Gunny (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 5)

by MariaLisa deMora

  Someone examined her. The competent, emotionless hands working around where Gunny’s arms still had her wrapped up, bands of steel holding her against him. Safe.

  She realized his arms still held her even now and she cracked her eyelids open, tilting her head upwards slightly, blinking as she looked into his eyes. “Gunny,” she whispered, hoping she wasn’t dreaming.

  “Yeah, babe. I’m here.” She experienced his words as much as heard them, the rumble of his voice transferring through his chest to her body.

  Eyes easing closed, she struggled to hold onto the fraying filaments of memory that would lead her to today, the point where she currently was, naked, lying in a bed, held tightly in the arms of an also naked man who she desired. Taking in a startled breath, she licked her lips, following the tattered string of a memory to a familiar voice, eyes much like her own. “Ace,” she whispered.

  “Why do you call him that, baby?” Another rumble, followed by a laugh. “Smiling sure looks good on you.” She hadn’t even realized her lips had moved, but she was smiling at the memories evoked by his question, couldn’t deny it.

  “I’m younger, by several years.” Her voice sounded unused, rasping and scratchy. She swallowed painfully then continued, “Apparently, he’s been Jase to the folks since before he was born, but then I came along and couldn’t make the ‘jay’ sound, so for me, he’s always been Ace.” Something brushed her mouth and she opened her eyes again, squinting against the light. He was holding a straw to her lips and she drew it in, sucking thirstily, sputtering and swallowing when cool water hit her mouth. She paused for a minute to croak out, “He’s really here?”

  “Yeah, baby. This is his and DeeDee’s guest bedroom.” He must have felt her stiffen, because he made a soothing noise, rubbing his cheek against her shoulder, the stubble rasping gently. “You’re safe, baby. Shhhh.”

  Jase and DeeDee. That was a shock, because while she hadn’t been home to see who he brought around, every chance she could, she followed his career. This included saving pictures of him in his suit or tuxedo at award ceremonies and events, seeing him on the red carpet with beautiful women on his arm. Never the same woman, but they were definitely a type. Tall, pretty…and young. DeeDee was tall enough, and beautiful, with her red hair down to her butt, but one thing she wasn’t was young. If Sharon had to guess, she would put the age difference between them at maybe twenty years or so. Examining her thoughts and feelings, she decided she didn’t care one whit about something as trivial as age difference. She liked DeeDee for her brother; the woman was smart, cute, and confident, much like her friend Savannah. Savannah.

  “Vanna,” she gasped, jerking and groaning. “I need to call her, warn her. He saw the papers on the car. He’ll find her. Know she helped me. I have to call.”

  “Covered, babe,” he whispered. “Shhhh. We got it all covered. Contacted her, and she’s covered… protected by a club out of Atlanta. But, I need you to know that motherfucker is contained, baby. He’s waiting for me to unwrap myself from around you so I can go deal with him. Ain’t gonna be now, but he’ll be mine eventually. Your gal Vanna is safe. Shhhh.”

  Closing her eyes, she let her head slip sideways, resting the side of her face against Gunny’s muscular forearm. Sighing, she evaluated the pain in her body, feeling mostly aches, but few sharp pains now. “How long?” She shifted, twisting her torso to take painful pressure off her breastbone. He turned with her, pulling her onto her back, and her eyes flew wide open as he got to his knees and effortlessly scooped her into his arms. “Wait,” she squawked and felt the rumble of his laughter.

  “Hittin’ the head, baby,” he said as she looked down at her body suspended against his chest. Dark bruises scattered across her chest and upper arms, with even deeper colors on her hips and thighs, showing the heavier damage that tissue had taken from Derek’s focused attention. “Just four days, Sharon. A ways to go before you’re healed up, baby.”

  “Is he happy?” God, she was tired. Her head leaned on his shoulder of its own accord, but her nose nuzzling into his neck was entirely voluntary. He smells good, she thought, and wondering, darted her tongue out, licking a wet trail across his collarbone, and he stopped moving, taking in a deep breath.

