Page 125 of Girth (Marked Skulls MC 1)
I looked back towards Emery, listening to her soft giggles as she played around in her own little princess wonderland.
Then I looked back at Syd, who had tears in her eyes with worry as I started back for the house.
“What should I tell her?” I asked.
“The truth. Don’t you ever hide it from that woman. She’s stronger than all of us. She just shows her emotions better than we do,” Mac said.
“Got it,” I said. “Thanks for callin’.”
“Wish I didn’t have to. Keep your eyes peeled.”
The moment I hung up the phone Syd threw open the door. She came barreling towards me and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close as I kissed the top of her head.
“The case didn’t work, did it?” she asked.
“A few are jailed for killing some federal agents with gunfire, ironically enough. But yes, the case fell through.”
“Are we in trouble? Is Emery safe?”
“Sssshhh sh sh sh,” I said while I ran my fingers through her hair. “Everything’s fine. There’s nothing that suggests the Devil Saints know, and the DEA still isn’t finished digging into them. That’ll keep them at bay for quite some time, especially with all the other activities the Devil Saints were diving into. And before you ask, don’t. They got themselves into some rough stuff. It’s practically tearing their club apart.”
“Okay,” she said breathlessly.
I could feel her trembling against me as the two of us looked over towards Emery’s little castle. She was nestled onto the couch and watching a movie, and for a split second all the danger and the worry fell into the background. I kissed the top of Syd’s head on last time before she pushed herself closer into my body, and I tried to quell the shaking of her limbs by wrapping her up as tightly as I could.
I would do whatever it took to protect my wife and my daughter.
No matter the cost to myself.
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Gunner (The Bad Disciples MC #1)
by Savannah Rylan
Chapter 1
Gunner
I could feel the stickiness of sweat pasted to my forehead, dripping in fat drops down my temples. We had been trained to resist the urge to wipe sweat off our faces, unless it was hindering our vision. Just that little motion was a distraction, a split-second action between life and death.
Instead, I adjusted the angle on my Savage 110. Perfect. Click. We all heard the zing as the bullet cracked the rock open. The men behind me cheered.
I’d picked this spot for our training exercise because it was secluded, and just like the rest of Afghanistan’s terrain, there was sand everywhere and the sun was blazing down on us with a vengeance.
“Too easy,” it was Jenson’s voice behind me and I turned to him and smirked. I was the company commander, but I was also one of my men. In action, I was back to being their commander again and orders were obeyed. That was our way of life.
“Are you going to make a diary entry tonight about how Alton made you feel bad? How he hurt your feelings by hitting all the targets?” I laughed and slid down the surface of the boulder I was crouched behind. The metal ID tags tinkled around my neck and Jenson shook his head. Some of the others chuckled.
Jenson had always been competitive, which was a healthy trait to have in the Army; as long as you weren’t putting someone else’s life in danger in the process.
“Take up your position O’Dowd,” I said and he switched places with me behind the boulder.
I stood beside Jenson as I watched O’Dowd aim and hit the target, another rock. We cheered for him too and I passed him a high-five. Four others went after him, and my conviction in my company was re-affirmed. I’d trained them well. We were all high performing soldiers, and we never missed our target.
My bullet-proof vest felt heavy on my chest as I stood and watched the men shoot. Our guards were down today, although my sniper rifle was always cocked and ready to shoot at a second’s notice. Our re-con from the previous two days of this spot gave us a good enough estimation that this place would make a good place for a training exercise. It was off base, but not far off to where we were on our enemies land. Besides, my men hadn’t been off base for over ten days now, we all needed a change of pace. And in the middle of war, shooting practice was the only kind of fun we could get.
How long was it since I had an ice-cream? That was a strange thought to have at that moment, but I had it nonetheless. I wasn’t even an ice-cream kinda guy! But the desert was making my mind swim and I could hear an electrical buzz in my ear as I blinked furiously against the harsh blinding rays of the sun. The sweat was sliding down my cheeks. Drip. Drip. Drip. The white noise cleared when I sensed the others looking at me.
“What’s the score Sarge?” Sanders had said. I wasn’t keeping count. I was thinking about ice-cream.
