Page 8 of Gunner (Iron Sentinels MC #3)

D awn woke up feeling lighter than she had in weeks. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting warm golden streaks across her bedroom.

She stretched lazily, muscles pleasantly sore, a slow smile tugging at her lips as she turned her head toward the empty space beside her. Gunner had left early, saying he had an errand to take care of in town.

The sheets were still warm from where Gunner had slept, his scent—leather, smoke, and something purely him—lingering in the air.

Last night had been ... everything. She’d let her walls crack, let herself fall into his arms, let him touch her in ways that made her feel wanted, cherished—even safe. That last part still felt foreign to her, but she didn’t hate it. Not with him.

With a soft sigh, she rolled out of bed and got dressed, still wrapped in the afterglow of their night together. Her mind drifted to Gunner’s promise: “You don’t have to face Jesse alone.” For the first time in forever, she actually believed it.

By the time she grabbed her keys and headed outside, the morning was crisp and bright, the kind of day that made her want to take the long way to work just to enjoy the ride. She hummed to herself, unlocking her car, but the second she opened the driver’s side door, the illusion of peace shattered.

A folded piece of paper sat on the seat.

Dawn froze. Her breath hitched, fingers gripping the car door as a sick feeling curled low in her stomach. Slowly, she reached down, snatching up the note with trembling hands. Her heart pounded as she unfolded it: You think he can protect you? Think again. This isn ’ t over, Dawn.

No signature. No need for one. She knew exactly who had left it. Jesse.

Why was he so obsessed with her? Why couldn’t he just leave her the hell alone?

Dawn had spent countless nights asking herself the same damn question, but no matter how much she tried to make sense of it, there was no logic to be found.

There was nothing particularly special about her, at least not in a way that should warrant this level of fixation.

Guys like Jesse had egos the size of mountains and skin as thin as paper. They couldn’t handle rejection. They couldn’t take no for an answer.

The air rushed from her lungs, her pulse hammering in her ears. She whipped her head around, scanning the parking lot, the street, anywhere he could be watching from. But there was nothing. No shadowy figure lurking in the distance. No engine revving in warning. Just silence.

Dawn clenched the note so tight the paper crumpled in her fist. She should’ve known last night was too good to last. Jesse wasn’t done. Not even close.

Her first instinct was to shove the note in her pocket, pretend it never happened. She could handle this. She always had. But then she thought about Gunner. About his words, his promise. Dawn swallowed hard. Maybe, for the first time, she should take him up on that promise. Dawn texted Gunner.

Twenty-minutes later, she heard the familiar roar of a motorcycle echo down her street.

She turned her head just in time to see Gunner pull up, the powerful rumble of his bike sending a shiver down her spine.

He barely waited for the engine to cut off before he swung off the seat, moving toward her with a storm brewing in his dark eyes.

She knew that look. Knew that barely contained fury, that possessive, protective edge in the way he carried himself. It made her pulse quicken—not from fear, but from something else entirely.

His gaze flicked down to the crumpled note still clutched in her fingers, and his jaw tightened. “That the note from Jesse?”

Dawn exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to crumple it further. “Yeah.”

Gunner didn’t say anything at first, just took the note from her hands, smoothed it out, and read the words. His fingers curled around the paper, knuckles going white. Then, without hesitation, he ripped it in half.

“Pack a bag,” he ordered.

She blinked. “What?”

“You’re not staying here.” His voice was low, gravelly, leaving no room for argument. “You’re coming with me.”

Dawn stiffened. “Gunner, I—”

“Don’t.” He cut her off, stepping closer until she had no choice but to tilt her head to meet his gaze. “I told you, you don’t have to deal with this alone.” His eyes burned into hers. “And I sure as hell ain’t letting you stay here while that bastard keeps playing his little games.”

Dawn swallowed hard. “I can handle—”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he snapped.

She opened her mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“You think I’m just gonna stand by while he leaves threats on your car? While he slashes your tires? What’s next, Dawn? Huh?” His voice was rough with barely restrained rage. “I’ve seen how this shit escalates, and I’m not waiting around for it to get worse.”

Her throat tightened. The truth was, she was scared. Jesse wasn’t just trying to scare her anymore—he was getting bolder. More reckless. And deep down, she knew Gunner was right. Still, old habits were hard to break. She hated feeling like she needed saving. Hated feeling weak.

But when she looked up at Gunner—at the fire in his eyes, the pure, unwavering determination on his face—she knew this wasn’t about weakness. It was about trust and she did trust him.

Finally, she let out a slow breath, nodding. “Okay.”

Gunner’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his expression stayed firm. “Good. Now go get your things.”

Dawn turned, heading toward her apartment. But just before she disappeared inside, she glanced over her shoulder.

He was still there, watching her with that same fierce protectiveness, and honestly, she was a little relieved. Dawn didn’t waste any time. She grabbed a small backpack and packed some clothes and essentials, before returning to Gunner downstairs.

****

G unner rode hard, the deep growl of his bike cutting through the night as he guided Dawn toward the one place he knew she’d be safe. The clubhouse.