  His tone was stern, brooking no argument when he said, “Babe. No.”

  Chastened, she bowed her head against his chest, her hair falling around her face in curtains, hiding her flaming cheeks from his gaze. “Sorry,” she whispered as he resumed his stalk across the room. “I can walk, Gunny.” She twisted in his arms. “Put me down.” More twisting, futile it seemed, because he didn’t put her down.

  “Not a fucking chance, woman,” he growled, pushing the bathroom door open with one hip. As he settled her on the toilet, she knew from the casual way he steadied her this wasn’t the first time he performed this duty, and her face flamed again. “Stop it, Sharon.” His voice was gruff when he said, “I got you. Nothing to it, baby.” He went to one knee beside her, allowing her to rest against his side as he wrapped an arm over her chest, curving it underneath her arm and around her back. Naked and confident, he was unconcernedly comfortable in his own skin, and she risked a glance to find her estimation of his…size…had been somewhat conservative. The heat of his skin pressed against her felt good, and she was surprised to find his nudity wasn’t intimidating. He just…was.

  God, so tender down there...I’m so sore, she thought as she carefully cleaned up. Averting her face, she nodded when he asked if she was ready. As they had before, memories rose, threatening to swamp her with emotions, and she wasn’t even aware she was crying as he carried her back to the bed. He laid her down, pulling the covers up before he cupped her face in his big palm, his gaze sweeping her face searchingly for a minute before he shook his head slowly, hand falling to his side as he walked away. She covered her face with her hands to keep from watching the play of muscles across his back and ass as he moved across the room. If he didn’t want her mouth on him, she needed to shut this feeling down, and watching him wasn’t going to help in those efforts.

  She jolted awake, feeling the bed shift and sway, and she whimpered in alarm and pain as she moved to escape, clambering ineffectually across the mattress until an arm circled her waist, holding her in place. “Babe, it’s only me. I got you.”

  She sighed as she recognized Gunny’s voice, relaxing into his hold once again. A few breaths later, she tensed, remembering her unanswered question. “Is he happy?”

  “Who, Jase? Yeah, he and DeeDee are a good match. They had it rocky for a while, but he talked her around to his way of thinking.” His voice was still rumbling in his chest and the vibration triggered another memory, this one much nicer than the others she had been suffering through since waking.

  “You were singing to me.” She shifted, twisting her head to look up at his face, hearing the wonder in her own voice. “I don’t know the song, but it was nice.”

  “Kept you from twitching around, hurting yourself worse. And there’s that damn smile again, Sharon. Rose of Sharon. You look good wearing that.” There was amusement in his voice and she closed her eyes, rocking her head to lay her cheek against his chest with a sigh. “Woman, are you tryin’ to kill me?” He moved and his hand left her belly, going to his crotch, and she realized she once again had been feeling an erection poking her hip.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing her lips into a tight line, hating the feeling of rejection threatening to push away the safe.

  “Don’t be sorry, baby. I’m not one to hurt women in bed, unless it’s pleasurable pain. My cock has other ideas, but the little bastard can just deflate on his own.” His hand came back to her belly, fingertips trailing across her skin, caressing hipbone to hipbone, back and forth slowly, and the tightening in her core flared again. Surely he wouldn’t touch me like this if he didn’t want me, she thought.

  He continued talking, and the import of his words hit her like a blow. “Elkins had at you with something, baby. No fucki
ng way will anyone touch you again until you want it, until you ask for it. My honor, Sharon. Goose said you didn’t need stitches there, but it was a near thing, ‘cause the motherfucker tore you up, baby, pussy and asshole. That’s why you can’t put your mouth on me, because I want to fuck you and can’t. And that’s why your sighs and touches are torture, because I’m going to have you. I will have you…just not right now.”

  His words reassured, even as they bit deep into the wall holding back her memories, and she jerked, her mind showing Derek’s face hovering over her.

