Gunny (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 5)

by MariaLisa deMora

  “Elkins, get ready. Your music starts in one,” the manager’s voice called from the enclosed DJ area, and she responded with a small flick of her fingers. This was her second audition, and she wanted to nail it, hoping to have a verdict about the job afterward.

  She loved this routine, loved this music. The emotion Meg Myers poured into her songs always made her feel as if she could fly from the energy alone, and Desire was a dramatic piece, perfect for her dance. After two years of classes, she loved to dance and was confident in her abilities, but auditioning was proving to be nerve-wracking even with no real audience to judge her. Just the manager and the bouncer. I can do this, she thought, pushing past the fear.

  As the music rose, she brought her head up, unable to keep the smile from curling the corners of her lips upward as she whispered, “Five, six, seven, eight…”

  Arching her back, she lifted one leg behind her, curling her knee around the upright metal shaft as she bowed farther, tapping at the back of her head with her toes. Holding for a moment like that, she pretended her head was a balloon, batting it back and forth with her foot before turning to glower at her appendage, then, with a shy smile, playing back to where the crowd would be sitting.

  Gripping the pole with her hands, she pushed off with both feet, moving smoothly through a shoulder roll up and back into a modified angel, and then transitioned to a quick layback spin, followed by the dramatic flair of a showgirl spin. Feeling more than listening to the music, she was counting in her head…four, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…five, two, three…

  Maintaining her balance and speed was important, and she made sure to spot to the back of the room on the spins, keeping her posture wide-open and confident. She knew there was a broad smile on her face, letting all the joy she found in dancing shine through. Eight, two, three, four, five…

  The only fumble came when she moved through a dismount with a downward spin to a seated position on the stage. She spread her legs wide and reached up over her head for the chilly metal, needing to use her upper-body strength to draw herself halfway back up the pole in a pike. Two, two, three, four, five…

  It was when she was transitioning back onto the pole from the seated position when what sounded like a growl came from the back of the room. The sound so startled her she froze for a half-second, barely anything, but enough to have the final section of her routine be a hairs-breadth off time. She frowned, hoping the manager hadn’t noticed, or that the rest of her dance was good enough to overlook the small mistake.

  “You’re hired,” said the manager’s voice, and Shar lifted her head with a grin as, just like that, she was gainfully employed.

  ***

  He stood there, grateful for the supporting wall behind him. When DeeDee called him this morning and asked if he would mind evaluating the auditions today, he never expected anything like what he saw a moment ago. The club had hosted an open call a few days ago, with about twenty girls showing up to dance, trying to get a foot in the door of the club. He hadn’t watched the dancers that day, trucking in and out of the back helping stock the bar, but he knew some of them he had seen before, either here dancing on amateur night…or at the clubhouse, doing auditions of a different sort.

  This round of tryouts was only five girls, the few who had made it through from the other day, each offering something slightly different DeeDee was looking for in her dancers. The club had two openings right now, but given the transient nature of the business, he knew she would keep even the unsuccessful names from today on file for future reference.

  Their music swelled and filled the space, and as they danced, he had quietly appraised the first four girls. They were okay, moving well enough, and pleasant to watch. But to him, like the rest of the staff at the strip club, they were bodies to guard, personalities to tolerate, and associations to evaluate.

  Until it was time for the last girl. The final dancer in the auditions. She…was different.

  From the moment she stepped onto the stage, he had been completely aware of her.

  The swing of her hips as her feet set into place.

  The allure of her features…the way her lithe body swayed and twisted, appearing to dance in place even as she waited for the music to start. Something about the way she moved called to him, and instinctively, he was already two steps away from his position at the wall before catching himself.

  She looked small and vulnerable, and he found himself wanting…needing to protect her.

  His eyes focused on her, noting the tightly controlled breathing, the tense frame created by her shoulders, the lines of her muscles screaming fear to him…then he heard DeeDee’s voice speak a name, “Elkins.”

