Chapter Six

Stormy

The MC was raucous and wild at night, but the mornings were quiet. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass above the altar. Bullet stood next to me. I didn’t want to take comfort in his nearness, but I couldn’t quell the volts of energy overloading my nervous system. I took a small step closer to him.

Half a dozen guys sat at a table.

“I wish I could remember everyone’s name,” I quietly said to Bullet.

He pointed to a guy with a shaved head. “Dozer. Enforcer for the MC. He took over after I stepped down.”

“What does the enforcer do?”

“He makes sure no one misbehaves.”

Considering what I knew of the MC, I wondered what misbehaving would entail. Guns, violence, drugs. Last night, I’d witnessed a biker snort something off a girl’s ass. “I guess it’s hard to be the rule enforcer when you want to be a rule breaker.”

He chuckled. “What makes you think I want to break club rules? ”

“Wild guess.” I twisted open the cap on a bottle of water. “Rules seem more like guidelines for you since you tend to do what you want.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. The club bylaws interfered with my business. Prostitution is technically against the law.”

So was murder, but he wanted to kill Emerson. I still didn’t want to vocalize the reality that Bullet wanted him dead. “The club doesn’t care if you kill Emerson. But they won’t let you be a pimp?”

Before he could elaborate, the huge biker I’d bumped into last night stood. My stomach clenched as he approached. A black T-shirt molded to his chest and massive shoulders. His beard did nothing to soften the firm curve of his lips.

The man was like a villain from a comic book, stripping me down to my insecurities with the intensity of his eyes. Dark and dangerous. A flash of fear scorched through my veins. Bullet was intimidating, but as a group, these guys were terrifying.

I grabbed onto Bullet’s cut. He glanced down at me, and his hand rested on my back. I was such a liar. There was something mesmerizing about being under his protection. I could feel the searing heat of his palm through the cotton of my T-shirt.

“You’re good, brown eyes.”

The biker called Rogue gave Bullet a hard slap to the back.

Blade grabbed his cup of coffee. “Boardroom.”

Dozer’s chair scraped the floor as he pushed away from the table .

Bullet moved his hand to my shoulder as he escorted me to a door off the side of the chapel.

Rogue walked on the other side of him. “If you’re worried about my support, don’t be. You know I’m always going to be a yes at the table. Whatever you need.”

Bullet’s fingers tightened on my shoulder. Once we were in the room, Blade pointed to the chairs on the left.

Now that the guys were seated around the large table, I could read the names on their cuts. Torch wore the road captain patch. Romeo was the treasurer. I remembered that Blade was president, and as VP, Rogue sat to his right.

I imagined how Bullet would look at the table with the enforcer patch instead of Dozer. Bullet was bigger, more intimidating, but there was a simmering danger to Dozer. His hooded eyes focused on me, but his expression gave away nothing of what he might be thinking. If I had to guess, I’d say he was pissed about something. Since I was the stranger in the room, I assumed his issue was with me.

I didn’t blame him. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, I averted my gaze and stared at the floor. Bullet leaned back in his chair and purposefully widened his thighs until his leg aligned with mine.

The simple touch had my heart rabbiting. I refocused on his muscular thigh beneath the worn black denim of his jeans. The fabric molded to the soft mound of his groin. I swallowed, knowing what he had beneath the faded denim. The heavy sac, the thick shaft, and the piercing through the head .

My chest tightened, and I wished I only had the memory of him in the bathroom, sleepy sexy with his gravelly voice and arrogance. But the memory of Scarlett on her knees poisoned my mind.

Bullet leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “Breathe, kitten.”

The grit of his tone sent a tingle low into my belly. How could I breathe when he draped his arm across the back of my chair? But I nodded, released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and willed my nerves to settle.

Sully was the oldest biker at the table. His patch said Sergeant at Arms. A lazy smile curled his lips, lips nearly hidden by the beard brushing his chest.

Blade leaned forward. “This meeting is off the official club records.” His gaze met Sully’s. “You okay with that?”

Sully tipped his head toward me. “I figure it’s got something to do with the girl. Bullet’s involved, so I know it ain’t nothing good.”

Bullet glanced at me, then turned his attention to the guys, finally focusing on Torch. “I know how you feel about the bylaws, about keeping the club legit.”

“Then you know if you’re here to ask us to get involved with anything illegal, I’m out,” he said. “I have too much to lose.” He pointed to Blade and Dozer. “We have too much to lose.”

Bullet’s jaw clenched. “The MC is already involved. This is unfinished business.” He took a deep breath. “Stormy was in the warehouse. ”

Torch growled and raked his hands through his hair. Blade and Rogue stared at each other and then focused on Bullet. Silence stretched thin in the room.

