Chapter Thirteen
Gunner
Finishing up with my first client of the day, I looked out the window and was surprised to see Haizley walking into The Coffee Shoppe. She was never out this early in the morning.
“Hey, Indie, can you cash Kevin out? I gotta run down the street real quick.”
I didn’t wait for her response. I shoved the door open and jogged down the street just as Haizley stepped back outside.
I grabbed her arm, stopping her from moving further away, and turned her to face me.
“Where the fuck were you last night?”
Her brown eyes widened as she stared at me without a word.
“Well, Haizley?”
“Well, what?” she asked.
“Where the fuck were you all night?”
“I was home.”
Leaning down, putting my face even with hers, and in a voice I had no intention of ever using with her, I snarled, “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
She took a step back and narrowed her eyes at me. “How dare you?”
“I know you weren’t fucking home. So, I will ask you again. Where the fuck were you?”
“How?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
Shit. Back peddling was not a skill I possessed. I didn’t mince shit when I talked to someone. Haizley wasn’t just someone though, and I needed to tread carefully.
“How what?”
“How do you know I wasn’t home?” she hissed back at me.
“Haizley—”
“Oh my God! You are following me, aren’t you?”
Stalling while I thought of a response, I looked down the street.
“If I were following you, I would know where you were last night.” It was always important to be the aggressor when using semantics. Otherwise, the person you were trying to confuse would catch on.
“You didn’t answer the question,” she reminded me. “You know what? I don’t care. I have somewhere I need to be.”
She turned her back on me, and I grabbed her arm again, reminding myself how fucking small she was.
“Take your hand off me,” she growled.
Ignoring her, I watched as she dropped the bag she was holding on the ground and took one of the coffee cups from the tray held in the hand of the arm I was holding.
“Where were you?”
Time moved so fast I wasn’t even sure how it all happened. But she twisted around and once again threw a drink at me. Thank fuck she was so fucking small because, like last time, it missed my face and hit me square in the chest.
“FUCK!”
I dropped her arm and pulled the shirt away from my skin. Haizley seized the opportunity, and she ducked down, grabbed the bag she dropped, and raced to her car.
“Goddammit!”
“Do you even know how to talk to a woman?”
I turned a glare toward the snarky asshole, who I guessed had seen the whole debacle.
“Of course, I know how to talk to a woman.”
I shook my shirt, trying to cool down the hot coffee it was soaked with so I could let it go. I was pretty sure my skin was burned, which meant I needed to have Patch look at it.
“I mean, if your goal was to piss her off, you’re right.”
“Simon,” I growled. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Nope,” he said with a pop, enjoying my humiliation. “Salon doesn’t open until nine.”
He walked closer to me, putting his hand on my chest.
“Feels cooled down,” he said, rubbing his hand over my chest.
“You done feelin’ me up, Simon?”
Simon ran his hand over my chest one more time before patting my pec.
“A guy must take every opportunity afforded him. It’s slim pickings around here.”
“Asshole,” I grumbled under my breath. But not low enough, apparently.
“Is that an invitation?” Simon winked and turned to walk off. He called over his shoulder, “Word of advice, Goliath, sugar not vinegar is the way into a woman’s bed.”
“What the hell would you know about a woman’s bed?” I yelled.
Simon winked again and sashayed down the street toward the salon.
I shook my head, giving in to the smile at Simon’s banter. I sent Indie a text, letting her know I was headed to the clubhouse for a bit. I didn’t have another client until after lunch. Kevin worked nights and preferred to come in as soon as he got off work in the morning.
One of the perks of being the boss was making accommodations for my clients. Like Indie piercing Haizley at home. I still didn’t have confirmation, but I only needed another week before I would find out.
Pulling into the clubhouse, I only hoped I could catch Patch before he left. I walked into the main room, looking around.
“Prospect! Patch left yet?”
“Yea, Gunner. A few minutes ago.”
“Damn.”
“What do you need Patch for?” I turned at King’s voice.
I really didn’t want to tell him what happened.
“Hot coffee on my chest. Need to have him take a look at it,” I said, avoiding his eyes.
“Bane’s in the kitchen. Have him take a look.”
“Yea, ok.”
As I walked toward the kitchen, I pulled my cut off. Yanking my shirt over my head, I looked at my chest and if I wasn’t mistaken, it was possibly a second-degree burn.
“Hey, Bane. Can you look at Gunner? Patch left for the hospital already.”
Shit, I hadn’t realized King followed me.
“What the fuck did you do?” Bane asked, his bedside manner worse than Patch’s.
“Hot coffee.”
Bane eyed me curiously.
“You forget you’re supposed to drink it, and not wear it?”
“Fuck you. Someone threw it at me.”
“Who?” King growled.
“How bad is it?” I asked, ignoring King’s question.
“A couple of small blisters. Right in the center could be a second-degree burn, but it’s a small area. Most of it is just irritated. I can go down and see if Patch has cream. If not, you’ll need to run to the pharmacy.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, looking at the burn on my chest.
