Page 107 of Gunner

“How old is Irene?”

“Thirty,” King answered.

“And this is the only fucking picture they have?”

“No, this is the only one I’ve been able to find.” Nav continued clicking away. “It seems Kronos found someone to marry her. Irene Cooper became Irene Davids five years ago.”

“Who’d he marry her off to?” I asked, studying the photo. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out what it was about her that I recognized.

“Trent Davids.” Another minute of clacking on the keyboard and Nav stopped abruptly. “Oh shit.”

“What?” I asked, turning around to look at Nav.

“Trent Davids is a patched brother in the Death Dogs MC. Goes by Pepper.”

“You have to be fucking with us,” Blade whined.

“I assure you I am not fucking with you. I found a more recent picture. This was from two years ago,” Nav insisted.

The picture that popped up on the screen was a woman with blonde hair, lying in a hospital bed, beaten almost unrecognizable. Staring at the picture, there was again something familiar about her.

“What do we think the chances are that she’s in the area?” King asked no one in particular.

“Pepper is a patched brother. If he doesn’t hold an office, I can’t see a president moving the entire fucking club for an old lady of a patched member,” Cash countered.

“Not even the daughter of a former president and sister of a current one?” Jingles asked.

“FUCKING HELL,” King shouted, slamming his hands on the table. “We need to find this fucking girl. I’ll call Zeus and see if there are any up-to-date pictures he can send us. We need some fucking answers.”

I couldn’t agree more. We had enough of our own shit. And through no fault of our own were tangled up in the shit between the Golden Skulls and the Soulless Sinners. We didn’t need to take on shit from the Gods offuckingMayhem.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out. Why was Haizley calling me?

“Baby, what’s up?”

“G-Gunner?”

I stood from my chair so fast it fell back, slamming into the wall behind me.

“Haizley, what’s wrong?”

“I… I… um found Greg.” Her voice was quiet and hesitant.

Hitting the speaker button so everyone could hear, I asked, “Where is Greg, baby?”

“Dead on my living room floor.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Haizley

Leaning against my closed door in the safety of my home, bag of food still in my hand, I texted him a thank you.

Me:Thank you for dinner. It really isn’t necessary.

Giant:It is. You need someone to take care of you.

Me:I’ve been taking care of myself for the last twelve years.

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