Chapter 12
Gunner
The last thing I wanted was to leave her.
Brie slept on her stomach, star-fished across my sheets, cheek mashed flat and wild hair haloed in every direction like she’d lost a fight with a tornado made of blue paint.
My shirt was up around her armpits, the rest of her bare as sunrise, the bruises I’d left fading from plum to a defiant lavender.
Her leg twitched every few minutes, like even in sleep she was daring someone to try her.
Sunlight crawled across the foot of the bed, inching up toward her toes.
I wanted to wake her up with my mouth, pull her into my lap and spend the next hour proving that last night hadn’t been a fever dream. Instead, I wrote a note.
I left it on the nightstand, then stood in the hallway for a solid minute just watching her breathe, hating that I had to go.
But Bronc’s text was clear as the gospel: Officer’s meeting at seven.
Pack threat level Orange. Do not be late.
That meant all hands, uniforms, and extra caffeine.
So I closed the door soft behind me, laced up my boots, and forced myself out into the world.
The ranch was blue and gold, dew burning off the grass, the last stars fading as I cranked my dually down the drive.
I passed the corral, where the black horse was already up and shaking out its mane, watched over by two sleepy hands who looked like they’d spent the night in the barn.
I saluted them and drove on, radio turned low.
The Iron Valor clubhouse looked exactly as it always did: square-shouldered, defiant, and welcoming all at once, the American flag snapped out front, and the faded IRON VALOR MC sign catching the sun just right.
There were three bikes and four trucks in the lot, plus Bronc’s silver F-350 with the custom plates.
Inside, the air was humid with the smell of yeast rolls and sausage gravy.
Pearl had the kitchen hopping; everyone knew their jobs and did them exactly the way she’d ordered. She wore a yellow apron and lipstick brighter than most road flares, and she was already pouring coffee for Wrecker when I walked in.
“Mornin’, Finn,” she said, voice smooth as butter. “You hungry or too worked up to eat?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Wait… I’m hungry and a little worked up I guess.”
She arched a silver eyebrow. “You look like you haven’t slept. That girl keep you up all night?”
I couldn’t tell if it was a question or a threat. “Not all night, ma’am,” I said. “I had to save a little for today.”
Wrecker heard that and choked on his biscuit. “Liar,” he said, wiping crumbs off his cut. “That girl’s been sending up fireworks since she moved in. Pretty sure you two were trending on Nextdoor.”
Pearl smirked, then pointed at the hallway. “Go wash up, Finn. And if you see Doc, tell him to stop pretending he’s not already here. I saw his car.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said again, then slipped out before she could interrogate me further.
The bathroom mirror confirmed it: my hair looked like shit, and there was a faint scratch on my collarbone that wasn’t there last night. I scrubbed my hands and tried to make myself presentable, but I mostly just looked tired and mean. Good enough for government work.
Back in the meeting room, the officer’s table was already loaded for bear: Bronc at the head, everyone else in their usual spots. There was a platter of biscuits the size of small mammals, two trays of bacon, scrambled eggs heaped in a bowl, and enough hash browns to dam the Red River.
I sat next to Arsenal, who slid a mug of coffee my way. “You look rough,” he said, not unkind.
“Yeah,” I said. “You should see the other guy.”
Papa snorted. “The girl or the horse?”
“Both,” I said. “But at least Brie survived the landing.”
Big Papa grinned, cheeks red from laughing. “Heard about that stunt. Girl’s got more balls than half the men I know.”
“That’s because she dated men with none,” Wrecker said. “Present company excepted, of course.”
I ignored them and loaded a plate, stacking bacon between two biscuits like a sandwich. For a while, the only sounds were chewing and the scrape of forks. Pearl refilled everyone’s mug before they were even half empty. Wrecker had four sugars in his, which is why he never shut up.
Pearl came back in from the pantry, drying her hands. “Finn,” she said, “Maddie called this morning. Said she’s worried about Brie, what with the tumble she took. You boys keep an eye on that girl.”
I nodded. “She’s tough. Learned her lesson.”
Doc leaned in. “You teach it to her personally, cowboy?”
“Yeah, you spank her pretty or just bark orders?” Wrecker asked.
They all started howling, like a bunch of teenagers. I flipped them off and took a bite of biscuit.
Arsenal, who was the only one with any class, said, “Brie’s fine. She’s more wolf than most wolves I know. She’ll bounce back.”
Bronc, who’d been silent, finally looked up. “You sure she’s ready for what comes next?” His eyes were blue and sharp as fresh-cut ice.
I knew what he meant. I nodded. “She’s ready. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Papa grinned, teeth flashing. “So when’s the big moment? You gonna claim her tonight or drag it out for another week?”
