13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Sunny
“Ah, is he OK?” I ask Sleet.
He turns slowly from where he’s been silently watching Gallows.
He’s one of the quieter brothers. Keeps to himself, hand always in his pocket, which I guess is probably to hide the slight tremor I noticed earlier.
Gazing around the room I take in the brothers.
Each and every one of them has served, and none of them came back whole.
“He’s not OK. Either the Sinister Wolves have talked, or Rev and Coyote have news.”
I nod at his words, my gaze returning to Gallows’ across the room.
He shares a look with Mercy who is just as tense as he is.
They move with purpose, talking in hushed tones.
Something big is going down and I imagine it has something to do with the men in the barn that I’m not supposed to know about.
“Sunny?” Cobb, the prospect calls. “There’s someone at the gate for you.”
“Which gate?” The club has two. One that only the club uses, and one for everyone else.
“Main gate.”
My brows pull low. “Who is it?”
“Dunno. Some guy.” He shrugs.
“Does he look like the local pastor?” I ask, hoping the prospect will get a clue.
“Look, bitch, I don’t know,” he spits impatiently. “All I know is he’s in a black suit and asking for you.”
I take a deep breath and bite my tongue. I went to school with Cobb and I know he wet the bed on every summer camp we went to. If calling me a bitch makes him feel like less of a pissy loser, than so be it.
Shrugging, I wave at him to lead the way to the gate. In the dim lighting I can see a man waiting there, but that ain’t my father. Not unless he’s taken up smoking since I’ve been away, and given that his eldest, most wayward child is holed up at the MC clubhouse, I wouldn't blame him.
“That’s him,” Cobb says, jerking a chin in the man’s direction.
“They don’t call you Sherlock, do they?”
Cobb glares at me before bumping my shoulder as he storms past. An ember glows brighter in the evening air, smoke curling gently from the cigar held between the man’s fingertips as he leans forward, talking to Cobb. Something about him seems wrong. Feels wrong. So I hang back a little.
“You asked for me?” I call out, boots planted.
“Ah, you must be Sunny.” The man smiles, skin pulling taut over his high cheekbones. To anyone else he’d be charming.
“Depends who’s asking,” I hedge.
Humour flashes across his dark eyes as he leans forward, ring laden fingers curled around the bars of the clubhouse gates. His forehead presses against the metal, hard enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if it leaves indentations on his skin.
“I have a message.”
My eyes narrow and I take in as many details as I can. Which fingers have rings on them, the way his canines are oddly sharp. How heavy his brow is, the cut of his suit, the way his eyes are an odd mix of blue and green, stark against his dark skin.
I give him my attention and he grins wider, leaning even harder against the metal bars, voice low. “Tell Revenant, he can’t save everyone.”
Like a snake he strikes. One hand wraps around Cobb's throat, the other presses a gun to his forehead. A pop rings through the air the same time his laughter does.
I lunge toward him, knife pulled ready to cut a bitch where he stands and his laughter dies in his throat. He steps back, his surprised gaze only leaving mine when shouts from the MC brothers draw closer.
“I’ll be seeing you, Sunny Richards.”
He whistles as he turns on his heel, cool as ice, ducking into the sleek black Porsche idling behind him.
“Fuck’s sake, Sunny! Get inside!” Gallows barks, waving at me to do as he says. Pops ring out in the air. Brothers running and shouting.
I don’t. I don’t move. I stare at the orange glow of the man’s headlights as the car pulls away.
I stand watch as the brothers frantically check over Cobb even though I know it’s too late.
I don’t move a muscle when Brake tells me to get my ass inside.
I stand sentinel over everyone, knife in hand, watching their backs.
“Sunny, please for the love of fucking God, get your ass inside, now!” Gallows roars.
I turn to argue but something hard and heavy slams into me. Suddenly I’m off my feet. Strong arms wrapped around me. I’m safe.
Revenant
She’s safe. My arms wrap tighter around Sunny’s soft body as she clings to me while I walk us inside the clubhouse.
Her beautiful face pressed against my throat, her soft puffs of breath dancing across my skin, making me feel everything.
Panic. Fear. Unease. Shock. Shame. Guilt.
All the things I buried deep down come bubbling to the surface in that moment.
The moment I rode in and saw Sunny lunge at Amos Crowe.
Not cowering. Not running. Not hiding behind Cobb.
No. Sunny watched the prospect’s head get blown off and instead of fear she fought.
That’s Sunny. She doesn’t run from shit that scares her. She runs toward it. Toward me.
She raises her head from where it’s been tucked against me, hitting me with a warm smile. “You’re home!”
“Sunny, fuck, are you OK?”
She frowns up at me a moment. “I’m fine. He killed Cobb. The asshole.” She huffs a little and I stare down at her, aware of my brothers that have started to trickle into the clubhouse behind us.
“Yeah, he shot Cobb in front of you. Are you OK?”
“I’m fine. Just happy you’re home.” She hugs me tighter and buries her face again.
