Gunner

Two years later.

I move on the chair in the office of the Devil’s Tears and Mike pushes a bottle of beer towards me. I open it and take a decent sip.

Church has just finished and all the boys have dispersed either to the bar or to their houses. Only Mike, Rebel and I are still sitting at the round oak table.

“I need an enforcer I can trust,” Mike says. “The boys seem to be happy with my reforms, but I need a few men around me I can trust entirely. I need my family around me.”

Rebel puts his elbows on the table and grins at me. “I heard you’re good at this stuff.”

“I have a son, Mike,” I say.

“Bring him here,” Mike says. “It’s more civilised here now. This business I’m doing with the Italians is just a few jobs a week. They can ask us for a favour from time to time—to supervise the shipping of guns or to send a few boys to work as bouncers in their strip clubs. For you—it would be just being here most of the time and enjoying your life.”

Mike has been the president of the Devil’s Tears for six months. Gabriel was shot and as a result, he developed a bad pneumonia that damaged his lung permanently so he stepped down. Thunder, the club’s vice, died of heart attack three months ago, so Mike was chosen. He removed a few pieces of scum and implemented a few of Zane’s rules—very cosmetic alterations, but the women here can’t praise the new president enough.

“Sol won’t agree to give me Asher,” I say.

“Bring the bitch and the kid here,” Rebel says. “The club needs you and the kid needs his father.”

“It’s not that easy, brother,” I say.

Rebel nods. “No, sometimes it’s not that easy.” His thoughts seem to wander off to somewhere far from here.

“Think about it, Gunner Junior,” Mike says. “Talk to Sol. Daisy is her best friend. Use it as an argument in the conversation.” He puts his palms on the table and lifts himself.

I salute him. “I will.” I rise from my chair. “Time for me to go too.”

We shake hands, slap one another’s back and I walk out of the clubhouse to jump on my bike.

I haven’t seen Asher for two weeks. I miss him like hell.

I rev up the engine and leave the compound like an arrow released from a bow by a skilled archer.

Five hours later, I pass Chaviva, Dimitri’s once marvellous house. It still needs a lot of repair work, but according to my dad, it’s beginning to resemble the building from a long time ago.

The Shadow Wolves are back where we belong at last. We own this area back again. Cindy, my club cousin, and Luka, her husband, made it possible for us. Their marriage ended the war that started when Dimitri killed his wife, Dasha, Yegor Voronin’s little sister.

I haven’t met Luka yet, and I can’t wait to. He’s a Voronin Bratva prince. My hands are itching to smash his face at least. I’d fucking kill him if that was my choice to make, but since he’s Cindy’s husband and apparently she loves him, I could smash his face at least.

I slow down and let the eerie primeval allure of the desert fill me. It’s early in the morning. The chill of the harsh air bites my face and invades my lungs like some fucking magic. Like a precious memory. Like an exhale of peace.

We needed brand new fake documents and a long chat with the sheriff, Ashley Ruiz—the previous sheriff’s granddaughter, but we are on the right track again.

Hell yeah. I love this place. It’s home. All the family in one place at last.

I shoot towards Axel’s house and park my bike in front of the garage. Sol is waiting for me with Asher who tears his hand away from hers and runs towards me. He’s shaking, gulping, and sweeping his arms.

“Daddy,” he squeaks. “Daddy’s back.”

I pull him into my embrace and set him on my hip. A sense of joy and relief pervades my veins.

“Are you going to come in?” Sol asks. “For a cup of tea or something?” Her voice has that seductive rasping I love so much.

I haven’t touched her for two years. We are strangers to each other. We’ll sometimes drink a cup of tea together and we’ll talk about Asher’s education, that’s all.

Sol’s doing her course, now online, while I’m looking after Asher so she has enough time for studying. Everything’s working smoothly—polite ‘hi’, polite ‘bye’, polite ‘see you later’. Cold glances. Cold gestures. The cold sense of loss tearing my heart apart.

This coldness between us is driving me mad, but I’m getting used to it. At least, I can see her when I pick up Asher and bring him back to her place.

“No, thanks.” I kiss Asher’s head. He smells of wind and sand and a childish freedom. “I’ll bring him back tomorrow in the afternoon.”

