Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC (19 page)

He couldn't just leave it at that, though. It wasn't how he was built. He mouthed off, gave in to every stupid impulse, had no filter, rarely thought ahead. The fact that he had paused at all and thought about how she felt, how she might need space, made him realize how different he'd become in their short amount of time together. She'd changed him.

"I'm still on your side," he said over his shoulder. "I know those old bastards are wrong. I know." He leaned in the doorway, afraid to turn and face her.
Coward
. "Tell me you're still mine."

"Your prisoner?"

He slammed his fist against the side of the door-frame, then bit back a hiss at the pain that shot up to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Her voice sounded so small and far away. It faded further as she spoke, as the blood rushing in his ears grew louder. "That was cruel and I didn't mean it. I just... I need to be alone right now."

He walked away without another word.

Senna was terrified. She'd never felt so far away from home as she had amongst the bikers. It made her miss sleeping in her minivan.

Lashing out at Gunner had been the wrong thing to do, but she was overwhelmed and sinking fast.

I could call Dawn
. But she didn't want to see anyone and doubted her sister would want to speak much anyway.
I want to go back in time. I want to go back to school
. She'd had anxiety over finally settling on a major despite three years completed. Normal worries. Easy worries.

She curled up on the couch, flipped the TV to some sitcom reruns, and watched without listening. She heard Gunner showering in the bathroom before retiring to the bedroom, full of whatever painkillers he had. She didn't want to know.

His kitchen wasn't as empty as he'd seemed to think. Somebody had probably been by recently. Maybe his dad. She made tea, and later a sandwich, and wondered if he would want something. She pressed her ear to the bedroom door and didn't hear a sound.

The sun sank below the horizon. The house grew darker. It felt like a grave. The world was turning without her while she was trapped in this hell, this limbo between life and death, awaiting her sentencing.

Could I steal his bike and go?
She'd bet her last dollars that someone was watching, waiting for her to try. Not that she knew how to operate it.

Finally, her concern won out. She poured a coffee mug full of water and slipped inside the bedroom. He seemed restless, stretching and kicking the sheets. “Gunner?” she asked. She shook his shoulder gently. “Hey. Wake up for a minute.”

One glassy eye peered up at her. “I forgot something.”

“What is it?”

He tried to rise. He moved as if his body was too heavy for him to lift and dropped back to the mattress with a heavy thud. “Stop,” she said, “Shh. Just sit up.” He rolled onto his back and she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. “What did you forget?”

He took the mug from her and scowled down into this. “This ain’t whiskey.”

“Drink it anyway.”

He downed it in three long swallows and passed it back to her. His good eyelid hung heavy as he drifted back towards sleep. “What did you forget?” she asked quietly.

“On my bike,” he mumbled, “Bet my bell’s gone. Bet that’s why my luck’s run out.”

Bell?
“Do you want me to get it?”

He shook his head. “Just look for it. Under the front wheel.”

“Okay.” He seemed really out of it. It was likely that he didn’t even know what he was saying - already his eye was closed again, though his fingers clutched the sheets. “I’ll check if it will help you relax.”

“Check it.” He was speaking directly to her but he wasn't all there. It was as if he were squinting at her from over a great distance.

"I'll be right back."

What the heck is the bell about?
Was it a gift from someone? A good luck charm? Was this big, tough biker who took beatings like it was nothing, who would punch first and ask questions later - was he superstitious?

It was there where he'd indicated, a grimy little thing just dangling behind the front wheel. She tapped it and it barely made a tinkling sound.

Okay, whatever this thing is about, it's here
. Curious, she glanced up and down the street. Sure enough there was someone sitting in a car just watching.
Could be a neighbor. Could be nothing.
She flipped him the bird anyway.
Show no fear
.

He was asleep when she returned. Part of her longed to climb in next to him, nestle against his shoulder, soothe his aches and pains. Another part of her recognized that it was good they'd been reminded of how little they knew about each other. How they were nearly strangers. They'd gotten too close too fast and it was dangerous.

So she returned to the couch.
He's so drugged up, anyway. He won't miss me.

She curled back up and waited for sleep to come.

It never did.

◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

“I wasn’t going to wake you,” he said. “But I didn’t want you to be scared if you found the house empty later.” He was sitting on the arm of the couch.

“What time is it?” She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Infomercials droned on from the television. She was awake when he’d stumbled from the bedroom and rummaged through the kitchen but she didn’t want to disturb him.

“Early.” She checked her phone - four in the morning.

“Where are you going?” Was anything even open? Was he going to see someone?
A girl?
She mentally berated herself for jumping to that conclusion. And for caring.
Not my business, dammit
.

“The hospital?”

“Shit, are you okay?” She sprang to her feet.

“I’m fine.” He shook his head. “I’m okay. It’s not about me.”

“Alvarez.” She breathed the word as if he were a ghost. And he was, really; he was haunting Gunner. “I said I’d come with you.”
If he still wants me along. Maybe it’s better if I stay back. Stay away.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I said I would. If you want me.” He cringed as though the memory hurt. Then he nodded, just once, before leading her out the door.

