surrounding the bar, the fact that it was at least a public business put me at ease. None of this abandoned warehouse mess like we’d dealt with when Logan was kidnapped. Business meant there’d be other people around, so whoever I was meeting couldn’t pull anything too sketchy.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in San Francisco, eating, researching, and trying not to think about Gunnar. I had to be sharp when I met the informer, not distracted by a man who would only ever see me as an annoying, precocious kid he was obligated to look after.
When night finally rolled around, I rode the distance to El Acantilado, wearing a plain jacket against the chill instead of my Hell’s Ankhor leather.
The Hideaway Bar was less a bar and more a shack on the side of the highway. The sign was barely visible, and there were a few bikes already parked out front.