“Gunner,” Sol starts and bites her lower lip.

God, how badly I want to suck that lip of hers.

She huffs out. “I’m going to Slovakia in two weeks.”

“That’s great. What about Asher?”

There’s no fucking way I’m gonna allow her to take Asher with her. Actually, there’s no fucking way I’m gonna allow her to go anywhere.

“He’s staying here,” she says.

I nod. “I’ll take care of him.”

And I’ll go to have a chat with Uncle Axel. Her daddy will remove all the crazy ideas from her head.

“No.” Her eyelashes flutter and her chin trembles. “I mean, you’re going with me and Dimitri and Rey are going to take care of Asher.”

“What?”

“You know how Dad and Boulder and Dimitri are. They’re so annoying. According to them, I need, you know, company.”

“Sure.” I nod. “I’ll go with you. That’s a long way to Slovakia.”

That’s much much better. We’re strangers to each other, but I can’t let anything bad happen to her.

“I’ll talk to you later about all the details.” She sweeps a wisp of her hair away from her face.

“Sure.”

“Dimitri has already booked all the hotels.”

“Sure.”

“See you.” She waves her hand and smiles for Asher.

“See you.”

I back up and squeeze Asher in my arms, my heart pounding in my chest. “Can you tell me, little guy, what’s going on?”

“Daddy, Asher doesn’t know.” He spreads his hands and shakes his head, his eyes wide in that funny way I love so much.

I hook him under the arms and move him up and down, making him giggle.

Sol

My eyes sweep over the gravestone. ‘Munroe and Stanka, always together’ the inscription on the black granite says. It’s almost invisible. A sense of sadness and beauty surges through me. He loved her so much. I was named after her, Sol Stanka Holme. My grand granddad, Munroe, was the first president of the Shadow Wolves MC. Stanka was his beloved wife. They found home and happiness in this little town. It was our home too before Yegor Voronin’s assassins came and forced us to flee, but we’re back.

I’m staying with my parents. My mom has reopened her art gallery and Christa’s helping her when she’s not at school. Dad is renovating the apartment in the attic of the gallery for me. He’s reopened his garage.

Feds are sniffing around us, but we returned well prepared.

My mom is a lawyer.

Athena is a doctor.

Dimitri is mafia. A retired Mafioso in fact. When he decides things are stable here, Rey and he will return to the house in the Spanish Pyrenees. Chaviva will belong to Cindy and Luka then. They want to make a hotel out of it.

Hawk is taking care of our papers. And probably of Christa’s education to keep her away from himself. I suspect that but I’m not sure. Each time I ask him about Christa, he will grumble, “She needs to study.”

Uncle Gunner is making sure the sheriff is very relaxed and blind. Nobody can resist Uncle Gunner’s persuasion, especially when he’s waving his long body. People pity him. People despise him. People are willing to help him.

Maria and Carrie own all the shops in our town.

Uncle Jax and grandpa Blaze have reopened the ‘Jilly Jet’. It has the 50s décor brought back from a very long time when Stanka designed it. Red booths and a colourful jukebox give the interior an unforgettable charm. A group of chicks occupies it on a daily basis, seeking the club members’ attention.

Hell yeah. The Shadow Wolves own this town again though under the name the Devil’s Tears MC. We must have a safe name for the public here. It’s as though we have an umbrella to hide our dirty secrets under it. We’re independent, led by Zane, just sharing the name with Mike’s club.

I walk across the burial ground as my eyes slide over Dash’s grave and then over Shay’s. I stop in front of my husband’s gravestone. It’s made of brown granite and glitters like a dust of diamonds is adorning it. A stone angel with outspread wings sits on the upper edge similarly to that of Dash’s.

Gunner and Rebel found his ashes so we could bury him at last. Dash is looking after him now, I hope.

I needed to bury my husband. I needed this to forgive myself at last. He’s dead, but will always own a special tiny part of my heart.

Looking at his grave, I allow myself to bury him, to grieve over him, to let him go to where Dash, Munroe and Stanka are. I allow myself to make peace with his accident, to accept my life how it is, to accept danger in my life and to love it.

My heart is endless like the intense blue expanse of the sky above my head. It’s deep enough to love someone else. To love passionately. To love fiercely. To love forever.

