Lashing out at Gunner had been the wrong thing to do, but she was overwhelmed and sinking fast.
I could call Dawn. But she didn't want to see anyone and doubted her sister would want to speak much anyway. I want to go back in time. I want to go back to school. She'd had anxiety over finally settling on a major despite three years completed. Normal worries. Easy worries.
She curled up on the couch, flipped the TV to some sitcom reruns, and watched without listening. She heard Gunner showering in the bathroom before retiring to the bedroom, full of whatever painkillers he had. She didn't want to know.
His kitchen wasn't as empty as he'd seemed to think. Somebody had probably been by recently. Maybe his dad. She made tea, and later a sandwich, and wondered if he would want something. She pressed her ear to the bedroom door and didn't hear a sound.
The sun sank below the horizon. The house grew darker. It felt like a grave. The world was turning without her while she was trapped in this hell, this limbo between life and death, awaiting her sentencing.
Could I steal his bike and go? She'd bet her last dollars that someone was watching, waiting for her to try. Not that she knew how to operate it.
Finally, her concern won out. She poured a coffee mug full of water and slipped inside the bedroom. He seemed restless, stretching and kicking the sheets. “Gunner?” she asked. She shook his shoulder gently. “Hey. Wake up for a minute.”
One glassy eye peered up at her. “I forgot something.”
“What is it?”
He tried to rise. He moved as if his body was too heavy for him to lift and dropped back to the mattress with a heavy thud. “Stop,” she said, “Shh. Just sit up.” He rolled onto his back and she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. “What did you forget?”
He took the mug from her and scowled down into this. “This ain’t whiskey.”
“Drink it anyway.”
He downed it in three long swallows and passed it back to her. His good eyelid hung heavy as he drifted back towards sleep. “What did you forget?” she asked quietly.
“On my bike,” he mumbled, “Bet my bell’s gone. Bet that’s why my luck’s run out.”
Bell? “Do you want me to get it?”
He shook his head. “Just look for it. Under the front wheel.”
“Okay.” He seemed really out of it. It was likely that he didn’t even know what he was saying - already his eye was closed again, though his fingers clutched the sheets. “I’ll check if it will help you relax.”
“Check it.” He was speaking directly to her but he wasn't all there. It was as if he were squinting at her from over a great distance.
"I'll be right back."
What the heck is the bell about? Was it a gift from someone? A good luck charm? Was this big, tough biker who took beatings like it was nothing, who would punch first and ask questions later - was he superstitious?
It was there where he'd indicated, a grimy little thing just dangling behind the front wheel. She tapped it and it barely made a tinkling sound.
Okay, whatever this thing is about, it's here. Curious, she glanced up and down the street. Sure enough there was someone sitting in a car just watching. Could be a neighbor. Could be nothing. She flipped him the bird anyway. Show no fear.
He was asleep when she returned. Part of her longed to climb in next to him, nestle against his shoulder, soothe his aches and pains. Another part of her recognized that it was good they'd been reminded of how little they knew about each other. How they were nearly strangers. They'd gotten too close too fast and it was dangerous.
So she returned to the couch. He's so drugged up, anyway. He won't miss me.
She curled back up and waited for sleep to come.
It never did.
◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙
“I wasn’t going to wake you,” he said. “But I didn’t want you to be scared if you found the house empty later.” He was sitting on the arm of the couch.
“What time is it?” She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Infomercials droned on from the television. She was awake when he’d stumbled from the bedroom and rummaged through the kitchen but she didn’t want to disturb him.
“Early.” She checked her phone - four in the morning.
“Where are you going?” Was anything even open? Was he going to see someone? A girl? She mentally berated herself for jumping to that conclusion. And for caring. Not my business, dammit.
“The hospital?”
“Shit, are you okay?” She sprang to her feet.
“I’m fine.” He shook his head. “I’m okay. It’s not about me.”
“Alvarez.” She breathed the word as if he were a ghost. And he was, really; he was haunting Gunner. “I said I’d come with you.” If he still wants me along. Maybe it’s better if I stay back. Stay away.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. But I said I would. If you want me.” He cringed as though the memory hurt. Then he nodded, just once, before leading her out the door.
The roads were utterly empty. She craned her neck to see if the car from earlier followed them, but couldn't tell. If he drove with his headlights off she wouldn't be able to see him anyway.
The hospital was a small, squat building set back from the main road. The sun was almost up by the time they reached it. She wondered if they'd be allowed to go inside, but somehow she knew that visiting hours did not apply to Gunner.
"Good to be back home, huh?" The security guard outside the ICU seemed to know him. "Sorry 'bout your friend. His mom's in there, you sure you want to wake her?"
"I'm sure."
"Is he a Devil?" she asked as they were led down a long hallway, florescent lights flickering. Nurses gave them suspicious looks but let them pass. They've got a long reach if he is. We must have driven for at least an hour.
"No. He does favors for the club."
Favors for favors - she didn't need to know what kind.
The room contained two beds but one was empty. The other, further inside, was shielded by a curtain. She could hear the beeping, hissing, and clicking of the many machines keeping the man behind it alive. A middle-aged woman slept in a chair just within view.