  The music played and he recognized the melody, a frantic-sounding song with a slower, deeper subtext, filled with fraught pauses and sensuous language, which made every nerve in his body leap. For the first time in more than a decade, he was awake.

  Then she danced…and he was lost.

  ***

  “What’d you think about the girls I hired?” DeeDee handed him a beer. It was about an hour before opening time, and with all the prep work finally complete, they were taking a break, seated at the bar.

  He shrugged, still struggling with his reaction to the last girl, Elkins. “They were good enough, I guess.”

  “You don’t like any of my girls.” She laughed at the face he made and wrapped a napkin around her bottle of water.

  Shaking his head, he said, “Not true. I like most of them. I absolutely do not want to fuck them. Big difference.”

  She snorted, tipping her bottle up and taking a long drink. “You’re an odd duck, Gunny. But, I kinda like you.”

  It was his turn to laugh and he reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear from where it had escaped her ponytail. “I kinda like you too, DeeDee. Love you; love little sister. Glad she found her way with Slate. It’s been fun watching her turn into Ruby. Been fun watching a lot of things.” He tilted his head, cupping her jaw for a moment before he grinned and said, “Still don’t want to fuck you, though, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it, my friend.” She leaned back, grinning around the mouth of the bottle at him, taking another drink. “Seriously, what did you think about the two girls?”

  He barely suppressed a shudder of desire, feeling the muscles in his belly and groin grow tense, his balls tightening and pulling up against his body as his cock filled with blood, fattening and straining against the fabric of his jeans. “Good enough,” he repeated laconically, taking another slow drink.

  “I think the last girl is going to do well. I hope she does, at least. I really liked her, but did you hear her one stipulation?” He shook his head and then jerked in reaction when she continued with a laugh, “No nudity.”

  “Seriously? She knows what kind of club this is, right?” Gunny was astonished at the mix of emotions flooding him—relief he wouldn’t have to watch as she bared herself to the patrons, but also an acute disappointment he wouldn’t get to see that body. At the thought of her body, and her dance today, his cock twitched, pressing harder against his jeans. God, that body, he thought.

  Nodding, DeeDee stood and stretched. “I guess Shar has some nude-colored costumes she’ll wear. I told her we’d give it a try, see where it goes.” She yawned, and then said, “I’m exhausted. Slate and Ruby’s wedding is beginning to wear me out. I think I’ll try to catch a quick nap on the couch in the office. Call me if you need me, okay?”

  Shar, her name is Shar Elkins. He nodded, flipping his fingers at her in a ‘go ahead’ gesture. “I got this, DeeDee,” he said, and she laughed.

  “Now you sound like Slate,” she said, turning to walk away.

  “Been called worse things,” he yelled after her, picking up his beer and taking a long pull of the cold liquid. “Far worse things,” he muttered, glancing around the room, cataloging the shadows and staff, identifying threats with the ease allowed from extended experience.


  ***

  He stood, watching. This was the fourth night this week he had seen her dance, and while each routine was good, none of them held the same hypnotic power over him as her audition had. It had taken him several days, but he thought he could finally put his finger on the difference. She was tight, tense, the fear he had sensed that first day sometimes flowing out so strongly from her that he could feel it, even from his post against the back wall.

  The more crowded the venue, the more fear she had to fight through to work her sets. Tonight for example, her dancing was fluid and free, but there were just a double-handful of men spread out across the room, all watching her avidly, with only a couple right up against the stage. Why she would choose to dance when it filled her with fear was a mystery, a puzzle, one he wanted to solve. So he watched, fighting his own battle against his desires.

  His obsession wasn’t easing, and even as he tried to keep a tight hold on it, he found his fingers clenching into hard fists each time she worked the edges of the stage to pick up her tips. Seeing the smiles she presented the men who reached for her, watching the brush of her fingers against theirs as she accepted the money they offered in return—those interactions, harmless as they were, made him feel wild—he wanted to yank her back, put her behind him, protect her from something that wasn’t a threat. In fact, anytime she was in the room, he found himself responding in protective and possessive ways. He had never touched her, but somehow she was under his skin.

