Page 23 of Revenant's Fire

“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.