Gunner (Devil's Tears MC Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Gunner

  By

  Daniela Jackson

  Devil’s Tears MC Book 1

  Copyright © 2017 by Daniela Jackson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  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.

  Spin off from the Shadow Wolves MC series.

  For mature audiences. Explicit and dark content that may not be suitable for some readers.

  Table of Contents

  Description

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Wandering: A Rock Star Suspense Romance

  Description

  Gunner (Junior)

  I’m not a decent man.

  My list of criminal charges is very long.

  I’m a thief, a vandal, a killer.

  I love my brother’s wife, Sol.

  I killed my own brother.

  Prologue

  Gunner

  I was born in the desert and so was she.

  I learned unconditional love from my mom and she learned it from her mom.

  My dad taught me what honour looks like. Her dad taught her what courage looks like.

  I was merciless like the sandy hostile land of my childhood.

  I was unyielding and rough like the edge of a rock cliff.

  I was wild until she tamed me and made me feel calm.

  She made me burn with desire.

  She made me hate.

  She made me love.

  Dimitri calls her Solnishko.

  Sive calls her Grian.

  Axel calls her Sunshine.

  The others call her Sol.

  ***

  I blink.

  I inhale.

  I’m awake, but I dream. It’s always about her.

  The streak of light filtering through the square window slides down the wall as day dies and night falls. A second is eternity, quietness is absolute, and I’m enthralled by this transition. My heart leaps. Pain surges through me, delicate like a mist on an autumnal morning, transparent like the air. I should be at home, but I’m not.

  My mom’s and my dad’s faces flash through my mind.

  My dad is a decent man, but I’m not. I’m behind bars, after all. My list of criminal charges is very long: identity theft, robbery, vandalism, credit card fraud, murder.

  Tomorrow, I will be transported to the proper prison in the city so I’m enjoying my last night in this cosy cell of the small police station built fifty years ago in the small town of Extbrook. It’s a little spot in the middle of nowhere with around four thousand inhabitants. England’s woodland and grassland seem to be never-ending here, with wild hills, ancient trees, and a breathtaking coastline.

  I’m the only occupant of the cell. When I arrived two weeks ago, I had a companion—a ninety-year-old Brian who’d stolen three bottles of vodka, but they released him the following morning.

  The officers are nice to me, because this is a town of nice people. Before my imprisonment, I was the only rude person in this town. The nice people living here didn’t pay attention though.

  A female officer stands in front of the bars.

  “Do you need anything, honey?” she asks as she sweeps her blonde side bangs away from her face. “A cup of tea? Another blanket?”

  Her name is Angela Thomson and she looks sixty. She has a son my age, nineteen to be precise, and she talks a lot. Like a lot. I’ve already learned she’s divorced and her ex was an alcoholic. She has two sisters and her mother is a ninety-nine-year-old complainer. Her cousin has arthritis, her neighbour has glaucoma, and the café near her house is the nicest in town.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Thanks, love.”

  “So, sweet dreams,” Angela says, flashing me a smile, and she walks off.

  Like I said, everybody is nice. No need to be mean. I know it now. I’m kind of entertaining to them because there are no crimes in this town. The majority of people living here turned fifty a long time ago.

  I stretch my body out on the parody of a bed protruding from the wall adorned with the cobweb of cracks and chiselled numbers and roll on my side, pulling the grey scratchy blanket up to cover myself. The officers watch TV and the voices of the movie characters drone on monotonously. I blink, rub my eyes to remain alert, but there seems to be more and more of the invisible glue between my eyelids. Auntie Sive visited me this morning, acting as my attorney. She told me to expect another member of my family to visit in the evening so I’m trying really hard not to fall asleep. Well, I’m the second person in our family who ended up behind bars. Mike was the first one, but that was a very long time ago. I’m entertaining to my family too, I guess.

  A yawn escapes my mouth. Finally, the movie characters’ voices lull me to sleep.

  A rumble like an explosion in a mine shakes me out of my nap, and I get up in one motion. Streaks of smoke slither into my cell and fill it in grey clouds. The fumes invade my lungs. A coughing fit claws at me, and I bend forward, almost spitting my lungs out. Shouts and growls reach my ears. The sounds of heavy footsteps follow. My mind whirls. My lungs burn. My eyes sting. Tears blind me like there is a wall of water in front of me. I fall to my knees as a creaking sound tears through me like an arrow. Somebody’s hand grips my arm.

  “Move,” a female voice says as a blurry figure leans over me.

  “Sol,” I rasp. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  I’d recognise her voice even if she talked to me when I was unconscious—it’s so unique. It’s delicate, a bit raspy. The voice of a temptress.

  “I’m taking your stupid ass out of here,” she growls and coughs. “Move.”

