Chapter Six
Mimic
Walking into church, a feeling washed over me that I was in trouble for something. I knew I fucked up yesterday leaving Indie alone when my sister came in, but I’d believed she would be safe with Rose. My sister was a badass biker old lady.
She might be small, but she’d shown me she could kick my ass, and I didn’t have any worries about her being able to protect Indie. I hadn’t thought she would leave before Indie went home. That was my mistake. I wasn’t clear enough.
Lesson learned.
But no, I was in church because I was an officer now.
I would be privy to all the secrets of the inner circle going forward.
I was the youngest officer sitting at the table, and while I was only five years younger than Blade, it felt like a lifetime, given he’d been in the club a lot longer than I had.
Although, if I included the life I’d lived from the time my mother disappeared when Rose and I were ten years old, then I had a solid decade of experience under my belt.
I sat quietly as the others went over everything they had learned about the Death Dogs and their connection to Steele, the president of the Mother Chapter. As well as their connection to Daniel Scott.
What a sick bastard he was. Daniel Scott was the man who sold Amber to Sebastian Capribella. They were both the reason she’d ended up in a cell underground in Louisiana when Massacre found her during a raid.
Amber was gone now. Moved to California to live with the Golden Skulls as Massacre’s old lady. He wasn’t good enough for her. No one was good enough for her. Amber was special. Everyone in the club knew it. She wasn’t just a club girl; she was a sister to all of us.
Amber was my reason for being here.
She was the reason George Stone let me go. I didn’t know how he’d found Amber, but he sent me here to watch her. To make sure she never left.
Fuck you, asshole! She left!
She was happy now.
He was right, though; I was reunited with my sister because of Amber.
Her mother, Valhalla, president of the Nyght Nymphs, found Rose on the street after Dakota snatched me.
She took her in and raised her. George had known about my sister and where she was, but he wouldn’t tell me because George never did anything without getting something in return.
Now the prick was dead. Shot in the head by a woman right under the Soulless Sinners’ noses. While I was glad the bastard was dead, so was my father. Reaper had killed him that same night. I’d never get the chance to meet him now.
“We need to do something. Reaper won’t wait forever,” Cash said, pulling me out of my head.
“We will. Right now, we have a lot of other shit going on. We have the cookout at the Powell Ranch this weekend. Armando Garcia will be a guest at the ranch. I want every brother there. The prospects can handle the club for a few hours.”
“Does he know?” Blade asked.
“He doesn’t. Jessie hasn’t told him.”
“Does Jessie know we know?” Jack asked.
“No. I haven’t mentioned Garcia to her. But it makes sense now why she was acting squirrely in the hospital. He’ll know when Garcia shows up.”
“Grayson’s gonna be pissed when he finds out,” Colt added.
“That is not our problem. We are there to make sure everything goes well.”
“Still no word about the horse?” Jingles asked.
“No. But Grayson believes it’s still on the ranch somewhere.”
Grayson’s horse, Thunder, had been stolen. How an animal could be worth millions was beyond me. The thing was, it wasn’t even the horse that was worth the money; it was his fucking cum.
Jesus Christ, the things people are willing to spend money on.
George fucking Stone spent a fortune on me.
He made sure I knew it too. He called me a prize.
Said my father owed him, and he was taking his payment from me.
I didn’t even know who the fuck my father was until Nav told Rose and me he was a member of the Soulless Sinners.
They were all fucking bastards. Dakota was one of them.
That was the reason I argued with Rose when she wanted to ask them for help.
They would never help us. The whole fucking club was at odds with each other.
Their own former president had it out for all of them.
Fuck, when our father was killed, they barely even acknowledged it.
Why the fuck would they help his kids?
“Alright, Nav, what have you found?”
The screen at the front of the room lit up with a shot of Main Street in Diamond Creek. The tattoo shop was front and center, and I could see Indie through the window.
“That fuckhead had a jammer that cut the cameras before he walked in the door, but we have cameras all up and down that road on all the businesses.”
“Did you get him?” Gunner snarled.
“Yeah, I got the asshole. His name is Sting.”
The picture of the shop disappeared and a picture of a patched brother in the Death Dogs popped up. That was my target.
“Thirty-four years old. Been in the club since he was eighteen. He’s not an officer, but he’s important.”
“Who the fuck is he?” Gunner growled. Gunner was a big son of a bitch.
And he was meaner than a bull who’d had his testicles tied up to buck off stupid, arrogant cowboys who thought they were tough.
If you hurt someone he considered family, you’d better fucking run.
And Indie was family. She might not come around to the club, but she worked for him, and Haizley called her a friend.
“Skinner’s nephew.”
“He’s mine.” I said before I could stop myself. Gunner pinned me with a look, and I added, “I fucked up. I left her alone. It’s my mess to clean.” He nodded and turned back to Nav.
“It shouldn’t surprise me that they sent a man to knock out a woman,” Jack said. “And someone almost a decade older.”
