Page 15 of Gunner
“Babydoll,” he pulled back, cupping my face. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay, Gunner.”
Almost as if he didn’t believe me, he stepped back and checked me over himself. When his eyes landed on my face, his eyes narrowed.
Shit. I forgot to reapply my make-up.
Looking away, he lightly grabbed my chin, turning my face towards him. “Who the fuck hit you?”
“It’s nothing, Gunner. Really.”
“That bruise didn’t happen just now. It’s at least a day or two old. Who hit you, Sarah?”
“Sarah!” I heard my mom shout, as car doors slammed. Looking around Gunner, I spotted my mom running towards me as Dad walked over to Scribe.
Rushing to her, I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tight. “I’m so sorry, Mom. It was my fault.”
“It’s okay, baby girl,” my mom cooed, rubbing my back. “I’m just happy you aren’t hurt.”
Gunner huffed.
Mom released me, facing Gunner. “Thank you for looking after her, Gunner.”
“No problem, Beth, and don’t worry about Mike’s truck. I’ll have it towed to the shop. I’m sure Frank can fix it.”
“Really?” I smiled, turning to Gunner. “You can fix it?”
“Sarah, it’s total...”
“Sure,” Gunner grinned. “It’s only a minor scratch.”
My mom huffed, shaking her head as more motorcycles roared up.
Before I knew it, the Sons of Hell M.C. had arrived.
Chapter Five
Gunner
I shouldn’t have hugged her.
The second her body molded against mine I knew I was in trouble. She fit me perfectly and sweet baby Jesus, did she smell like heaven. I tried not to let Mike’s stare bother me as he walked over to survey the damage. It was bad. Sarah really did a number on Mike’s truck. It didn’t take a genius to know that she totaled the truck. Not wanting to upset her further, I offered to tow the truck up to the shop and see what the boys could do.
But it was useless.
I knew, Scribe knew it and even Mike knew it.
While Beth whisked Sarah away, Scribe and I got to work, loading the truck on the back of the wrecker, which barely had any damage, minus the fact Mike’s truck engine was sitting on the back of the flatbed. It took some doing, but we got the truck loaded and were now unloading it near the junk pile.
No sense in fixing what couldn’t be fixed.
“Gunner!” my brother Pyro shouted. “King wants to speak with you in his office.”
I nodded, handing the chains to Scribe. “You got this?”
“Not my first rodeo, man.”
“Put Mike’s truck up front. He said he was going to call the insurance adjuster and have them come take pictures. I’ll do the same later. Then call Ms. Cohen and tell her she can pick up her vehicle after three.”