I’m a wolf. I need a wolf to love.

My son needs a complete family.

“Ready?” Christa asks as her fingers twine with mine.

“I don’t know. I’m standing at the beginning of a new path. It’s fucking scary, to be honest.”

“Leave the past in the past and start enjoying your present.”

“I have no fucking idea of what my present is.”

“Go travelling. Relax. Everything will be alright.”

I stroke her arm. “How is your life with my mom and dad and brother? They’re annoying, huh?”

Her hand jerks up and she puts it on her tummy. My heart leaps. I know this protective gesture so well.

Christa turned eighteen four months ago, but I haven’t seen her with any boy. She’s leading a life of a nun.

“Are you pregnant?” I ask abruptly.

“I—“

“Who is the father?”

Right. My dad’s interrogating genes show up.

Christa blinks a few times. “I—“

“Tyler? I’ll fucking kill him.”

Anger boils inside of me. I’ve seen so many girls crying because of him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knocked Christa up. He fucks everything he snatches up, everything with big boobs and a round ass. Then he trashes them without remorse.

“Hawk,” Christa murmurs.

My breath stops in my throat. “What?”

“We—“

“My brother? Really? I thought he was gay.”

Not that I am against or something. Mac was bi and he was lovely. He was Boulder’s cousin. He ended up with Wendy and was happy with her. I guess, she could manage to accommodate all his needs.

Christa raises her hand and my eyes flick over the ring on her finger. It’s my grand grandmother’s ring.

“Hawk waited until I turned eighteen,” Christa says.

“And he knocked you up on the same night, huh?”

“Well…”

She didn’t tell me anything. I feel angry with myself. I’ve been too occupied with myself to be a friend to her. Thank God, she didn’t gave up on being a friend to me.

I pull forward, dragging her behind me and we walk slowly towards the ‘Jilly Jet’. Passing the bikes parked along the wall of greenery, we climb the stairs and walk through the double door. The banging of the billiard balls hits my ears as my eyes sweep over Hawk and Tyler bent over the billiard table. They straighten at the sight of us.

Now, I see that flicker of passion in my brother’s eyes. I send him the most mischievous of my smiles and he shoots knives towards me with his glance.

We stand at the billiard table as my eyes flick over Celine clinging to Tyler’s back. She’s really pretty and determined to be Tyler’s old lady. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen. Tyler is going to the Devil’s Tears next month and he has no intention to take her with him.

I see Takis and Aphrodite seated in the booth at the flank of the bar. They’re talking to Blaze who has black fury in his eyes. My God, he’s the most lenient granddad in our family, but Takis and Aphrodite can piss him off. Jax and my dad are discussing something with Zane and Gunner Senior at the bar.

My heart feels like a knife has stabbed it.

Gunner Junior is with Asher. As always. He has no time for socialising or dating.

Ice fills my veins at the thought that he could go on a date. I am selfish. I am selfish for my son. No woman will take Gunner’s attention away from Asher. Over my dead body.

A sense of shame surges through me at my nasty attitude. Then I kill my thoughts.

“So,” I say to my brother. “You, Christa, that’s fucking—“

“You’d better be quiet,” Hawk growls.

He puts his hand on the back of Christa’s neck and sinks his fingers into her hair. I see fire in his eyes, a wild, consuming fire. It’s the fire of love that one wolf can give to another wolf.

“When is the wedding?” I ask.

“Soon,” Hawk says.

Tyler shakes off Celine. “What wedding?”

“Christa and mine,” Hawk says.

“You haven’t spill anything, you dick,” Tyler says. He turns towards the bar and rumbles, “Prez, there’s going to be a wedding in our family.”

“Yours?” Zane says with sarcasm.

“Do I look like I want a wife?” Tyler says as Celine’s eyes turn glassy.

I feel sorry for her as I watch her rush towards the bathroom.

Tyler is so rude, but handsome as hell. Women behave like they have no brain when they’re around him. They can’t resist his grey eyes bringing an impression of a storm cloud to one’s mind. His hair is brown like Zane’s, who’s his dad, and it falls down to his shoulders. He’s well built as is every man in our family.

