Page 112 of Gunner

Shotgun and Patch hauled the tote outside, returning it to the van, and bringing in another one to carry my supplies when I was done. Gunner took Haizley upstairs to shower, while I rolled up the rug that Greg had landed on. It wasn’t worth trying to clean; it would need to be burned as well.

Giving Greg’s keys to Patch, he left with the car, taking it to the shop for Ace and Tank to tear apart and break down. The parts would then be sent to Arkansas for the Mother Chapter to sell. No stone would be left unturned.

When I heard the water upstairs turn off, I went up to grab the bags with the clothes and Gunner’s cut. Knocking on the door, Gunner opened it a sliver.

“I need to check her over,” I reminded her.

“No.”

“Brother.”

“You ain’t seeing her fuckin’ naked,” he growled.

With a heavy breath, I explained, “I don’t need to see her naked. I need to check her fingernails and hair.”

“Give us a second.”

He closed the door, and I waited in the hall until they were both dressed. When he finally opened the door, I could see Haizley’s eyes had already begun to blacken. We would need a plausible story for her broken nose.

Silently and methodically, I checked her over. Earlier, Gunner had been briefed to start with her hair, washing it three times before working his way down. Looking over her nails, I was satisfied they were clean as well.

“Ok, she’s good. Are you taking her to the clubhouse?”

Haizley pulled away from us and walked to her room.

Rubbing his hand over his face, he exhaled. “No, she wants to stay here.”

“Is that a good idea?” I asked, staring in the direction she went.

“She’s the therapist. I have to believe she knows what’s best for her.”

“Ok, brother. I’m gonna start here in the bathroom, then move downstairs. Shotgun and I will be here most of the night. You gotta stay up here until I’m done. The bathroom should be done in about an hour, so you can use it after I go back downstairs. Key is on his way over to fix the door. I’ll lock up when I’m done and leave the new keys on the counter.”

He nodded and followed his woman to her room.

She hadn’t said a word to any of us since we got here. I hoped she had talked to Gunner in the bathroom. I knew enough about trauma to know she needed to talk about what happened. Otherwise, it would take longer to heal. But Gunner was right. Haizley was a therapist. She knew what she needed to do.

Taking the bags with the clothes the two of them had been wearing downstairs, I handed them off to Shotgun to put in the van, making sure he knew one of them held Gunner’s cut.

Then I got to work.

Seven hours later, I felt satisfied there was zero trace left of Greg Williams anywhere in Haizley’s house. I had sent everyone else home before Shotgun and I started cleaning. King took Greg’s wallet so Nav could do a dive into him and find out what we could. That would be burned, along with everything else, once we were done.

With one last look, I triple checked everything. The prospect had done a good job with the door. Dropping the keys on the kitchen island, I locked the door and climbed on my bike. Shotgun had left with the van, and I would meet him back at the clubhouse. After I took a ride to clear my head.

When King started the chapter here in Nebraska, he had been in the Silver Shadows MC for fifteen years. Despite him wanting this to be a legit club, he knew anything could still happen. A large kiln had been built on the back side of the property. If anyone asked, the club girls enjoyed making pottery.

The reality was, we used it to burn our evidence.

Always leaving zero trace.

Chapter Thirty-One

Haizley

Gunner carried me upstairs after Patch set my nose and cleaned and stitched the cut on my cheek. I didn’t know how I would explain the broken nose and cut on my face, but that was a problem for later.

A more pressing concern was rescheduling my next few days’ appointments. But again, I could do that in the morning. I hadn’t said a word since Gunner broke through my front door, but that hadn’t stopped my brain from running through everything that needed to be handled.

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