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As soon as Spinner passed out, I turned toward Gunner. Catching his gaze, I tried to assess his reaction to what had just gone down. Innocent men were never brought back to these offices. So I rarely felt guilt when conducting this type of business. But the moment I pulled the trigger, my heart sank to my stomach at the thought of what I would see on Gunner’s face. Would he even be able to look at me?

He looked me up and down, assessing. But he didn’t seem to be repulsed by the type of violence I was capable of. That only slightly soothed my worry. I knew I would forever be viewed in a different light after what he just saw. I was having major regrets about letting Gunner witness this, but I didn’t know how to put the proverbial genie back in the bottle.

My palms met the rough texture of my jeans as I tried to wipe off the sweat. I was nervous about what he was going to say to me. In two steps, he had closed the distance between us. Bringing his large hand up, he rubbed on the wrinkle between my brows.

“Stop looking so worried. Do you think I haven’t seen a gunshot wound before?”

His hand slipped down to my shoulder, working on getting me to release the tension I was holding there.

A soft moan slipped out before I answered, “I just shot a man, Gunner. And not in self-defense or any other legally acceptable reason to shoot someone. Of course I’m worried about what your reaction would be,” I sassed back.

Gunner raised a brow at me. “Legally acceptable? You think I’m a cop or something?” he teased, more than likely in an effort to get me to relax.

I turned to make my way over to the door.

“No, asshole. I don’t think you’re a cop. You fucking cut off someone’s finger and threatened to shove it up his ass.” Gunner let out a snicker at the memory, making me roll my eyes. Men. “I was trying to point out that it’s a normal reaction for me to be worried about how someone is going to take witnessing me shooting someone’s kneecap.”

“Ryan.”

I paused, turning around to face him, catching him running his hand through his hair and staring at Spinner’s unconscious body.

“If you’re wondering if I think there's something wrong with you, I don’t. Right and wrong are not as black and white as people want to pretend. The gray area is where people who do the most good for others live. We are willing to bear the burden so others can stay solely in the light.”

I opened my mouth to speak but found I had no words. I had no idea how to untangle the web of emotions his words and actions brought.

Gunner

Three in the fucking morning, and I was only now getting back to the clubhouse. Ryan had insisted that she would get a ride back to her place with Nikki. I wanted to argue with her about that, but there was no good reason why I had to be the one to bring her home. Other than I wanted to stay with her longer. Which was absurd. I barely knew the woman. But being around her was like experiencing life again, stepping outside the drag of my current routine.

Fuck.

Of course, the fight night rager was still going on when all I wanted to do was lie in fucking peace and quiet and think about what I’d learned tonight. But that wasn’t what you got when you lived at an MC clubhouse. You got constant booze, bitches, and noise. Lots of noise.

“Where the fuck have you been, asshole?” Dex was sitting on one of the leather couches, arms draped over the back and a club bunny busy between his legs. The sight made me pinch the bridge of my nose. These living arrangements were not always as fun as they looked on paper. Sometimes I just wanted to go back to a typical home where the mailman knew my name and only one person fucking lived there.

As soon as that thought entered my head, so did the image of a raven-haired beauty wearing only my shirt and cooking me dinner. I shook my head at the visual. One, because that wasn’t in the cards for me. And two, Ryan would never cook my dinner like a submissive housewife. The knives in that kitchen would be for stabbing, not chopping onions.

“Dude…” Dex prodded, reminding me that he had asked a question.

“I was out taking Ryan home, but we had a change of plans when she got word that reapers were at her club…”

I let the implications of my statement hang in the air. I didn’t know whether Dex was too drunk to talk about work right now, so I tested the waters. But the instant I mentioned the MC, his gaze narrowed, and he lifted the chin of the club bunny giving him head.

“That was fun, sweetheart, but Daddy needs to do some work now.” The chick nodded her head enthusiastically, tucking Dex’s dick back into his jeans before rushing away. Tits hanging out of the front of her top and all. I had no clue how he even got girls when he said shit like that. I had known the fucker too long, and the very sound of Dex referring to himself as Daddy made me want to throw up in my mouth.

The moment she was gone, his demeanor changed.

“What the fuck do you mean there were reapers at her club?” Dex growled. “I thought the cartel didn’t work with the Reapers.”

Dex was more coherent than I’d first thought. He asked the same questions I had when Ryan mentioned that reapers were at Lotería.

I rubbed a hand over my face. “They went there looking for Mario.”

“Did she know?” he asked. His face was guarded.

I decided it was best to sit down for the rest of this conversation because I was sure Dex would have questions, especially when I told him about what happened in Ryan’s secret office.

“No.” I looked at him sharply. “The Reapers were not welcomed guests at Lotería, and Ryan didn’t know why they were looking for Mario.”