But I grabbed his gun before he could make contact with my face.
It all felt so slow. My hand was tight around the handle when the back of his hand crashed against my face. The force of it blew me aside; I may have even bounced when I hit the ground. But the gun was tight in my grip.
Time sped back up when the pain hit. My eyes teared up immediately, blurring my vision. It hurt. I tasted blood. Blinking hard to clear my eyes, I aimed his gun at him. “Don’t fucking move.” My mouth sounded like it was full of cotton.
He froze. “You fucking bitch,” he spat. But he froze, and he showed me his palms. Defeat, motherfucker.
“ I’m keeping this,” I said, waving the weapon. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“ You’re really gonna get it now.”
I laughed. Despite the pain and the adrenaline, I burst out laughing. “Really? No, please, Gunner. Go tell Bill. Go tell him how I disarmed you after you drunkenly waved your dick at me in his diner. Go.” He didn’t move. “Go!”
Finally, wearily, he pushed himself to his feet. But he still hesitated. “What the hell are you waiting for, Gunner? Do you want me to shoot you?” I stood as well. It was an effort to hide my dizziness. Jesus, he hits hard.
“ Are you fucking my dad?”
My jaw dropped. “Is that was this is about?”
“ You are, aren’t you.” He sneered. “You picked that old bastard over me.”
I sighed. “No, Gunner. I picked exile over you. Get. Out.” Finally he walked out, like a dog with its tail between its legs. I didn’t know how to take that - if he’d finally leave me alone, or if this meant that he’d come after me sober and more vicious next time.
Maybe I didn’t want to be a part of the club. I could still catch a bus.
“ Are you okay, miss?”
The truckers were on their feet, their eyes wide. “Way to give a lady a hand, you two,” I said dryly.
They exchanged a look. I guess I wasn’t being entirely fair - Gunner and I were both armed. They probably weren’t. Still, that was enough for one night.
“ Go on. Both of you get out, too. Diner’s closed.”
They left cash on their tables and left, wincing as they glimpsed at my face as they passed. But they wisely kept their mouths shut.
I couldn’t worry about my face, though. I couldn’t worry about Gunner returning, bringing more guns, bringing friends. The only thing I was afraid of was how Nomad was going to respond when he heard about this.
---
Nomad returned the next day. Mom was out, spending the evening with Bill at the clubhouse bar. I’d spent part of the day there, fetching drinks and beers from the bartenders at the front and delivering them to Bill and the rest of the club in the back room like a good Prospect should. When they asked about the ugly bruise on my cheekbone and the big black eye, I just told them it was a bar fight with a bear. They laughed but they didn’t push the issue. Bikers and biker bitches and prospects and old ladies got into physical altercations all the time. It was nothing remarkable. But when Gunner showed up, I made an excuse and fled. I was going to have to deal with him eventually, I knew. But not so soon. Not just yet.
I peeked through the peephole when I heard a knock on the door. My stomach twisted when I saw Nomad there. My heart raced - did he know what happened? Would he be mad at me? Or was he just dropping by to leave me hanging again?
There was no hiding my face. And I couldn’t lie. With butterflies in my gut, I opened the door.
His eyes went wide. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“ I’m sorry.” I looked at the ground.
“ Oh, honey.” He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. His face was clear of all that anger I’d come to expect. “ I’m sorry. I raised that shithead. And I left you here knowing what a shit he is.”
I shook my head. “I took care of it. You can’t watch out for me all the time.” I cracked a smile, though it hurt my sore face. “Besides,
It all felt so slow. My hand was tight around the handle when the back of his hand crashed against my face. The force of it blew me aside; I may have even bounced when I hit the ground. But the gun was tight in my grip.
Time sped back up when the pain hit. My eyes teared up immediately, blurring my vision. It hurt. I tasted blood. Blinking hard to clear my eyes, I aimed his gun at him. “Don’t fucking move.” My mouth sounded like it was full of cotton.
He froze. “You fucking bitch,” he spat. But he froze, and he showed me his palms. Defeat, motherfucker.
“ I’m keeping this,” I said, waving the weapon. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“ You’re really gonna get it now.”
I laughed. Despite the pain and the adrenaline, I burst out laughing. “Really? No, please, Gunner. Go tell Bill. Go tell him how I disarmed you after you drunkenly waved your dick at me in his diner. Go.” He didn’t move. “Go!”
Finally, wearily, he pushed himself to his feet. But he still hesitated. “What the hell are you waiting for, Gunner? Do you want me to shoot you?” I stood as well. It was an effort to hide my dizziness. Jesus, he hits hard.
“ Are you fucking my dad?”
My jaw dropped. “Is that was this is about?”
“ You are, aren’t you.” He sneered. “You picked that old bastard over me.”
I sighed. “No, Gunner. I picked exile over you. Get. Out.” Finally he walked out, like a dog with its tail between its legs. I didn’t know how to take that - if he’d finally leave me alone, or if this meant that he’d come after me sober and more vicious next time.
Maybe I didn’t want to be a part of the club. I could still catch a bus.
“ Are you okay, miss?”
The truckers were on their feet, their eyes wide. “Way to give a lady a hand, you two,” I said dryly.
They exchanged a look. I guess I wasn’t being entirely fair - Gunner and I were both armed. They probably weren’t. Still, that was enough for one night.
“ Go on. Both of you get out, too. Diner’s closed.”
They left cash on their tables and left, wincing as they glimpsed at my face as they passed. But they wisely kept their mouths shut.
I couldn’t worry about my face, though. I couldn’t worry about Gunner returning, bringing more guns, bringing friends. The only thing I was afraid of was how Nomad was going to respond when he heard about this.
---
Nomad returned the next day. Mom was out, spending the evening with Bill at the clubhouse bar. I’d spent part of the day there, fetching drinks and beers from the bartenders at the front and delivering them to Bill and the rest of the club in the back room like a good Prospect should. When they asked about the ugly bruise on my cheekbone and the big black eye, I just told them it was a bar fight with a bear. They laughed but they didn’t push the issue. Bikers and biker bitches and prospects and old ladies got into physical altercations all the time. It was nothing remarkable. But when Gunner showed up, I made an excuse and fled. I was going to have to deal with him eventually, I knew. But not so soon. Not just yet.
I peeked through the peephole when I heard a knock on the door. My stomach twisted when I saw Nomad there. My heart raced - did he know what happened? Would he be mad at me? Or was he just dropping by to leave me hanging again?
There was no hiding my face. And I couldn’t lie. With butterflies in my gut, I opened the door.
His eyes went wide. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“ I’m sorry.” I looked at the ground.
“ Oh, honey.” He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. His face was clear of all that anger I’d come to expect. “ I’m sorry. I raised that shithead. And I left you here knowing what a shit he is.”
I shook my head. “I took care of it. You can’t watch out for me all the time.” I cracked a smile, though it hurt my sore face. “Besides,
Similar Books
