Chapter Two

Bullet

I checked my cards. I had a lousy hand, but I tossed another quarter into the pile in the center of the table. Fuck, but I missed this. Missed Friday nights in the MC. This was the way Hellers Raiders were meant to be. Bikes, beer, and a brotherhood. A brotherhood plus one feisty beast with bigger balls than anyone I’d ever met. Even thinking of her as anything but one of the guys would have my ass in the basement taking a beat down.

“Your bet, Jazzy.” I tapped my cards on the table.

Rogue’s old lady was the first and only female to wear the Heller Raider’s colors, a full patch member of the MC. And I was the first one to raise my hand for the vote. She was young, brash, and fucking badass.

And she’d saved my best friend from a bullet to the head. Rogue and I raised hell together. We shared a lot of shit over the years, including girls. Now that he had Jazzy, those days were over.

These days were better. The club had gone legit, for the most part. Some things would never change. I’d still fight in the basement of the MC, and I’d kill anyone who threatened my Heller brothers. I lived fast, hit hard, and gave zero fucks if anyone had a problem with me.

That’s why they called me Bullet.

Jazzy, with her lips pursed, rolled a lollipop in her mouth. “Care to make a side bet?” she asked Rogue, the VP of our club.

Sully, her dad, wore the Sergeant at Arms patch. “Ah, not this shit again.” He tossed his cards on the table. “I’m out.”

Blade laughed. Our president was young, but he was solid. The kid had a shit life growing up, but then who didn’t? His mom was clean now. She gave up the pipe after her old man gave up the ghost with a lethal dose of heroin.

Rogue slammed his shot of whiskey with Steele, one of the new members of the MC. “Another round.”

I’d sponsored Steele and two of his Crawler brothers. They weren’t pussies or patch poachers. They wanted to belong to something real, a brotherhood that wasn’t laced with lies.

A few months ago, I’d infiltrated the Crawlers to bring them down. I’d nearly been exposed because I wouldn’t shoot their pharmaceutical shit into my veins, but Steele, Kodiak, and Vega had protected my identity.

They weren’t the only Crawlers wanting to patch over after the two clubs had gone to war. Wrench, their president was dead, and the Crawlers were done .

Heller’s had their own brand of justice. We took care of our own.

Kodiak and Vega worked behind the club’s bar, The Altar. Friday nights were always busy. Tonight, at church, we’d taken the vote. Three Crawlers finally understood what it meant to be part of the Heller Raiders. They were good guys who had watched their club become toxic under shit leadership. I’d buried several of their former patches in the woods of my property.

The days of menace and mayhem were in the club’s past. But I’d never be on the right side of the law. I was never giving up my girls. But we weren’t fencing parts, muling for the cartel, and girls like Kiss weren’t overdosing on H in our bathroom anymore.

I didn’t want to think about Kiss. She was a slave to black. Nothing any of us had tried had kept her off heroin.

The song changed. Hana tossed back her drink and pulled her best friend Pippa into the center of the room, and they started dancing.

“Can you stop her?” Vance, we called him Torch because of his golden arm with a welder, pointed to his sister. When Blade started fucking Torch’s little sister, the once angry asshole patched back into the MC. This was where he belonged.

Blade laughed. “You can’t tell her shit.”

Torch leaned his head back and groaned. “She’s a menace.”

Hana wore a Property of Blade patch on the back of her cut. The girl was a hundred pounds wet, but she was all fire. She’d ride or die for Blade and the MC .

Steele pulled a chair up to the table. “I need to talk to you about a room,” he said to Blade.

The MC used to be a church. The nave became the main room for our gatherings. Scarred and chipped tables scattered around the room surrounded by ladder-back chairs. The hardwood floor was original to the church, and the altar had become the club’s bar.

We fought in the basement, and classrooms had been converted to bedrooms and offices. Rents and the bar made money for the club.

I shook my head. “Your finger is still bloody from sewing on your patch.”

“I’m living in a trailer out at my brother-in-law’s jobsite.” Steele was in the middle of an ugly divorce, fighting for time with his kid.

