Chapter Thirty-Eight
Gunner
Slamming the door behind me, I stomped down the front steps, heading straight to the prospect leaning on his bike.
He straightened up immediately, and I got in his face.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Sir?”
“Where were you?”
“Um, Miss Walker asked me to go pick up Amber and bring her over. I thought—”
“You don’t think! Thinking gets you in fucking trouble.”
I took a deep breath, trying to control the need to knock this fucker out.
“What were you told to do?”
“Watch over Miss Walker.”
“How the fuck can you do that if you aren’t fucking here?”
Archie looked at Haizley’s door and then back at me. Swallowing loudly, the fear rolled off him in waves. He should be fucking scared.
“Miss Walker asked—”
“Do you take orders from Miss Walker?”
He straightened his back like he was about to stand up to me. I had to respect the foolish shit that was about to come out of his mouth. He was gearing himself up, confident he was right.
“Sir, King explained we were lower than the old ladies. That if they asked us to do something, we were to do it without question.”
This fucker just might make it after all.
“Have you seen a property cut on Miss Walker?”
Archie started blinking quickly as he tried to think about what I was asking.
“But I thought. You called her your old lady in the clubhouse.”
Shit. He was right.
I had claimed her in front of everyone. We tried to be fair. But sometimes these fuckers were too smart for their own good.
“You’re right, I did. She has not been voted on yet. So I understand why you felt the need to do what she asked. But”—I pushed my finger into his chest—“you don’t leave a protection detail without having someone here to release you. While you were gone, a deputy showed up and was harassing my woman.”
His eyes widened before narrowing. “Which deputy?”
“Does it fucking matter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Deputy Reed.”
“Fuck.”
“What do you know, Prospect?” I crossed my arms over my chest. His reaction made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“He drove by a few times today. I assumed he was just patrolling. He must have been waiting for me to leave. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left.”
“What should you have done?”
“I’m not sure, sir. Miss Walker said there wasn’t anyone available to bring Amber here.” His brows furrowed as he thought about my question. “I had asked her about going to the clubhouse herself and she said no. That it was important for Amber to meet her here.”
Leaning back on my heels, I waited for him to work out the answer. We needed men who could think outside the box. Not just do what they’re told, but someone who could work out the problem without direction. Once they were patched in, they wouldn’t have the same oversight they’d had as prospects.
Archie closed his eyes, and his head dropped back between his shoulders.
“Well?”
“I should have suggested she pick up Amber herself and followed her there and back.”
“That’s right.” Archie was trying. He wanted this maybe even more than the other prospects. He was committed to learning from his mistakes.
“You will wait for Amber to be done then take her back. When you get back to the clubhouse, I want an inventory of the bar and the kitchen. Talk to Beck and see if she needs you to do anything. If she doesn’t, ask Sam. Then ask Ellie. You are on old lady duty for three weeks. Whatever they need, you will be at their beck and call.”
“Yes, sir.”
Walking over to my bike, I sat down and pulled out my smokes. I was surprised Haizley hadn’t said anything about them yet. Blade had to quit as soon as he and Beck got back together. She wasn’t putting up with that. Especially now, being pregnant.
Three pregnant old ladies meant smoking was no longer allowed in the clubhouse at all. It was a small sacrifice; though, in the middle of the fucking winter, we all considered quitting.
I sat on my bike for two hours while Haizley talked with Amber. When the door finally opened, they both stepped out.
As I was walking up the stairs, I heard Amber tell my woman, “Thank you. You have no idea how much talking with you helps. Remember what you told me? My feelings are mine and no one can tell me how I should feel about anything I have done. The same goes for you, Haizley.”
Amber hugged my woman and Haizley whispered, “Thank you, Amber.”
Haizley didn’t acknowledge me. Instead, she walked back inside, closing the door behind her.
Fuck that.
I waited long enough to make sure Archie and Amber left without incident, then opened her front door and walked in. At least she didn’t lock me out.
“Are you mad at me, baby?”
“No.”
I wasn’t the smartest man in the club, but even I knew that ‘No’ sounded more like ‘I’m fine’ then it did a no. And if there was one thing every man on the planet knew, it was that ‘I’m fine’ meant their woman was anything but.
“Talk to me, Haizley.”
