Chapter Twenty
Gunner
Stomping around my shop, I avoided the gazes of both Indie and Bruce. I was a surly fucker today because I didn’t want to be here. I had a full day of tattoos and all I wanted was to be at the clubhouse, watching Haizley.
Maybe I could still watch.
For the past week, I had left her alone, except at breakfast and dinner. Those two meals gave me the opportunity to take care of her. I filled a plate and set it in front of her. After the first time, when I threatened to feed her myself, she hadn’t hesitated.
But fuck, how I wish she would.
Closing myself into my office, I pulled out my phone. Dialing a number, I waited impatiently for him to answer.
“What do you want?”
“Send me the login for the security app.”
“Why?”
“So I can fucking log in, why the hell do you think?”
Jesus Christ, just once I wanted these guys to do what they were fucking told without question.
“Why do you want to log in?”
“Nav, send me the fucking login.”
Disconnecting the call, I tossed my phone on my desk and sat back. A minute later, it buzzed with a text.
Opening my laptop, I pulled up the security feed for the clubhouse. Nav had taught us how to access it in the event he wasn’t available, but until now, I had no reason to bother with it.
I trusted him completely.
This wasn’t about trust. This was about my obsession with a dark-haired vixen who was surrounded by bikers all fucking day while I was at work.
Pulling up the feeds, I clicked through the multiple cameras until I found her. She was sitting in the main room at a table with Aspen and a couple of the club girls.
Had she eaten lunch?
Had she had enough water today?
Had she slept enough?
I tried zooming in, but it would only go so far. Nav needed to upgrade this shit.
With thirty minutes before my next appointment, I sat back in my chair to watch Haizley. She appeared to be getting along with the girls. Though, if there was one thing I noticed about my woman, she was good at putting on a show. Maybe that was her shrink training, but she easily convinced people she enjoyed every situation she was in.
Except with me.
With me she had a range of emotions. All of them being anger, snark, or sadness. I didn’t get to see the joy she showed everyone else. I wanted to see the joy.
Even if it was fake.
My eyes were glued to the screen when Jack’s brother Derek entered the clubhouse.
I understood Jack’s desire to know his blood. But Derek was a grade-A asshole. What he did to Sam was inexcusable. A man who put his hands on a woman wasn’t a man.
Derek walked to the bar and talked to the prospect before turning in the direction of the table Haizley and the girls sat at. He nodded to the prospect and then moved in the direction of my woman.
Haizley looked up when Derek approached, and she reached out to shake his hand. What the fuck was going on? Haizley stood and walked out of the room.
Followed by Derek.
I switched the feed to the hallway on the second floor. This floor housed the patched brothers that didn’t hold an officer role. It also had rooms where guests could stay.
I watched as Haizley and Derek walked to her room. She unlocked the door and the two of them disappeared through it.
I quickly clicked through every feed available but none of them showed me her room. Pulling my phone out, I called Nav.
“What now?” the grumpy fucker barked.
“Where’s the feed for the room Haizley’s in?”
“Gunner.”
Fuck that. I didn’t need his guilt trip bullshit.
“Where the fuck is it, Nav?”
“There isn’t one—”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Brother, you need to take a breath. There are no cameras in the rooms. You know that. What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t spy on her while she’s sleeping, or getting dressed. You’ve gone full stalker mode, haven’t you?”
“She just took Jack’s fucking brother into her room. I want to know what the fuck they’re doing.”
“Oh shit,” he whispered as I heard clicking on his keyboard.
“Hey, boss, your next appointment’s here,” Bruce called from the other side of the door.
“Be right there.”
“Go take care of your client. I’ll find out what’s going on.” Then Nav disconnected the call.
How the fuck was I supposed to concentrate on my job knowing my woman was behind a closed door in a room with a fucking bed? With a man who beats women.
The only choice I had was to trust my brothers. Taking a deep breath, I chose to believe Derek wasn’t so fucking stupid that he would try to hurt Haizley in a clubhouse full of brothers, all of whom were just waiting for him to fuck up so they could take him out.
We all made Jack a promise that we would give Derek a chance. I was a man of my word.
A man who was now regretting the promise he made.
Three hours later, I was done with the tattoo, and I handed him off to Indie for payment and scheduling while I ducked back into my office.
Immediately pulling up the feed, I found her back in the main room, sitting on the couch with a book. She looked ok. Swiping through the feeds, I couldn’t see Derek anywhere. Running back through the hallway footage, I stopped when I saw Derek leaving her room. According to the timestamp, they were in there for an hour. I stared at the screen, waiting for Haizley to leave her room.
When she finally walked out, I breathed a sigh of relief. Picking up my phone to call Nav, I saw the message he left.
Nav: Everything’s good, brother.
Me: What the fuck were they doing?
Nav: Can’t tell you.
Me: Why the fuck not?
Me: What were they doing, Nav?