Blade nodded to Romeo. “He’ll get you settled in.”

Romeo was the club’s treasurer. Reformed bad boy, he’d gotten with the little prude, Levi, and put a bean in her belly. How that pint-sized princess was going to push out a Heller baby was a mystery. But then she’d been riding Romeo. He’d earned his road name. They’d moved into Rogue’s room in the MC, and Rogue was living in Jazzy’s loft.

“What’s the bet?” Rogue asked Jazzy.

She popped her sucker out of her mouth. “If I win, you work my shift down at Crew Custom Cycle. I already know what you want, and you don’t have to win the bet to get it.”

Sully scooted his chair back and stood. “I don’t need to hear this shit. ”

She’d always be a club princess to her old man. What the fuck did he expect? He raised her in the MC.

“I’ll go with you.” I tossed my cards on the table.

“Awe, are you jealous?” Jazzy asked me.

I grabbed my crotch. “Nah. I still have my balls.”

I followed Sully out to the oil drum in the parking lot. Dozer tossed another log into the drum. The wood snapped and crackled as it burned.

“How’s your old man doing?” I asked him as I pulled my cigarettes from my pocket. I had a soft spot for Dozer. I saw a lot of myself in him. Pissed off with nowhere to put the anger. We spent a lot of time in the basement. Because like me, he was a fighter.

“He’s good.”

Tank had at least another six months in the country club. He’d taken a plea. I hated seeing another MC brother locked up. Men were meant to be free. That was life on two wheels.

“How’s Blue working out?” He flipped his cigarette butt into the flames.

Dozer used to work for me, keeping watch over my girls when they had a date. Watch being the right word. The kid had a couple of kinks but didn’t we all. Blue was usually outside the room when one of my girls fucked a client. Not Dozer. He was always in the room, watching. But that was before he’d fallen hard for Pippa.

Maybe Blue should watch. Apparently, the kid needed to get his dick wet. The guys had given him his road name. Blue was short for blue balls. Given the opportunity, I figured he’d jump on one of my girls. Maybe he wasn’t into girls. Or at least my girls. Paid pussy clearly wasn’t his thing.

The security gate to the MC rolled open, and a motorcycle rumbled into the parking lot.

“Here comes your prospect,” I said to Dozer.

Cruz was more like trouble, but then that was the motto of the Hellers. We didn’t go looking for trouble, but it seemed to find us anyway.

A blonde climbed from the back of his bike. McKelle waved to Dozer as she passed and entered the clubhouse.

Cruz backed his bike into a spot in a long line of Harleys.

“You sure he wants to earn the patch?” Sully slapped Dozer on the back.

“Yeah.” But the sigh that followed revealed his disappointment in his prospect.

“Then you better show him what happens when he misses church,” I said.

Sully laughed. “Go get him, Mom.” A sponsor was also known as a prospect’s mom in the club.

Dozer slid his hand into the front pockets of his jeans and went to intercept Cruz. “Let’s take a walk,” he said.

“McKelle is inside.” He hooked a thumb toward the door.

“She’ll find Pippa.” Dozer led him around the back of the church, where there was an old mausoleum. Blade and the rest of his crew called it the playhouse. It was falling apart, but it was still a quiet place to have a come-to-Jesus moment with a prospect showing disrespect to the club .

“I’m heading home.” Sully rolled his shoulders. “I’m going to see if I can get my old lady to come over and tuck me in.” He chuckled as he headed into the club. “Gotta tell my princess goodbye, or she’ll bust my balls.”

All these fuckers wanted a wet and warm woman on the back of their bike. I had six. Not one of them would bust my ass about where I’d been. Some would call me a pimp. A boss with benefits. But I worked for my girls.

I’d rip apart anyone who didn’t treat them with respect. I could admit that I loved a good fight, loved the feel of my fist crunching bone. But the only time a man’s hands should be on a woman was to give her pleasure. Even if it meant putting my hand around her throat while I crammed her full of cock.