  She pulls my arm, and I rise to my feet clumsily. I notice a bandana around the lower part of her face and a gun in her hand. We pull forward, blinded by the smoke billowing out, hissing all around us. It forms a realm of dense suffocating greyness. I trip over a soft obstacle lying on the floor. My hands rest against someone’s thighs. I recover in one motion as Sol pulls my hand and we jump over two other bodies lying on the floor.

&nbs
p; “Athena’s cocktail,” Sol says. “Don’t worry. They’ll only sleep for a few hours.” She raises her hand armed with the gun. “A tranquilizer gun. I took out two of them.” There is pride in her voice. “Shay handled the rest.”

  “There were only three officers tonight,” I mutter as she slaps my arm.

  She drags me out of the building, and I notice Shay standing by a white van. I also notice Grandpa Dimitri. They have bandanas covering their faces. Fucking hell. It looks like my whole crazy family has gathered to rescue me.

  “What is that old git doing here?” I ask.

  “Oh, you know him,” Sol says. “He always needs to have control over everything and everybody.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

  Dimitri moves closer to me, slapping me on the back. “Hurry, rebyata.”

  He always calls us children even though we are all adults now, but that’s how he is—always in charge, always prying. Always caring.

  The door of the van slides open and Nikko waves his hand to me. He puts his state-of-the-art equipment into a black suitcase like some fucking assassin. I’m sure he was responsible for disabling all the cameras inside and outside of the building.

  Sol shoves me inside the van and Dimitri gets in right behind me.

  I drop into the seat behind the driver’s and look out the window. Sol and Shay kiss passionately, like it’s the ending of some fucking romance movie then they jump on their bikes and roar off. Uncle Jax nods at me from the driver’s seat and the car shoots forward.

  “We need to talk, Gunner Junior,” Dimitri says as he takes his seat beside me and fastens the seatbelt.

  “Grandpa, I can explain,” I say as my eyes flick over the gas grenades and guns that lie in bags placed on the floor among the seats.

  “You want to fuck married women? Fine.” Dimitri sweeps his hand furiously and pulls the bandana down, catching a wheezy breath. “Fuck them. Fuck them all. Just don’t kill their husbands.” He takes a cigar out of the pocket on the inside of his leather jacket and lights it.

  “That dick—“

  “What? Found you in his bedroom with your dick inside his wife?”

  “Something like that.”

  Mr Ferrero had walked into his bedroom with a gun in his hand while I was inside Mrs Ferrero’s hot tight ass. It was either him or me so I shot the motherfucker after he put three bullets into the wall and one into my arm. Mrs Ferrero should have been grateful, since her husband had hit her a few times, but she wasn’t. The alarm went off, all the doors shut, and the cops came.

  The thin streaks of smoke circle around me as the heavy scent of tobacco invades my nostrils and fills my lungs.

  Jax slams on the brakes and my body moves forward and back as the seatbelt squeezes the breath out of my lungs.

  “What the fuck?” Dimitri growls and crushes the cigar under his foot.

  Jax gets out of the car. I free myself from the seatbelt and follow him.

  The scene unveiling in front of my eyes makes me freeze. There is a truck with a smashed front and a smashed bike on the roadside. Sol is standing with her hands raised as though she’s going to pray. A decapitated corpse is lying in a pond of blood on the road. The head is resting at Sol’s feet. Bits of brain are scattered around it—yellow, grey, bloody. I focus on the dead face, and my heart stops beating. Time stops. The world becomes a surreal dream. It can’t be, but it is. It’s Shay’s head.

  A hand crushes my shoulder.

  “Get in the car,” Dimitri says, his voice cold like a glacier.

  I can’t move.

  “Get in the car, now,” Dimitri rumbles as he shoves me towards the van.

  I sway and watch him moving closer to Sol and grabbing her wrist. She wriggles and tries to tear her hand away from his, but he yanks her to him and shoves her at me.

  “Get her into the car,” Dimitri says and the tone of his voice sends chills down my spine. “Get in, all of you. The cops will be here at any moment.”

  Sol wails as I wrap my arms around her waist and throw her into the car.

  “Shay,” Nikko says as he winces.

  “We have to leave him,” Dimitri says as the sound of two sirens reaches my ears. “The cops are coming.” He shoves Nikko towards the van, but my brother resists. “Get in the car before we all end up in jail.” He shoves Nikko with more strength then rumbles something to Jax.

  I can’t hear him because the sound of the sirens is muffling everything.

  Jax leaps towards Sol who tries to jump out of the van and immobilises her in his embrace in one of the seats. Nikko shakes his head and finally settles himself next to them as I slam the door shut and sit behind them. Dimitri takes the driver’s seat.

  I’m numb.

  Then a thought sprouts in my mind and eats at it like a parasite. A hollow sensation replaces my heart. A cold hollowness that sucks all the air from my lungs.

