Page 16 of Mimic

Jesus Christ, the things people are willing to spend money on. George fucking Stone spent a fortune on me. He made sure I knew it too. He called me a prize. Said my father owed him, and he was taking his payment from me. I didn’t even know who the fuck my father was until Nav told Rose and me he was a member of the Soulless Sinners.

They were all fucking bastards. Dakota was one of them. That was the reason I argued with Rose when she wanted to ask them for help. They would never help us. The whole fucking club was at odds with each other. Their own former president had it out for all of them. Fuck, when our father was killed, they barely even acknowledged it.

Why the fuck would they help his kids?

“Alright, Nav, what have you found?”

The screen at the front of the room lit up with a shot of Main Street in Diamond Creek. The tattoo shop was front and center, and I could see Indie through the window.

“That fuckhead had a jammer that cut the cameras before he walked in the door, but we have cameras all up and down that road on all the businesses.”

“Did you get him?” Gunner snarled.

“Yeah, I got the asshole. His name is Sting.”

The picture of the shop disappeared and a picture of a patched brother in the Death Dogs popped up. That was my target.

“Thirty-four years old. Been in the club since he was eighteen. He’s not an officer, but he’s important.”

“Who the fuck is he?” Gunner growled. Gunner was a big son of a bitch. And he was meaner than a bull who’d had his testicles tied up to buck off stupid, arrogant cowboys who thought they were tough. If you hurt someone he considered family, you’d better fucking run. And Indie was family. She might not come around to the club, but she worked for him, and Haizley called her a friend.

“Skinner’s nephew.”

“He’s mine.” I said before I could stop myself. Gunner pinned me with a look, and I added, “I fucked up. I left her alone. It’s my mess to clean.” He nodded and turned back to Nav.

“It shouldn’t surprise me that they sent a man to knock out a woman,” Jack said. “And someone almost a decade older.”

“More,” I muttered.

“What?” King asked, looking at me.

“Indie’s not who she says she is. She’s younger than you think.”

“How the fuck do you know that?” Gunner asked.

“Because I’m not fucking stupid.”

“Kid, you better watch who you’re talking to,” Cash said, shaking his head at me.

“Are you calling me stupid?” Gunner asked, standing from his seat.

I stood from mine. He didn’t fucking scare me. He didn’t know what I could do or how much I could take. How high my fucking threshold was for pain, thanks to Dakota.

“Gunner, sit your ass down,” King warned. “Mimic, explain.”

“She’s barely twenty, if that. Her papers are good. Better than mine, apparently, because you all knew I was lying. But she’s not twenty-six.”

“I’m beginning to think Bane knew what he was talking about with all that DNA shit Ghost mentioned,” Jingles said with a sigh.

“Any news on Bane?” Colt asked.

“No, Morpheus still has him,” King answered.

“If Indie isn’t who she says she is, we need to find out who she is. There could be a reason the Death Dogs targeted her. I know the message was for us, but she’s only connected because she works at the tattoo shop. Why target her and not one of the old ladies?” King leaned back in his chair and studied me.

I knew he had questions. Questions he hadn’t asked in the six years I’d been here. Questions that someday he would ask and I would have to tell him the truth.

“If Indie lied about her age, then she’s running from something,” King said. “Mimic, stay the fuck away from her.”