My dick stretched behind the zipper of my jeans. Fuck watching all my brothers with their hands on their old ladies. Clover and Lacey were working at Indulgence . I’d turned the massage salon over to them when the MC had gone legit. I couldn’t have a link between my girls and what Blade was trying to build with the Hellers. He had to keep everything legal and shit for the investors he’d brought into their outside business.

Tonight, Blue was watching Jinx. Fuck if I knew where Skye and Scarlett had run off to.

Lately, I’d spent a lot of time with Bristol, including in her bed. Maybe because she’d put her life on the line for me, but she’d become more than a fuck, but not more than a friend. I trusted her, but she’d never be my old lady. She wasn’t looking for love. But she liked dick. I couldn’t imagine she’d want more than what we had either. By now, she’d be home from the strip club. I pulled my motorcycle key from my pocket.

I gave a two-finger wave to the guys around the oil drum as I rode my Harley Street Bob out of the lot. The engine rumbled between my legs, and the wind whipped across my face.

Fifteen minutes later, I had the key in the door of her condo. I growled and raked my fingers through my hair. She must have had a rough night. She wasn’t usually in bed this early.

I bent, removed my boots, and shrugged out of my cut. I draped it over the back of her leather sofa as I made my way to the bedroom.

Bristol was a girly girl. Not only was she beautiful with long blonde hair and a killer body, but she could cook.

I stripped out of my shirt as I stepped into her room.

Fuck me, she had a friend over.

The buckle of my belt clinked as the prong slipped free. I dropped my jeans and stepped out of them. I stroked my cock and walked to Bristol’s side of the bed, but my gaze was on the short brown curls on the pillow next to hers.

“Bullet,” Bristol’s sleepy voice whispered into the darkness.

“Miss me?” I asked, slipping into bed next to her. I fisted my hand in her hair, angled her head, and claimed her mouth. She whimpered as I kissed her thoroughly, sliding my tongue along hers.

“We can’t,” she quietly said against my lips .

I leaned up on my elbow and glanced to the woman next to her. “Who is she?”

“A friend. And no, you can’t fuck her.”

“You can’t have a woman in bed with you and not share.” I stared into her eyes as I ran my palm over her tummy and under the elastic of her panties. Her smooth pussy slicked my finger. “Are you wet for me?” I nuzzled her neck. “Or are you thinking about her pussy? Did she already get a taste of yours?”

“I’m not fucking her, either.” She arched off the bed. “She works at the club with me. Or she did. She got fired.”

“Are you taking in more stray kitties?” I smiled at her pursed lips.

“Yes, but she’s not going to be one of your kittens.”

I drilled a finger into her, pumped twice, then doubled up. “I need inside you.”

She gasped. “We can’t.”

“Your friend is asleep.” I tugged on her panties, and she raised her hips. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

“Okay, but you have to be quiet.” She lifted up and stripped off her thin tank top.

I chuckled. “I’m not the one who screams.” I closed my mouth over her pebbled nipple and sucked. She squeezed her tits together. I growled and bit her breast.

“Shhh.” She hissed, grabbed my hair, and jerked my mouth to hers.

“Kitten, feel how wet you are. You need dick. ”

Bristol slid her fingers onto her cunt and rubbed her clit as I fucked her with two fingers. “You win. Fuck me.”

I reached over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, grabbed a condom, and ripped open the package with my teeth. The bed jostled, and the mattress dipped as I rose onto my knees.

“I’ll do it. You’re going to wake Stormy.” Bristol took the condom from me, sheathed my pierced cock, then bent her knees and opened her legs.

I positioned between her thighs, notched her opening, and pushed into her hot, wet center. “Ah, fuck.” I rolled my hips, thrusting in and rearing back. “I’ll fuck you good, kitten.”

“Shh. We have to be quiet.” Her thighs rode higher on my hips, angling her pelvis, and I thrust deeper, knowing she needed me deep and hard to get her off. Her breaths grew ragged. “Right there. Oh, fuck. I’m going to come. Yes,” she hissed.