"I'll be back out front if you need anything," the guard said before leaving.
"Wait outside," Gunner told her. She nodded, much as she wanted to reach out and hold his hand.
He stepped inside and woke the woman with a hand on her shoulder.
"Gunner!" She rose to her get and hugged him, eyes closed tight.
Senna slipped away. There was a tiny waiting area near the nurse's desk - really nothing more than a couple uncomfortable chairs, a few magazines, and an ancient TV hanging on the wall.
More waiting. But I promised I'd be here for him. Maybe the spell was broken. Maybe the club had managed to get between them and shatter their connection. But she wasn't going to break her word. From what she did know of him, a person's word was important. He was insulted and enraged when anyone doubted his.
So she would sit and wait, because that's what she'd said she would do.
He was silent when he finally emerged some time later. Three infomercials and half the morning news. He sank to the chair next to her, his face pale, eyes focused on nothing.
Fuck his club. I'm here. They're not.
She left her seat and slid into his lap. "Don't say anything," she whispered, "It's okay." Then she pulled his head to her chest.
He hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around her back. Shit. It was like coming home again. She stroked his hair and hugged him tight.
He released a shuddering sigh. "They're gonna start shutting down his machines today."
"Do you want to stay?"
"No."
"You sure?"
He nodded as he sat back. "She's got her family coming. They don't need the likes of me lurking in the corner. It's good for no one." He gently stroked her arm. "I want to stay in the area, though. Just until tonight."
Before
the vote. "Okay." Before they decide my fate. "Were we being followed?"
"Yup." He didn't seem interested in elaborating.
"How are your injuries?" The swelling around his eye had gone down some, but dark purples underlined it and framed the bridge of his nose as well.
He touched his face. "They're nothing. Just ugly." Then he pulled her close again. She rested her chin on his head and hugged him tight.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly.
“No.”
“It’ll eat you up if you don’t eventually. Do you want to call your father?”
“God, no. Maybe I deserve to be eaten up.”
“Gunner-”
“Leave it.” He placed her on her feet before standing up himself. “Time to go.”
She followed without asking where. It didn’t matter. She watched the expression on his face flicker from one emotion to the next and back again - anger, weariness, concern. She wanted to wipe it all away - but she held back, still. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to make things worse.
They were heading back towards his bike, she realized. Her legs ached from all the riding she’d done recently - she wasn’t used to it, not even after the past couple days - but she bit her tongue against the complaint. They’re not broken and they’re not going to fall off, you can deal.
The parking garage was still quiet aside from a few people in scrubs heading out to start their shifts. It was still too early for normal visiting hours, too early for sane people to even be out of bed. They walked in silence, and when they stepped inside the elevator, he didn’t even glance at her.
She was lost in her thoughts when the elevator shuddered to a halt. She grabbed the bar beside her and belatedly realized that Gunner had hit the stop button. "Fuck this," he growled, turning on her. "Fuck them for planting this shit in my head. You were here today and they weren't."
Her heart pounded in her ears. His sudden change of attitude caught her by surprise. "Gunner..."
He grabbed both of her wrists and slammed them against the wall behind her to either side of her head, shackling her, trapping her there in front of him.
"Tell me," he said, "Tell me that all of this was real."
Her lips parted. It was like flipping a switch. A wave of lust strong enough to be frightening coursed through her. How does he do this? I should be afraid of him. But he was close enough for her to feel his body heat, to smell his soap and the ever-present scents of leather and motor oil from his vest.
"Put your hand down my pants," she said. "Tell me how that's fake."
He brought her wrists together above her head to trap with one hand before doing as she'd said. She had to wiggle to allow him to push the tight jeans down far enough for him to fit his hand inside. His fingers pushed aside her panties and touched her wetness. She bit her lip. "Does that feel like a lie to you?"
He delved deeper, sliding through her soft folds.
"Feel that," she said, "That's because of you. Look at me." His eyes were dark when they met hers. "I fell hard and fast for you, Gunner. You scare the shit out of me, and this..." She rubbed herself wantonly against his fingers. "This happens anyway."
His fingers slid over her clit. The sharp spark of pleasure drove a gasp from her lips. "Keep talking," he said.
"You don't believe me?"
He slicked past her clit again. "Keep talking."
"Do you want me to tell you more about how hot you make me?" She licked her lips. "You're the only man that's been able to make me come," she whispered. "They've all been fumbling boys before you." He kept stroking her, softly, driving little gasps from her between words.
"I want your cock so bad," she said, tugging against the hand that shackled her wrists. "I need you inside me. I need you. I-" She was startled by the wave of emotion that washed over her.
"Shh," he said, then kissed her, finally, his lips melding with hers too perfectly for words. He slid his fingers deep. She lifted onto her toes with a high-pitched whine. “I did have a moment of doubt. But I was wrong.” He spun her around and pressed her against the wall. Yes, yes, take me right here. Her pulse raced. “Fuck all of them. Let’s do this. Let’s ride this thing until it wrecks us.”
