Violet's Guns: Book 9 of Colson Brothers Series

by Reese Madison

  Violet’s Guns

  Reese Madison

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Edited by Reese Madison

  Cover Photography by E-Beth Fuller Casteneda

  Special Thank you to my cousin JT for letting us use his bike in the cover picture.

  Copyright © 2017 by Reese Madison

  First Edition

  All rights reserved

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  The Colson Brothers Series

  Down and Dirty

  Daunting Turns

  Salem Charm

  Wrangled Mess

  Draked Up

  The Ice King On My Hate

  Hayle Storm

  Free To Love

  Other Books

  Jacked

  Prologue

  Poker Runs usually pull in some good money for their chosen charities, and I’m all for them, but I’d rather be going on a nice long open road ride. Instead I’m juggling bikes, directing traffic, and shaking entirely too many hands.

  I could do without the stop and go too. Being the Sargent at Arms for Exiles MC I get the honor of riding towards the front of the organized chaos. The good part about that is getting to the bar, and food, sooner than later.

  My stomach growled almost as loud as my Harley just before I heard the screeching of brakes and grind of metal on asphalt. I swung out and away from anyone who might have lost control behind me.

  What I saw next shook me to the core. A large dark blue dump truck ran through an intersection and slammed into three motorcycles and two cars. There’s going to be a Poker Run for a Poker Run. “Fuck!!!” I put my kickstand down and ran back while dialing 911.

  Two instant deaths, a married couple I know from where I get my ink done were killed instantly. The other rider, Jerry, will be lucky to survive the ride to the hospital.

  A young woman I know as Violet, the couple’s daughter, is surrounded by the girls looking like she’s in shock. I can see she wants to scream, but it’s stuck. They’re crowding her. She can’t breath. She looked at me sensing my concern and stared at me. I looked between her and the wreckage a couple times trying to figure out what to do.

  Violet pushed Salina and Red out of her way and walked right over to me, our eyes never unlocking. She’s a full head shorter than me so I have to look down.

  “I’m so sorry Violet.” What else can I say?

  She flinched, wavered, and fell against me to scream through her sobs. I scooped her up and carried her away to a police officer I know is a member and asked for a ride back to the club.

  I held her in the backseat the whole twenty-minute ride. Her screaming has stopped and the sobbing has deflated into a steady cry. Her sadness brought out a few tears of my own. Today will go down in history for the club, and of course for her. Violet will be scarred for life. She watched as her parents were literally run over by a giant truck. You don’t come back from that. Ever.

  Because other riders are filing into the bar for the latest update I took her to the newer apartment furthest down the hall and locked the door. I set her on the bed and knelt to offer her my bandana.

  She sniffled and looked up at me with swollen eyes. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”

  “How much did you see?”

  She sniffled again. “Everything. I was riding about six bikes back.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah. If I ever close my eyes again it’ll be a miracle.” She tried to joke but it fell flat on both of us.

  “Who can I call for you?”

  A whole new sadness fell over her face before she shook her head. “It’s just us. My stepdad is an orphan. He was never adopted by anyone. My mom’s parents died a few years ago. That’s all we had.”

  “Not anymore. You got me, and of course the club. How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Okay, I’m going to end up in jail for this, but would you like a drink?”

  She nodded holding my bandana to her face.

  “Okay. Stay put. I’ll be right back.” I left closing the door behind me.

  Red shooed everybody away from the bar. “I heard you brought her back here. How is she?”

  “How do you think?” That came out much harsher than I meant it to.

  “Easy Gunner. Don’t snap at me. What can I get you?” Fortunately she understands.

  I exhaled, “Sorry. She just told me she saw the whole thing. I need Whiskey and something to soak it up like bread. Also, have Joe go over and secure the tattoo shop. Make sure it’s locked up. In fact put a prospect on it for the night. Once the media gets ahold of names it’s going to be splattered all over the news. I don’t want her to deal with any break-ins on top of everything else.” I get paid to think ahead.

  “Poor choice of words Guns.” She scolded me for my usage of the word ‘splattered’. Okay, so I don’t always think ahead when I open my big mouth. “What else?”

  “Nothing. I’m going back to her before someone else thinks they can console her. Better bring me some water and a change of clothes for her too. She’s still in her riding gear.”

  “Got it.” Red grabbed a bottle of Jack and two glasses and handed them to me before we parted ways. Red is good people. She’s Joe’s wife, and one of very few female members. I’ve seen her kick a man’s ass the size of her husband, and Joe is one big dude.

  Violet hasn’t moved except to look up at me when I closed the door. “It feels like a really fucked up nightmare. It can’t be real Gunner. It just can’t! God can’t be this cruel!!”

  I poured her two fingers and offered her the glass. “You’re talking to the wrong man about God. God has never played a part in my belief system.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m kicking Him out of mine after today.” She downed the entire two shots and held the glass out for more.

