Page 13 of Gunner

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I wondered what the hell I was thinking. She wasn’t the woman for me. She was pure. She was classy. I would ruin her. God, I wanted to ruin her.

When I was done with Dave’s tattoo, I went to the desk. He paid his bill, and I opened up the calendar. I wanted her name. Her full name.

Haizley Walker.

I added her address and phone number to my phone.

Why, I didn’t know. I just needed to have it.

Closing down the system before Indigo caught me, I went to clean my station. I had never been more thankful for the winter. I could drive by her house and see where she lived. But because of the snow, I had to take my truck.

Which meant she would never hear me coming.

Chapter Four

Gunner

I had been watching her for days. Every time I left the shop for lunch—an offer I made increasingly often—I drove by her house, as I did every evening when I finished work. Her car was always in the driveway.

It was as though she never went anywhere. But I had run into her twice. Once at the bar and then at my shop. Were those chance encounters? Had fate stepped in and put her in my path on the rare occasion she left the house?

She hadn’t rebooked her appointment with Indie. It was for a piercing. She wanted a vertical clitoral hood piercing. From the moment I saw the entry in the appointment book, all I could think about was flicking that piercing with my tongue.

I needed to think of a way to convince Indie to remind Haizley to rebook the appointment, but in a way that didn’t make me sound like a creep.

I just hadn’t figured that out yet.

It needed to be soon though.

The healing time was four to six weeks. That gave me time to seduce her. To coax her into my bed.

Was this what my brother Ghost was going through? Was this why he was so obsessed with the woman he’d met in Oklahoma?

I hadn’t even seen Haizley’s pussy, let alone tasted it, and yet, it was all I’d thought about since I met her.

I was sitting in my truck on her street, a few houses down, so she wouldn’t notice me when she walked out her front door. She looked around as though she could feel my eyes on her.

Finally, she climbed into her car and backed out of the driveway.

I waited until she got to the end of the street, then pulled out behind her. Following her, just far enough back that she didn’t notice me, I watched as she pulled into the grocery store.

I quickly dialed Beck’s number.

“Gunner?”

“Hey, Beck. I was swinging by the grocery store and wanted to see if you needed anything for the clubhouse. I know the prospects do the shopping after you give them a list, but is there anything we are out of or they forgot to pick up?”

“Actually, yes.”

“Great. Can you text me a list?”

Pulling into a parking spot, I heard my phone chime.

Unlocking the screen, I cursed.

“Jesus Christ. Did they even go to the store for her?” I muttered out loud, looking at the list of at least a dozen items she needed.

I climbed out of my truck and headed toward the door. Grabbing a cart, I searched the store, looking for my target. There was a benefit to being six foot eight.

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