A malicious voice in my head hopes Tyler finds a woman who’ll make him fall for her and who’ll trash him.

The sound of someone’s footsteps makes me look over my shoulder and see Ashley Ruiz walk in. Her blue eyes shine as she corrects the low bun made of her auburn hair. She’s wearing her uniform.

“Our lovely sheriff,” Tyler says, approaching her. He tosses back his hair. “In the ‘Jilly Jet’. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Back the fuck up, Tyler,” Ashley says. “Mr Holme.” She waves her hand to Zane.

Zane moves closer to her. “I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

“Can we have a chat somewhere private?” Ashley says. “About Takis—“

“It’s being dealt with by us,” Zane says, his voice cold, sending a warning.

Tyler throws his arm over her back. “Have a drink with us, Ashley. Relax.”

Ashley shakes his arm off as repulsion paints her face. “I’m on duty.”

“It’s a Friday evening, darling,” Tyler insists as his arm encircles her waist.

Ashley moves away from him, her chin trembling. “Mr Holme, please make sure this won’t happen again.”

Zane bows his head as Ashley exhales with an audible sound and storms off.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Takis beat a motherfucker who wasn’t nice to Tete,” Hawk says.

Gunner

Sol kisses Asher who hops in Dimitri’s arms and pulls his hair.

“Solnishko,” Dimitri says. “Only three weeks. He won’t die.”

Rey shakes her head and loops her arm through Dimitri’s. “We’ll take care of Asher and you, kids, enjoy the trip.” Her voice has this eerie tinge, like she’s a beautiful alien.

It’s after the accident she had a very long time ago.

“I cook his eggs for exactly three minutes,” I say as flutter goes through my chest.

“I know how to cook fucking eggs,” Dimitri rumbles. “Go.”

“Three minutes, Grandpa,” I repeat as Rey chuckles and her olive cheeks flush.

“Three fucking minutes.” Dimitri looks at me with an urge of murder in his glance. “Fine.”

I decide not to piss him off more so I salute him and jump on my bike then shoot towards the metal sliding gate, as Sol’s bike roars right behind me.

She chose that means of travelling. I suggested a sports car, but she wanted our bikes. Good. I haven’t seen her on her bike for ages.

We pour out into the road and jump between two trucks. A sense of freedom wafts through me. The engine roars furiously, but it’s music to my ears. Only Sol’s sweet moans of satisfaction are more pleasant to me. The wind smacks me as she takes the lead.

She’s good. I almost forgot how good she was.

I ride at full speed, meandering among cars and outrun her. She wants to race? Fine. Let’s race.

Sol

We stop at a parking lot in front of a five star hotel. Yep, that’s our hotel. I want to kill Dimitri. I hate such places.

Gunner jumps off his bike and joins me. We climb the stairs, passing four palm trees, and go through the glass door. My boots thump against the marble floor as we move towards reception and stop by the desk made of granite and wood.

“The reservation is for Adriana Krastev,” I say.

The receptionist, a young brunette with big boobs, nods at me. “For Adriana Krastev and Michael Krastev, a king bedroom.” She hands me a key card and shoots Gunner a flirty glance.

Some things never change—all the women of the world always flirt with Gunner.

“There must be some mistake,” I say. “I asked for two separate rooms.”

She glances at me like I’m an idiot then types on the keyboard and shakes her head. “No, only one king bedroom.”

I glance at Gunner, but he stares out the window adorned with heavy velvet curtains that’s on our left like this conversation doesn’t concern him at all.

“Michael,” I say.

Gunner turns his face to mine and smirks at me. “Adriana.” He waves his hand as a hotel boy takes our bags.

“One room,” I say as I bob my head in frustration.

“Looks like we’re going to save our marriage, darling,” he says as the receptionist chuckles.

I inhale deeply and stifle the urge of murder boiling inside of me.

We go to our room and the richness of the décor makes me freeze in the doorway. It reminds me of the Middle Ages and feels claustrophobic—a huge four-poster bed stands at one wall as two cream thrones with a round table stand at the opposite wall.

Gunner removes his cut and pulls his t-shirt over his head then grabs his toiletry bag and goes to the bathroom. I hear him turn on the water in the shower cabin. Ten minutes later, he steps out of the bathroom, pulls on a fresh t-shirt and leaves the room. Just like that.