“Piss off your old lady?”
My head snapped up. “What?”
Bane just shook his head and left the room.
“What the fuck did you do now? I told you to stop following the fucking shrink.” King stood there, arms folded over his chest.
“I wasn’t following her. She came out of the coffee shop, and I was there.”
“Before or after you watched her walk in there?”
I sighed in defeat, knowing King wouldn’t give up until I told him the truth.
“I was in my shop and saw her go in. I just wanted to talk to her for a minute.”
King walked over and poured two cups of coffee. Setting them on the table, he sat down and pointed to the chair across from me.
I slumped into the chair and brought the hot coffee to my lips. Though, you would think I would hesitate after just being burned.
“What is goin’ on with this chick?”
“Fuck if I know,” I admitted. I set my cup down and looked at my president. “Doesn’t it make you want more?”
“What?” he asked, but he dropped his eyes. He knew what I meant, but if I had to, I would say the words.
“Losing Rachel.”
King leaned his elbows on the table. “I wanted to start this chapter to get out of the shit we were doing in Arkansas. I hadn’t thought beyond that.”
“Until?”
He looked up at me and I nodded. Until Grace.
“You can have her.”
We all knew there was something. Even a blind man could see what was going on with them.
“Not in the cards.”
“Just her, or at all?”
He pushed himself up out of his seat and lamented, “Same damn thing, brother.”
He walked over to the door, but before he pushed it open, he looked over his shoulder.
“If you want her, don’t wait.” Then he left me sitting in the kitchen by myself.
He was right, though.
I wanted Haizley.
What the hell was I waiting for?
For three days I drove by Haizley’s house, morning, noon, and night. Her car was never there. Her lights were never on.
This was day four, and I was sitting in my truck, staring at a dark house and an empty driveway again.
Where the fuck was she?
Pulling up her number in my phone, I texted her.
Me: Where the fuck are you?
Little Lamb: Who is this?
Me: Gunner.
Little Lamb: OMG, are you stalking me? How did you get my number?!!
Me: Calm down. I got it from our system.
Me: Where are you?
Little Lamb: None of your business.
Me: Baby, you keep sassin’ me and I’m gonna put you over my knee.
I watched as the three little dots flashed, then disappeared, then flashed and disappeared a second time.
Then nothing.
Me: Don’t play with me, little lamb.
Me: Where are you, Haizley?
Little Lamb: I am staying with a friend.
Me: That friend better be a woman.
Little Lamb: Why do you care?
Hitting the phone button, I listened to it ring before she finally answered.
“What do you want, Gunner?” she whispered, but it sounded more like a hiss.
“Woman, what the fuck do you mean, why do I care?”
“Why are you calling me?”
“I wanna know where you are. You haven’t been home in days.”
“How do you know that? Oh My God!” she whisper-yelled; she was mad enough to yell but didn’t want whoever she was with to hear her. “Gunner, what I do with my time does not concern you.”
“Tell me where you are, Haizley. And who the fuck you’re with.”
“It is None. Of. Your. Business.”
She punctuated every word as if she thought I wouldn’t understand unless she spoke perfectly clearly. I understood more than she knew.
“Little Lamb, don’t make me hunt you down.”
I started up my bike. It was finally warm enough to park the fucking cage where it belonged.
“I wasn’t playing when I told that kid you were mine. I want to know where you are.”
“I cannot believe you. You can’t just decide you want someone and then poof they belong to you.”
I heard the frustration in her voice. It was the same frustration the day Brian was bothering her on the sidewalk.
“Haizley, tell me where you are, baby.”
I knew if I said it the right way, with just enough authority, just enough growl, she’d tell me what I wanted to know. As soon as I heard the sigh, I knew I had her.
“I can’t tell you where I am, Gunner.”
Wait, what?
“But I will tell you I am safe and with a patient.”
A smile spread across my face. She didn’t give me everything I wanted, but she conceded. It was a start.
I had to remind myself she didn’t know the rules.
I had to give her grace.
For now.
“Ok, baby. I’m glad you’re safe. Are you still in town? And is this patient male or female?”
The giggle slipped out. I knew that by the sound of her hand slapping over her mouth she wasn’t as mad as she tried to sound.
“Haizley.”
“Yes, I am in town. And my patient is female. Please don’t ask me anything more, Gunner. I have rules and laws I have to abide by.”
“I don’t like rules, baby, unless I set them.”
“Well, you don’t have a choice in these. I am going to hang up now. Bye, Gunner.”
“Bye, little lamb.”
She disconnected the call, and I quickly made another one.
“What’s up, man?”
“Hey, Nav. I have a number. I need a trace on it.”
“What kind of trace?” he asked hesitantly.
“I need to know where it is. Right now.”
“Gunner, man, does King—”
“I talked to King. He knows.”
I sat idling on my bike while Nav read off an address.
“Who lives there?”
“Aspen Winters.”
“Fuck.”
My woman was fucking amazing.