Gunny (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 5)

by MariaLisa deMora

  He listened as they discussed what they had found, which wasn’t much more than him, and then Bones, president of the Skeptics MC in Chicago, quietly said he found a tape. Skeptics had supported the Rebels for as long as the club had been around, and Bones was known to be a good friend of both Mason and Slate. It was difficult to read his expression, but you couldn’t mistake his tone when he said it was in everyone’s best interest that Mason never see the contents of the tape, and how he said it, made Gunny’s blood run cold.

  Things had been moving so fast over the past twenty-four hours it was enough to make his head spin. Actually, over the past ten days. First, Mason hadn’t been able to contact his sister, but only in a semi-worrisome way, just her doing her job, but being out of touch. But then Willa went missing. Missing, or had bolted, leaving everything behind. Trying to decide which path she trod without knowing her mindset was debatable, and also worrisome, but they didn’t have anything concrete. Nothing to point to and say bad things were afoot.

  Then, two days ago, they found out Mica left for the airport, but failed to arrive at her destination. Out here, in Provo. The very place where so many of his thin threads led. Gunny shook his head, and then hearing a commotion across the room, lifted it to see Mason standing in front of a man. With a shock, he recognized him, one of Mason’s own blood. Motherfucker, he thought. It was one thing to wonder if, or even to believe the man would be capable of something like this—with that thought, he cut his gaze to the closed door, hiding a body inside the sealed room—but another thing entirely to see the evidence with his own eyes.

  Hoss stepped up beside him, saying in a quiet voice, “I got prints heading into the woods. Bare feet, small, looks like three women, moving fast. I’m gonna go see if I can find them, brother. Could use your help.”

  With a nod, he followed him outside, glad to finally have something specific to do. They were about a hundred yards away from the building when a gunshot rang out, and he saw only the smallest hitch in Hoss’ step. “Motherfucker got everything he deserved,” he said quietly, and saw Hoss’ head move in agreement.

  ***

  “You think he’s gonna get past this?” Gunny voiced the question quietly, looking down the body of the plane to where Mason sat.

  “Yeah,” Hoss said, just as quietly. “He’s a tough motherfucker. He did what he had to do, same as he’s done all his life. At least he did the deed quick and clean. I suspect the only regret Mason’s going to have once he knows for sure what went down in that compound will be the single decision to do it quick. If someone had given me the chance to get at Birdy, I’d have done him slower. Motherfucker put his hands on Mercy, fucking beat her to hell.”

  Gunny nodded. “I know what it’s like to watch someone you love hurting like that. When Sharon was hurt, it damn near killed me. I didn’t know then I loved the woman, but I knew I couldn’t stand to have her hurt, needed my hands on her. Had to know she was okay.”

  Hoss scoffed. “Fuck that noise. I don’t fucking love that woman. I’ve fucked her, but so has half the club, man. She’s a good woman who didn’t deserve anything Birdy did to her. I hate she’s hurting like she is now, and wish there was a way to make things right for her that wouldn’t end in blood. But she ain’t mine, motherfucker.”

  He laughed, looking over at Hoss. “That’s good news for Deke, then. I think he’s been sweet on Mercy for a while, but been holding back, because he thought you were tapping that pussy in an exclusive way. I’ll pass on the good word, brother.” With a start, he realized for the first time he had called Hoss his brother and meant it. He looked around the plane at the men scattered on the seats and knew he would not only die for any of them, but now he could truly count them his friends, too. Feels kinda good, he thought, and then snorted silently, because only he would be backwards enough to get some good out of this kind of cluster.

  16 - Visitors

  Nearly a month later, Gunny stood in their kitchen and smiled to himself at her full-blown rant. He had just given her what he thought would be a nice surprise, but she had worked herself into a frenzy in moments. He had seen the pleased expression she wore for a bare second before she swept it away with her frenetic energy, so he knew his efforts had made the right impression. He would do anything to make her happy.

