Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC (17 page)

Dawn swallowed down her own shot. “You’d better hope they decide to keep you here.”

Senna blinked. “Is that likely?”

Dawn shrugged. “For witnessing a hit? I don’t know. Depends on what Gunner tells them, I guess. They might make you stay right here. They might send you on your way and have one of their guys take you out on the road. They might ‘escort’ you down to Mexico and take your passport back with them. Who knows?”

“You’re a little casual about the idea of them shooting me on some quiet highway,” Senna said.

Dawn glanced around to make sure no one was listening, before leaning in close. Her expression softened. “I don’t honestly believe they’ll do that. Not to a woman. Listen, I have no influence with Bill, but if it comes to a vote then you can at least count on Irish being on your side. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you.”

She wanted to pull her sister in for a hug. Too much hung in the air between them, still. Dawn had always been jealous of the praise Senna would receive for successes in and out of school. Senna had mocked Dawn at every chance she got, secretly jealous herself of her younger sister’s beauty. Animosity still hung between them, nearly palpable. But for all the bad blood, they were still sisters. They were still family. It was good to see her.

Senna bit her tongue against saying so, though. Years of dealing with the family drama alone had left her bitter - but she hoped she could get past it, someday.

“Now,” Dawn said. “Bill definitely doesn’t like rich girl ice queens like you, so, we’re gonna have to get you a little drunker.”

“I’m not an ice queen.” She accepted the shot, anyway. Dawn only had to give her a look to make her point. Even Gunner had said as much, more than once.

“Bottoms up, bitch.”

“You fucked up.”

His veins buzzed. He was on the verge of violence - something he'd been feeling daily - no, hourly - up until the night Senna arrived. It had been days without the blinding rage that took over his senses, and now that it had returned, it made his stomach churn.

"Saving an innocent girl's life is called 'fucking up' now?"

The president of the Dust Bowl Devils looked up at Gunner with disgust. "Showing loyalty to a stranger over your club is called 'fucking up.' We ought to exile you after what you did to Jupiter."

"Then why don't you?" he snarled, flexing his fists.

"We're taking your other circumstances into account." Bill sat at the kitchen table as if they were back home and he was presiding over church in the clubhouse. Bars sat to one side, Nomad to his other, and Gunner remained standing so he could pace the floor.
Nothing's changed
. "You're paying for that shit with Jupiter as soon as he gets here."
Great
. Just the face we want to see. "The rest?" He held up his hands. "I don't even know where to begin."

He wanted to spit. “I never thought I’d see the day that the Devils killed innocents and did business with rivals.” He shook his head in disbelief. He’d seen members of the Eagles out there in the backyard rubbing elbows with their own people. “Never thought I’d see a club party where the biggest asshole wasn’t me.”

Bars’ lip curled. “Watch it.”

“So who stands to profit the most from this partnership, Bill? You? Bars?” He tried to work himself up into an anger about it - he didn’t like the path the club was headed down one bit. But he couldn’t make himself honestly care. While Alvarez lay dying, while Senna’s life was on the line, it all suddenly seemed downright petty. His shoulders slumped.

"Do what you want with me," Gunner said. "I won't fight. I just want to negotiate for the girl."

"And if we decide the she has to go?" Bill said quietly. "If we can't afford to let an outsider witness live?"

He saw a red so dark, the only possible reply was violence. Only his father squeezing his elbow kept him present enough to not launch across the table fists first.

Bill scowled. "Bring her inside."

Bars went and leaned out the door to signal to someone. "If you hurt her..." Gunner didn't even recognize his own voice.

Bill pushed his chair back from the table, exasperated. "What the fuck is she to you, anyway? A good lay? She have some sort of magic pussy, Gunner? Maybe if I fuck her, I'll change my mind about her, huh?"

It took both Bars and Nomad to hold him back. He grabbed and dragged the table aside, upending it in his fury before they could each grab an arm.

Bill remained seated. "Quit provoking him, Bill," Nomad said, "We can clear this up without being assholes about it."

Gunner's heart lurched when Senna walked in and surveyed the scene. The table knocked over, Gunner himself restrained - he could only imagine how afraid she must be.

Still, she held it together. "You must be Bill," she said. He nodded and rose. "I'm truly sorry about all the problems I've caused. I never meant-"

"Shh." He tilted her head back by her chin and looked down into her face. "I don't think you understand how much trouble you're in, here." He nodded towards Gunner. "Does it look like he can protect you right now?"

Gunner felt glued in place. He could break away from Bars and his father - but not fast enough to keep Bill from hurting her or using her against him.

"No," she said.

"Get your fucking hands off her." He was spinning wildly out of control; he was on the verge of losing it completely.

"You're only making this more difficult," Bill said, though he wisely released her chin and took a step back.

"We're trying to help you out, brother." Bars released him. "But the club has to come first."

