opportunities at the nursery.
“This is our last stop, Brady. No matter what, this has become our home.”
Chapter Fourteen
Gunner tossed back his second whiskey, unable to get Katrina’s words out of his mind. In some ways, she was right. By the nature of their missions, Eternal Brethren were forced to take on the appearance of an outlaw MC.
Until now, it had never bothered him, as he and his teammates knew the true reason for their existence. They could deal with the disgusted expressions, people crossing streets or changing tables in a restaurant to avoid them.
What truly bothered him about Katrina’s reaction was obvious. At some point in her life, and her mother’s, they’d come in contact with an MC gang. Not surprising, their experience had been negative. Over the years, Gunner had learned a great deal about the men in Demons Blood, Night Devils, and Dark Disciples. He’d be mad as hell if one of his sisters ever associated with someone from any of those gangs.
The women attracted to criminal gangs couldn’t be more different than Katrina and Teri. He’d met a few at Robbie’s and other local bars. They sought the excitement of being with a man who flaunted authority, had no respect for anyone except patched members, and treated women as if they were property. Their reasons had never made sense to him.
Sipping his third whiskey, Gunner pondered what he knew about them. They’d come from Omaha, but where had they been before then? Why did they leave Nebraska to start over in Liberty Lake? Could the man watching their neighborhood be searching for them? Hell, he hoped not.
They were headed into the weekend. In four days, he’d be leaving for Coronado, returning about ten days later. A long time to be gone if someone was targeting Katrina.
Feeling the effects of the whiskey, he shoved up, stretching his arms above his head. Tomorrow was Saturday. Katrina would be at the nursery early, which meant, he’d be there soon after.
His vision of falling into bed died at the sound of his phone. “Gunner.”
“It’s Ghost. We’ve got a situation. We need everyone at the clubhouse.”
“On my way.” Pocketing his phone, he headed to his bathroom to splash water on his face and grab his cut.
Odds were, whatever Ghost called about meant a new op. Slipping into a leather jacket, he headed to the garage, and fired up his bike. At almost midnight, the roads would be quiet, making for a quick trip to the clubhouse.
On the way, his mind played over what type of mission Grayson had planned for them, and how many Brethren would be sent to complete it. As SEALs, the possibilities were endless.
Pulling onto the highway, he checked around, confirming no one followed him. After the other night, when he’d almost been run off the road, Gunner’s senses were on high alert. Sooner or later, whoever did it would try again.
A mile from the turnoff to the clubhouse, three bikes pulled out of a side street, racing forward in an attempt to catch up. At first, he thought they were other Brethren. As they drew closer, his muscles tensed. Gunner could see enough to know they weren’t his brothers.
Changing lanes, he continued to watch behind him. His turnoff was less than a quarter mile away, and the three bikers still followed. The clubhouse location wasn’t a secret to either Demons Blood or Dark Disciples.
It had been built as a defensive fortress. High, thick walls with two-foot electric wiring along the top enclosed the entire compound. The front and rear gates opened using a security code, which changed daily. If the code was entered improperly, the gates exploded outward. A short, emergency sequence for the front gate changed every eight hours. This allowed for quick entry, as had happened the night the Hummer attempted to run Gunner off the road.
Guards rotated, each one an experienced SEAL. To date, there’d been no unauthorized entrants, and not a single code-related accident. The difference between tonight and the previous encounter was easy access to his phone. Riding his bike at high speed prevented him from pulling it out tonight, eliminating the option of quick entry.
Hitting the town limit, he throttled out, mentally picturing how he’d lose them. Liberty Lake had hundreds of narrow roads, some going nowhere, many leading the drivers through tight turns which circled back to where they started. It could be confusing to those not familiar with the town. Gunner was.
He suspected the men who followed were Disciples. According