Caught (Grave Diggers MC Book 2)

by Michelle Woods

  “What are you doing here?” She demanded, her tone short, almost curt.

  “We should talk,” Gunner said, and when she just stood there watching him, he motioned behind her, “Inside.”

  “Fine,” she grunted, rolling her eyes as she stepped back to allow him entry, already sure that letting him in was a mistake. Gunner was stepping inside when the elevator dinged and a man got off carrying a bag. Dang, her free dinners were a thing of the past, she realized. Not that she’d thought it could go on forever, but she truly hated giving this perk of their relationship up. Gunner turned towards the man as he walked up to the apartment.

  “Shit, I wasn’t told you’d be here tonight or I would have brought you something too. I thought you were on the r—um busy tonight?” The man tilted his head, frowning.

  “Yeah, change of plans. It’s fine, I ate already,” Gunner told him, reaching out for the offered bag of food. Margo expected him to tell the man not to bother bringing her dinners anymore but he didn’t, he only nodded.

  “I see.” The man glanced at Margo and waved, earning a glare from Gunner. “You two have a good night,” he said, as he turned and walked back toward elevator. Gunner’s eyes narrowed as he turned with the bag and shut the door with a bit more force than was necessary.

  “You should have told him to stop sending the food over. I told him we broke it off and you wouldn’t want him bringing me food anymore, but he said unless it came from you he wasn’t going to stop. I was going to call you about it,” Margo said, watching him head into the kitchen with her dinner. He glanced over his shoulder with a raised brow.

  “He called me,” he stated flatly.

  Margo stopped walking and frowned. Wait, the man had called Gunner, but he was still delivering food to her? She wasn’t sure what to think of that. Margo tilted her head, wondering what the reasoning behind that was.

  “And he is still delivering food to me because…?” she questioned, following him into the kitchen watching as he set the bag of food on the counter.

  “Because we both know that if I’m not having it delivered to you every day, you’d forget to eat whenever you’re painting,” Gunner explained, pulling a plate down from the cabinet where she kept them.

  “I—that’s not true,” Margo lied, anger stirring inside her, mostly because she knew he was right about her not eating. She’d always struggled with her bad eating habits. Most people thought an abundance of sweets was what led to her being slightly over-weight, in reality it was her lack of eating that caused the weight gain.

  “Uh-huh, and how long were you painting for?” he asked, as he opened the take-out containers and started putting the rice on the plate.

  “I don’t know, a few hours maybe. Gunner, I managed to eat just fine before you started having meals sent over,” Margo snapped, unable to keep her anger from bleeding into her tone.

  “Yeah, pizza and TV dinners are not food, babe,” Gunner grunted before he motioned to the sink. “Wash up, after you eat we need to have a conversation.”

  Margo grumbled, but she moved to the sink grabbing the soap she used to wash her hands after painting with her acrylics. If she wasn’t so hungry, she would have ignored his commands, but the food smelled damned good. She’d gotten used to having real food every day and truth be told, despite her token arguments about the food delivery, she liked knowing that she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Turning from the sink, she grabbed her plate and headed into the living room to sit down at her coffee table. When she had moved in, she’d bought one of those lift-top coffee tables so she didn’t have to try and squeeze a dining room table into her small apartment. She hated feeling crowded and adding anymore furniture would have made the space feel smaller.

  “I’m still serious about what I said a week ago, Gunner. That hasn’t changed,” Margo told him as she sat down on the couch, taking the Coke he offered her. Gunner sat down beside her, his hand brushing her hair from the side of her face gently and his dark eyes gazing down at her solemnly.

  “Eat, we will discuss that when you’re done.”

  “You know, I can talk and eat at the same time,” Margo muttered, scowling at him. He sighed, motioning for her to eat.

  “I know but this conversation isn’t going to be light and I don’t want it to cause indigestion.” Gunner ran a hand over the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

  Margo didn’t know what to say to that. She pursed her lips, watching him for a long moment. Silently, she followed his command, more because she was hungry than because he’d ordered her to. Hope was tugging at the strings of her heart and she wanted to demand answers, but she knew he wouldn’t give her any until she was finished with her dinner.

  Gunner watched Margo eat, feeling his body starting to tense up as cravings for her assaulted him. When she’d opened the door with her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail, wearing a thin t-shirt with paint stains on it as well as her hands, his only thought had been to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. If Bunny hadn’t shown up with her food, he likely would have ended up making love to her against the nearest flat surface. He felt starved for her despite their separation being short. Somehow over the past four months, Margo had become more than just a woman he liked to fuck. Buck was right, she was a keeper and if she didn’t freak out about him being a biker, he planned on keeping her.

  Hell, if he was honest, he knew even if she did freak, he was keeping her. Margo was his and that was more than obvious to him now that he was sitting here beside her, drinking in her beauty. How she’d crawled so far under his skin in such a short time was beyond him, but she had. Maybe it was the way she made him feel like less of a freak because she understood him and his need to organize shit. Speaking of organizing, he couldn’t help the little smile that touched his lips as he looked around her apartment. He noted the rags lying on the floor and the cans she’d stacked on the table beside where she ate. She’d already destroyed her apartment and he’d only been gone a week. How she’d managed to do that was a mystery, but if he had to guess, she’d spent the whole week painting and doing little else.