  I killed my brother.

  Chapter 1

  Gunner

  I walk through the metal gate and see her. She is sitting on her heels in front of the cross we made for Shay. We couldn’t bury him, so we decided to stick that iron cross into the soil by the fence that encircles the back garden of Sol and Shay’s house.

  The last sun’s rays touch Sol’s face, giving her an unearthly appearance. Tears glitter on her cheeks as she remains frozen, glowing like a marble sculpture, enveloped by the rosy aura of the receding day.

  I lay my hand on her shoulder and she shudders under my touch. Her dead eyes glance at me.

  “Sol,” I say gently.

  “Fuck. Off. How many times do I have to repeat myself?”

  “The baby will be upset,” I say.

  She puts her palm on her round stomach and sobs. I hook her under the arms with my hands and lift her so she puts her feet on the ground and then I scoop her up. She’s so weak that she slumps into my arms like a ragdoll. Her quiet sobs stab me like a thousand knives.

  I love her so much I would kill myself if it could bring Shay back for her.

  Not that I didn’t think about killing myself anyway. I did. Many times within those three months after Shay’s accident.

  Nobody’s blaming me for Shay’s death, but that doesn’t change the fact that I killed him. My recklessness killed him. My stupidity killed him.

  My mom is sinking into depression. Dad is helping her, out the best he can, but she’s getting worse and worse every day. Sol is getting worse and worse too, but in a bit different way. She’s angrier and angrier, unavailable, lost in a place nobody can reach her.

  A few greys shine in her long almond hair and delicate wrinkles mark the skin under her coffee brown eyes framed by dark thick eyebrows. I love those wrinkles as much as I love Sol. And I hate them as much as I hate myself. Sol has them because of me.

  I carry Sol to her little house made of stone. Shay bought it for them both after they married. Their perfect little nest perched on the cliff that stretches along a marvellous Cornish beach.

  Now, it’s a tomb. Soon the baby will move into this tomb. Sol is six months pregnant, but she isn’t eating properly and the baby is a bit small.

  I will fucking save this baby no matter what it takes.

  I lay Sol on her black metal-framed bed and pull the beige curtains together. Leaning over her, I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead. She doesn’t react as always. I’m not sure whether she’s even aware I’m here. I’m a shadow to her. A shadow living in a different realm to hers. A shadow she hates, but never says it out loud.

  She was a lantern once, white and delicate on the outside, with a passionate flame burning on the inside. Now, she’s an old candle without its flicker, lost in the corridors of a ghost castle. I killed Shay, but I killed Sol even more. She’s dead, more dead than all the corpses in a cemetery.

  “Supper will be ready in ten minutes,” I say, but only cold silence answers me.

  Sol doesn’t allow anybody to be around her. Nobody, except me, and except Auntie Sive, her mother. Ver
y fucking strange. I mean myself, of course. Sive and Sol are very close. Maybe Sol’s just plotting to put a bullet into the back of my skull when the time comes, so she prefers to keep me close. I don’t really care.

  She can stab me with a knife. She can put a bullet into me. She can swear at me.

  Except she never does.

  She’s lost somewhere far from here—in the universe of her pain.

  I go to the kitchen and reheat the vegetarian curry I prepared two hours earlier, Sol’s favourite dish, and then I take a plate out of the white cupboard and pile it with the food. Sol’s eyes are closed when I walk into her bedroom.

  “Sol,” I say gently so as not to scare her.

  She sits on the bed with effort. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Your favourite curry.”

  “Leave the plate on the desk and get lost, shithead.”

  Right. Her favourite word to address me since forever. I clench my jaws and ignore her impertinence.

  I move closer to her and stick the plate under her nose. She tears it from my hand and grabs the fork.

  I’m three years younger than her. We grew up in one big family—in our MC. My dad and Sol’s dad, Axel, are club brothers. Axel and Zane, our president, are brothers by blood.

  When I was a small child, Sol was like my sister.

  When I was eleven I realised we were not related by blood and that discovery made me the happiest guy on the face of the earth. I could fall in love with her.

  I asked her to go on a date when I was thirteen, but she went on a date with Shay instead.

  I bought a bouquet of red roses for her when I was fourteen, but she liked the pink lilies from Shay more.

  I asked her to marry me when I was sixteen, but she married Shay instead.

  I leave the bedroom and tidy up the kitchen then I prepare a bath for Sol. I call her four times before she crawls off the bed. She passes me like a ghost, her black satin kimono robe rustling. She walks into the bathroom and slams the door shut.

  I sit on the tiled floor, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door in case she collapsed, or something. The sound of the water murmuring and splashing fills my ears. A bang and the following squeal make me jump to my feet. Throwing myself at the door, I tumble into the bathroom. The door bounces off the wall and I jerk my hand to the side to stop it.