“I can feel your cunt choking my cock.”

The blanket tugged a bit. Both Bristol and I turned as a body thumped to the ground. Shuffling sounded from the floor. Ten seconds later, the bathroom door opened and closed with a soft click.

I stared down at Bristol and smiled. She wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my neck. Vibrations of laughter shook her body.

I gripped her wrists, held them to the bed, hovered above her, and thrust my cock deep inside her. “You can scream now.”

And then I nailed her to the bed, fucking her until tears leaked from her eyes and sweat slicked her skin. I fucked her until she’d milked my balls dry, and her nails had bloodied my back.

Then I collapsed beside her and dropped the condom over the side of the bed.

“Can I crash here?” I wasn’t one for overnighters, but I was too tired to move.

Bristol’s reply was a mumbled, “yes,” as she curled onto her side.

***

One arm flopped across my chest. Harsh morning light cut through the crack in the curtains. I reached for my cigarettes, but they were in the living room.

Bristol stretched, arching like a feline. Her fingertips roamed across my chest. I rubbed my palm over her ass.

“Coffee,” I said and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I picked up the condom off the floor and carried it with me to the bathroom. “I guess your friend went home.”

“What?” Bristol rolled out of bed, but I didn’t catch the rest of what she said as I went into the bathroom.

I dropped the condom in the trash, shuffled to the toilet, braced a hand against the wall, and started to pee.

“Do you seriously have no consideration for others?”

A stream of pee continued to echo in the room as I glanced over my shoulder. What the fuck?

“She’s in here,” I called to Bristol. “Asleep in the fucking tub. ”

“Do I look like I’m sleeping?” The pixie faced brunette glared at me with wide brown eyes. One towel covered her body like a blanket, leaving her toned legs bare from mid-thigh down. Another towel pillowed under her head. “Although, after last night, I’m not surprised you can’t tell the difference between asleep and awake.”

“I didn’t kick you out of bed.” I shivered as I finished peeing, shook twice, and stepped to the sink.

“I didn’t know staying over was an invitation to a slumber party.”

I cast a quick glance over my shoulder and smiled. “You don’t need an invite.”

“Oh my god, could you hurry?”

My flaccid cock apparently liked her bitching first thing in the morning. I hardened at the raspy tone of her complaints. “You woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

She didn’t laugh. “There was no right side to the bed last night with you in it.” She huffed a breath. “You’re invading my personal space.”

“I needed to pee.”

“When you need privacy, just ask. I would’ve given up my space in the tub, just like I would’ve gotten out of bed before you…you know, had to get busy.”

I chuckled. “When I take a shower, do you want to stay in the tub?”

“Gross.”

“That’s a no?” I watched her in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, and her gaze focused on my ass, then higher to the Heller tattoo covering my back as I washed my hands. I turned to dry my hands on the towel. A shallow gasp slipped from her lips when she glimpsed my cock.

She tossed the towel she’d used as a pillow at me.

“Bathroom is all yours again,” I said and walked out.

I snatched my jeans off the floor, tugged them on, and tucked my dick to the side. After grabbing my cigarettes from the pocket of my cut in the living room, I found Bristol in the kitchen.

I stepped up behind her to grab a cup from the cabinet. I wasn’t a cuddler, and I didn’t need placated with kisses and touches after sex. All I needed was black coffee and a cigarette.

“Thanks for last night, kitten.” I sat at the table with my mug of coffee and combed my hair with my fingers. “Who’s the girl in the tub?”

Bristol peered into the fridge and grabbed a carton of eggs. “Her name is Stormy. She’s been dancing at the Landing Strip, but shit went down yesterday.” She pulled a pan from the cabinet and set it on the stove. “She’s in trouble, Bullet.”

She was trouble with that feisty as fuck attitude. “What kind of trouble?” With a cigarette between my lips, I slid open the kitchen window.

“The kind that you and your club are known to handle.”

“The MC is out of the trouble business.”

