Gunnar: A Motorcycle Club Romance

by Nina Levine

  Chelsea told me that her dad helped keep me out of prison in exchange for her marrying Joe. So what the fuck did he mean when he said I should know he has ways of keeping the club out of trouble?

  “You coming?” Griff asks as he looks back at me when I don’t make a move to leave.

  I shake my head and reach for my phone. “I’ve got something to do. I’ll see you back at the clubhouse later.”

  They leave me and I send Chelsea a text.

  Me: I need to see you. Now.

  She takes a good five minutes to come back to me.

  Chelsea: I can’t now. I’m busy.

  Me: I’m outside the hotel. We need to talk.

  Chelsea: Mason, I can’t.

  Me: I don’t give a fuck what you need to do to get out here, but I need you to come out and talk to me. Don’t make me come inside.

  The dots go up and down for a long time before her reply comes through.

  Chelsea: You’re busting my fucking balls here. Give me five minutes.

  Fuck, I love her fire.

  She takes a good ten minutes to come out, but she does, and I struggle to take my eyes off her. She’s wearing a silver dress that is hell on a man’s ability to think straight. Since I need to fucking think straight for the conversation we’re about to have, I force my eyes back up to her face and keep them fucking there.

  “What is so important that I just had to fake sickness to Joe for and risk his wrath for the rest of the night? And if you tell me it’s just because you want to get your hands on me, I swear to God, I will—”

  “What else did you get in exchange for marrying that motherfucker?”

  Her mouth snaps shut, all her words swallowed. I watch as her brows wrinkle, her forehead wrinkles, and her thoughts wrinkle. She’s trying to figure out how to get out of telling me the truth, but fuck if I’m allowing that tonight.

  “You need to start talking, Mayfair, and you need to start fucking doing that now. And I swear to fucking God, if you don’t give me the truth, this will be it for us. I will walk the fuck away from you and never come back.”

  Those beautiful blue eyes of her look at me so wide and so scared that I can’t help but feel the pull to her that is always there. She hasn’t told me she still loves me, but she did tell me she loves us enough not to ruin us, so as far as I’m concerned, that’s her telling me she loves me. But I don’t need to hear what I can plainly fucking see—Chelsea never stopped loving me, and I think she made a deal with the fucking devil for me. A deal she’s refused to tell me about, even when I’ve been hell-bent on shoving my hate in her face. And I want to fucking know what it was and why the fuck she made it.

  Moving into me, she grips my T-shirt. “I got your safety. You know that.”

  “What the fuck else, Chelsea? Tell. Me.”

  Her eyes frantically search mine, and I just fucking know I’m not going to like what I hear when she finally gives me the truth. “Please don’t make me do this, Mason. Please.”

  I’m on the edge here. Every muscle is straining while my heart beats so fucking loud I swear they could hear it in fucking Perth. “You’re doing this. You’re going to tell me and then I’m going to fucking take care of this shit like I fucking should have when it all started.”

  Her face twists and she shakes her head. “No, you can’t. They will ruin you.” She grips my shirt harder. “I have a plan and am almost ready to—”

  “Fuck, Chelsea, no. I’m not spending another fucking second watching you be with that motherfucker. I want him gone and I fucking want that now. Tell me what the fuck they’re holding over you to keep you married to him.”

  “Mason, stop. No. You’re not thinking straight.”

  “Baby, this is the first time I am fucking thinking straight since this mess all fucking started.” I take hold of her neck and pull her to me. “I should have fucking known you wouldn’t walk away from me willingly. I fucking hate that we had to go through all this to get here, and now I need to fix it, and you need to fucking let me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to let you fix this. Please believe me.” Her eyes plead with me as much as her voice does. “I’ve figured out how to stop Joe, and I’ve almost got everything I need to do that. Please let me see this through. Please let me make this right between us after I broke what we had.”

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  When Chelsea’s standing in front of me, looking at me the way she is, begging for me to let her do something for us like she is, I’m fucking helpless but to give her what she wants. I will always fucking give this woman what she wants.

  “How long is this going to take?” I say.

  “I don’t know, but I’m hoping not long.”

  “I’m putting a time limit on it. One week, Mayfair. If it’s not sorted by then, I’m fucking taking over and you won’t fucking argue with me.”

  “Thank you,” she says, and I feel every ounce of her gratitude and relief.

  Her phone sounds with a text, and as she glances down at it, I say, “They threatened the club, didn’t they?”

  She looks back up at me and nods. And so fucking softly I can only just hear her, she says, “Yes, they threatened the people I know you’d die for.”

  Fuck me.

  I’ve spent all these fucking months hating her and treating her like shit when she was going to her own grave in her own way for me because of the people I’d go to my grave for. I really am a fucking asshole.

  I tighten my hold on her neck and pull her body against mine. Kissing the top of her head, I say, “I fucking love you and I swear I will make this up to you.”

  I will spend every day of the rest of my life doing that.

  I will also make these cunts pay for what they’ve done to her.