She was nestled into the corner of the couch. She had pulled a blanket over her, and I knew it was more for protection than for the cold. It wasn’t cold in her house; Haizley always kept it on the warmer side. Which meant for someone like me, it felt like hell.
Sitting beside her on the couch, I pulled her into my lap so she straddled me.
“What’s goin’ on?”
“I killed someone.” She bit her lip, waiting for me to comment.
“How are you feeling about that?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t shrink me.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Baby, I’m not trying to shrink you. I want to know how you’re feeling. How are you dealing with everything that comes with taking a life?”
“Will you tell me about the first time you killed someone?”
“You assume I’ve killed someone?” I threw back at her.
I trusted this woman implicitly. But I wasn’t sure telling her about the first time I took a bastard’s life was what she needed to hear.
“Please?”
Running my hands up and down her arms, I stalled while I decided how much to tell her.
“I was fifteen.”
Her gasp had me rethinking telling this story. But she needed to know who I was. If I was going to convince her to build a life with me, she needed to know who I was.
“You were so young.”
“Physically maybe. I didn’t have good parents. They were both crack addicts with a side of alcoholism. I would have left had it not been for my baby sister. I was eight when she was born. How she wasn’t born addicted, I have no idea. But she was perfect.”
I thought about the day they brought Mellie home. I was so fascinated by her tiny fingers and toes.
“My mother had cut back while she was pregnant. It was the only good thing she ever did. I learned how to take care of her. I learned how to make formula and how to change diapers. God, she was so tiny I thought I was gonna break her.
“I hated going to school every day because it meant she was home alone with my parents. They did the bare minimum, and I took over when I got home.”
“You were just a kid.”
“But she was a baby. I’d been taking care of myself since I was six. I learned how to take care of her.”
My hands latched on to her hips, hoping to ground myself as I recalled my first kill.
“When I was fifteen, Mellie was seven. She was a cute little kid. Brown curls that were everywhere. She fought me every day when I had to brush her hair.”
I smiled, remembering her little pout and the way she tried to convince me her hair didn’t need brushing, and neither did her teeth.
“My parents had people in and out of the house at all hours. One night, I woke up to Mellie’s screams. I ran to her room and found some motherfucker watching her with his dick out.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered behind her hands that had flown to cover her mouth. “What did you do?”
“I’ve always been bigger than other kids my age. By the time I was fifteen, I was the size of a full-grown man. With the parents I had, I learned early how to fight. My old man was a mean drunk. High, he was easy to manage. But there’s a reason behind the saying ten feet tall and bulletproof. When he drank, it let him believe he was untouchable. So, I learned to protect myself and Mellie when he came around.”
My hands contracted on her hips. She must have sensed my struggle because she put her hands on my arms and rubbed up and down like I had done for her when I pulled her onto my lap.
“I grabbed the bastard by the back of his neck and tossed him out of her room. I had intended to leave it at that. But he thought he was untouchable like my old man. Only, he wasn’t as big as my old man. He was in his twenties. Maybe six feet. I was as tall as him, but bulkier. When he got up, he started mouthing off about how he was owed. Said he should get to finish what he paid for. I saw red. I punched that fucker, and when he went down, I went down with him. I laid into him until my father pulled me off. By then, his face had caved in, and he was bleeding from his ears.”
Even at fifteen, I knew what that meant.
The man was dead, and I had killed him.
“I didn’t regret a single minute. I turned on my father and told him if something like that ever happened again, he would get the same thing. I slept in Mellie’s room after that. Every goddamn night until I joined the Silver Shadows at twenty-one. Mellie was thirteen, and I got an apartment and moved her into it. I explained to my president why I couldn’t live at the clubhouse, and he let me live off site with the condition I would still be on call. I only prospected for six months. He realized quickly I was an asset he wanted.”
“Where is your sister now?”
“When she graduated, I paid for her to go to college and I cut her from my life.”
“Oh, Gunner, why?” There were tears in her eyes when she asked.
“She’d had enough of living in fear. I didn’t want her near the club. I send her money every month. She’s got a good job, and Nav keeps an eye on her for me. She seems happy.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s ok that you don’t feel remorse, baby. But you need to talk about what you do feel. I don’t feel bad about killing that son of a bitch. I did it to protect my baby sister. And I would do it again without blinking.”