Chapter Three
Gunner
Sitting in church, I listened as Colt went over the books. I listened as Jack went over the events we had scheduled for the upcoming season. And I listened as Blade went over the new routes we would be riding this year.
I had been sitting there quietly, waiting for my turn.
As SAA, it was my job to look out for the brothers.
It was my job to protect them. Even from themselves.
Looking around the table, I paused on each of my brothers.
King had a lot of shit going on. Learning his parents were actually his grandparents, his brother was actually his uncle, and his actual father was the head of the Irish Mob would fuck up anyone’s head.
Not to mention denying himself the one thing we all knew he truly wanted.
Grace.
Cash, well, it wasn’t hard to figure out where his head was. He was drinking himself to death over the death of his old lady.
I got it, I really did. But I wasn’t going to stand by and let him destroy himself in grief.
Blade had a lot of shit he still hadn’t dealt with.
Same with Jack. Abandonment, rejection. He was textbook.
Jingles needed to deal with the shit from his past, too. Leaving behind his sister almost destroyed him, and then the shit his parents pulled. I shook my head just thinking about it.
Ghost was obsessed with a woman he had a one-night stand with when he was in Oklahoma a few months back. It was all he talked about. He acted like she had a magic pussy.
Pussy wasn’t magic.
It was great, don’t get me wrong. There was nothing better than sinking your dick into a hot, tight hole. But it was a hole. That alone wasn’t a reason to settle down.
Nav wouldn’t leave his computer long enough to let the sunshine beat down on him, never mind actually trying to have a life outside the club.
And Colt.
He might just be the most fucked up of us all. The way he grew up would fuck with anyone’s head.
That left me.
The only one in this room who had some semblance of a normal, healthy lifestyle. I didn’t deny myself the things I wanted. I didn’t live with the guilt and shame of a fucked-up childhood. My obsession was with my bike and my club.
Both healthy outlets that kept me going.
So, it was my job to make sure my brothers were good.
“Ok, Gunner, you’re up.”
I looked up at King and wondered what he would think of my idea. He might balk at first, but I had my spiel ready to go.
“I met a woman.”
That was as far as I got before the ribbing started.
“Shit.”
“Batten down the hatches.”
“Better prepare Dec, King. Shit’s about to hit the fan again.”
“Shut the fuck up, all of you. She isn’t for me. She’s for you fuckers.”
“I have a woman,” Blade called out.
“Me too!” Jack cried.
“Shut the fuck up, both of you,” King barked. He turned to me with a glower of annoyance. “What the fuck is she for?”
“She’s a therapist.”
King’s mouth dropped open and he sat back in his chair. Everyone was silent for far too long, and then all at once the shouting began.
“I don’t need a fucking shrink.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“We handle our shit.”
“I’m not talking about my fucking feelings.”
“Hold on, Gunner, are you trying to fuck this woman? Is she holding out? Why the fuck do you think we need therapy?” Ghost asked.
Cash glared at me as he leaned forward with his arms on the table.
“That fucking woman from the bar?” he snarled.
“What woman?” King asked.
Cash closed his mouth and sat back.
I knew he wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t admit he wasn’t handling his shit well. We didn’t expect miracles. It had only been a week.
“The night Tank and Ben brought Cash home from the bar, he put his hands on a woman—”
“I grabbed her wrist. I didn’t put my fucking hands on her.”
King turned to look at his VP. “Why the fuck did you grab her wrist?”
“She was touching me. Situation was no different from when the girls touch us here and we’re not feeling it. I removed her hand from my arm.”
“Then held it too tight until I made you let go. You left a red mark behind.”
Cash snapped his gaze to mine.
I saw the surprise on his face. His intoxication left him unaware of his actions. However, that didn’t make it ok.
“Why were you at the bar and not here?” Blade asked.
Cash closed his eyes and tipped his head back.
“Because he doesn’t want us cutting him off.”
“Why didn’t Grace cut him off?” Jack asked.
“Because King told her if she ever cut off a brother, she would lose her job,” Jingles explained.
“That is not what I fucking said.”
We all looked at our president.
“Fine, I may have alluded to that.”
Turning back to Cash, I asserted, “You need help, brother. It’s my job to make sure you get it.” Then I turned to King. “I suggest we all talk to her. Three sessions, club girls and old ladies too.”
“Why?” King asked, trying to read something in my insistence.
Ok, maybe I felt guilty for the way I spoke to her. But I wasn’t telling these assholes that. Besides, I was right.
They all needed fucking therapy.
“You have to admit everyone has shit to deal with.”