Bullet removed his arm from the back of my chair. The shift in his position brought his body closer to mine. Our shoulders brushed, and another flare of awareness snapped alarmingly in my gut. The scent of him, spice and cigarettes, sex and danger, came out of my dreams. I didn’t want this twist of arousal crowding into the dark place he’d lived inside of me for months.

Rogue’s gaze narrowed on me. “Who are you?”

A tide of panic welled in my throat. “Madison Jones,” I said, clenching my hands in my lap.

“She’s the girl from the truck,” Bullet said.

“Fuck.” Blade leaned back in his chair.

“Where did you find her?” Rogue asked.

A half smile curled Bullet’s lips. “In bed with Bristol.”

I furrowed my brows, and Bullet chuckled.

“She was working at the Landing Strip.” Bullet retold the events of the last forty-eight hours. How had it only been two days? I felt as if I’d been on a rollercoaster with Bullet for weeks.

Rogue tipped his head, lit a cigarette, and blew a stream of smoke from his nostrils. “How many people know you were at the warehouse?”

“I don’t know. But Emerson works for some dangerous men. He calls himself a facilitator. He’s the middleman. It wasn’t the first time I heard him talk about moving merchandise. I wish I could say it was the first time I realized they were talking about girls. ”

I knew I’d gotten in bed with a monster. Any love I’d once felt for him had been crushed under the weight of his lies.

Sully’s chair creaked as he adjusted and combed his beard with his fingers. “Why didn’t you go to the cops?”

My gaze shifted to Bullet. “Because of you.” Because like he said, something happened between us that night.

Because he’d become my avenging angel.

Because he pulled the trigger.

Because he told me we’d be okay, and I’d believed him.

Dozer opened a Zippo, struck the flint, then snapped it closed. “What about the other girls?”

“Some ran. The youngest girls went with the police. I wanted to follow up, to find out if they were okay, but I couldn’t. I had no money and no identification, so I checked into a domestic violence shelter for protection. After a month, I cut off all my hair and went to the Landing Strip and met Bristol.”

“What about your family?”

I shook my head. “The first thing my mom would do is call Emerson. After my dad died, Emerson bought her a condo and started taking care of her bills. Her loyalty is to him. She knows the kind of man he is. She witnessed the way he treated me. If you ask her, she’d say I deserve it.”

The palpable tension in the room had nausea churning in my belly. The taste of bile rose into my throat .

“I don’t have excuses.” My voice lowered. “I’m afraid of him, of the men he works for. But that night, I was done. I didn’t care what happened to me as long as I got those girls away from Emerson and his associates.”

Bullet stared hard at Rogue. “You know I’m not walking away from this.”

Rogue crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. “We need to know how this is going to blow back on the MC.”

I kept quiet as Bullet and the others discussed possible ramifications to the club. But the more they talked, the more concerned I became. They’d fought with other motorcycle clubs, guys on bikes with guns. And they’d become entangled with the cartel.

They didn’t understand the reach of Emerson’s bosses. His illegal activities expanded around the globe. His conspirators sat behind the benches of the highest courts, insulated from prosecution with their wealth and status.

I couldn’t let them help. I’d already endangered them enough. Emerson would seek revenge. His bosses would retaliate. They shouldn’t be discussing how they would protect the MC, how to keep Hana, Jazzy, and Pippa safe along with everyone else.

I stiffened in my chair. Even if they killed Emerson, I’d still be a liability to Emerson’s bosses.

Bullet covered my tightly clasped fist with his hand. Quivers rippled along my spine.

“You can’t do this,” I said.

Those strong, calloused fingers gripped my hand. “This doesn’t go away for you if we don’t. ”

Blade released a heavy exhale. “Bullet’s right. This is unfinished club business.”

Thick veins roped Rogue’s forearms as he rested them on his knees. “Everyone knows Bristol is connected to Bullet. This fucker is going to assume Stormy’s with Bullet, too. You know how I feel about loose ends. Had we known sooner, we’d already have taken care of the situation.”

“It’s off the table,” Sully said to Torch. “MC ain’t voting on this. This all started because Bullet and Blade followed that asshole into battle.” He hitched his thumb toward Rogue. “He got his road name for a reason. Bylaws don’t mean shit to him. That’s why they didn’t put it to a vote, because if shit didn’t work out right, they didn’t want it coming back on the MC. We got the same problem right now.” He turned to Bullet. “You’re not going into a fight without me.”

Bullet smiled and nodded.

“Fuck.” Romeo launched out of his chair.