I stand still for a moment then shuffle to have a shower. My stomach growls so I decide to eat something in the hotel restaurant. I enter the room filled with elegant people and drop into a vintage chair to enjoy my solitude at the table by a window that offers a view over the hotel’s swimming pool. I wolf down my food, order a glass of wine and stare at the hotel guests. The wine tastes horrible, but I sip it anyway.

As I finish my drink, I rise to my feet and go for a walk around the swimming pool. Passing two flower urns, I notice Gunner. He is sitting at one of the tables sheltered by a red umbrella. And a woman is sitting beside him.

My heart freezes then starts thundering.

The woman has an elegant dress on. It’s black with a very low back, a plunging neckline and long sleeves. My eyes scan my t-shirt with a bleached skull printed on the front and my black leather trousers put in boots. Fire seizes my chest and it burns violently. Burns like never before. It hurts so much.

I hate Gunner like never before and I hate that woman beside him. I hate her so much my hands itch to break her nose.

I step back, but Gunner notices me and waves his hand to me, inviting me to sit at his table.

Well, I can’t be a coward.

I huff out, force myself to smile, and join him at the table. The woman raises her black eyes to me. She’s really attractive, like the 20s actress, thirty years old at most. Her flawless white face enhances the beauty of her full carmine lips.

I have no make-up on. My hair is styled in a messy high bun whilst hers falls to her shoulders in perfect raven-black waves.

“My wife, Adriana,” Gunner says. “Darling, this is Beatrice.”

The woman’s jaw drops as does mine, but she composes herself. And so do I. We shake hands. Her palm is soft to touch whilst mine is dry and calloused. Embarrassment floods me.

“A honeymoon?” Beatrice asks.

“Yes, and we don’t do threesomes,” I say as Gunner kicks my foot with his under the table and lowers his head to hide his grin.

Beatrice blinks a few times then flashes me an elegant smile. “It’s late. If you excuse me…”

“Nice to meet you,” Gunner says and she walks off.

“She was very elegant,” I say. “Your women are always so elegant.”

His face turns into an emotionless mask. “Do you want a drink?”

“Yes.” A bottle of vodka would do me good. Two bottles of vodka would do me even better. “A glass of wine, please.”

Gunner rises from his chair and goes to the bar as I bite my nails. My heart hammers in my chest. Something squeezes my throat like a cold hand.

Gunner returns to the table, putting a glass of white wine on the top.

“Thank you,” I say as he gives me a nod that could mean anything.

He sits beside me and we stare in one direction.

“Ashes has grown,” I say to interrupt the uncomfortable silence between us. “He can count to five.”

“To ten,” His tone is informative.

I sip my wine. “You’re a great dad.”

“You’re a great mom.”

Fucking hell. What’s happened to us? We once were best friends. We could almost read one another’s thoughts. We had sex together.

I know what’s happened.

A selfish, ungrateful bitch has happened. A blind bitch has happened.

Music starts to play and it’s that fucking theme from the movie ‘Ghost’. I look at Gunner and I feel like some invisible force is ripping my heart out. Like I’m losing Gunner forever. And I want him so badly, need him so desperately. He once belonged to me, but I didn’t see that. I was enveloped by the greyness of my guilt.

Now, my world is crystal and light and I want Gunner to be mine.

He will never be mine again. He’s a stranger, a memory, the pain of loss I’m going to carry.

Tears prick my eyes, and I rise to my feet, pushing the chair back.

“I’m tired,” I rasp. “I’m going to clear off. Maybe I’ll have some sleep, you know. It’s kind of late.”

“Sure. I’ll have a few drinks—“

A few drinks with a few elegant women who’ll invite him to their hotel rooms. Awesome.

My hands shake. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I.. Doesn’t matter. Have fun.”

He looks at me like I’m six. Then a grin crosses his face and he watches me with cold eyes for a moment. “Yeah, you’d better have some rest. You’re tired.”

I nod and turn around then hurry towards the glass door leading to the building. Tears leak from my eyes. As I stand by the elevator, the sound of somebody’s heavy footsteps fills my ears. I push the button and a big hand squeezes my shoulder.