  I poured two more. “Sip that one. Red’s bringing some bread so you don’t get sick.”

  She thumbed to the bathroom. “Already did. Don’t worry I made it to the toilet.”

  “I wondered when it would hit you.” I sat in the chair by the table. “Red is going to get you a change of clothes. I want you to stay here tonight. I’m sure you can find a willing friend to spend the night with you. You shouldn’t be alone. Just tell me who you want me to ask.”

  “I want you to stay. You’re not coddling me. I don’t want people crying and doting on me. Makes me claustrophobic.” She sipped again then stared at the dresser for a solid minute before asking, “Gunner?”

  “What?”

  “Does the pain ever stop?”

  “No, but you do learn to live with it. I’m probably not the best person to give advice on grieving.” Poor girl should have Salina in here.

  The knock on the door made her jump.

  I got up and opened it.

  Red handed me a large brown paper bag with handles and a basket of bread. “Everything is in there. Call my cell if you need anything else.”

  “Thanks Red, and sorry I snapped at you earlier.”

  “I’m used to it.” She squeezed my arm. “Snap a
t me anytime brother, I can handle it. Take care of our girl. I’ll keep you posted on shit out here.”

  “You’re a good sister.” I nodded at her and went back to take care of Violet.

  1

  “I don’t know if I can do this Gunner.” He put his truck in park outside my family home, which is really an old feed store turned into a tattoo parlor slash home.

  “Make me a list and I’ll go get whatever you want.” Gunner is the third highest-ranking member of the notorious Exiles MC. Somehow I managed to zero in on him the day of the accident. He’s been my rock since.

  For the last week he’s held my hand through funeral arrangements and services. We’ve been basically living together in one of the club’s apartments the whole time. Nothing sexual of course. I can’t imagine losing my virginity along with my family right now.

  “No. I need too much to list. Are you sure the club doesn’t mind me moving in until I graduate?”

  “If they do they haven’t said anything to me.” His brutal honesty is the reason I need him verses anyone else. Everyone else wants to coddle me. Give me a shoulder to cry on. All I want is to sit and stare at the TV as my life flashes slowly before my eyes. I see the accident over and over and over again all day long with every blink.

  “Come on. Let’s get this over with so we can go get something to eat.” He’s always hungry. I’m eating out of necessity. Food has no flavor.

  Two seconds after opening the door I lost it. I can still smell my mother’s perfume in the air. My stepfather’s cigar is stubbed out and waiting for him to get back and finish it.

  Gunner ushered me to the couch. “Sit, before you fall.”

  “I can smell her, and him. She should be coming out of the back to see-“

  “Hey!!” He kicked the coffee table out of his way and knelt in front of me. “No. You are NOT allowed to do this. What would your mother say if she saw you sitting here falling apart??”

  “You don’t know her!!”

  He pushed up his sleeve and showed me her ink. “I knew her well enough. I let your mother put her mark on me. They might have been my ideas, and even my drawings, but she’s right here.” He tapped one of her famous skulls. “We talked about relationships while she worked on this one.” He moved his finger to snake. “This one she did shortly after you won that award at school. I forget what the award was, but she was so damn proud of you it was nauseating.”

  I choked up, again. “Drawing contest.” My nose ran making me sniffle. “It was the first one I’d ever gotten first place in.”

  “That’s it. You know what we talked about during this one?” He tapped a pair of dice.

  “Snake eyes. Probably luck.”

  “Exactly. She talked about how lucky she was to have such a great daughter. She talked on and on about how mature and strong you were for your age, and how she hoped you’d never fall for an eternal bachelor like myself.”

  I forced a frowny face. “You’ll find an old lady one day, and she’s going to be one lucky bitch.”

  “Not likely. I like being alone. Living with you is killing me. Now I’m stuck with you for three more months.” He’s trying to break the somberness of the mood I’ve created with humor.

  “I know. I need you right now. I may need you forever, but I’ll be at school soon. Just give me a few months of your grief therapy so I can get through this until then.” I begged.

  “You know you got me.” He promised then stood taking my hand so I’m forced to my feet. “Now let’s get this over with. You know I get aggravated when I’m hungry.”

  “You’re always aggravated.” I kept his hand in mine until we got upstairs.

  I wiped down the frame and set the last picture I have of my parents on the dresser. Gunner is out running errands of some sort. I hate being alone with my thoughts, but I know I need to get used to it. I hope college keeps me too busy to think. I miss my parents so bad it literally hurts me in the chest every time I think about them.

  The last thing my mom said to me was, “Ride with Jenny, her old man is out of town on business.” Then she added, “Love you!” and a wave before jogging up to climb on her own bike to ride next to my stepdad. I called him Dad because he was the only father I ever knew.