  “I can’t believe you’re flying her up here without saying anything to me.” Sharon flipped him an irritated look, picking up another dog toy and placing it in the half-full basket she carried in her hand. “And she’s bringing Kitt? That’s crazy. He’s never flown. She always said the reason she drove everywhere with him was because she might be able to get him on the first flight of a trip, but once he knew how small and close the inside of a plane could be, the return one would be questionable.” She laughed, looking at the dogs following close behind her. “Your pups crack me up; they only want the toys when I’m cleaning.”

  Gunny paused what he was doing and looked at her with a slight frown. Her phrasing bothered him. “Our,” he corrected her, and then went back to loading the dishwasher, glancing around the kitchen to see if there were additional tidying tasks waiting for his attention.

  She looked up at the wall clock with panic on her face, and then turned back to him with a scowl. Scolding evident in her tone, she said, “Dammit, don’t do that. I still have three hours before they land.”

  He laughed and walked over to her, shutting the dishwasher door with his foot as he stalked past. He reached out and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her tight against his chest. “Our pups, not an hour, Sharon.” Nuzzling the side of her head, he said again, “They are our pups.” She went still, her body stiff, and he frowned, because her reaction wasn’t what he expected. “Babe?”

  “What do you mean? They are your pups; this is your house.” She swept her hand out. “Your things. Your place. Your pups.” She shrugged.

  Turning her in his arms, he smiled down at her, shaking his head. “No, baby. Ours. You’re mine, but everything else here is ours.” He watched her eyes move, tracking from his eyes down to his mouth then back up, looking at him steadily, as if she were expecting to see something other than what was on his face. He repeated himself, wanting her to understand, “You are mine. You’ll agree to that, right?”

  She nodded, and he continued, “Then it means I’m yours, unless you don’t want me.” With a small smile, she shook her head, and he pretended to misunderstand her, pulling a sad face. “You don’t want me?”

  “Smarty pants,” she teased. “You know I do. I love you.”

  “And I love you, Sharon. What’s mine is yours, baby. For as long as you’ll have me, and probably even after that, because I can’t stay away from you.” He leaned down, capturing her mouth with his in a soft kiss that left her breathless. “I love you, babe.”

  ***

  I should have known, he thought, watching the woman step from the escalator and walk across the airport lobby towards Sharon, who was jumping up and down in her excitement. Dark hair framed a round face, and eyes he knew to be green hid behind glasses. She was pulling a small suitcase and checking behind her on the progress of a tall, thin boy who was far more interested in whatever he held in his hand than his surroundings.

  The airport greeter offered the arrivals a cookie in welcome as they walked through the metal archway into the public portion of the airport. The moment they were past security, Sharon had her arms wrapped around the woman, molding herself so tightly to her that you could barely have gotten a whisper between them. The boy looked up and a flash of a smile crossed his face, and he patiently held up his hand, palm first. Soon enough, she unwrapped herself from the woman and turned to the boy, and he pushed his palm towards Sharon, giving that same, brief smile when she performed some complicated handshake with him. She lifted her hand and apparently asked him a question, because he frowned in response, but then nodded, squeezing his eyes tightly closed while Sharon ruffled his hair. He tolerated her touch for a moment then jerked his head back, his should
ers drawn in slightly, apparently the few seconds of contact all he could tolerate.

  Sharon linked arms with the woman, drawing her over to where Gunny sat waiting, and he watched for the moment when the woman, Vanna, recognized him as he had her. Her mouth dropped open for the barest of seconds, and then it closed as she drew her lips into a broad smile. He unfolded from the uncomfortable metal bench, standing straight and looking down at the uplifted faces of the two women.

  “Lost Lane,” Vanna said, reaching out a hand and pausing until he nodded, then gripped his arm with her strong fingers, and he reached up and covered them with his own, extending the contact. The similarities to the private dance Sharon and the boy had stepped through were not lost on him, and he smiled at her as she told him, “Never thought I’d see you again, son.”

  “Peepers,” he said, and saw Sharon looking between them in confusion. He never told her about his encounter with the angel on the trail, the woman who jarred him out of his own head and put him on the path to where he was now. “Looking good, woman,” he said, reaching out to pull her into a tight hug.