I turn my face to meet the broodiness of Gunner’s glance.

“Sol,” he rasps.

The elevator dings, and I jerk my head as the door pulls away. Gunner shoves me inside and slams his fist on the button. The door closes. There’s only me and him and our heavy breaths. Then my tears and his dark glance. He looks like a doomed character from a romantic poem.

“I’m sorry,” I shriek as the elevator moves upwards and I have this feeling of weighing more than I actually do. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

Gunner’s eyes fill with menace then with tears. His hand travels to the back of my neck and he grips it, causing me pain. A second seems like an hour.

His lips slam on mine.

My legs wobble and I almost pass out.

My hands claw at his neck, and I kiss him like we’re going to die in a few minutes.

Gunner grips my waist and lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He slams me on the mirrored back wall of the elevator and crushes my lips with his. His tongue searches for mine.

The elevator dings.

“The key card,” he growls into my mouth.

“What?”

“The key card.”

I reach to the back pocket of my jeans, taking it out, and we tumble out of the elevator, making three people jump away. Their laughter echoes behind us as Gunner carries me to our room, taking the key card from my hand, and we tumble inside.

He cups my face in both his hands. “Fuck, Sol, we need to talk.”

“I know.”

I lean in to kiss him, but he growls furiously. “We need to talk.”

I nod. “Let’s talk then.”

Gunner puts me on the bed. I remove my boots and toss them onto the floor. Gunner does the same as I and he sits opposite me, sweeping a few wisps of my hair away from my face.

“Talk to me,” he says in a threatening voice, his knee bent.

I suck in a breath, my feet tucked under my bottom. “I—“

“You?” He props his elbow on his knee.

I clench my hands against my stomach, my heart racing. “You—“

“Yes me.” His lips curl into a beguiling smile.

I raise my hand and run my fingertips down his unshaven cheek. Suddenly, there is this crystalline certainty in my head and I know what to say. “You’ve been a husband to me since Shay died. You’ve been good to me and to my… I mean our son. I—“

“You needed more time.”

“I needed time.” My throat tightens and I can’t speak for a moment as Gunner watches me with his jaws clenching. “I swerved and pushed Shay into that truck, Gunner.” My breath sticks in my throat as Gunner strokes my hair.

“It wasn’t your fault, Sol. I killed my brother. My fucking love for being in trouble killed him.”

“No, our lifestyle killed him. I know this now. We’re who we are. We know the risks. All of us. Shay knew the risks too. His love for our lifestyle killed him. Dimitri asked him three times and he wanted to go. We die for one another if needed, remember?”

He nods at me, one tear slipping from the corner of his eye.

“Do you love me?” I squeak.

“You know I do.”

“But do you love me because of Shay?”

“I love you because I fell in love with you as a kid and with each year that passed I loved you even more. You should have been my wife not his. Mine, Sol. My wife.” He pulls my hair together on the back of my neck, causing pain to seize my skull.

I rest my forehead against his. “I loved Shay. I did love him. But you… You’re so much more. You’re like part of me. Sometimes it feels like we’re one soul and one body. Sometimes we’re so different.”

“I can’t breathe without you,” he says with a raspy crack in his voice.

“And I can’t breathe without you.”

I grab his neck and pull him to me, pressing my lips against his. He kisses me hard, possessively, as I fall on the mattress and he crushes my body with his.

“That woman,” I gasp.

I know. I have no dignity, but jealousy floods me like volcanic lava.

“No women, Sol,” Gunner says into my mouth, sucking on my lower lip. “There have been no women in my life since Shay died. Only you. Always you.”

Oh my God.

He’s really been my husband. A faithful husband. The best husband I could wish for.

“I will be a good wife to you, I promise,” I say as words pour out of me like water is pouring out of the crumbling dam. “You’ll be happy with me, you’ll see. I will change. I will be nice. I will put nice clothes on. I will put make-up on. I will be elegant and nice.” As I finish the last sentence, I feel stupid and childish.

There are no words to reverse the damage I’ve done.

“Okay.” Gunner kisses my forehead, amusement coating his voice. “Be a wife to me then. Put your pyjama set on and we’re going to sleep.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

I freeze with consternation then jump away from him and rush to the bathroom.