Wrecker raised his mug. “Twenty says he does it before midnight.”
“I’m not betting against the man,” said Arsenal. “I’ve seen that look on his face. He’s already halfway gone.”
Doc threw in another two cents’ worth. “You know she’s gonna talk circles around him, right? That girl’s brain is like a steel trap lined with glitter and venom.”
I shrugged. “She can try. But I’m not so easy to break.”
Papa wiped his hands on a napkin. “Heard her say yesterday you were the best thing that’s happened to her.”
That quieted the table. Even Bronc looked impressed.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just shoveled more food into my mouth.
After a while, the subject changed to pack business, the latest from the territory, who’d moved in or out, how the drought could eventually affect beef sales.
But the whole time, Wrecker kept side-eyeing me like he was just waiting for the right moment to bring it back to Brie.
When the food was gone, and the plates cleared, Pearl came by to collect the dishes. “Finn,” she said, “You do things on your own time. Don’t let these bullies bother you.”
“I know, ma’am,” I said.
She nodded, satisfied, then turned to Bronc. “You boys handle your business. I’ll bring out pie in an hour.”
As soon as she left, Bronc straightened his back, and the entire table went quiet. “Here’s what we know,” he said. “Maltraz has been silent, but there’s movement off the coast. Wrecker?”
Wrecker sat up, his bullshit persona replaced by the soldier. “We’re seeing the old demon’s signature on some of the West Coast traffic. Small packs, usually female wolves, but a couple of witches, too. Someone’s buying them up and moving them through the port.”
“Who’s buying?” Arsenal asked.
“That’s the thing,” said Wrecker. “Most of the transactions are through shell companies or dead drops. But the last two were bought by a known affiliate of that damn Varic Otero.”
Arsenal whistled. “The fuck do vamps need with wolves?”
“Same reason they need anything,” said Bronc. “Power. Leverage.”
Big Papa nodded. “Or maybe they’re just bored.”
Doc put down his phone. “I’m guessing if Maltraz is moving women, it’s not for the joy of it. There’s a bigger play.”
Bronc leaned in. “Menace reports that Maltraz is above reproach. He’s on his best behavior at Council, looks clean. But off-book, we can’t prove shit. Every time we get close, the trail goes cold.”
Wrecker said, “There’s chatter that he’s building a new house in Tijuana. If we can get a man inside—”
Bronc raised a hand. “We don’t send anyone in until we’re sure. Maltraz basically killed Papa last time. We don’t take that risk unless there’s payoff.”
Papa rumbled, “I’ll go. Man needs to learn I don’t die easy.”
Bronc smiled, just a little. “You’ll get your shot.”
Arsenal, who’d been thinking, said, “If Maltraz is trafficking girls, he’s not doing it alone. He’s never been a people person. Who’s he partnered with?”
Wrecker shrugged. “No one worth mentioning yet. But I’ll keep digging.”
Bronc nodded. “Good. We stay sharp; we watch each other’s backs. If Maltraz makes a move, we respond as a pack. No more lone-wolf shit. Understood?”
Everyone nodded.
Bronc turned to me. “And you. You keep an eye on your girl. If she’s the weak link, he’ll exploit it.”
“Understood,” I said. "And I've been trying to prep her for anything. Been teaching her to shoot and shit. She's getting pretty good with a 9mm; at least against wild hogs."
That got approval and a few laughs.
The meeting broke up with the scraping of chairs and the rumble of boots on the tile. I caught Arsenal’s arm on the way out.
“You really think I can manage a claim with her?” I asked.
He grinned. “Don’t see why not.”
I shook my head. “I hope so.”
He clapped me on the back. “Go easy on her, cowboy. Some girls are fire, but she’s lightning.”
I watched the others drift out—Papa to the back porch, Doc to the clinic. Wrecker stayed behind, picking at the last scraps of bacon.
“You got something to say?” I asked.
He looked up, eyes silver in the light. “Just this: If you don’t lock that down, you’ll regret it forever.”
I smiled. “Who says I haven’t already?”
Wrecker shrugged. “Not my business. But you deserve something good, Gunner. Even if you don’t think you’re up to the job.”
He left, and I stood in the empty room, letting the smell of biscuits and coffee settle over me.
I headed for the exit, but Bronc caught my arm.
“Walk with me, Finn.”
He led me out onto the back porch, where the air was still cool, and the lawn stretched out in a neat stripe to the treeline.
Bronc shoved his hands in his pockets and stood in silence for a minute.
I could hear a lawnmower in the distance, and the clang of metal from the garage where the prospects were working.