“More,” I muttered.
“What?” King asked, looking at me.
“Indie’s not who she says she is. She’s younger than you think.”
“How the fuck do you know that?” Gunner asked.
“Because I’m not fucking stupid.”
“Kid, you better watch who you’re talking to,” Cash said, shaking his head at me.
“Are you calling me stupid?” Gunner asked, standing from his seat.
I stood from mine. He didn’t fucking scare me. He didn’t know what I could do or how much I could take. How high my fucking threshold was for pain, thanks to Dakota.
“Gunner, sit your ass down,” King warned. “Mimic, explain.”
“She’s barely twenty, if that. Her papers are good. Better than mine, apparently, because you all knew I was lying. But she’s not twenty-six.”
“I’m beginning to think Bane knew what he was talking about with all that DNA shit Ghost mentioned,” Jingles said with a sigh.
“Any news on Bane?” Colt asked.
“No, Morpheus still has him,” King answered.
“If Indie isn’t who she says she is, we need to find out who she is.
There could be a reason the Death Dogs targeted her.
I know the message was for us, but she’s only connected because she works at the tattoo shop.
Why target her and not one of the old ladies?
” King leaned back in his chair and studied me.
I knew he had questions. Questions he hadn’t asked in the six years I’d been here. Questions that someday he would ask and I would have to tell him the truth.
“If Indie lied about her age, then she’s running from something,” King said. “Mimic, stay the fuck away from her.”
“Why?”
“Because I fucking said so. That’s a goddamn order and you will fucking obey it.”
King and I stared at each other over the long wooden table. What the fuck was his problem? I’d encountered Indie exactly twice. Her shit had nothing to do with me, yet I felt like I was being punished.
“Is that understood?”
“Understood,” I answered through gritted teeth.
King watched me for another moment before finally addressing Nav. “Any clue as to how we get our hands on this fucker?”
“I’ll talk to Jonah, see if he knows who he is. Maybe he’ll have something he can give us to push us in the right direction.”
Jonah Martin was our newest prospect. He’d spent a few months with the Death Dogs prospecting for them before King pulled him out at Reaper’s advice.
Jonah was a big motherfucker. Almost as big as Tank, only Jonah wasn’t done growing yet. He was only nineteen. Hell, I wasn’t even done growing at twenty-one. For the first time in my life, I wondered about my father. Was he tall? Was he built? Did I look like him?
Rose looked like our mom. Well, when her hair wasn’t pink. Her natural hair was blonde when we were kids. She told me she’d started dyeing it pink when she hit sixteen. Val wouldn’t let her change her hair until then.
I’d missed so much time with my sister. It should have been her and me against the world. And it would have been, had it not been for fucking Dakota and his asshole father.
She was here now, and being Cash’s old lady meant I wouldn’t lose her again. It wasn’t just me protecting her. It was the whole damn club. She was the top bitch here, but I wasn’t sure she realized it. Being the VP’s old lady meant something.
Rose wasn’t the type to lord it over anyone, though. She’d likely submit to Beck when it came to being in charge. Rose might be tough, but she was like our mom. Tough, but quiet. More apt to fade into the background rather than bring attention to herself.
Then again, maybe I didn’t know shit about my mom. Throughout our whole childhood, we were running, hiding. Maybe she was stronger than I thought. God, I fucking missed her.
Rose and I both assumed she was dead. We had no reason to think otherwise. Nav hadn’t been able to find anything about Vivian Greenbush anywhere.
She was a ghost. Or she had been erased. Maybe our father erased her. But did he do it because he was protecting her? Or did he do it because he had something to do with her being taken from us?
Was he part of the whole conspiracy? Torment said he was a good man. But does a good man just let the woman carrying his children walk away?
Does a good man hide in a fucking clubhouse while the woman he liked enough to fuck her and get her pregnant was out in the world, running from a psychopath alone?
No, I didn’t believe for a second my father was a good man.
He was just as much of an asshole as the rest of them.
Maybe Torment was okay. He’d helped my sister, and for that he got a pass.
Bane was an asshole, but maybe he had a reason.
George Stone had kept him from his kids too.
He’d only recently found out about Amber and Dante.
Was it possible my father didn’t know about us?
“Mimic!”
My eyes snapped to King. “Talk to Jonah. See what you can find out about Sting.”
“Yes, Prez.”
King hit the gavel on the table and stood. As he walked by me, he whispered, “I meant what I said. Stay away from Indie.” Then he walked out the door, leaving me standing there wondering what the hell he was talking about.
I shook my head as I walked into the main room, and, fuck, if the woman I was just told to stay away from, twice, wasn’t standing before me, looking sexy as fuck in her denim shorts that were so short the pockets hung below the hem, and tank top so fucking tight, the Shadow Ink logo pulled across her tits.
How the hell was I supposed to stay away from the first woman to ever make my blood pump and my dick hard?