Page 49 of Gunner
I returned my phone to my pocket and leaned back, knowing I had a few hours before I needed to be home. Skid watched me intently, and I stood from the couch.
“Let’s smoke and see if we can come up with a plan.”
He joined me on Mick’s spacious back deck and we shared a joint while we worked out the details. Whatever came next, I knew I had Dalton by my side. Together, we would send Skeeter,Wilson,whatever his name was, straight to hell for what he did to Sadie. After that, we would confront Smokey and Bullet.
Heaven help them if they tried to stop us.
Chapter 20
Sadie
Ihad been lying inbed, enjoying my book, when my phone chimed from my nightstand. Reba had already called to tell me she and the kids were settled at her house, so I knew Jacob was safe. I expected it to be Kade and was shocked to see it was a message from Needles.
Needles:I’ve got time tonight if you want to get started.
I debated on my reply and swallowed the nerves that kept me from going through with my plan. I wanted this and I felt it would help me bury the last of the ghosts that haunted me from that night.
Me:I’ll be there in thirty minutes.
Needles:Back door is unlocked. Park around the back, so we aren’t disturbed.
I quickly changed into a pair of yoga pants, a tank-top, and one of Kade’s hoodies before slipping my feet into my tennis shoes. I let Bear out to use the bathroom and checked that the fire was safe to leave the house. The big dog curled up in front of the low flame, and I grabbed my small wallet clutch and keys before locking up the house. The drive over to Needles’s shop took less than ten minutes, and he was standing next to his motorcycle when I pulled up.
He smoked a cigarette while he leaned against the brick wall of the building, and I took in his appearance, thinking how handsome he was. Blond hair that was longer on top and shaved on the sides revealed tattoos along the sides of his head, he had gauged piercings in his ears and barely any skin left untattooed. His chest was wide and his waist tapered before leading to his tree-trunk legs. As I got out of the car, I silently wondered if he was tattooedall over.
Small snowflakes fell from the sky, and I pulled the hoodie over my head as I walked the short distance to him. He blew a plume of smoke into the air and stomped his cigarette out under his heavy black boot before pulling me into a sideways hug. I’ve known Needles for almost eleven years now, and he was the kind of guy you called when you were backed into a corner and needed help. He would drop everything to help, and if someone needed to be taught a lesson, he was quick to deliver their education at the end of his fists.
His father, Torch, was the former president of the club, and I remember the sadness in him when his father died close to ten years ago. He was a teenager who was lost without his only remaining parent, and with his older half-sister and her family living a few hours away in Missouri, he left Portstill until he was eighteen.
When he returned, he was no longer the soft young man I remembered. Instead, there was a toughness in his eyes that told me life had gotten harder for him. He always had a smile for me, and I knew, somehow, he understood the pain and shame that still resided deep inside me, refusing to leave no matter how much therapy I had.
“Are you ready for this? You don’t have to do it if you’re having second thoughts,” he remarked as he unlocked the back door and disarmed the security system.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. If I keep putting this off, I’ll never do it.”
He nodded his understanding and led me to his private room. The artists who worked at his shop all had partitioned booths in the front, but Needles did all his work behind closed doors. I didn’t know if it was the intimate nature of the tattoos he did or some other reason, but he preferred not to have eyes on him while he worked.