  8 - Ace and Gunny

  “I’m telling you, DeeDee, this chick doesn’t fit. We need to do a deeper dive into her background,” Hoss said, staring at her and ignoring Gunny. Over the years, they had come to the conclusion this was the safest avenue to follow when they were in the same room. Today, they were seated in the office at Slinky’s, DeeDee ensconced behind the desk, stiffly upright in her office chair, Hoss lounging on the couch against the opposite wall from where Gunny leaned.

  Hoss continued, “She’s staying at the local efficiency motel with a rental car, which is not in her name. I don’t know who Savannah Reicht is, and don’t fucking care. I don’t care if you like her or not. In fact, I don’t care if this girl is the best dancer in the place. Shar Elkins has got shit behind her somewhere, and I ain’t gonna have her shit leaking here.” Gunny still hadn’t been able to shake his feelings about her and now listened eagerly, soaking up any available information about the girl he had been so carefully watching.

  “Lots of girls cut ties with the past before they come to us. This isn’t anything we haven’t seen before.” DeeDee wasn’t arguing with him, but was carefully keeping her tone even and Gunny winced, knowing the anxiety this masked. “I’m okay doing a deep check on her. In fact, I was going to recommend it, since our first run didn’t turn up much, good or bad. She’s Canadian, but has dual citizenship since she married an American. For what I need, she’s perfect, because she’s not jaded...she can both dance and connect with the audience, which means the men like watching her. I think she does fit, but my gut matches yours on the thought there’s something there to find. I’ll kick it off, okay?”

  Hoss gave her a chin lift then levered himself off the couch and approached the door to leave. Pausing with his hand on the knob, he glanced back at her with an expression on his face Gunny couldn’t decipher. A puzzle. Hesitating for a few seconds, he dropped his hand, turning to place his back against the door and facing the room.

  She looked at him, waiting good-naturedly. Gunny knew from being around her husband, and exposure to the club, she had long ago figured out with men like Hoss, rushing them would never work. If the man had something to say to her, he would work it out in his head first, and then spit it out when he was ready, not a moment before. They both ignored Gunny, and he held himself in check, patiently giving them time to sort things.

  “Was a good weekend,” he said, and she nodded, but Gunny knew this wasn’t what had him hesitating. It was a good weekend, with a monster party for Slate and Ruby’s wedding. They had ridden out on Saturday, headed to the coast for a well-deserved honeymoon. But for Hoss, something more had happened, putting an edge on his mood.

  “Jase move in?” Tilting his head to the side, Hoss waited for her response. Huh, there it is. Something’s there.

  She looked surprised as she answered, “In progress, but yeah. He’s got someone to take over the lease on his condo.” They were talking about the man she had fallen in love with, long after giving up on the possibility again. Gunny remembered how broken she had been when Winger and Lockee died, how the grief whittled away at her until there was little of the old DeeDee left.

  Jase Spencer was a professional hockey player who met DeeDee when she was covering shifts at one of the Rebel bars in Chicago. He had fallen hard for her, and over the past year, turned his entire life upside down pursuing her. Over the weekend, Gunny heard she finally quit running. But, he wasn’t certain why Hoss was asking these questions. The news Jase would be moving in with her had made the rounds of the club within minutes of her telling Ruby, and Gunny had received one of the first calls. Hoss was Slate’s second, so he probably had knowledge about it from the club side, too.

  “You okay with that?” Hoss watched her carefully, and Gunny stared at him, recognizing for the first time there might have been something more than affection there. There is a touch of something there, more than fondness, less than desire.

