Chapter 9
Shooter
When the prospect had a task, he was relentless and thorough. I gave him twenty-four hours, and he returned it in two hours.
Maybe I misjudged his skill.
He sent me over what I wanted, and then some. And what I found fueled my hunger for Amelia.
I read through every detail.
Name: Amelia Grace McDonnell
Maiden Name: Flynn
Age: 31
Occupation: Emergency Department RN
Birthday: March 29
Marital Status: Pending Divorce
The first few lines were already putting me in a tailspin. Was that what she was hiding? A divorce? She was married. She would have mentioned or hinted at something or the very least a wedding ring. I never pegged her as a cheater.
For fuck’s sake she kissed me.
She kissed me. But “pending divorce”.
I jumped to the marked page to read more, because I needed answers and I was impatient. She could tell me everything in her own time, her story, but I needed facts.
Reading through the few pages about the timeline, it had been five years since the initial process. She was the one to begin it. But why? Those answers wouldn’t come to me from the pages, but her lips. She was waiting on him. This Chris McDonnell. Seven years attached to some fucker.
Even his name was a good enough reason to leave his ass. His looks even attested to that.
I scratched my chin, rubbing through the beard, wondering where the silver lining was, because going through that stack of paper was draining me, tearing at my heart.
Pages of school records, achievements, even some incident reports from the hospital, a couple of police reports with Greene’s name on them.
She was one tough woman, life throwing her enough curveballs, I was surprised to see her still standing.
There was a knock at the door. I growled, “Go away.”
Another knock.
“Fuck off,” I answered again.
“Just say if you’re jerking off, stupid.” Stray’s voice came through.
“What do you want?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the pages. I was still looking for something to explain the bruising, the marks on her skin, the sadness in her eyes. There weren’t any new incident reports from the hospital. I had to rule that out.
The door swung open, Stray started to lean on the side. “It’s rude to have a conversation through the door instead of in person.”
“And when am I not rude?” I groaned.
The nosy fuck strode behind me at the desk, reading over my shoulder. I was already angry from reading, his presence wasn’t helping. Stray bent down, trying to get closer. I threw my elbow to his stomach. He hurled over, coughing from the impact. “That’s for reading over my shoulder.”
He cleared his throat. “Do I want to know who the latest victim is and when you plan to skin them alive?”
He was somewhat joking, but not far from the actual truth. I’d stalk, I’d wait for it out until I knew when I needed to strike or not. Some of the methods I used to prove points or lengths to protect the club could be questionable. Okay, they were pretty questionable.
“Not so much a victim, scratching some kind of itch,” I muttered.
Stray’s sweat and smoke scent turned my nose, fully distracting me from my task. “Did you actually need something, or are you truly trying to piss me off tonight?”
I turned and faced him, he stepped back clutching his chest dramatically. “Ugh, I’m hurt.” I rolled my eyes. Stray shook his head. “Nah, I was training with Dillon, young buck is still sulking that he hurt you. Keeps asking when you were coming back.” Stray leaned on the dresser.
Knowing my condition and the course of treatment, it would be a while before I was back in the gym.
I was already slacking on my duties. I needed to be there when shipments were coming in, I needed to check in on the businesses and the “businesses”.
There were a few “handlers” that I needed to speak with.
Being down for the count was not on that list of things to do.
“The boy doesn’t need to worry about me,” I said mildly, that no one really needs to worry about me, except one woman.
“So, you gonna tell me what’s in those pages that’s got you looking like a mad man ready for his next hunt?”
“Are you just barging in to be a pest?”
Stray shook his head. “No, Twitty wanted me to give you a heads up that there’s been rumors there’s new blood in the city.”
I crossed my arms. “Meaning?”
There should have been no new blood in the city, we had taken care of a rival club a few months back and didn’t need to worry about competition. I think there had been enough warnings and blood on our own hands to ward off anyone that thinks they could just roll into our territory.
“Meaning we need to keep an ear out.” And quite possibly a visit from a certain man on the force that was in too deep to let anything slip past us.
Stray didn’t say a word, I thought he would have just escorted himself out of my bedroom. Mainly I just wanted him out of sight before something exploded in me. He cleared his throat, and I dropped the papers one more time.
In anger, I found one of my hunting knives on the desk, reached for it, and thrusted the blade into the wooden desk. I was already itching for blood. I was so pissed off, and when the searing anger didn't let up, that’s when I lost control.
“I know that look, brother, and I just need to know if someone’s going to die,” Stray cautioned, dancing around the real question. Who was I going to bury alive? And if he didn’t leave my room, he would get his answer.
I shook my head. “Not now, but I’m only going to say this once. Stay out of my way.”
Stray knew, maybe more than others, but he knew that I was relentless. That’s what made me the perfect soldier, the perfect club member, the perfect partner. I would never give up and I’d go until my last dying breath for the person I loved, for the people that were my family.
Stray left without another word. And the silence that I’d become accustomed to welcomed me with my wandering thoughts.
Back to the same chaos, finding out what Amelia’s troubles had made me more hesitant.
She was already in trouble that she shouldn’t be in, a true victim in this case.
Darkness and disappointment consumed her, and the sane part of me said that I needed to stay away from her.
She wasn’t looking for a white knight, she seemed to just need love and a partnership that wasn’t going to suck the life of her.
If I came into her life, she’d be stuck in the secrets of the club, away from a normal life.
But the possessive side of me knew that I wanted her, from that moment in the hospital to when I had her in my arms and she pressed a searing kiss on me. I could show her a true love, a true devoted man would do just to keep her happy, to keep her smile.
I was a sucker.
I’d chase after her, bring her out the side of her that she’d been hiding.
The final page was the nail in the coffin. Paycheck stubs and banking statements.
She had been paying off debt to someone.
There was little information, but like clockwork every other week, there would be a withdrawal of nearly a thousand dollars.
Her bank statements showed very little transactions, the bare necessities, nothing too extravagant.
It looked like sometimes there was a take-out meal here or there or a trip to the bookstore and sometimes to a hair salon.
Modest and simple. But she deserved more, to be spoiled, to be doted on.
She was paying for something, and I needed to know more. Was that why she took this side job? She needed the money but was too proud to say anything or was it embarrassing?
I would wear her down eventually. But the timing was even better. She couldn’t walk away from me. Not that I would let her.