Page 1 of Gatling
Chapter one
Gatling
The fear in Kelsie’s voice over the phone haunted me as I revved my bike and sped through town. She sounded so fucking scared.
Ryker, I think there’s someone in my apartment.
She didn’t call the cops. She didn’t call her overprotective big brother, Noah.
She called me. Her brother’s best friend. The outlaw biker that a sweet, innocent girl like her shouldn’t be associating with, especially this late at night.
Clutching the handlebars of my bike with a white-knuckle grip, I pushed well beyond the speed limit. My headlight blazed a washed-out path of light across the road in the dark.
On my right, Dimitri “Vlad” Volkov kept pace with me on his wine-red bike. As the Enforcer of the Blackjacks MC, he didn’t shy away from getting his hands bloody, breaking up fights, or using his muscles to prove his point.
This whole thing could be a false alarm. There was a chance that I might have dragged him along on a wild goose chase for nothing.
Secretly though, I was grateful for the big brute of a man. For the most part, I kept to myself and handled my own business. But when trouble reared its ugly head, I recognized the value of having backup. During my service in the military, I leaned on my brothers-in-arms during the heat of battle. As a club member, my biker brothers were the ones I called in for reinforcements when shit hit the fan.
I didn’t know what I was running into here with Kelsie. As soon as I heard she might have an intruder in her apartment, everything after that was a blur of motion, a haze of white static in my brain, with nothing but the urge to protect taking over my instincts.
Turning the corner, Kelsie’s apartment building came into view. The place wasn’t in great shape, with a laundry list of maintenance issues that had been left unresolved ever since she moved in four years ago. But the rent was cheap, so Kelsie could save up a little money every month.
Standing on the scrubby lawn outside, Kelsie hugged her arms around her middle, shifting restlessly. Accompanying her was an elderly woman in a gaudy fuschia bathrobe and curlers—Kelsie’s landlady, Ms. Jalinski.
I barely parked at the curb when Kelsie flew toward me. Flinging her arms around my neck, her body collided with mine. A grunt of surprise escaped me, and I stumbled back a few steps to catch my balance.
Then my breath caught in my throat. Kelsie’s soft curves were pressed against me—plump tits, thick thighs, rounded hips. And for a split second, my brain went totally blank. My fingers itched to grip her flesh until it dimpled beneath my touch.
I swallowed hard, scolding myself for being a creep.
Kelsie was barely twenty-six. Compared to my forty-four years, that age gap was a significant one. Besides, she was mybest friend’s little sister. Noah would expect me to look after her. Not fuckingfeel her up.
Taking Kelsie by the shoulders, I pried her away, putting a safe distance between us. She gazed up at me with misty gray eyes.
“Tell me again,” I said. “What happened?”
She gulped down a shuddering breath, tugging the sleeves of her sweater down over her fidgeting hands.
“When I got into my apartment, I checked all the windows like you and Noah taught me. Everything was locked. No sign of a break-in.”
Crossing my arms, I nodded, listening.
I met Kelsie’s brother, Noah, when we served in the military together. He was charming, warm, and friendly, compared to my prickly, aloof demeanor. I didn’t have a living soul in the world that I could call a friend at that point.
But Noah was determined to change that, for some reason I could never understand.
When he dragged my unconscious body from the rubble of a building after an IED went off, our friendship was locked in for good.
After we left the military, it wasn’t easy adjusting to civilian life again. We didn’t know what to do with ourselves when a drill sergeant wasn't yelling at us day and night.
On top of that, Noah became the unexpected guardian of his baby sister after a car crash killed their parents.
So Kelsie was raised between two ex-soldiers twice her age.
She grew up learning how to defend herself in hand-to-hand combat. Memorizing strike points on the body for maximum damage with minimal pressure. When she was old enough, Noah and I showed her the proper care and handling of a firearm, setting up an impromptu shooting range in my backyard for practice.
“What tipped you off that something was wrong?” I asked.
