It’s the saddest thing when I have to leave the most beautiful woman in bed, looking like mine. Duty calls, but I’ll see you soon. In the meantime, remember you’re mine. And if you forget, look at your gift.
Shooter.
His. I was always going to be his. It was just a matter of time.
The cool material touched my fingertips, and when I opened it, my eyes widened at the reminder that I wasonlyhis. The simple reminder brought a smile to my face when the words “Propertyof Shooter” sat along the back. I texted Melody, and was greeted with a phone call.
The next message though, just proved to Shooter that he had someone to come back to and soon. I found myself loving myself again, renewed confidence which resulted in a mirror picture of just the jacket and underwear.
Chapter 33
Shooter
Iwanted that damn picture as my wallpaper, the one where the most perfect woman is in nothing but her panties and the cut with my name on it. But I wasn’t going to murder my entire club if they looked at my phone. But it was the best thing I could look at, even two weeks after first looking at it. She was a beacon of beauty, the calm in my storm. The reason why I was smiling often.
She was finally letting go and when she put on that jacket, everything felt real, and I had another purpose of protecting everything and everyone around me.
“Watch your back foot,” I yelled out from the side, as two of our young fighters were sparing, calling out each combination, feeling the power in their strikes when they hit my mitt. Everything was too good since the night of sending a message back to the Mafia family. Hound Dog wondered if it was enough, upping security around the compound and even slowing the illegal business, just until we knew it would be good to resume.
Hank and Stray were off to the side working some of the other members of the gym. A chime from the door caught myattention, and our long lost blond young fighter walked in with a hood over his head. The man had gone quiet, I feared he was avoiding us for other reasons.
Instead of the vibrant, charming man he was, in place was a solemn man, like the world was crashing around him. His body was hunched over, like he was avoiding eye contact.
I stopped him, before he could head back to the lockers. I gave him a good squeeze, leaning down to search for the light in his eyes.
“Nice to see you,” I said softly, attempting not to spook him.
Dillon remained silent, afraid to even speak. I shook him for some attention. “Look at me.”
His sad eyes finally looked up. Dark circles appeared on his face, the tired expression on his face told me everything I needed to know. Something was eating him inside and rearing its ugly face.
“Hit the locker showers before you come onto the mat. Whatever is going on in that pretty head of yours, you’re safe. You hear me?”
Dillon nodded before shuffling off to the back. Stray stood by my side. “What the fuck is going on with that boy?”
I shook my head looking at Stray, “I have no idea, but he looks like he’s ready to snap or worse, walk off a ledge that he can’t come back from.”
Stray started to head out, but I needed to talk to him about something I have been brewing. “Hey, one second. Spar with me.”
Stray turned back on a dime, “I’m sorry, you want me to do what?”
“Spar with me,” I repeated, tapping the ring platform to signal the fighters to make themselves disappear. I wrapped up my hands before pulling out my gloves.
I had an idea that would benefit a lot of people, me included, and through connection and my idea, Amelia. Sooner or later, this was bound to happen, it was just a matter of when and the opportunity needed to happen.
Stray, a man that seemed a little bigger than me, but just as quick on his feet, stepped into the ring. Eyes lifted towards us as Stray prepared himself to spar. It felt like decades since my last fight, and if I remember the last time I was in the ring, I ended up in an emergency room looking at my future wife. Okay, it wasn’t that bad.
But that’s the dream.
Hank stood by the side, puzzled. “You want to tell me the sudden desire to step foot in here?”
“I don’t know, maybe I feel rusty and just wanted to feel the rush of youth.” I laughed.
“Rusty, my ass,” Hank scoffed. “Seriously, Shooter, what’s going on? If you need to hit something, the bags are over there. And if you need to pick on someone, pick on the prospects or something.”
I rolled my shoulders back. “It’s something better.”
“Something better? And you fucking pick me as your sparring partner?” Stray strides over, shoving me with a gloved hand.