“Just talk to her. I got a little of the story, but she’s on the run. Trav sold the club. Pretty sure the new owners are on the shady side.” She cracked eggs into the pan. “Stormy recognized one of the guys. She didn’t say it, but I think they’re mafia.”

I turned my head and blew my cigarette smoke out the window. “I don’t need this shit, Bristol.”

“Listen, don’t think I don’t remember what happened with Wrench and his asshole club brothers and the Hellers.”

That shit was on me, too. I’d put Bristol in the middle of our war with the Crawlers. A dark night for the MC. Jazzy had killed her first man. Hana had killed another. I didn’t think Blade ever told her the man she’d stabbed in the neck had bled out before I had the chance to finish him off. Even Levi had gone to war.

Bristol slid into the chair next to me. “She’s scared, Bullet.”

“I don’t want you around this shit.” No way was I taking the risk. I leaned forward and stared hard into her eyes. “That night at the warehouse, it wasn’t just Hellers, Crawlers, and cartel.” While the cartel was moving their drugs, guys in suits were moving merchandise. “We’re out clean. I’m not fucking with the mafia.”

“Maybe you could just hide her for a few days, wait for whatever has her freaking out to settle down, then we can help her get out of town.” She went back to the stove to flip the eggs. “I feel bad for her. She should have been on Dancing with the Stars, instead she’s dancing at the Landing Strip.”

I shook my head and leaned back in my chair. “I can’t.” I tapped ash from my cigarette. “I’ll help her get out of town.” But the club had come too far to risk bringing the mafia down on us .

A few weeks ago, some assholes had come into my massage parlor and escorted one of Clover’s regulars out the door at gunpoint. Fucking mafia, fucking Crawlers, fucking cartel, I was done with all of them.

I took a sip of coffee and smoked my cigarette. Bristol’s shoulders stiffened as she cut up a melon. “Just talk to her.”

“I did this morning when she bitched about my invading her personal space.”

“I need to apologize to her.” She wiped her hands. “Not only because you fucked me with her in the bed, but I told her I’d help her. I also told her you weren’t a dick.” She set the bowl of fruit on the table. “I’m not normally a liar.”

“I’m good with being a dick if it keeps you safe.”

“Good morning.”

I turned at the soft voice from the doorway. Jeans hugged her slim hips, and a V-neck T-shirt draped her small frame. She wore runners instead of heels. She was compact with lean muscle, but with soft, feminine curves.

“Hi.” Bristol grabbed a mug from the cupboard. “Do you want coffee?”

Stormy nodded and sat across from me at the table. Her gaze refused to meet mine. She’d seen the steel bar through the head of my dick. Now, she stared at the piercing through my left nipple and the ink on my chest.

“I’d ask you how you slept, but I’m afraid of your answer.” Bristol set the cup of coffee in front of her. “Sorry,” she said with a pinch in her brows and a remorseful smirk on her mouth. “I told you, no willpower. Can I make it up to you with breakfast?”

Stormy picked up the mug with both hands and brought it to her lips. “Thanks.” She absently went to tuck her hair behind her ear, then pulled her hand away. “I had some time to think, and I decided it’s best if I just take off.”

“No. Stormy, you have to wait at least a couple of days. Stay here.”

Stormy’s gaze darted to me, but she quickly looked away when she found me staring at her profile.

“I heard you talking, and he’s right. I don’t want to make my problem your problem. I’ll be fine.” She pushed her cup away. “I’ll gather up my things. I’ll stay for breakfast, but then will you give me a ride to the bus station?”

“If you’re sure.” Bristol leaned against the counter, and her gaze shifted from me to Stormy.

Stormy stood from the table and smiled. “Yeah, I’m good.”

As soon as she was out of the kitchen, Bristol slapped her spatula on the counter. “You’re really going to let her walk out of here?”

I snarled.

“Bullet, she’s in trouble.”

I stubbed out my cigarette. “You’re a pain in the ass.” I pushed out of my chair. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Thanks, baby.”