The roads were utterly empty. She craned her neck to see if the car from earlier followed them, but couldn't tell. If he drove with his headlights off she wouldn't be able to see him anyway.

The hospital was a small, squat building set back from the main road. The sun was almost up by the time they reached it. She wondered if they'd be allowed to go inside, but somehow she knew that visiting hours did not apply to Gunner.

"Good to be back home, huh?" The security guard outside the ICU seemed to know him. "Sorry 'bout your friend. His mom's in there, you sure you want to wake her?"

"I'm sure."

"Is he a Devil?" she asked as they were led down a long hallway, florescent lights flickering. Nurses gave them suspicious looks but let them pass.
They've got a long reach if he is. We must have driven for at least an hour
.

"No. He does favors for the club."

Favors for favors - she didn't need to know what kind.

The room contained two beds but one was empty. The other, further inside, was shielded by a curtain. She could hear the beeping, hissing, and clicking of the many machines keeping the man behind it alive. A middle-aged woman slept in a chair just within view.

"I'll be back out front if you need anything," the guard said before leaving.

"Wait outside," Gunner told her. She nodded, much as she wanted to reach out and hold his hand.

He stepped inside and woke the woman with a hand on her shoulder.

"Gunner!" She rose to her get and hugged him, eyes closed tight.

Senna slipped away. There was a tiny waiting area near the nurse's desk - really nothing more than a couple uncomfortable chairs, a few magazines, and an ancient TV hanging on the wall.

More waiting. But I promised I'd be here for him
. Maybe the spell was broken. Maybe the club had managed to get between them and shatter their connection. But she wasn't going to break her word. From what she did know of him, a person's word was important. He was insulted and enraged when anyone doubted his.

So she would sit and wait, because that's what she'd said she would do.

He was silent when he finally emerged some time later.
Three infomercials and half the morning news.
He sank to the chair next to her, his face pale, eyes focused on nothing.

Fuck his club. I'm here. They're not.

She left her seat and slid into his lap. "Don't say anything," she whispered, "It's okay." Then she pulled his head to her chest.

He hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around her back.
Shit
. It was like coming home again. She stroked his hair and hugged him tight.

He released a shuddering sigh. "They're gonna start shutting down his machines today."

"Do you want to stay?"

"No."

"You sure?"

He nodded as he sat back. "She's got her family coming. They don't need the likes of me lurking in the corner. It's good for no one." He gently stroked her arm. "I want to stay in the area, though. Just until tonight."

Before the vote
. "Okay."
Before they decide my fate
. "Were we being followed?"

"Yup." He didn't seem interested in elaborating.

"How are your injuries?" The swelling around his eye had gone down some, but dark purples underlined it and framed the bridge of his nose as well.

He touched his face. "They're nothing. Just ugly." Then he pulled her close again. She rested her chin on his head and hugged him tight.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly.

“No.”

“It’ll eat you up if you don’t eventually. Do you want to call your father?”

“God, no. Maybe I deserve to be eaten up.”

“Gunner-”

“Leave it.” He placed her on her feet before standing up himself. “Time to go.”

She followed without asking where. It didn’t matter. She watched the expression on his face flicker from one emotion to the next and back again - anger, weariness, concern. She wanted to wipe it all away - but she held back, still.
I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to make things worse.

They were heading back towards his bike, she realized. Her legs ached from all the riding she’d done recently - she wasn’t used to it, not even after the past couple days - but she bit her tongue against the complaint.
They’re not broken and they’re not going to fall off, you can deal.

The parking garage was still quiet aside from a few people in scrubs heading out to start their shifts. It was still too early for normal visiting hours, too early for sane people to even be out of bed. They walked in silence, and when they stepped inside the elevator, he didn’t even glance at her.

She was lost in her thoughts when the elevator shuddered to a halt. She grabbed the bar beside her and belatedly realized that Gunner had hit the stop button. "Fuck this," he growled, turning on her. "Fuck them for planting this shit in my head. You were here today and they weren't."

Her heart pounded in her ears. His sudden change of attitude caught her by surprise. "Gunner..."

He grabbed both of her wrists and slammed them against the wall behind her to either side of her head, shackling her, trapping her there in front of him.

"Tell me," he said, "Tell me that all of this was real."

Her lips parted. It was like flipping a switch. A wave of lust strong enough to be frightening coursed through her.
How does he do this? I should be afraid of him
. But he was close enough for her to feel his body heat, to smell his soap and the ever-present scents of leather and motor oil from his vest.

"Put your hand down my pants," she said. "Tell me how that's fake."

He brought her wrists together above her head to trap with one hand before doing as she'd said. She had to wiggle to allow him to push the tight jeans down far enough for him to fit his hand inside. His fingers pushed aside her panties and touched her wetness. She bit her lip. "Does that feel like a lie to you?"