It doesn’t need to wreck us, she thought, We can sort it out. But she tucked away that conversation. It could happen later. What mattered now was the sound of his belt, followed by his zipper. She tugged her pants down to her knees. “Hurry,” she whispered. She bent and spread her legs as far as she could within the tangle of her pants.
But he didn’t hurry. He reached around in front of her and circled her throbbing clit, building her pleasure higher as he pressed the head of his cock against her entrance. He drove her right up to the edge, whispering hot promises of what he would do to her later, teasing her recess, until finally, when she was sure she would either come, or scream, or both, only then did he thrust inside her, hard. In that moment she did do both - she screamed as she came, the raspy wail echoing around them as her orgasm tore through her.
His hands clamped down over hers, over the bar along the elevator wall. “Hang on, honey. I’m just getting started.”
“You came in with a girl.” Alvarez’s mother hadn’t missed Senna standing near the doorway. “You’ll introduce me some other time?”
“If she sticks around.” He couldn’t peel his eyes from his friend - it was the first time he’d seen him in three years, and he was unrecognizable. Between the bandage around his skull and the ugly tubes up his nose and down his throat, he looked nothing like his old self. At least not the way I remember him. His mind flashed back to that image of him again, sitting in Gunner’s hospital room looking so bereft. He’d never completely lost that look when they came home.
“It’s all that he wanted, you know.” Rosa was a strong woman. Her eyes glistened with tears, but they never dropped. He knew she was holding it together for his sake. “A girl who would stick around. A family. It’s why he never joined that club with you.” She indicated his vest. “He couldn’t see raising a family like that.”
“Some of the guys do it but I think they’re out of their minds.”
She nodded. “It seems cruel to keep him on all these machines. He didn’t want to be here. He wants us to let him go.”
Gunner grunted, not trusting his voice.
“It’s hard, though. It’s unfair.”
“What do the doctors think?”
Her mouth tightened into a thin line - a grim smile. “We’re turning the machines off today. Either he breaths on his own or he doesn’t. Either I let him go, or I scream and make them turn the machines back on.”
“What do you think?” She shook her head and shrugged. “Should I stay?”
“No. You go. You be with that girl.” A more genuine smile played across her lips. “It’s what he once wanted for himself. If he can’t have it, then you go have it for him.”
He was remembering those words when he took Senna in the elevator. He felt like he’d just left a funeral - too damn alive to be contained. His cock strained for release and his heart, idiot muscle that it was, rejoiced that they were joined again, that he was letting her sweep him away again.
They had the rest of the day to kill in that small town while he waited for updates from Alvarez's mother. Part of him wanted to get them a hotel room and fuck the hours away.
His hands traced the contours of her body as he leaned into her, pressing her against the wall. She'd come twice and was still trembling. He'd come all over the elevator floor and his own boots. Whatever.
"What are we going to do, Gunner?" she asked.
He had no real answer. Run the fuck away.
Instead they wasted the day around town. They found a small breakfast spot, where he asked her about her life back home - school, friends, former boyfriends. He was more interested in watching her mouth and hearing her voice than in what classes she was taking but he nodded along.
He learned that they'd both lost their mo
thers young. Hell of a thing to have in common. Hers had succumbed to drugs, his to cancer. Now she had no one but a disinterested sister.
She dragged him into a bookstore to browse. He made her endure watching him tune-up his bike, though she didn't seem to mind when he had to change out of his oil-stained shirt. Her face paled at the sight of his bruises but he brushed her off, assuring her they barely hurt. He was sure she could read the truth on his face but she bit her tongue and let him have his lie.
It was almost normal. If it wasn't for the awful anxiety clawing at his chest, waiting to hear from Alvarez's mother that it was over, it might have been nice.
They finally settled in at a bar as the afternoon wore on. It was an old Irish pub with too many windows, too bright for his preferences, but it was the first bar they’d stumbled across and that was reason enough to stop in.
"Nothing yet?" she asked as he checked his phone for the hundredth time.
"No." The beer was cold and the music was decent but it was impossible to relax.
She rubbed his knee under the bar and sipped her drink in silence. She seemed content to watch the people coming in and out, the bartender working, the sports on the three television screens around the room. He could tell she wasn't as at ease as she appeared, but only because he knew her, now.
He jumped when his phone finally rang. "Wait here," he told her. She moved to follow anyway but he shook his head. "I'll be right back."
He answered the call outside, gut churning and heart racing. More than anything he wanted to drop the phone and run away from it. "Rosa?"
She sounded weakened, her voice tired. "He's gone, Gunner."
He was expecting it. He knew what the outcome would be. It was still like a punch to the gut. He couldn't breath.
"Gunner? Are you there?"
"Yeah." He sank to the ground with his back against the brick wall of the building. "I- fuck, I'm so sorry, Rosa, if I'd just-"
"You stop that." Her voice gradually grew stronger. "You stop that talk right now, Sam Green." He flinched as if he'd been slapped. Few people since his mother had used his proper name, and those who had were promptly and sometimes viciously corrected. "You boys had nothing to feel guilty about. Too much was asked of you. Too much. So you go ahead and you get angry. I am. But nothing about this was your fault."
Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC Page 13
