Gunner

I’ve almost done assembling the cribs for Jas and Emma’s twins in the nursery they’re preparing when I hear Emma cry out.

“Emma?!” I call out, striding towards their room. Shit, she’s in the bathroom. “Emma, you ok in there?”

“Gunner, I haven’t been feeling well. I think these are labor pains but…” Fuck. What do I do? I hesitate to open the door, not knowing what state she’s in.

“OK, um, do you need help getting out? I’ll take you to the hospital.” The door opens from her side and she reaches for my hand.

“The bag is in Jasper’s truck, Gunner.” She looks really worried about that, but I have no idea what the significance is.

“He’ll meet us there, just let me take you now.” I’m sweating worse than she is. “Shit Emma, I don’t know what to do? Do I carry you?”

Shaking her head, she heads toward the door, slipping on some shoes. I grab our phones and hit Jasper’s number on mine.

“Jasper. Emma thinks she has labor pains.” She lets out a wail as I get her in my truck. “Fuck, man.”

“Gunner, calm down.” Jasper spits out while Emma starts some weird breathing shit. “I hear your engine, I’ll meet you at the ER. You fucking drive safe, you got me, Brother?”

“Yeah, here, talk to her.” I pass the phone over.

Emma pauses her loud breathing. “Jasper, I thought I had indigestion but it kept getting worse.” She’s looking over at me, “Hold on, Jas.”

“Gunner, you have to drive faster than twenty or you’ll be delivering the babies, ok?” Fuck, she’s right.

My hands are gripping the wheel so tight and I have to force myself to ease off, and live with the shame of temporarily driving like a senior citizen. I don’t hear the rest of her call; I just know that when she restarts her breathing exercises I join her.

Standing in the ER with my arm around Emma’s shoulders, I am way past my comfort zone when Jasper finally arrives. “Thank fucking Christ, man!” I yell, before jumping back as I feel something spray over my jeans and boots.

Jas and Emma cry out at the same time; Jas in shock and Emma in dismay at the mess. Her water just broke all over my favorite boots.

Once he gets her into a wheelchair, he looks back at me. “Want to be a Godfather?” He widely smiles at me before they’re taken off to a room.

I’m still standing in the puddle with a big grin on my face a few moments later when Flint strides in. “Shit, Gunner!”

I just shrug, “I’m gonna be a Godfather.”

“Great. Uh, this could take a while, why don’t you head out and get cleaned up? I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, I’ll be back by later.” I nod and start to leave.

“Wait, can you stop by Rusty’s after you change? Bree is working tonight; just see if she needs anything?” Fuck, he’s not letting that one go. Never thought Flint would tie himself down again. Not that I don’t understand that need; once you finally meet the right woman.

Over an hour later, I’m turning into the bar’s parking lot when I hear a gunshot ring out. Throwing the truck into park, I grab my tire iron from under my seat and run towards the door. A few more shots ring out before I yank it open and I immediately see people crouching under tables, their cell phones all out. A small Hispanic man is walking around the side of the bar with a gun in his hand.

He’s yelling in Spanish and so focused that I’m nearly on top of him before he senses me. Swinging the tire iron to hit his extended gun arm, he turns at the last minute and I slice him across his face. As he falls back, the sound of his head smacking the bar seems to echo throughout the room.

Kicking his gun away and checking behind the bar, I bellow. “Get a fucking ambulance NOW!” Fuck.

Fucking Bree.

Randy lies beside her with half his head blown off, but it’s a bloody Bree who is staring up at me with pain filled eyes that terrifies me. “Come on, Bree, shit. Shit, where you hit, Pretty Lady?”

I see and grab a stack of bar towels, as she whispers up at me; “It hurts, Gunner.”

“That’s good, here let me see. Pain means you’ll live.” I feed her one of combat’s myths. Locating two wounds, her left shoulder and just below her left hip; I press towels into each. Fuck, she’s too good to go out like this is my first thought. My second is if Flint could take it.

“Ragnar, please Gunner. Ragnar…Flint’s house.” She pleads with me, and it kills me that her first thought is for her dog. She’s lying in a big ass puddle of blood and she’s worried about her dog.

“Shhh. This is gonna hurt.” I press a fresh towel harder into her lower wound that seems to be bleeding heaviest, causing her to cry out. “Don’t you worry about your dog; you know how much he likes me, Pretty Lady.”

Comforting her, I miss the sound of sirens and am still holding her when Sheriff Michaels points his gun around the bar. “Shit, Alex. You armed?”

“No, Sir. Dropped a tire iron over there somewhere.” I respond calmly, making sure he doesn’t get twitchy right now.

“Stay there another minute, paramedics are right behind me.” He says, lowering his weapon.

“This guy’s dead, Sheriff.” Officer Kennelly calls out. “He the perp?”

“Get her taken care of then we’ll sort it out.” The Sheriff can at least prioritize.

The paramedics hurriedly move in and care for Bree, before Michaels indicates a table for me to move to. Holding up my hand, I call Flint. Briefing him is more important right now.

“What?” He answers.

“Listen to me and don’t interrupt.” I start. “Bree’s gonna be alright, but she’s heading there in an ambulance now. There was a shooting at the bar, she was hit twice and Randy’s dead. Looks like she was behind him when the guy started shooting.”

Silence, I can hear him breathing so I know he heard me. “I want that gunman, Gunner. He’s fucking mine, you hear me.” I’ve only heard that tone from Flint twice; I just hope it’s never aimed at me.

“No, Boss. I cracked him with a tire iron. He hit the corner of the bar on the way down and died on the spot.” I answer, looking Michaels dead on, so he won’t think I’m bullshitting him later.

“Too fucking good for him, Gunner.” I can hear him seething over the line.

“I hear ya. I gotta deal with the Sheriff and Bree asked me to check on Ragnar; then I’ll get back to the hospital. Call me if you need anything.”

“Gunner,” He calls to make sure I don’t hang up. “Thank you.”

“You know that’s not needed.” I disconnect.

I turn to see the Sheriff has been listening to me. “Is Bree dating Flint?”

“They’re close.” I can’t even fathom how to sum those two up, so I don’t try.

“Let them test your hands for residue, then start at the beginning.” I hold up my bloody hands. “Just covering my bases, Alex.”

“Stop with the fucking ‘Alex’,” I growl at him as a tech starts to swab my hands. “Mrs. Riley is the only one who gets away with that shit.”

“Yeah, and once she gets wind you were here, she’ll be on my ass about this first thing. So let’s just make sure I don’t have to take any shit over you.” He smirks at me as he starts to take my statement. Usually, I would have lawyered up, innocent or not; but times-a-wasting right now. “You’ll have to explain that connection to me sometime, but…”

An hour later, I finally get the blood off and check in on Ragnar. Little guy is smart, it’s like he knows something’s wrong and starts whining. I try to comfort him the best I can, refilling his water and food then head to the hospital. I’m sure I’ll be making lots of trips back to take care of him during the following days. He likes me, but I know he’ll be miserable until Bree’s back with him.