Fuck me. I couldn’t tell Bristol no. She didn’t ask for much, and this girl had gotten under her skin. There was something familiar, fragile, yet determined about Stormy. She was like a caged tiger, pacing, but would she fight or flee?

I’d rather ignore the tension building in my gut. I’d been burned enough times to know the truth of no good deed going unpunished.

In the bedroom, Stormy kneeled on the floor and sorted clothes. Before I could speak, she went on the defensive. “I didn’t ask her to get involved.”

“But she is, and that means I am. I need to know what you’re involved in.” I leaned against the doorjamb. “Who are you running from?”

Her hands stilled. “Why does it matter? I knew coming here was a mistake. I’ve got enough trouble. I don’t need issues with a pimp who rides with a motorcycle gang.”

“It’s a club.”

She snorted. “And my ex will claim what he does is just business.”

Soft curls framed her face. Long lashes outlined brown eyes. Somewhere, I’d seen her before, but she’d never been one of my girls. I’d fucked a lot of dancers, but I’d remember fucking her. Unlike Bristol, she didn’t have big tits and a tight, round ass. There was an elegance and softness to her curves. Those eyes sparked with fire.

She stood and flung her duffel over her shoulder. “Bristol is the only friend I have. I don’t care if you believe me or not, but I don’t want your help. I just need a ride out of town. I’m afraid my ex is watching the bus stations. But I’ll take my chances.”

Fuck. It was her .

I grabbed her jaw, slid my fingers along her soft skin, cupping her cheek, and tipped her face. Her lips trembled, and her throat flexed. She blinked, staring just as intently at me.

I’d dreamt of caramel eyes like hers for weeks…months. I still saw them when I closed my eyes. Defiant, yet brave. Eyes that had seen too much but weren’t afraid to glare at her enemy.

My fingers slid into her hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Remembering.” My thumb grazed her cheek. “We’ve met before, brown eyes.”

“No.” The word was barely a whisper. She swallowed hard, and a soft gasp slipped past her lips.

“You remember, too.”

She took a hesitant step back from me. “I have to go,” she stammered.

I slammed the bedroom door closed before she could run. I had my answer. She was both. She’d fight if she couldn’t run. Her gaze darted left and right. She’d been fire and attitude in the tub. Now, I understood Bristol’s concern. Stormy was terrified.

“Calm down.” I held up my hands. “You know who I am.”

“No, I don’t,” she repeated. “And I don’t want to know you.” Her voice cracked with fear.

“Stormy, sit down. I just want to talk to you.” I dragged a hand down my face, rubbing the whiskers of my goatee. “Look at me,” I said to her as I lowered onto the bed and clasped my hands between my thighs. “You had nothing to fear from me the night at the warehouse, and you have nothing to fear from me now. ”

She backed against the wall, white-knuckle gripping her duffel. “You’re not him.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Do you know how many times I’ve wondered what happened to you?” I surged to my feet, and she gasped. “I don’t know what Bristol has told you about me, but I don’t hurt females.”

“She said you kill people, you have a big dick, and that you fuck all your girls.”

I laughed.

She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her bag in front of her for protection. “Okay, she didn’t… She didn’t say that you kill people.” She stuttered. “If you were there…at the warehouse.”

“There’s no if .”

She slid down the wall and sat on the floor. Silence stretched between us, thick and sticky, coating the air with tension.

“You killed those men.”

I didn’t speak as I sat on the bed directly in front of her. There was nothing to confirm or deny. I’d been hopped up on adrenaline and violence, but I’d gone there to finish our feud with the Crawlers and end the chokehold of the cartel.

“What happened?” I asked. “You should’ve been safe with the cops.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t trust the police.”

“We got that in common. But you’re a victim. You’d be safer with the cops than with the assholes who put you in the truck. They fucking deserved what they got. ”

“Those girls were victims. I wasn’t.” Her voice lowered. “The men who put me in the truck weren’t in the warehouse. Why do you think I’m running?”

I leaned forward. “Tell me so I can help you.”

“Why would you want to help me?”