She held on tight, her arms wrapped around his waist, her body pressed against his back. He could feel the tension in her grip, the way her fingers dug into his cut, like she was still fighting the instinct to run. But she wasn’t alone anymore. He wouldn’t let Jesse get to her.

When they pulled up to the clubhouse, the parking lot was already packed with bikes.

The Iron Sentinels never slept—there was always someone drinking, playing pool, or just killing time between runs.

Gunner was used to it, used to walking through those doors and feeling at home. But today, he felt something else.

Because as soon as he killed the engine and stepped off his bike, he could already sense the shift in energy. Conversations slowed. Heads turned. A few of the guys leaned against their bikes, arms crossed, waiting. Yeah. This wasn’t gonna be smooth.

Dawn hesitated as she climbed off behind him, her fingers lingering on his arm. He gave her a look, one he hoped told her he had this under control, before turning toward the clubhouse doors.

The second they stepped inside, the heat and noise of the room hit them. Music blasted from the speakers, beer bottles clinked, and smoke curled in the air. But what really caught Gunner’s attention was the group of guys standing near the bar.

Beast, of course, was at the center, his massive frame leaning against the counter, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. His dark eyes locked onto Gunner the second he walked in, then flicked to Dawn. And just like that, the room got a hell of a lot quieter.

“Gunner,” Beast drawled, setting his drink down with a deliberate thunk. “What the hell is this?”

Gunner kept his expression neutral. “This is Dawn.”

“No shit.” Beast cocked his head. “I meant, what’s she doing here?”

“She’s staying with me,” Gunner said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s not up for discussion.”

A few guys exchanged looks. Someone muttered something under their breath. Gunner didn’t care. Beast, though, wasn’t one to let things slide. He pushed off the bar, stepping forward, his presence alone enough to make most men take a step back. But Gunner held his ground.

“She’s the one you mentioned who caught the eye of a member of the Rat Bastards MC?” Beast asked, voice low.

Gunner’s jaw ticked. “Yeah.”

Other bikers brought women back to the clubhouse all the time, but Gunner knew Beast only had an issue with Dawn because this wasn’t just about a woman—this was about a war waiting to happen. By helping Dawn, Gunner might be causing a bigger rift between the Iron Sentinels and the Rat Bastards.

“I’ll handle this problem on my own,” Gunner reassured him.

Beast studied him for a long moment, his sharp, assessing gaze pinning Gunner in place. Then, finally, he let out a slow exhale. “You sure about this?”

“I wouldn’t have brought her here if I wasn’t.”

More silence.

Then, finally, Beast gave a small nod. “Fine.” His eyes flicked to Dawn. “But if she causes more problems, it’s on you.”

Gunner didn’t even hesitate. “She won’t.”

Another beat passed before Beast jerked his chin toward the hallway. “Take her to your room. Keep your head on straight.”

Gunner didn’t need to be told twice. He put a hand on Dawn’s lower back, guiding her through the clubhouse, past the lingering stares and hushed conversations.

He knew this wasn’t over, but Gunner didn’t give a damn what Beast or his other MC brothers thought. Dawn was his to protect, and anyone who had a problem with that could take it up with him.

As they reached his room, he pushed the door open, motioning for her to step inside before shutting it behind them. Dawn hesitated, arms wrapping around herself as she took in the space. It wasn’t much—just a bed, a dresser, and a bathroom attached—but it was his.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, turning to face him. “I mean ... maybe this isn’t a good idea. I don’t want to cause problems for you with your club.”

Gunner closed the distance between them in two strides, and rested his hands on her hips. He could feel the tension in her body, the uncertainty, the worry.

“This is the safest place in town,” he murmured. “No one—no one—can get to you here. And I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. You’re here because you need to be, and I’ll make damn sure nothing happens to you.”

Dawn swallowed, her eyes searching his like she wanted to believe him, but fear still lingered in their depths. Gunner couldn’t stand it.

He cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “This is just temporary, Dawn.” His voice was low, rough with emotion. “I’m not letting Jesse—or anyone—touch you.”

Something in her cracked then. He saw it in the way her lips parted, the way her breath caught, the way she melted just a little against him. Then she surged forward, her mouth crashing against his.

Gunner groaned, arms wrapping around her as he pulled her flush against him.

Dawn gripped his cut. She seemed desperate, needy, and he gave her everything she asked for.

Their kiss was deep, hungry, filled with everything they’d been holding back.

Dawn wasn’t just kissing him—she was claiming him, just as much as he was claiming her.

He slid his hands downward, gripping her waist, lifting her onto her toes as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against hers. She tasted like fire and sweetness, like something he knew he’d never get enough of.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing hard, their foreheads pressed together.

“Stay with me,” Gunner murmured, his voice husky. “Here. Tonight. As long as you need.”

Dawn exhaled shakily, but she nodded. “Okay.”

Gunner’s grip tightened on her, as if making sure she was real, making sure she wasn’t going to disappear on him.