Page 29 of Mimic

“Where the fuck am I?” I rasped, desperate not to throw up, but the bile was creeping its way up my throat. I ran to the kitchen and leaned over the sink as I emptied my stomach.

The hand on my back startled me, and my reflexes kicked in. Without thinking, I swung my arm around and punched him in the stomach. A whooshing sound of air escaped, and I looked up.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

Mimic was doubled over, his hand in the air. I backed up, not wanting to hurt him more.

“Fuck, that hurt,” he said through gritted teeth as he tried to stand up, only to grab his crotch and pant heavily. Oh God, I thought I’d hit him in the stomach.

“I’m so sorry.” He shook his head but wouldn’t look at me. My back slid along the wall as I sat on the floor. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Stop... apologizing.” His words tumbled over gravel as they left his mouth. The sound of boots stomping down the hallway stopped in front of the door.

“Open this fucking door!” Gunner’s voice was loud over the banging on the door. Mimic still hadn’t stood, so I scrambled over and unlocked the door before he broke it down.

As soon as the door swung open, I found myself lifted off the ground. Gunner held me in his giant arms. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” It was all I could say as I tried not to lose my shit. I didn’t know what was going on.

“What the fuck is going on?” King asked.

I looked over at Mimic, and Kytten stood next to him, rubbing his back. She looked over at me with a grin. “He get a little handsy?” she asked with a wink.

Gunner growled and set me on the floor. I rushed ahead of him and stood in front of Mimic. “No! Stop!” Gunner’s chest pushed against my hand as he walked forward. “Gunner, please.”

He finally stopped moving. “What the fuck happened?”

“The Death Dogs showed up looking for Indie. This is Derek’s apartment. He saw them outside and knocked on the door and told me to get Indie into his apartment and lock the door. I don’t know what he did, but he distracted them long enough for us to get in here. When they made it to the floor, they kicked in her door. Said something about Skinner being pissed that they’d lost her. There were three of them, and I’m pretty sure Sting was oneof them because one of the guys said something about him being the one who found her.”

“That explains why you’re in here. Derek came straight to the clubhouse. He was just coming inside when I made it downstairs after you called and told us you were in his apartment. Why do you look like you got hit in the sack?” King asked.

“Because I fucking did.” Mimic glared at me, and I silently pleaded with him not to say anything.

Gunner took a step forward; Cash stopped him and asked, “Why did she hit you in the balls? And tread carefully, kid.”

Mimic looked over at me and said, “She was upset and threw up in the sink. She was disoriented from being woken up, and when I rubbed her back, it startled her. It wasn’t her fault.”

“Why the fuck were you in her apartment?” Gunner snarled through gritted teeth. “You were told to stay the fuck away from her.”

He was? Why? I looked at Mimic. “Why were you in my apartment? And how did Derek know you would be there?” I asked.

Mimic swallowed and looked at his president. He stood up straight and confessed, “I’ve been watching over you. And it was a good fucking thing I was, because if I hadn’t been here, they would fucking have her now.”

King looked at me, and I put my head down. I wasn’t sure how to feel right now. On the one hand, I was glad he was there. But on the other, I was livid he was in my home without me knowing. How long had Mimic been breaking into my apartment? And how had I not heard him? I was a light sleeper. Living at the Trick Pony, I learned to stay alert, even when I was sleeping.

Especially when I was sleeping.

“We will talk about that later. First, we go back to the clubhouse. Kytten, take Indie into her apartment and help her pack.”

“Pack? Why?”

“You can’t stay here, Indie.”

I looked at Gunner. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Indie—”

“No, Gunner! I’m an adult.” It took every ounce of self-control I had not to stomp my foot like a child. What was it about these men that made me want to throw a temper tantrum like a toddler?