  Features twisted in fury and sadistic craving, she could see his shoulder moving, shaking as his arm swung again and again. Lying on the floor, her body lurched against the drag of the carpet with each shift of his limb. Her eyes fluttered closed and she felt a hard blow to her face, jarring her alert. “Fucking feel this, bitch,” he snarled into her face, spittle flying from his lips. He brought up his hand again, showing her the blood covering it before he wiped it across her breasts.

  “His baton,” she breathed, twisting her neck to bury her face in the pillow in shame. Voice muffled, she wasn’t sure he’d hear her words. “He always used the baton…never anything else. It’s not the first time. I’ll heal.”

  The rumble didn’t scare her this time when it came against her back. “Yeah, baby. You’ll heal.” He sounded angry, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. “Last time you’ll ever feel his goddamned touch, Sharon. He’s never going to hurt you again. You have my promise, babe. On my honor.”

  “Safe,” she agreed, lifting her hands to cup around his wrist where it crossed her belly. “Gunny.”

  “Yeah, babe. You’re safe with me. Never have to worry about that shit-heel again.” She was drifting back to sleep when his breath stirred the hair on the side of her head, his mouth so close to her ear she heard the rasp of his tongue against his lips. “I got you.”

  ***

  A roar split the air, ripping her from sleep, and Sharon moved instinctively, frantically rolling off the bed to wedge herself between the frame and the wall, cowering and hiding there in terror. Loud words followed, but they were muffled by the walls, and she could only hear fragments of the conversation. She couldn’t be sure, but thought the identity of the person shouting was Gunny. Not certain enough to risk exposing herself, she remained where she was, scarcely breathing, making no sound. The uproar and noise were approaching the room she was in, and gradually, she could begin to make out what was being said.

  “…fuck do you mean…” There was a pause, then she caught, “…fucking kidding…” The doorknob rattled as it turned. “…excuse for a prospect…” The door opened, and his voice filled the room, “…no fucking way am I going to let this go, Sla—“ The words cut off mid-syllable, and the energy in the room became dense and tense, the air thick with menace. “Fuck. She’s gone, man. Hang on.”

  She only realized it was Gunny, wasn’t him, when he called her name, “Sharon?” Panic still had her frozen in place, and she couldn’t seem to make her body obey to respond. He moved away, probably headed to the bathroom. “Baby, where are you?” There was a tension in his soft voice she hadn’t heard before, and the sound of his distress broke the hold the fear had on her. She shifted, sliding her torso painfully along the wall, working her way into a sitting position. He strode out of the bathroom, phone pressed to the side of his face, and stopped when he saw her. “Got her,” he said brusquely, bringing his hand down and tossing the phone onto the dresser.

  She watched the big man standing in the middle of the room. He was motionless except for restless hands clenching into fists, and even from her position, she could see the tight coiling of his every muscle. Danger radiated off him like a miasma, but his voice was intentionally gentle when he spoke to her. “Baby, whatcha doin’ on the floor? It’s okay. Let me make it okay, yeah? I got you.”

  She nodded at him, breath coming painfully fast as he slowly walked across the room towards her. “Come on, baby. I got you.” He had said the phrase so frequently over the past few days that when uttered in his voice, the words had become synonymous with safety, and the now familiar sounds reassured her, as was his intent. As she slowly relaxed, she saw that with every moment, every step towards her, his tension lessened too. She reached up a hand, but instead of taking it, he gripped her underneath her arms, smoothly lifting her out of the small space and back onto the bed as she groaned.

  “Did you fall off the bed, baby?” He settled onto the edge of the mattress next to her legs, leaning forward with his arms propped on either side of her waist.

  She shook her head, trying to control her breathing, his hazel eyes piercing her and holding her still. “Got scared,” she offered, and he flinched.

  “Of me?” he asked, teeth clenched tightly, lips twisted in pain, and she shook her head again, but could see he didn’t believe her.

  “I was just startled when I woke up.” She closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek, wanting to make this right. I’m not afraid of him. “Sorry I scared you, big guy. I didn’t mean to hide from you.”