  My biological father left the second he found out my mother was pregnant. We haven’t seen him since. My stepfather, his best friend at the time confessed his feelings for my mother and took over. She told me more than once that she thought she’d been in love until the right man loved her. They were extremely happy.

  Gunner opened the door and stopped short when he saw me. “Okay, if you want me to stay you’re going to have to stop all this crying. I’m starting to get a complex.”

  I smiled up at the scruffy beard and hazel eyes of the man who is saving me from drowning in hurricane of unprecedented grief and wiped at my face with the backs of my hands. “Sorry.”

  He turned the picture around. “You can turn it back around in the morning. I think you’ve had enough for one day.” He pulled a bottle of wine out from behind his back. “No more whiskey for you. You can have wine though. I don’t want you turning into a drunk.”

  I took the bottle and read the label. “Will this help me sleep as good as the whiskey?”

  “You need to learn to sleep without booze.” He took the bottle back and set it on the table. “Dinner will be here shortly. Did you look over these papers like I asked you to?”

  “No. I can’t read that legal bullshit.” I turned and flopped on the bed. “I don’t want to read, write, draw. All I want to do is sleep, and I can’t. How am I going to survive school? And graduation?? And college??” Everything seems so overwhelming.

  Gunner smacked me hard on the ass. “Get up.”

  I sat up. “Ow. That hurt.”

  “Not as much as that funeral. You’re going to get through high school, graduate, and move on to college if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.” He knelt in front of me like he does when I’m about to get one of his verbal ass kickings. His eyes are a wicked green that can see straight through to my soul. “You’re not going to let me down, are you?”

  “No. You might spank me again.”

  “You’re damn right I will. Keep your grades up. Walk down across that stage to get your degree, and pour everything into college. In four years I’m going to throw you one hell of a party. You’re going to push through and succeed for your parents, for me, and for you. I won’t let you fail, because then that means I’ve failed. I don’t fail. Failure is not an option for me, and now that you’re in my charge it’s not an option for you either. Do we understand each other?” This strength is why I need him.

  I nodded. “You’re going to make me cry again.”

  “And you’re going to make me proud. Right?”

  I nodded. “I have to. I owe you big time for holding my hand through all this.”

  “Yeah well.” He stood and went to open the wine. “No more holding your hand. I don’t do sentiment Violent. I’ll kick your ass through this. If you want someone to hold your hand you’d better find another friend.”

  “Are we friends?” The thought of having such a powerful, and yeah, hot as fuck, man call me his friend is… scary, and exciting.

  “Unless you can think of a better word.” He dared handing me a glass of wine. Chardonnay I think. I should learn about wines. Red and her friends always sound so smart when they talk about wine.

  I sipped and decided I like wine. I also decided to leave the whole friendship thing alone. Gunner didn’t deny it. He didn’t say ‘no’. He simply dared me to come up with a better word. I need him as my friend, so I won’t even try.

  Gunner became a slave driver when I finally made it back to school over a week later. He insisted on seeing everything, and I mean everything. He insisted I do any and all extra credit, and even called my teachers to make sure I was doing as well as I said I was.

  It was annoying as fuck. I put up with it for the first couple weeks beca
use I was so grateful he was sticking around. Now I want him to go away. Not really, but he’s hovering. Thankfully graduation is in a couple weeks. I’m trying to focus on studying for my final exams but my brain just wants to keep playing the horrific crash over and over on loop.

  I live at the clubhouse now. Gunner stays with me most nights. He sleeps in the chair, on the floor, or on the rare occasion in the bed with me on top of the covers. It’s too claustrophobic to study in the apartment, and too hot to sit outside, so I took over a corner table in the bar and laid out my books and notebooks study for finals.

  Gunner slid into the booth and picked up a random piece of paper. “Looks like fun.”

  “Loads. I can’t wait for this shit to be over.” I slammed my pen down and picked up my ice water.

  “It’s starts all over again in a couple months when you go off to college.” Party pooper reminded me.

  “Shut up. Your help I don’t need.”

  “I’ll put you to work to keep you busy.” He put the paper back down and roughed up my hair before sliding out of the booth. “You’ll be alright kid.”

  “First of all I’m not a kid. Second of all I’m sick of sucking it up. Where are you going?” I need him for another five minutes.

  He thumbed to the door where a leggy blonde smirked at me. “She wants to see the back seat of my truck.”

  “Classy Gunner. Classy. You’re practically living with me, at the club where she’s going to let you fuck her in the back of your truck?? Seriously??? You can’t refrain for a few weeks?? Are you SO desperate that you have to fuck somebody who would LET you fuck her in the back of your truck??!!” I threw my textbook at his head.

  He ducked so it went sliding across the floor towards the kitchen. “Jesus Violet!! Calm the fuck down!”

  “Fuck you. Go play with your little slut.” I worked my way out of the c-shaped booth to go raid the bar. Yes it’s illegal, but we know the ABC guy, and he’s not here.