  Glancing down at Sharon’s perplexed but pleased expression, he grinned and said, “Long story, babe. Good news. You and me? We got friends in common.”

  ***

  Over the next week, he watched Sharon as she visited with Vanna and loved on Kitt as much as he would allow. She was so light and happy with the boy, so open…loving. The two of them played with the pups until they all fell into the grass in a pile of sweaty skin and fur, exhausted, dozing in the sunshine. The day before the pair were supposed to go home, he sat with Vanna at the outside patio table, watching as his crazy woman danced through a water sprinkler with the dogs and boy.

  Vanna cleared her throat and he glanced her way, seeing she was looking at him with a serious expression. “Yeah?” he asked, sipping his coffee.

  “She said Elkins isn’t a problem now. What does that mean?” Ignoring the shouts and barking from the yard, she kept her eyes on him, her gaze steady.

  “Means he ain’t a problem for her ever again.” He shrugged.

  “Don’t fuck with me, boy. Tell me straight out.” Her attitude pulled a laugh from him and he leaned back, putting his feet in a chair seat opposite, pushing it backwards with a scraping noise until he found a comfortable angle.

  “Don’t ask for what you don’t understand, Peepers. Just know she’s safe.” He gestured to the backyard. “And happy.” He turned his body to face her, holding her gaze. “And loved.”

  “I had a friend once,” she said, and he laughed again, interrupting her.

  “Just once? Damn, woman, what a miserable life to only have one friend.” With a shake, he realized that until Sharon danced into his world, a miserable life was exactly what he had. Deke had been his only friend for a long time, but then things had changed. She had changed him.

  “Boy.” She shook her finger at him. “I had a friend who did something for me, took care of a problem I had. Back in Texas, Blackie took care of me, taught me I was worth something. He’s a good man, a good friend. I’ve kept track of him through the years, tried to keep the connection open, which means we still exchange calls and texts. I knew when he lost the love of his life, and then when he got her back. Now, he’s married to that same good woman. He and his old lady have a half-dozen kids. But, for me, when I needed one, he was a God-sent miracle who took care of my problem, much in the way I believe you took care of Sharon’s. You can’t shock me, Lane.”

  She turned in her seat and looked out at Sharon and her son, and he twisted and watched too, seeing the sunlight slanting through the water and creating bright flashes of color, leaving sparkling droplets on smooth, soft skin. “I think you are that woman’s miracle, and I thank you for making her feel like she does. Safe, and loved.” She nodded and glanced back at him. “She’s right for you, too, you know. You’re a very different man than the one who handed me a mug full of coffee in the shallow light of morning. The man I met that day was afraid…of so much. Now, you…I don’t know how to explain it, but now you seem settled and happy.”

  He slowly nodded, eyes tracking Sharon. “I am.”

  ***

  “Are you sorry you didn’t go home with Jase?” Gunny asked casually as he reached out with a pair of tongs, testing the doneness of the burgers on the grill. They needed a minute or two more. He picked up one of the speakers on the table, turning up the music. Passenger was singing Keep on Walking, and he liked this song.

  “No, he needs this time with the folks. He’ll have a hard enough time making Dad understand why he’s quitting hockey. They didn’t need me there as a distraction.” She set the plates on the patio table, handing him a beer as she opened one for herself.

  “Hmmm,” he hummed noncommittally, glancing over in time to see her surreptitiously toss a piece of hotdog to Tank from her seat in a patio chair. He looked, and Rocky was already swallowing and licking his lips, obviously the first recipient of the contraband goods. “Babe,” he scolded, rolling his eyes. “You feeding the pups again?”

  “Only a little bite,” she said. Standing, she walked over to him and leaned against his shirtless back, resting her head on him. “You smell good,” she said, sniffing.

  “What do I smell like?” He used the tongs again to lift a burger, deciding it might be done enough for him. “Medium okay with you?”

  “Yeah, sounds good. You smell like…” she sniffed again, “like apple wood and leather,” she said, planting a hard kiss against his back and he grinned, setting his beer down and turning around.

