Chapter Thirty-Nine
Grizz
Each time we come to the clubhouse, Anastacia gets more and more comfortable.
Since I met her, she was eager to move forward and go on with her life.
She hasn’t said it, but I see her hesitance when it comes to the club, and I can’t blame her for that.
But she’s never refused to come. She trusts me, and so she’s learning to trust them and the whole thing—club business.
She doesn’t understand it, which a lot of people don’t, but I’m going to teach her by showing her what we do and what a real club looks like.
I can’t begin to explain how much I love seeing her with my brothers.
It makes me love her more, and somehow this club too.
She tends to gravitate toward Snapper, though he always looks like he wants nothing to do with her.
I know it’s bullshit, and I know he has a soft spot for her and Dorothea, even if he won’t admit it.
Lucian is trying to help him with that, and I think one day, Snapper will soften on the outside.
If only to Anastacia and Dorothea. Maybe when she starts to walk or talk and goes to him first. Or maybe that’ll freak him out and he’ll pull away even more.
Thinking about a drooling baby running toward him probably gives him nightmares.
Anastacia chats with Cora a lot, especially now that she’s further along in her pregnancy and loves talking about it.
Anastacia likes being helpful, and they are always talking about babies and schedules and even birth…
which was a horrifying experience, if you ask me.
I feel bad saying that, but damn… it was rough.
Anastacia remembers it differently, which I appreciate.
I don’t want her having bad memories around our baby, and not that it was bad, it was just…
a little horrific. But I’ve overheard her and Cora making plans for play dates already, and I can’t help but smile over that.
Of course, Kelsey and her chat too, but she usually stays with Tommy, getting to know every one of the guys a little better. Anastacia branches out while we’re here, talking to those she doesn’t see every day. Kels and her already have a relationship; she’s working on building that with others.
Tommy was officially made our newest prospect and he’s been doing great.
He’s paying extra attention to what everyone is doing, watching and learning.
The guys are all glad to have him here. With all the plans we have for the future of this place, we need more upstanding guys like Tommy around.
Those who don’t mind helping out, getting their hands dirty, and doing some good.
Shark has been lenient about him and I doing stuff in shifts, that way someone is always with the girls.
He’s told Coyote only what he needs to know, and thankfully he hasn’t said shit.
Had this been a few months ago, he’d have demanded to know what’s going on and threatened to boot me if I didn’t listen.
He really seems like he’s figuring his shit out, and the club is going in the right direction.
“I have news.”
Glancing to my right, I find Snapper with his typical serious expression. I can’t help but laugh.
“Oh yeah?” I grab a beer from the cooler, popping the top to take a swig.
His eyes narrow slightly. “I know where Gunner is.”
I swallow, but start to choke, and do my damn best to not spray beer everywhere—especially out of my nose. That shit hurts. And if I get it on Snapper, he’ll have a fit.
“How?”
“I have my ways. What is the plan?”
“We bring him to the cabin. I thought you knew this.”
“Yes, but when? How?”
“Is everything there that we talked about?”
“Yes.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, when Anastacia’s laughter floats above the rest of the noise.
I look over at her. Lucian is laughing too, staring down at Dorothea who is in his arms. It’s been a great day.
Spam, Ghost, Tank, and Noah spent the morning in the kitchen cooking everything to make sure we’d all have a good dinner—and we did.
Good food, good company, and lots of laughs. Perfect fucking day.
“Where is he at?” I ask.
“He’s been frequenting a bar in Den Harbor.”
“Frequenting?”
“Been there every night for the last two weeks.”
“Meaning he’ll likely be there tonight,” I say more to myself.
“Precisely.”
I look back at Anastacia. There is a smile on her face as she watches Lucian talk to Dorothea.
“We can tell her it’s club business. It’s not entirely a lie,” he suggests.
I look back at Snapper. He’s such a complex person. I’m not sure anyone, not even Lucian, could understand everything that goes on in his head. He’s quiet, calculated, and sharp as a tack. Not only with his mind but with his words.
I nod, taking another swig of my beer.
“I’m going with you,” he adds.
