Until, at least, he took off for a few days. Sam - Gunner - his son - finally showed his face at the diner during my shift. I'd been waiting for this confrontation. I hadn't counted on Nomad being away when it happened, though.
It was just before closing. My mother had already gone home, and I was waiting for the last two patrons to leave when he appeared. He burst in while I was wiping down tables.
"Lily. Where's your jacket?"
"Nice to see you, too, Gunner."
"Using my road name, now?" I shrugged. "Well? Where is it?"
"Why?"
"So I can fucking burn it and end this bullshit." He sneered at me like I was a roach, or a rat - something weak and disgusting that he'd like to crush with his boot.
"Only Bill can do that. Take it up with him." I moved on to another table, further away from him. He reeked of booze and cigarettes, and his eyes were wild. I didn't trust him not to get violent.
He stood silently, swaying on his feet. Definitely drunk. Very drunk. "Hey. Prospect. I have an errand for you."
I could just imagine. "I'm on the clock here."
He ignored what I’d said and unbuckled his belt. “Time to suck my cock, sugar. Now.”
I stared. “You’re seriously taking your dick out in the middle of the diner.”
He sloppily grinned and pulled it out. Jesus. In that regard, he did take after his father - it was intimidating, to say the least. And my traitor pussy pulsed and swelled at the sight. Nomad’s going to have to stop leaving me hanging so horny before I do something really stupid.
I heard my last two patrons’ chairs scrape the floor. Even if they were just trying to flee, their presence should have been enough to discourage Gunner. But he wasn’t known for his brains. “You two can have a turn when I’m done.”
Then he stepped towards me. I should have reacted faster. Nomad would wring my neck if he knew I was armed but let a man get close enough to grab me anyway. Gunner planted both hands on my shoulders and tried to push me to the ground. I very nearly lost my footing - he was hilariously stronger than me. There was no contest. I tried to twist away, to slide out of his grip, but it was useless. Next thing I knew, my knees slammed against the tiles and his dick was bobbing in my face.
“What the fuck, dude?!” Finally, one of the truckers was speaking up. I took the distraction as a chance to scrambled backwards and put some space between us.
“Gunner.” He looked back down at me, and I flipped up the back of my shirt, revealing the handle of my gun at my hip. “Get the fuck out of this diner. Right now.”
“Bitch.” He pulled back his jacket, revealing his own pistol. “You really want to go there?”
Was this a standoff or a quickdraw? I was screwed either way. On the other hand, he’s pretty drunk.
When he got down on the floor and tried to crawl on top of me, I decided it was time to make a move. I was in trouble either way - and it was either deal with his dick, or deal with his gun. I think I’d rather get shot. So while he knelt crookedly above me and fumbled to free his balls from his pants as well, I launched myself at him. He howled as my knee made contact with his groin. His pants were already loosened, and he was off-balance. I knew the blow was coming. I watched him reach back as if in slow motion. But I grabbed his gun before he could make contact with my face.
It all felt so slow. My hand was tight around the handle when the back of his hand crashed against my face. The force of it blew me aside; I may have even bounced when I hit the ground. But the gun was tight in my grip.
Time sped back up when the pain hit. My eyes teared up immediately, blurring my vision. It hurt. I tasted blood. Blinking hard to clear my eyes, I aimed his gun at him. “Don’t fucking move.” My mouth sounded like it was full of cotton.
He froze. “You fucking bitch,” he spat. But he froze, and he showed me his palms. Defeat, motherfucker.
“I’m keeping this,” I said, waving the weapon. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“You’re really gonna get it now.”
I laughed. Despite the pain and the adrenaline, I burst out laughing. “Really? No, please, Gunner. Go tell Bill. Go tell him how I disarmed you after you drunkenly waved your dick at me in his diner. Go.” He didn’t move. “Go!”
Finally, wearily, he pushed himself to his feet. But he still hesitated. “What the hell are you waiting for, Gunner? Do you want me to shoot you?” I stood as well. It was an effort to hide my dizziness. Jesus, he hits hard.
“Are you fucking my dad?”
My jaw dropped. “Is that was this is about?”
“You are, aren’t you.” He sneered. “You picked that old bastard over me.”