  Tugging her into him, he intended it to be a quick lip touch, but as always, his hunger for her took over, and they were both gasping for breath when he broke it off. “Goddamn, baby,” he murmured, mouth against her ear. “Mmm, yeah. You make me…” he dragged his fingers under her shirt and up her side, lightly pinching a nipple and pulling a gasp out of her, “make me wanna fuck you,” he finished and turned her around, pulling her back against his bare chest, his hands going to her stomach and the waistband of her pants. He unfastened the button, pushing his hand inside, down into her panties, sliding his fingers along her heat, slipping his middle finger deep into her.

  She arched her body, pushing her shoulders backward, reaching up and locking her fingers behind his neck. Bending down, he grinned against the side of her head, because she could barely reach. He pushed her pants down, taking her panties with them, then his palm was covering her pussy and his fingers worked in and out of her quickly while he listened to her rapid breathing. “God, you are so fucking wet, babe,” he said, using the edge of his hand and one knee to force her legs farther apart, widening her stance as far as the jeans around her ankles would allow.

  Pushing his hand deeper between her legs, he let his fingers roam in between her ass cheeks, fingertips finding and circling her tight entrance, hearing her gasp when he touched her there. Slipping his thumb shallowly in and out of her pussy, he teased and circled the pucker of her asshole with a fingertip. Holding back, he waited until she threw back her head in frustration to press into her in both places, moving slowly. “Yeah, you like me playing with your ass, babe,” he said softly. “I know you do. So fucking hot.”

  He thrust his pelvis forward, grinding his erection into her through the fabric of his jeans. “Feel what you do to me? How you make me want you? God, baby. Take off your shirt, Sharon. Bend over, baby. I want to touch you, yeah? Place your hands on the seat of the chair in front of you,” he ordered, taking a deep breath as she complied. The position put her head lower than her hips, and he was granted a view of her beautifully rounded ass leading to her spine, a sensuous sway to her back as she arched her head down.

  “Be still, baby,” he murmured against the skin of her lower back, kissing down her body as he stooped behind her. Squatting on one knee, he rested his hands on her thighs, tugging them apart to expose the reddened lips of her pussy more fully. Stroking inside her with two fingers, he drew her wetness back and
upward, circling around her asshole, and was rewarded with a low groan from her. Nuzzling between her legs with his mouth, he lapped and licked at her, fingers and thumbs continuing to work both her pussy and ass, pressing deep inside her then withdrawing, working both hands in tandem.

  He teased her to the edge of pleasure and then eased back, repeating each motion countless times, hearing her hiss in displeasure and frustration again and again. Her legs were beginning to quiver and shake from the strain of continually tensing and chasing her orgasm, only to then have that release denied. Her softly voiced sounds of desire made him smile, even as his mouth was still eating at her, his tongue darting and brushing from her entrance where his fingers thrust inside, up to her clit, which was engorged and sensitive. “Love going down on you, baby,” he murmured. “Fucking love my pussy. Edge you all day. Eat you all day.”

  Nibbling and pulling at her with his teeth, he nipped her clit sharply, and then pressed his tongue flat against her, repeatedly licking from clit to asshole, working his tongue around his fingers, pushing her up and over, finally allowing her to come. He felt her clench down on him as she came hard, his tongue moving up to flick rapidly back and forth on her clit, drawing out her climax.

  Standing, he opened his pants using one hand, the other still thrusting and circling fingers deep inside her. He slowly stroked a hand down his length, circling the base of his cock with finger and thumb, gripping hard and hissing between his teeth at the pounding of blood inside. “You ready for me, babe?” he asked, adjusting his stance to line the head up with her pussy, inching in slowly. “You want my cock? You want me?”

  “Yeah,” she panted, rising on her toes in anticipation of his first plunge into her.

  “Then take me,” he said, standing still, legs spread wide, head thrown back, and teeth gritted. Fuck, she’s hot, he thought. Come on, baby, fuck me with that pussy. My pussy. Fuck me. Yeah, mine. Me only… His thoughts became chaotic when she pressed backwards, impaling herself on his cock so quickly he felt the rough drag of her inner walls against every inch of his dick before her wetness made him slick and slippery.