  Her lips tipping up in a contented smile, she nodded and responded, “Yeah, I’m okay with that. We’ve been coming to this point for a while now, Hoss. It’s all good.” Gunny knew this was true, because along with watching Slate and Ruby’s courtship, he had enjoyed seeing Jase woo DeeDee. Through all of her futile escape efforts, he had kept reeling her in, until the hockey player finally landed her. The fishing metaphor made his mouth twitch with amusement, then the thought an airless dock and Eklund’s face flashed in front of him, the taste of blood in his mouth jolting him out of the moment.

  After a moment, Hoss smiled back at her, his face softening as he said, “Comes a time you aren’t okay, you tell me.” He cut his eyes over to Gunny, tipping his head. “Me and Gunny, we’ll sort that man’s shit. I got you, pretty lady, and you know that’s the truth.” With another chin lift, he turned and opened the door, walking through and pulling it closed behind him, not waiting for her response.

  Still smiling, she glanced back at Gunny as she picked up her phone, and he listened while she talked to Myron in Chicago, giving her approval to initiate a more in-depth investigation of Shar Elkins. Since the Rebels owned Slinky’s, they were always careful who they hired to work the bar and the poles, not needing attention or scrutiny brought to them by an employee’s behavior or messy history.

  “I’m going to step out, DeeDee. You need me, just call.” She knew the office was wired into the system routed through his earpiece, so she nodded.

  He closed the office door behind him, scanning the bar and floor near the stage. There were a few Rebel members scattered around the room, mostly seated together, but some were sharing tables with rival clubs, and he noted both the members and clubs involved in those conversations. You never knew what information might be valuable later.

  He had been settled in his place along the back wall for a while, when he saw the door open and caught sight of Shar stepping inside. As the door slipped closed, the light from outside flashed across her face, reflected from one of the many mirrors in the bar, and he sucked in a breath. She had a bruise covering nearly her entire temple. She had pulled her hair forward trying to conceal it, but his stomach twisted as the brilliance revealed what she would have preferred to keep private. Someone had hit her. Someone she knew…maybe trusted, if the shame he read on her features was any indication.

  He stepped away from the wall and into her path when she would have walked past him, asking, “What are you doing here, gal?”

  Ducking her head, she quietly said, “I need to see missus Moser.”

  He frowned, because n
obody called DeeDee by her last name; this was almost a schoolgirl’s response, asking to see a favored teacher or a trusted counselor. Why would she be acting like that? Shaking his head, he reached out to hold her in place, but his hand froze inches away from her arm when she flinched away from him. She said, “Please. I don’t care if she’s busy. I can wait. I really need to talk to her, but if she’s not in her office, I can wait. Please.”

  Shaking his head, he urged, “Talk to me, Shar. You don’t need to bother her with this.”

  Moving sideways, trying to step around him, on an indrawn breath she said, “No, please. Can you just tell her Sharon Spencer needs to talk to her? I’m sorry, eh?”

  He shifted and put out a hand again, pausing when she cringed, then saw her face lighten as he shoved at the office door, pushing it open wide and letting her step inside. He followed her, his hand finally closing on her arm, and looked up to see DeeDee’s attention was already focused on the girl, knowing she saw the same damage he had.

  “I need to talk to you, missus Moser,” Shar said, wincing and pointedly scowling down where Gunny’s hand gripped her bicep. A sense of calmness had settled over him at the feel of her soft skin under his rough palm, and he took in what seemed like the easiest breath in a decade, holding her arm. It seemed like…everything that had ever troubled him just…receded, pulled back for this moment, gave him peace.

  He could feel the fast thud of her heart through that connection, understood she had fear running wild through her right now, but somehow knew it wasn’t of him. In fact, her heartrate was beginning to slow, to calm, as if this feeling of comfort and ease went both ways. He knew his grip over the bruise had to hurt from the look on her face, but he didn’t think he could let her go now that he had his hands on her. He took another breath, feeling his ribs expand and his chest rise with the inhalation, watching as Shar exhaled along with him, slowly and evenly.