  He ignored the urge to clean up the mess by looking back at her as she took the last bite of her steak and sat back on the couch, finished eating at last. Now to face the music. Damn, why was telling her so damned hard? He’d already decided that he was keeping her no matter what, so this conversation shouldn’t be this difficult. Gunner took a deep breath hoping to come up with a brilliant plan to tell her so she didn’t flip her shit and attempt to kick him out.

  “I’m done eating. Now let’s hear it, where do you disappear to all the time?” Margo asked, getting right to the point without preamble. Normally, that was one of the traits he loved about Margo, but today he couldn’t say he liked her no-nonsense attitude.

  “Runs.” He finally stated, his voice a little husky.

  Fuck, that wasn’t the way to tell her he was a fucking biker. Hell, cue the hysterics because she was definitely going to flip out with that lovely flat reply. He waited, watching her face contort into a dark expression that was surely bad news—fuck.

  “You’re wanting me to believe that you disappear for days on end to run? How stupid do you think I am, Gunner?” Margo asked, standing up with her hands landing on her hips as she glared down at him. He realized that she was talking about running, as in marathons and felt a laugh bubble up inside him. He couldn’t help it, he’d been so prepared for her to freak out after he’d blurted out that he was going on runs, because in his world that word only meant one thing, he let out a long chuckle. He’d forgotten for a moment in his panicked mind that she wasn’t from his world and the word meant something different to a civvie.

  “I can tell you it’s not funny, you big jerk! I knew letting you in here was a mistake. You need to leave,” Margo growled, jerking her finger towards the door.

  “Sit down, woman. I’m not leaving, and yes, I do expect you to believe it once I explain,” Gunner said, running a hand down his
face as he thought quickly of a way to say this without just blurting out that he was a biker.

  “Oh, this ought to be good, do go on.” Margo’s hand flew through the air in a—oh yes please dig this hole deeper—kind of way, before she continued. “I can’t wait to hear how you’re going to convince me that you’re going running when you leave for five to six days at a time. When I know damned good and well, you’re as likely to run as I am, so yes, let’s hear it.”

  “I’m not a runner, babe—,” he began.

  “Ha, there’s a surprise,” she interrupted with a little snort.

  “Will you stop interrupting so I can explain, damn it,” Gunner growled, glaring at her, feeling an urge to shut her up with his cock in her mouth. Shaking that thought off, he rubbed his jaw watching her. His hands itched to feel the fire she’d already displayed burn him as he was pounding into her hard and fast to make up for the week he’d been without her.

  “Fine.” Margo agreed, nodding curtly as she sat back down with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting.

  “Shit, this is harder than I expected it to be.” Gunner saw her mouth open and placed his hand over it. “Stop, I need to just blurt it out. Just remember that what I say doesn’t change who I am with you and you have no reason to fear me, okay?” He waited until she nodded before he finally bit the bullet and blurted out, “I’m a biker.”

  He let her mouth go, waiting for the words to settle, all the while hoping the explosion wasn’t going to be as bad as he was expecting it to be. He was anticipating fear or revulsion to be her reaction, but all he got was rolled eyes and a loud sound of exasperation.

  “I already knew you ride a bike Gunner, get to the point. None of this explains why you keep disappearing.” Gunner realized that she didn’t understand that he was part of an MC. Well fuck, that was unexpected. He couldn’t believe that she still wasn’t understanding. How did he explain this to her any simpler than he already was?

  “No babe, I’m in an MC,” he said, trying to explain. He still didn’t see understanding on her face as he watched her expression. He was fucking this explanation up royally. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out where he’d went wrong with his explanations.

  “What’s an MC?” Margo asked. Gunner winced, not wanting to say what he knew he had to say, but she needed to understand who he was.

  “It’s a motorcycle club.”

  “Oh, this isn’t helping me to understand. You like to ride motorcycles, so what? Would you just spit it out already!” Margo demanded, her glare hot.

  “Fuck—I’m part of the Grave Diggers MC,” Gunner shouted, losing his patience with pussyfooting around the subject. He saw surprise, then understanding, and then wariness on her face as she leaned away from him. Her movements made his instincts kick in, urging him to grab her before she ran. He held the urge back, just barely, giving her time to process the words he’d just tossed out.

  “Grave Diggers—that’s, um… isn’t that the gang that was on the news the other night as having been involved in a shootout?” Margo asked, looking a little pale.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as the media made it sound. Some jackasses from the Tricky Dicks shot at us first. We just didn’t take it lying down,” Gunner said, still watching her carefully.

  “Were you involved in that shootout?” She asked, paling even more. Damn, he was losing her here. Gunner could tell that she was starting to panic. Fuck, why had he watched that news broadcast to see what they were saying about them while he was here at her place?