“We can deal with our shit without a fucking therapist. We don’t talk outside the club.”
King slammed the gavel down and that was the end of it.
The winters in Nebraska were fucking awful.
Five years and I still wasn’t used to the amount of snow or freezing my balls off every time I walked outside in January.
It was good for business though.
I ran a tattoo shop in town, and the winter months were a great time for people to come in for new ink.
Most of the officers didn’t have actual jobs, making themselves available for whatever was needed. But I loved my work.
I had two employees. Bruce Jenkins, a twenty-eight-year-old artist who excelled in realism tattoos. And then there was Indigo Cambridge, a twenty-four-year-old artist and piercer.
I was bent over my client when I heard the bell of the door jingle, and Indigo called out to whoever had just come in.
“I’ll be right there.”
I didn’t pause what I was doing until I heard her reply.
“No problem. Take your time.”
I knew that voice immediately.
I turned off my gun and leaned back on my rolling stool so I could look past the privacy screen.
There she was.
The woman from the bar was standing with her back to the counter, looking at the wall of tattoos.
What was she doing here? Was she looking for me?
“Hey, man, you ok to take a break for a minute?”
“Sure, Gunner.”
I stood up and walked around the screen toward the main area of my shop.
“What can I do for you?”
She turned around, her mouth open to say something until she saw who was standing in front of her. She closed her mouth quickly and folded her arms across her chest.
“What are you doing here? Are you following me?”
Clearing my throat, I folded my arms to match her stance and glared at her. “This is my shop. By my estimation that makes you the one following me.”
Indigo chose that moment to come up front and interrupt.
“Hey, Haizley. I’m ready if you are.”
Haizley. That was different.
I watched the emotions flit over her face like a movie and caught the moment she changed her mind.
“I’m so sorry, Indigo. I just stopped in to let you know I need to cancel. Something came up, and I can’t get out of it. I hope you understand.”
She didn’t look at me again, keeping her attention on Indigo.
But Indigo did.
“No problem. You want to reschedule?”
“Um...” I followed Haizley’s stare out the window and wondered what she was looking at. When she turned back to Indie, ignoring me again, she asked, “Can I call you when I get home, once I’ve checked my calendar?”
“Of course.” Handing Haizley a card, Indigo offered, “Call me on my cell. You never know who will answer at the shop and fuck things up.”
I glared at my employee, and she just smiled.
“Thanks, I’ll be in touch.”
As soon as the door closed, Indie rounded on me, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
“What the fuck did you do?”
Indigo was a tiny woman. With her platinum hair and blue highlights, she still had the look of a child. In fact, she looked closer to sixteen than she did twenty-four.
I’d had Nav run an extensive background check on her before hiring her because I needed to make sure she was legal.
“Why do you assume I did something?”
She just shook her head and walked away, muttering something about asshole men not knowing their left nut from their right.
When I returned to my client, he was trying not to laugh.
“Man, what the fuck did you do?”
With a smirk I couldn’t contain, I answered, “I may have inadvertently accused her of being a whore at the Diamond last week.”
“Don’t let Indigo find out. You won’t have to worry if you can tell your left nut from your right ‘cuz you won’t have any.” Dave laughed, and despite my annoyance, I laughed alongside him.
Indie was not one to be messed with. I didn’t know her story. Nav couldn’t find anything beyond the basics. But something had definitely happened to that girl.
I got back to working on the tattoo, but my mind was on the beautiful woman whose name was Haizley.
It was different.
Original.
Like her.
I hadn’t been able to see the color of her eyes in the dim light at the bar, but today I could. They were the color of brown sugar. Warm and light at the same time.
The way they darkened in anger when she realized I was standing there, had my dick hard and uncomfortable. The same way it did the night at the bar, when she threw her drink in my face. Well, tried to anyway. She didn’t quite throw it high enough, considering I towered over her by a foot.
She was feisty. She had a fire I wanted to consume and contain. I didn’t want to put it out, but I did want to control it.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I wondered what the hell I was thinking. She wasn’t the woman for me. She was pure. She was classy. I would ruin her. God, I wanted to ruin her.
When I was done with Dave’s tattoo, I went to the desk. He paid his bill, and I opened up the calendar. I wanted her name. Her full name.
Haizley Walker.
I added her address and phone number to my phone.
Why, I didn’t know. I just needed to have it.
Closing down the system before Indigo caught me, I went to clean my station. I had never been more thankful for the winter. I could drive by her house and see where she lived. But because of the snow, I had to take my truck.
Which meant she would never hear me coming.