“You know why?” Because she’d been brave and beautiful. And because I hadn’t wanted to leave her in the truck. Because for days I’d wondered if the cops would show up at the MC to arrest us. We’d left a warehouse full of dead bodies. “I owe it to you.”

She pulled her legs into her chest and rested her forehead on her knees.

“I have a friend on the force,” I said. “I needed to find out what happened to you, but you never made it to the station. Where did you go?”

A knock sounded on the door. I turned as Bristol poked her head in. “Breakfast is ready.” Her gaze shifted from me to Stormy. “Everything okay?”

“Give us two minutes.”

She nodded and backed out of the room.

“Does Bristol know what you did? That you killed all those men?”

“Bristol doesn’t ask about shit she doesn’t want to know.”

“I haven’t told her anything about that night or about what happened at the warehouse. Until last night, I hadn’t told her anything about who I am. She talks about you, and I’ve seen you at the club. I didn’t recognize you without a beard. I should’ve.” Her gaze flitted over the tattoos on my arms.

“Are you going to let me help you? ”

She released a heavy sigh. “You might want to change your mind once you know the truth about me.”

“I know you could’ve told the cops about me. You didn’t. You could’ve made a lot of trouble for my club. You didn’t. I protect females, I don’t leave them alone and afraid in the back of a truck. But that night I didn’t have a choice. The guilt I’ve had to live with for leaving you and those girls has killed me.” I stared into her eyes, letting her see the conviction of my words. “I’m making the choice now.”

“You don’t have exclusive claim on guilt. I thought about you, too. You did what I couldn’t. You saved those girls.”

I lowered my voice. “Maybe we were both at the right place at the right time.”

“It was the wrong place for all of us,” she said. “Those girls…”

“Who’s after you, brown eyes? Just talk to me.”

She stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “I’d overheard a conversation. Emerson wanted the merchandise moved. He said it was getting too hot, and that he’d brokered a deal with Toja Ortiz and the Irish mafia. I don’t know. Something just snapped inside me. I didn’t care what happened to me. That night at the warehouse, I’d foolishly thought I could get the girls before they did.”

“Toja is dead.” Jazzy had put a bullet into Toja at the warehouse. He was dead, along with all his cartel brothers. I hadn’t heard shit about who was in play with the mafia, but I’d recognized not everyone in the warehouse was cartel or Crawlers.

“I know,” she said. “The news reported on it.”

“Who is Emerson? ”

“Emerson Barras, my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend. Pretty sure he’s realized that, for me, our relationship is over. It’ll never be over for him. I ignored so many red flags.” She set her bag to the side. “Too late, I figured out he’s an associate of the mafia. One of the men he works with was at the Landing Strip. At first, I don’t think he recognized me, but I knew him instantly. They call him Mars, but his name is Florian Marseglia.”

“Bullet.” Bristol screamed for me, and the door flew open.

I launched off the bed, and Stormy scrambled to her feet.

“He’s here.” She gulped a breath. “Two men just pulled in and blocked my car in with theirs. One of them is the guy from the Landing strip.”

Stormy rushed into the living room.

I grabbed my gun off the dresser, stuffed it into the back of my jeans, and followed her.

She peered out the window through the crack in the curtains. “Oh god.” She covered her lips with trembling fingers. “It’s Mars and Emerson.” Panic laced her voice. “He’s found me.”

“Go to my room,” Bristol said. “Leave the door open. It’ll be less suspicious. Stay out of sight.”

“Get back in the tub,” I said and smiled, trying to chase the fear from her wild eyes. “Go. He’s not getting in the house. Don’t panic.”

“With me, any room can become a panic room if you just give me a minute. ”

She was feisty even when terrified. She rushed back into the bedroom, kicked her shit under the bed, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Tension coiled in my gut. “Keep it simple,” I said to Bristol.

“What should I say?” She twisted her hair into a ponytail and used the hairband from her wrist to secure it. Her loose tits shifted beneath the worn Heller T-shirt I’d seen her wear a thousand times.