  “No babe, I was here with you all day remember? It was Bunny and a few of the other prospects involved in that shootout,” Gunner explained, moving closer to her as she stood up and took a step back away from him. He forced himself to stop moving towards her, but watched her carefully, trying to determine her mood.

  “Bun—bunny?” She asked, looking a little dazed with her arms still crossed over her chest. Margo’s eyes were wide and he would bet that her pulse was pounding as her fight or flight instincts kicked in. Damn, he hated the thought that she might fear him even a little bit.

  “Bunny’s the guy who delivers your food, and he’s a prospect. Bunny is his road name, or the name that the club gave him when he started earning his rockers”

  “Rockers?” Margo said, frowning. Gunner was realizing how little she understood his world. He was suddenly aware that he was going to be explaining a lot of shit to her about the club over the next few months.

  “Yeah, rockers are patches on our vests that tell our status in the club. I’m a fully patched member because I have both the patches above and below the logo on my vest. Bunny is a prospect because he only has the first rocker. A prospect is a member who’s umm—auditioning to be in the club.” Gunner watched Margo’s face, seeing some of the confusion leave her expression, but the fear that was slowly replacing it didn’t sit well with him.

  “Bunny delivers my food and he’s in your biker gang?” Margo asked. Gunner didn’t like the fear that clouded her face as she gazed at him from across the table she’d put between them while he’d explained what a prospect and rockers were.

  “Yes, but he wouldn’t hurt you any more than I would, babe. Don’t call us a gang either, that’s not who we are, we’re a club.” Thinking of a better description, Gunner added, “No, we’re a family.”

  Gunner moved around the table, stepping towards her, trying not to push this too hard. He was only a foot from her when he stopped and was grateful when she didn’t step back. Margo bit down on her lip as she stood with her arms crossed over her chest, gazing at him with fear clouding her eyes. He hated the look and wanted to kiss it away, but he knew that any move on his part could make her even more leery of him at this point, so he stood silently watching her as he ached to hold her.

  “I—so when you say runs, what does that mean exactly?” she asked suddenly, surprising him.

  “I’m doing things for the club. Running errands and taking care of things that need to be handled. Nothing I can talk about too much.” Gunner told her.

  “Do you kill people?” She asked making him wince.

  “That’s not something I can really talk about, babe. Let’s just say sometimes handling shit isn’t pretty.” Gunner didn’t want to tell her that he had killed when it was necessary. He didn’t do it for fun and he never took it lightly, but if someone needed to die then they were going to die.

  “So that’s a yes, you kill people,” Margo said, swaying a little. Gunner reached out to catch her, but she moved back quickly not allowing him to take her into his arms like he wanted to.

  “Babe, you don’t have to be afraid of me, I won’t hurt you.” Gunner entreated, feeling an ache in his chest that wouldn’t stop because he never wanted to see that look of abject terror on Margo’s face ever again.

  “I thought I could count on that but—this changes things and I-I don’t know what to say,” Margo stuttered out, rubbing her arms up and down, looking at him apprehensively.

  “Think of it this way, if Zoey called you and said this Mark character broke her heart, was beating up on her, and she needed you to come over and pick her up, you would… right?” Gunner asked, trying to explain to her how things worked in his world. He waited until she gave a slight nod of her head before he continued. “Only when you get there, he’s wailing on her. Just beating the hell out of her but there’s a gun on the table and it’s the only way to stop him before he kills her. What would you do babe?”

  “I—I don’t know.” She whispered.

  “Well I do, you’d pick that gun up and shoot the mother fucker because you love Zoey and she’s family. Well, that’s what it’s like with the club. We’re a family and we protect each other always, any way we have to. Some of us have even gone to jail for protecting our families. It’s part of the life, but you can always count on someone to be there for you, even if I’m not around. One of the brothers will protect you if I can’t because you're mine, and that makes you family too.�
�� Gunner had stepped up right in front of her and he was looking down into her eyes as she stared up at him, some of the fear easing from her face.

  “I need time to process this, Gunner. I can’t—I don’t know how I feel about this.”

  “Yeah, I get that, but babe, I won’t stay away for long. I can give you two days, but after that I am going to be over here and we’re going to figure out what we need to do to get you through this, because I’m not giving you up, I can’t.” Gunner promised as his lips crashed down on hers in a passionate kiss that left them both breathless, right before he stepped back heading to the door.

  “Two days.” He repeated, as he turned from the door to see her standing where he’d left her with her fingers on her lips watching him leave. She nodded, looking a little shell-shocked as he stepped out the door but stopped again and turned to look at her.

  “Do me a favor and don’t watch any more news about us. Ninety-five percent of it is skewed to make civvies hate us and I don’t want you to judge us based on those bullshit reports. Let me show you the life and see how it really is to be a part of our family before you make any snap decisions, okay?” Gunner held the door in one hand, gripping it hard to keep himself from walking back into her apartment and taking her on the nearest hard surface. He understood that she needed time but his libido sure didn’t.