“Told you she’s not as soft as you think,” Mercy mutters on her way past. I don’t miss the proud smile she gives Sunny though.
“Everyone! Church! You too, Sunny. Fuck!” Gallows growls as he storms past, his heavy boots echoing through the common room.
My feet are planted, head spinning, as wave after wave of relief washes over me. I barely notice Sunny’s dark eyes staring up at me until she clears her throat.
“Um, Prez wants us thataway, big guy.”
I grunt, spinning on my heel and carrying her into Church. I don’t give a shit about the smirks my brothers have pasted on their faces, or that I’m now sitting with Sunny on my lap. This woman will be the death of me and I can’t find it in myself to care at the moment.
“Ah, just let me, um, -” Sunny wriggles in my lap until she’s facing Gallows and my brothers, “-hey everyone,” she waves awkwardly.
Gallows takes a deep breath, before letting his stiff posture loosen. “Sunny, are you OK?”
“Why? What have you heard?” Sunny asks. I can’t see her face, but I’m guessing she’s frowning.
“What have I -? What? Sunny, you just watched a man die out there,” Gallows says, voice verging on disbelief.
“Yeah. And I saw the asshole who did it.” She looks around the table before turning back to Gallows. “So, do you want a description so you can go out and avenge Cobb?”
Mercy bites her lips as every brother stares at Sunny. A throat clears and Fog raises his hand.
“Um, if you have a description I could look it up,” he offers, laptop open.
“No need,” Gallows replies. “I’m pretty certain that was our first brush with Amos Crowe.”
Sunny’s head snaps around. “Amos Crowe? The collector?”
Ledger’s brows knit together. “The collector?”
“Yeah. Some old slave shackles turned up on church land when I was a kid. Amos Crowe showed up offering the church a butt ton of money for them.”
“What the hell?” Sleet says.
Sunny nods, “Yeah, he told my dad he liked collecting things. But Dad said they sounded like things that celebrate human suffering.” Sunny shivers, and my arms wrap around her before I can stop myself.
“The pastor didn't sell them to him, did he?” Brake asks.
Sunny shakes her head, looking offended. “He told him to fuck off.”
Snorts sound out around the table for a moment before the weight of the situation presses down on us again.
“What else did you notice about him?” Mercy asks.
“He was creepy as hell.” Sunny says. “Ruby ring on his left pinky, and a signet ring on his right index finger. I think there was a crow on it.” She tilts her head back onto my shoulder, her dark hair brushing my throat.
“His suit fit him perfectly. Manicured nails. His shoes had a lift to them, so I’d say he’d be Mercy’s height without them.
He smelled expensive and he was smoking a cigar.
” She closes her eyes for a moment. Her long lashes flutter against her cheeks.
“His eyes didn’t look right.” She swallows.
“And he smiled the whole time.” She looks around at everyone. “The whole time.”
“Well, that sounds like a problem,” Jubilee says, scratching his beard. “A big fucking problem.”
Gallows sits silent, still, staring down at the Saint’s Outlaws patch burned into the worn, wooden table. He takes a breath, then another before his gaze snaps up, fire in his eyes. Ready for war.
His tattooed fist hits the wood twice, gaining Hush’s attention. “Get me information. Somehow Crowe has the Wolves in his pocket and us in his sights. Take Coyote with you.” Hush dips his chin and I’m thankful Prez didn’t elaborate in front of Sunny how they were to get said information.
“Fog? You and Ledger find me everything on Amos Crowe. And I mean everything.” Gallows looks around the table. “Mercy, take Jubilee, Sleet and some of the prospects and tighten up security around the compound.”
Sunny bounces slightly in my lap. “Oh! What do you want me to do?”
Gallows stares at her for a beat. “Sunny, I want you to leave my cut sluts alone,” he deadpans.
Before I can ask, Sunny pats my chest. “Nothing to worry about.”
Gallows blows out a breath, running a hand down his face. “Rev, call Hollis. Tell him we want the full package. Cobb died on our watch, he’ll be buried in full colors.”
“Yes, Prez.”
“Church over. I got to make a call, and break a momma’s heart.”
We file out of Church silently, minds on our fallen brother. Yet another one I couldn’t save. How many more have to fall before God decides I’ve had enough?
“Revenant?” Sunny asks, head tipped back, her impossibly dark eyes questioning.
“Sunny,” I choke out.
I need to tell her not to rely on me. I only bring pain. Suffering. Death. My gut clenches and then she’s there. Her soft lips on mine, her tongue asking for entrance into a mouth that doesn’t deserve her sweetness.
“Sunny-”
“Don’t.”
“You just watched a man die.”
“I know.
“You’re in shock.”
“Probably.”
“I’m broken.”
“You’re bent.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
Her lips find mine again and this time I don’t pull back. I can’t pull back. Not when my arms wrap around her and my hands cup her ass. I lift her effortlessly, and she wraps herself around me like she trusts me. Me.
God has a fucked up sense of humor throwing Sunny Richards in my path. He gave sunshine to the broken man.
God help us both.