“Doesn’t matter. Isn’t it your go Jenson? Or are you pussying out because of hurt feelings?” I thumped Jenson’s back as he scowled. Some of the others were chuckling again.
“I was waiting for you to come out of your day dreams,” Jenson said and flipped himself in front of me. “Wanna bet?” he added and I watched as he started walking backwards.
“Bet what?” I said, still grinning as I watched him cross the boulder we were all shooting from.
“See that rock?” he said and pointed far out in the distance. With my brows crossed, I looked through the viewfinder of my rifle till I’d located the rock he was talking about. With a grin on my face, I lowered my rifle and looked Jenson in the eye.
“Yeah, you’re on,” I said and he nodded his head. This was going to be an easy win. I knew my men’s strengths and weaknesses, and as competitive as Jenson was, there was no way he was going to shoot that rock.
“I bet you ten grand,” Jenson said and I laughed.
“Ten grand and a pack of cigarettes,” I called out to him as he continued to walk backwards. He had already gone a few yards further away from us. He gave me a mock salute, before flipping around and taking a few more steps. I was still laughing at his impending obvious loss of the bet when the telltale sound of a metal click rang out. Loud and clear and metallic.
The smile dropped from my face. I knew exactly what that sound was. Jenson had stepped on a land mine. The white noise in my ears became louder as I screamed.
“Don’t fucking move!” I yelled and I hadn’t even realized that my feet were carrying me forward. I was running towards Jenson in reflex.
“Jenson stay where you fucking are!” I yelled again and I saw the color drain from his face. I was getting closer to him, but then he moved a foot. Jenson was stepping off the land mine…
My body bolted up in bed and the sweat was real. I was covered in it. My back was sticking to the cool bedsheets. My heart was thumping hard in my chest. The panic was real. I could feel it coursing through my veins. It was all real. I could taste the sand in my mouth. The screams of my men. My yelling. Jenson’s deathly white face. Did I see a hint of a smile? Was I imagining it? Did he smile when he realized what was going to happen in the next second?
I jumped off the bed, grabbed the bedsheets tightly in my two fists and I jerked it off. I could hear the deep guttural growl that was rising up in my throat.
I didn’t get there in time. I didn’t run fast enough. I shouldn’t have allowed him to walk that far. I should have made better decisions. He was gone and it was all my fault. I needed to break something. Something had to break. Without thinking, I ripped the bed sheet in my hand, ri
ght through the middle.
***
I was on the ground; my cheek pressing against the warm wooden floor of my bedroom. The ripped up bed sheet was lying in a crumpled ball beside me. There was no way I was going to be able to get any sleep tonight.
This was a recurring nightmare, and not a week went by that I didn’t have them at least twice…even three times…sometimes every night till I stayed awake all day and night, walking around like a zombie, surviving on shots of espresso. Only thing was that it wasn’t just a nightmare. This had actually happened. I’d lost one of my men.
I was the only one to blame. I was responsible for my men and I got carried away. Jenson had always been a brazen motherfucker, and I should have known to not let him take it too far. And now he was dead and I was left knowing that I was responsible for his death. If only I could have got to him in time. If only I’d been able to run fast enough.
Enduring sleepless nights, waking up in cold sweats…was a small price to pay for the loss of his life. I was willing to do much more. I was ready for any kind of redemption that life had planned for me. I didn’t think I deserved any ounce of happiness anymore.
I heard my phone buzz on the bedside table above me, and I reached for it in the dark.
Glock was calling again. Fucking Glock. We’d been buddies since I could remember but this guy just never took a hint. I didn’t want to talk to him, or talk to anyone for that matter. I needed to be left alone and repent for the loss of Jenson’s life.
Ever since I got back from the tour, Glock had been calling me nonstop. I tried everything, from switching off my phone, turning it to silent…nothing worked. It was always ringing and Glock was leaving me a dozen voicemails a day, pleading and then threatening me to answer his call. I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to come by the Bad Disciples MC Bar, and I just didn’t have the mind space for that shit. I had my own problems to deal with and my family’s Motorcycle Club wasn’t one of them.
It was supposed to be some sort of a family tradition, and I knew the expectations they had for me. My dad was one of the guys who founded the club back in the early seventies. Now that he was gone, and my older brother Bryce was gone too…there was no reason for me to associate with the MC any longer.