"You're not my brother." It was like a switch had been flipped in his head. His friends had become enemies right before his eyes. He knew he was overreacting, getting ahead of himself - they hadn't decided on anything yet. But it shouldn't have been a debate at all. When had his word become so worthless to them? If he said she could be trusted, that should be the end of the discussion. "You were never my brothers." All the grim possibilities battled in his head. He couldn't take another loss.
Not another. No one else. Especially not her.
His heart pounded so hard in his chest that it ached. He swung around to his father. “Your other sons aren’t my brothers. My brothers are all dead!” He thumbed the dogtags in his pocket, rubbing them like a talisman, all that was left of his old life. Alvarez would be dead soon. The last witness from that time. All his brothers were dead.

A soft hand slipped through his. It ignited a second fire in his gut - this one deeper, hotter, but less wild. More controlled. Because he didn’t want to burn her, he wanted to protect her.

He knew what he had to do. "I want to make her my old lady. I'll be responsible for her. Go on and have the damn vote."

Bill's eyes narrowed. Nomad shrugged. "Once Jupiter gets here, we have enough members."

“You’ve known the bitch for less than a week,” Bill snarled, “I’m not allowing it.”

Nomad spoked up, “He can demand a vote for it, Bill. He has the right. You want to violate that?”

Bill’s eyes flashed, enraged, but he gave in. He always honored the club rules. "I can already tell you what my vote is.”

"And I can tell you what mine is." Gunner wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't an eyewitness - his father taking his side against the club president.

"What does that mean?" Senna asked.

"It means you're club property," Bill said. “And when he doesn’t get the votes he wants, well, there’s no second round.”

“You’ll have me executed.” She stepped away from Gunner and towards the president, back straight, showing no fear. “Will you do it yourself? It only seems right. Will you watch my lights go out or will you shoot me in the back?”

Bill seemed momentarily off-balance.
He would have assigned someone else to do it and pushed it out of his head.
“All right,” he said to her with a nod, then turned to Bars. “Get Mort. We’re gonna mark her.”

“What?” She looked between him and Gunner. “What does that mean? Why?”

Bill grabbed her by the chin again, more roughly this time. Gunner lurched forward, but Bars and Nomad were still at hand and held him back. “It means,” Bill said, “That you can start proving your loyalty to him right now. It may work in your favor. What do you say?” he asked Gunner. “You want her in? She’d have to be marked eventually. Do it now and prove you aren’t just fucking around.”

Forgive me, Senna.
“Yes. Do it.”

Bill sent Senna stumbling back towards him. Bars and his father let him go.
Again. Like I’m a rabid dog. Maybe I am.

“What does it mean?” Senna asked, “What’s being marked?”

"It means you're mine." He pulled her close and turned, shielding her from the other men's eyes, deliberately turning his back on them. "It's gonna be okay," he said quietly. “It’s just a tattoo.”

"Am I a prisoner?" she asked. She sounded so steady, so unafraid, but he could tell otherwise.

"Sort of. Yes." He rubbed the back of her neck. "
My
prisoner."

His. His prisoner
. Her head was spinning.

They were physically torn from each other moments later. The old man Jupiter had arrived, and a commotion with him.

Gunner disappeared out the door as the dark-eyed man with the Vice President patch pushed her roughly down into a chair. "Mort!" the man shouted out the door. "Get your gear!"

"Gear?" she asked. Her eyes frantically scanned the room. Nomad and Bill had both gone outside as well.

A red-bearded man peeked inside. "Gonna miss the action," he said.

The VP cursed. He dragged the chair across the floor with her on it and leaned out the door to watch whatever was happening while he grasped her collar. She heard the heavy, dull thuds that she could only assume were fists hitting a body.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"Carrying out your boyfriend’s sentence," he said dully. She cringed. This was how they dealt with disagreements? They were supposed to be like family to each other.
Barbarians. And I'm trapped with them
.

She was hyperventilating. She’d known this would be difficult but was unprepared anyway. Seeing her sister had been a shock - but now Gunner was being beaten, badly from the sounds of it, and she was about to get a tattoo in a stranger’s kitchen.
I guess we ruined the barbecue.

Dawn pushed past the VP and sank into a squat before her. “Let her go, Bars, Jesus, she isn’t going anywhere.”

Bars responded with a middle finger.

“Is he going to be okay?” Senna asked, straining to get a look out the door. Bars kept her where she was, out of the line of sight.

“He’ll live.” Dawn’s smile was grim. “Shit, you’ve really got a thing for him. Motherfucking Gunner.” She blew out a breath like she couldn’t believe it.

Senna was about to ask her sister how well she actually knew him - then stopped herself.
Maybe I don’t want to know. I know he’s fucked a lot of women but that might be one fuck too far.

“Here.” Dawn stuffed a piece of paper in her pocket. “My number. I’m getting out of here in case things get ugly. Keep me updated.”