  31

  Chelsea

  I squint as the sun beats down on me, blinding me for a moment. Reaching for my sunglasses, I slide them on. I also put my hat on before walking the path from the house to the pool where I intend to spend most of today. A lazy Sunday by the pool in the sun sounds like heaven to me. Especially since Joe has locked himself in his office for the day. He told me he has a stack of work to get through, so not to expect to see him anytime soon.

  I survived the fundraiser last night and I also survived Joe after the fundraiser. After he threatened to wash my mouth out earlier in the night, I wasn’t sure what to expect from him, but he’d been distracted by something and didn’t come near me after we arrived home.

  Sitting on the sunlounger, I apply sunscreen and think about Mason. He gave me a deadline last night and I’m a little stressed by it because I know he meant every word he said. If I don’t take care of Joe, he’ll go in guns blazing and do it. But what he doesn’t realise is that dealing with Joe once and for all will require a lot more than brute strength. This isn’t something Mason can beat out of him. We need to be smarter about how we handle this situation.

  An hour of blissful peace and sunshine passes before I decide to go for a swim. I’m about to dive in when Joe’s voice sounds from behind me.

  “You’ve been fucking your biker.”

  My entire body tenses as I still.

  It’s not just that he knows this that causes my reaction, it’s the malice in his voice. The malice that slips into my veins and slides through them like an angry snake.

  I don’t want to look at him, but I do.

  Bile hits my throat as I take in the menacing storm that is my husband.

  He comes closer.

  “I knew you were spreading your legs for him.”

  My fear lays trapped in my lungs while I struggle to breathe. “I’m not spreading my legs for him, Joe.”

  His hand is across my face before I see it coming. “You fucking are. Don’t fucking lie to me.”

  I press my fingers to my cheek where he left the kind of sting I’ll feel for hours.

  “I’ve had a guy watching you since I got home on Friday. He caught you with Mason last night.”
/>   “So talking to a person automatically means you’re fucking them, does it?”

  He strikes me again. Harder this time. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking him. And I’m putting an end to it. I’m also putting an end to his club. I’ll fucking take everything he cares about.”

  I don’t know exactly what he means by that, but I know just from looking at and feeling his dark energy that I’m not going to like it.

  Still running with denial, I say, “I’m not going to stand here and listen to this. I’ve given you everything since I married you. Everything. My life, my body, my fucking soul. Don’t you dare come here and throw accusations in my face that aren’t true.”

  I try to move past him, but he stops me. Squeezing his fingers around my throat, he says, “By the time I’m finished with you, you will know never to lie to me again. And you will know that I am the only man who touches you.”

  His fingers are cutting off my oxygen and my attempts at prying them from me are unsuccessful. He watches me gasp for breath, exerting more pressure, almost choking me.

  My head spins, my lungs wheeze, my fear roars to life.

  The monster I live with is finally rearing its head.

  My fingers claw at his.

  “Joe,” I choke out. “Stop.”

  “We’re just getting started, Chelsea,” he says, his voice as dark as his eyes.

  He shoves me away from him and I stumble backwards on the paved area of the pool while sucking air in and trying to refill my lungs.

  I need to run but my legs are weak and every part of me is slow after being deprived of oxygen. But I push myself because I need to get far, far away from Joe.

  As I take steps backward, he advances towards me. When I run into a chair and almost trip over it, his hand is across my face. This is more than a slap but not quite a punch, and it causes me to crumple over the chair.

  Joe’s hands grip my waist and he lifts me back to my feet. “How many times have you fucked him?”

  Still trying to get my breath back, I look at him. I don’t want to answer him. The truth will enrage him even more than he is; a lie will do the same. When I don’t give him an answer, he hits me again. This one knocks the breath out of me.

  You need to run.

  He’s going to kill you.

  Panic oozes through me as what he’s doing to me now collides in my mind with what my father did to me when I was younger.

  I want to take my power back and stand up against Joe, but all that baggage weighs me down.

  It makes me feel weak and unable to defend myself.

  It keeps me small.

  That’s what these assholes want, Chelsea.

  To keep you small so they can be big.

  Stand the fuck up and fight.

  I force myself to straighten and to push my shoulders back.

  I force myself to look my husband in the eyes.

  And then I force myself to stand up to him even though it’s the scariest thing I’ve ever had to do.

  “I love him, Joe, and I will never stop loving him. And you can keep hitting me all you want, but it’s not going to look good when the media sees how you manage your wife, because trust me, I will show them.”

  “You won’t have the chance to show them, because I won’t let you near them without me. Everything you do from here on out will be monitored. I gave you space to begin with, to see if you could be trusted, and now I know you can’t be. Things will be very different now.”

  Run.

  You need to fucking run.

  I stare at Joe, horrified at the man I married, and I know I’m right. I need to fucking run.

  So I do.

  I run towards the front yard.

  I need to find other people because Joe won’t chance touching me in public.

  He comes after me, but I have an advantage. I’m lighter and I’m a runner, so I’m faster than him.

  The problem is the gate to the front yard. I have to stop to unlock it and that gives him time to catch up.

  As I madly fumble with the lock, I glance back at him. When I see how close he is, I kick my leg out at him, aiming for his balls. He anticipates that, though, and stops my leg before my foot connects with him.