  He lifted a hand and she eagerly pressed her cheek into his palm, drawing a ghost of a smile to his lips as she felt him begin to relax. “I know, baby. I was loud, yeah?”

  She nodded, making a face, asking, “Is everything okay?”

  “Nope, not even close. But, it will be. We got brothers on the problem. Elkins clocked a prospect on the head and pulled a ghost. He’s in the wind right now, but he sticks his head out of his rat hole and we will have his ass. I got you, Sharon. You are safe with me, okay?” His unflinchingly matter-of-fact tone as he gave her the update was more reassuring than if he tried to sugarcoat it, and she nodded. Safe with him, she thought in agreement.

  “All right, then,” he said, shifting to lie on the bed beside her. The fabric of his jeans was soft against her skin, but she found herself begrudging even that small separation from him. Then, his arm circled her waist, turning her onto her side and tugging her back into his chest, his hand casually cupping her breast, scorching heat from his touch causing a hitch in her breathing. “I got you. Sleep, baby.”

  ***

  She sat on the edge of the bed, slowly raising and lowering her legs, mentally counting off the repeats of the motion. Goose wanted her to take it easy for another few days, but Sharon was ready to get off her butt and work her way back to being healthy. Eyes closed, she was focused on completing each phase of the controlled movement smoothly, and missed the noise that generally accompanied a visitor to Jase and DeeDee’s home. So, when a discreet cough came from the doorway, it startled her and she jerked her head up, feeling her eyes open wide and barely stopping herself from rolling backwards across the bed.

  “Sorry, gal.” This gruff declaration came from a tall biker standing in the doorway. With a shiver, she remembered a recent incident in Kentucky, but then pushed down her fear. If this man was here, this close to her, it meant Gunny had allowed it, and so, by process of deduction, she was in no danger from—she squinted, reading the name patch on the front of his leather vest—Deke. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He continued speaking, but hadn’t moved, and was still taking up the entire width of the doorway.

  She nodded and waited. If he was here to see her, he would let her know why, she was sure. “I’m Deke,” he said, and she nodded again. “Friend of Gunny’s.”

  That was interesting, because up to this point, no one had claimed friendship with the big man. Goose and Jase both seemed to respect him, but neither had seemed close to him. DeeDee was different, because she mothered everyone around her, so her patient and caring attitude didn’t count.

  “I’m only here to see how you’re doing,” he said and moved slightly. She wasn’t even aware she had reacted, rising to her feet, until he put out both hands, palms down. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in a low, calming tone, and she nodded at him again.

  Stepping backwards, she found the chair at the back of her knees and lifted a
foot to the seat, wedging herself into the corner, bending her knees and bringing her feet to the cushion. She wrapped her arms around her knees, cupping her palms around her elbows, keeping her eyes on Deke. When she heard Gunny’s rumbling voice from out in the condo, she relaxed minutely, and Deke smiled at her. “Yeah, he ain’t too far, gal. But, I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

  Time to enter the conversation, she thought and took a breath. “I’m Sharon,” she said, and he nodded. “Are you in the motorcycle club with Gunny?” He nodded again, taking a measured step into the room, and she motioned to the bed with a tilt of her head. Moving slowly, as if he were afraid she would bolt if he startled her again, he moved to the bed and sat on the edge, nearly in the exact place she had been a few seconds ago.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m the one who recruited him. Been his boss for more years than I care to count at this point, too.” He trained his gaze on her and she suddenly felt exposed, as if this man could see far more than she wanted him to, just by looking at her. Pinned in place, she shrugged and he laughed. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

  “Depends,” she said, and when he looked down at the tips of his boots, she took a deep breath. “You’re his friend?”

  “Yeah,” he said quickly, his gaze rising to her face again, but less intense this time. “He’s a good man.”

  She felt the corners of her mouth curl up, and he accepted the smile as a natural expression, returning it with one of his own as she replied, “Yeah, he really is.”