She was the kind of distraction we needed to keep the attention off brown eyes in the bathroom, hiding in the bathtub.

“Try to tell the truth up until you brought her here.” I shrugged on my cut. The Heller colors would make these assholes think twice about trying to intimidate my girl.

A knock sounded on the door. Bristol went to open it.

“Not yet.” I went to the kitchen and grabbed my cigarettes.

“Bullet,” she whisper-yelled. “Can I get the door?”

The knock sounded again, harder this time. I nodded, and she opened the door.

“Oh, Mars,” she yawned and stretched. “Hi…it’s early,” she said and smiled at the thicker, tattooed guy.

“This is Emerson Barras. We need to talk to you.”

“Okay, let me get dressed. I can be at the club in an hour.” She coyly tipped her head to the side. “You could’ve sent me a text to come in. ”

“This isn’t about work.” He put his hand on the door to force his way inside. “We’d like to come in and speak to you privately.”

I pulled it from his hands. “Nah. You can talk from there.”

The guy held his ground. Our gazes locked in a way that a fighter would gauge his opponent. His eye twitched as he glared at me. I might appear relaxed, but tension tightened my muscles, my gut clenched, and adrenaline heated my blood.

I put a cigarette between my lips, flicked my Zippo, and put flame to the tip. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You got something to say to my old lady, you can say it in front of me.”

She smirked at the label I put on her. Old lady my ass. But she rested her hand on my chest. “Baby, this is Mars. He’s one of the new owners of the Landing Strip.”

“You aren’t at work so he can fuck off.” I blew smoke out the door.

“I’m looking for Madison,” the man in the suit said.

Bristol stayed close to me. “I don’t know anyone named Madison.”

“Don’t fuck with us,” Mars said. “The stripper Stormy.”

“It’s okay, baby,” Bristol said before I could shove his teeth down his throat. I didn’t like the way Mars glared at Bristol.

“You two are friends,” Mars said. “Where is she?” The man acted tough. I’m sure he could raise hell, but I wasn’t easily intimidated. I’d spent too many nights in the basement with Rogue.

Bristol lifted her face to me. “Stormy is the girl I told you about last night.” She turned back to the men. “I haven’t seen her since she ran out of the club. I’m worried about her. She’s living at The Foxglove, but when I went over there yesterday, she didn’t answer her door.”

“Room number?” the asshole asked.

“Twelve.”

“She hasn’t tried to contact you?” The man in the suit slid his hand into his pocket.

Heat flared within me, and the gun at my back branded my skin.

“No.” Bristol chewed her lip and scrutinized the man. “Who are you? I mean, she never mentioned you. She never talked about anyone. I didn’t even know her name was Madison.”

“Emerson Barras.”

“What do you want with her?” I asked.

“None of your fucking business,” Mars snapped.

I took a step toward him. “You’re at my fucking house. That makes it my fucking business.”

“Your old lady is my hired help,” Mars said.

Bristol puffed up and faced Mars. My girl was protective. “I’m a contract worker, so don’t think you can play tough guy and intimidate me. I dance, but I don’t work for you. Don’t expect me to answer your fucking questions. I told you I don’t know where she is, but I can see why she bounced as soon as she saw you. ”

Emerson’s mouth pulled into a hard line. “She belongs to me.”

I wrapped an arm around Bristol and put her behind me. “And Bristol belongs to me. You want to talk to her, show some respect. Now, get the fuck out of here.” I flicked my cigarette past Mars. “If we see her, we’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”

Bristol popped her hip. “And I’ll tell her to keep running.”

Jesus. Bristol didn’t know to quit while she was ahead. At least, they’d believe her spitting and hissing.

“I have no doubt she knows I’m looking for her. When I find her, and I will, you won’t want to be anywhere near her.” Emerson inspected his nails. “I’m a dangerous man, Bristol. You don’t want to cross me. I promise you, she’s not worth it.” A deviant smile curled his lips. “At least not to you.” His gaze narrowed. “However, she’s priceless to me.”