Nav: Talk to King or, you know, Haizley.
Me: Asshole.
Looking at the clock, I had four hours until I could close the shop. I wouldn’t make it that long without knowing.
Me: Why the fuck was Derek in Haizley’s room?
King: None of your fucking business.
Me: WHAT THE FUCK?
King: If Haizley wants to tell you, that is her choice. Have you even asked
her?
Me: You told me to stay the fuck away from her. What were they doing?
King: Not what you’re thinking. Talk to the woman, Gunner. And stop
fucking stalking her.
Me: Nice to know my Prez has my back.
King: More than you know, brother.
Fuck him. Storming out of my office, I pulled up short. Mimic was standing toe to toe with Indie. The two of them stood there, arms crossed, glaring at each other.
“There a problem here?”
Neither of them looked at me.
“HEY!”
Indie jumped and turned around, while Mimic continued to glare at her.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Now my arms were crossed as I waited for one of them to tell me what the hell was going on.
“Nothing. I was rude.” Turning back, Indie faced Mimic. She looked at his cut and said, “Mimic, is it? I apologize.” Turning to me Indie whispered, “Excuse me,” then dashed through the shop and out the back door.
When I turned back to Mimic, he was staring at the door Indie had just escaped from.
“What the fuck was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. What happened with Indie?” I asked, stepping up to him. Mimic had secrets. When he came to the club four years ago and asked about prospecting, he had the right papers saying he was eighteen. Although Nav saw right through them.
King convinced him to come clean and admit he was sixteen. But he wouldn’t tell us anything else. He believed King was the only one who knew, but all the officers were told. King made the decision to let him prospect anyway, making him do two years instead of the standard one year that most members suffered through.
He made it. He had all the other brothers convinced he was older than he was, so he was given the name Mimic because he was good at being something he wasn’t.
“Boy, I want to know the truth.”
“It’s like she said. She was rude to a brother. She apologized; let it go.”
I studied him. His eyes held mine. They never wavered. Whatever Mimic had been through, it had taught him to never back down. Even from a big fucker like me.
“Follow me.”
Mimic followed me to my station that was set up for the tattoo he was adding to his body. Sitting down in the chair, I waited for him to get comfortable.
“Is too late to get something different?”
Sitting on my stool, I dropped my shoulders, letting my back hunch in my irritation.
“Depends. Is it more work than what you were gonna get?”
“No.”
“Alright, what is it?”
“A rose.”
I stared at the kid, my lips parted. “You want it to say mom, too?” I shook my head at the ridiculousness of it.
“No, fucker, just a rose.”
He was such a surly little bastard.
“Where you want it?”
Mimic removed his cut, laying it on the chair, then pulled his henley over his head. “Right here. I want it to cover the whole area.”
He pointed to an empty spot on his left pec that was about five or so inches.
“You have a specific look in mind?”
“No, just freehand it.” Mimic leaned back and closed his eyes. Despite giving him a hard time, I knew it meant something to the kid. I had been doing his tattoos since he joined the club and each time, he had told me he was saving that spot for something special. I figured it must be something about his mom.
Or maybe it was for Sam.
She had taken over as the mom he needed. She’d become the mom we all needed, making sure we all felt loved. She was even trying with Freeway, but he was a son of a bitch who treated all women like they were only useful for feeding him and fucking him.
What the hell Steele was thinking sending him here, we didn’t know. He was pretty tight-lipped with what was going on with the club now that we were no longer a 1% percent club ourselves.
By the time I was finished, Mimic had a killer tattoo of a rose in bloom, surrounded by a stem of thorns. A teardrop clinging to the edge of one petal.
“Alright, man, tell me what you think.”
Handing him the mirror, he sat there staring at the new tattoo. His face was a blank expression, but his eyes. His eyes told me everything I needed to know. This kid hadn’t just been hurt. He had been damaged almost beyond repair.
Sam was piecing him back together. One small act of love at a time.
“Heard you went to Sam’s ultrasound today.”
“Yea,” he rasped, still staring at the tattoo in the mirror.
“You see the baby?”
He nodded; his eyes remained locked on the small hand mirror. I was worried he didn’t like the tattoo.
“They know what they’re having?”
“Yea,” he croaked, finally putting the mirror down. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. Then he shrugged on his cut.
“You gonna tell me?”
Mimic smiled at me. Fucking smiled. I’d never seen this kid smirk let alone fucking smile.
“Nope. Momma wants to tell everyone tonight.”
“I guess everything is ok then?”
Trying to get answers from this kid was like pulling fucking teeth.
“Everything’s perfect. Thanks, brother.”
Mimic left, and I sat there wondering what they had found out that made the kid who was a fucking storm cloud in the clubhouse actually smile.
One more client tonight and then I could go home. It was time for Haizley to learn the rules. Fuck King and his orders. She was mine, and I was gonna make sure every fucker in town knew it.