“That’s not necessary.”
“It is, actually.” He grabs a bottle of whiskey, pouring a small amount into two cups.
“He’s had guys with him.” He sips from one and holds the other in his hand.
“At least two. One day last week, there were three. I’d ask Shark to come, but it’s better we do this on our own. The less involved, the better.”
Shark is on that same page, so I have to agree.
“Also, we should… be discreet. Just in case there’s some shady shit going on with the Iron Runners.”
“If we don’t, then we’ll find out sooner rather than later if there is shady shit going on,” I say.
His gaze flicks to Coyote, who is in the far corner, talking on the phone.
“No, I think we let it play out how he wants.”
“I thought you trusted him?”
“My brother does, and I trust my brother. But I’m… hesitant.”
“I respect that.”
“We all should be,” he says firmly before walking away.
Leave it to Snapper to be cryptic as hell.
There are two lamps in this parking lot.
Both are busted. Which is to my benefit.
The only light is the sign above the door, letting us know this piece of shit dive bar is called Shotgun Sally’s.
The darkness hides my truck well in the back corner of the lot, furthest away from the building.
There’s nothing else around us, which could be a good thing or a bad thing. Time will tell.
There are three cars and two bikes in the lot, none of which are occupied. The only windows on the building are those tiny rectangle ones on the top part of the wall, so we can’t see shit from here. Every now and then we hear someone cackling though.
“Kinda wanna know what’s so funny,” I say when someone’s laugh reaches us.
“Fuck them,” is Snapper’s response.
I click the side button on my phone to light up the screen so I can check the time, then quickly click it again so the screen shuts off.
“Should be closing in ten minutes.”
“Yeah. Should…”
It takes twenty minutes for the first people to leave. A man and a woman who stumble their way to a beat up Toyota not far from the front door. When they start it, I’m pretty sure it can be heard all the way back in Pinehaven. That thing needs an exhaust.
“They’re going to wake up the entire fucking town,” I mutter.
“No goddamn respect.”
We wait another ten minutes before the door opens again. Someone barges out and two people follow after, laughing their asses off. Snapper sits up straight.
“That’s him.”
I note the lights are still on inside the building.
This isn’t a known biker bar, and it doesn’t seem to be affiliated with anyone else either.
That doesn’t mean whoever’s working won’t come out with a shotgun, prepared to kill to stop a fight.
People out here are crazy. But we came here to do a job, and we’re going to do it.
We open the doors at the same time, and I don’t miss the glint of metal in Snapper’s back pocket.
The guys across the lot are too drunk to notice we’re even here. Which is a rookie fucking move.
When you spend your life doing shitty things and pissing people off, you should always be aware of your surroundings. You never know when someone is hiding in the shadows, waiting to get revenge.
We’re too close by the time they see us. One guy is already at his car, quite a few spots away.
“Yo, what the fuck!” Gunner shouts, causing the guy he’s with, who was lighting a cigarette, to look up. I throw my fist into his face before he can say another word.
His friend shouts, but Snapper gets him with the taser, because we don’t fuck with guns. Heavy feet pound on the pavement, but Snapper is waiting for him when he reaches us too.
Gunner is groaning on the ground, his face full of blood.
The other guy falls to the ground too, not far away.
“Fucking pathetic,” I mutter, glancing at Snapper. “I was hoping for a fight.”
He just shrugs, nudging one of the guys with his boot. “Save it for later, I suppose.”
I use my foot to spread Gunner’s legs open, and Snapper pulls his foot back, going in for the shot. He gets him right in the nuts. Gunner screeches, tears pouring down his face.
“What a little bitch,” I say as I lean down to yank him up by his shirt. He doesn’t help, and I have to pick his ass up and throw him over my shoulder fireman-style to bring him to my truck.
“You stain my shirt, you’re gonna pay for that too,” I mutter as I toss him into the back.
Snapper is already in there, waiting with the rope to hog tie him.
He gets it done in record time, and as we peel out of the parking lot, whoever was in the bar comes out, yelling some shit and checking on the guys on the ground.
Probably should have killed them all, too, just to be safe.