  “You can’t win here, Chelsea,” he says, breathing his evil all over me.

  I keep working the lock.

  Why won’t it unlock, goddam it?

  Fuck it.

  I give up and push my hands into Joe’s chest as hard as I can.

  He’s almost unmovable, but I do manage to force him back a couple of steps. I take the opportunity to scramble up the gate. If I can’t fucking go through it, I’ll go over it.

  I’m almost at the top when Joe’s hand latches around my foot. I kick out, trying to dislodge his hand, and I succeed, but not for long. Joe’s hands grip my calves and he yanks me down with every bit of strength he possesses.

  My body slides down the gate, smacking my chin in the rush, and I land on the cement path with a loud crack.

  The pain that shoots through my body is what I imagine an earthquake to be like. Radiating waves of agony and terror.

  Reaching to touch my head where it hurts the most, I find sticky liquid, which I confirm is blood when I pull my hand back.

  I don’t have time to think about this, though, because Joe steps over my body and bends over me to bring his face to mine. The pure rage I see in his eyes makes me shudder.

  “I will teach you how to be a wife if it’s the last fucking thing I do.”

  He raises his hand and brings it down on my face and I see black.

  32

  Gunnar

  “I haven’t seen you for a couple of weeks,” Louise says at Scott’s place on Sunday when I rock up for the barbecue lunch Scott invited me to. “How was your trip?”

  I take the seat next to her. “Let’s just say I’m glad it’s fucking over. How have you been?”

  She smiles. “I’ve been good. Busy with work, but good.” She pauses. “How are you going with getting that girl out of your system?”

  I know what she’s asking, and I’ll give her a straight-up answer because she needs to know there’s no chance at anything happening between us. “It turns out she’s in their for life.”

  She keeps smiling and surprises me when she says, “I’m glad you’ve figured that out. I mean, I’m disappointed for me, but happy for you. I hope I get to meet her one day.”

  “You know what? I think you two’ll get on well.”

  “Who’ll get on well?” Harlow asks, sitting next to me.

  “Louise and Chelsea.”

  Harlow’s eyes widen a little. “I thought Chelsea was out of your life.”

  “She was, but now she’s not.” I lean towards her. “So I no longer require your matchmaking services.” I eye Wilder across the table and grin. “Maybe move on to Wilder. He needs all the help he can get.”

  Harlow appears confused, like her brain is taking its sweet time accepting what I’ve told her. She looks at Wilder, though, and waves her hand as she says, “Oh he’s already sorted. We all know who he’s going to end up with.”

  I frown. “I’m out of the loop on that.”

  She looks back at me. “So you and Chelsea are back together?”

  “We’re working on it, but let’s go back to Wilder. Who’s he gonna end up with?”

  Harlow looks at me like I’m an idiot, but before she can answer my question, Scott calls out from the other end of the table, “Gunnar, need you for a minute.”

  He pushes his chair out and walks inside. I follow him, more than happy to put an end to the conversation with Harlow. I’m not ready for her interrogation over what’s happening between Chelsea and me. Once I’ve made Chelsea mine again, I’ll fucking talk about that as much as Harlow wants, but not until then.

  Griff is with Scott inside. “The cops have started an investigation into that guy’s death last night,” he says. “We’re keeping an eye on it and may need to pay Novak another visit.�
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  Scott looks at me. “Watch your back at all times, brother. It looks like the cops have stepped up their efforts.”

  “How?” I ask.

  “I woke up to their eyes on my house this morning,” Scott says. “And they were watching Griff too. You notice anything today?”

  “No, and I checked.” I’m always fucking checking.

  Scott nods. “Okay, well stay vigilant. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, but it doesn’t feel good.”

  Griff receives a text and says to Scott, “I’ve gotta take care of something.”

  “You coming back after?” Scott asks.

  “Yeah. Even if this takes longer than I think it will, I’ll swing back and pick Sophia up.”

  After he leaves us, Scott eyes me. “You still good working the jobs Hearst gives us?”

  I know what he’s asking: How close to losing my shit am I? And should he assign another member to this work?

  “I’m good.”

  “You sure?”

  Scott’s my president and I have more respect for him than for most of the people I know. I trust him completely. At various times over the years, he’s given me the kind of advice that helped me more than I knew it would. He’s been there when I didn’t even fucking know I needed someone to be there. And right now, I fucking need to get some shit off my chest, so I say, “Chelsea’s leaving him.”

  “Fuck. When?”

  “I’ve given her a week to make it happen.”

  He frowns. “You’ve given her a week?”

  “Yeah. She says she needs to do it in a particular way. If she can’t make shit happen, I’ll take over.”

  Scott turns silent for a moment before saying, “Sometimes we need to give our woman the space to find her feet, Gunnar. We can’t always be the one to make shit happen.”

  “Scott,” Harlow says, joining us. “Sorry to interrupt, but your mum just called. She fell down the stairs and needs someone to go help her. I think she might need to go to the hospital.”

  Scott nods. “J and I will go. How did she sound?”