Rogue slapped his hand on the table and shook his head. “Not this time,” he said to Romeo. “The little prude and the bean need you.”

“I’m a lover, not a fighter. But nah, I ride with my brothers. Levi will understand.” Romeo cocked a brow. “But good luck if you think your ball breaker is going to let you fight without her.”

“Rogue, you need to control Jazzy.” Sully chuckled.

“Fuck me. You think she listens to me? You know the answer to that,” Rogue said. “She’s your daughter. We need to keep this shit locked down. Whatever we decide doesn’t leave this room. ”

I was lost in the banter, but one thing was glaringly obvious. They were loyal to Bullet and each other.

Dozer spun his lighter on the table. His gaze connected with mine. “We were all there that night, including Jazzy.” He turned his attention to Blade. “We thought the fight was over, but there’s always going to be something. Hellers have too much history to ever have clean hands. My old man is still locked up. How many bodies have we buried in Bullet’s backyard?”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“There’s room for a few more.” Bullet squeezed my hand.

The mood changed as Blade glanced around the room. One by one, the guys nodded, everyone except Torch. He crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the wall, clearly struggling with the decision to stay or leave.

Rogue spun his chair around. “What can you tell us about Emerson? Does he have personal security?”

“There is security at his office and at the penthouse. And he has a driver who is always armed, but he says bodyguards draw too much attention. Emerson never hid his business from me. He has resources, but he never gets his hands dirty. Florian Marseglia. They call him Mars. He cleans up any obstacles for Emerson. Emerson claims he’s just a businessman. But he’s more. He’s an associate for the mafia. He does whatever they ask, and they protect him. ”

They were the reason he never thought I’d run. Florian Marseglia would slit my throat before I could utter an apology for leaving.

“Are you sure he’s mafia?” The question came from Torch. His head still leaned against the wall with his eyes closed.

“I’m positive. I can give you names.”

He unfolded away from the wall. “I can talk to Alex,” he said to Blade. “He has connections.”

“Is he a Heller?” I asked.

Torch shook his head. “A friend.”

“No,” I said and turned to Bullet. A hot wash of fear surged through me. No one else could be involved. “You said just your club. You don’t understand. Emerson isn’t someone you can implicate in a crime. He doesn’t advertise his mafia connections. People just end up floating in the river.”

“You can trust Alex,” Torch said.

“You might.” I pried my hand away from Bullet. “But I don’t trust anyone.”

“Alex has helped us before.” Dozer spun his lighter again. “He’s connected and has resources we don’t.”

“You need to trust me.” Bullet stared hard at my face. “I’d lay down my life for the men in this room. They’re here because they would do the same for me.” His rough voice grated with certainty. “You know what I’m asking of them.”

A lump welled in my chest, and my gaze slowly roamed around the room. They were going to kill for me. I’d run from a man who’d broken me. He’d controlled me, defining every moment of my life. He’d taken choices from me.

But a command from Bullet weighed on me like a cloak of security. I didn’t feel the bite of anger. I wanted to be in the shelter of his intimidation.

I nodded. “You trust him, and I trust you.” At least I was trying to. I just didn’t trust myself. I could feel myself falling, and the impact of Bullet on my life was going to hurt.

***

Unlike last night, only a few guys loitered around the MC. I found a romance book under the sink in the bathroom. I’d snooped. What else was I supposed to do with the empty hours in the day?

I curled up in the corner of the couch next to the pool table. The television above the bar was on but no one was watching it. Occasionally, someone would walk through the chapel. Either they didn’t see me or chose to ignore me, because no one other than Bullet had spoken to me.

I leaned forward to peer out the open door. This was the man I imagined on all those nights when I couldn’t sleep because fear plagued my mind. When every noise became a monster in the dark. When the whisper of wind carried the threat of Emerson finding me.

Bullet wouldn’t need to use threats for compliance. Even these men, his Heller brothers, reacted to his presence. He wasn’t a billionaire with power, but his air of danger would keep even the most powerful men from crossing him. Men like Emerson would cower .

For me, there was only Bullet, the intimidating colors of his club, the leather of his cut, the way it hugged his shoulders and carved his chest. The dark hair of his goatee, the windblown curls of his hair, and the sharp angles of his jaw.

I pressed a palm to the flutter in my chest. I had to remind myself again why I had to leave. Why I couldn’t have just a taste of the dark seduction he promised.

Because he’d never be mine. Because it hurt to know sex wouldn’t mean anything to him. I’d already been betrayed by lust once.

Turning away from temptation, I set the book to the side. I needed a distraction other than the man occupying my mind. Going behind the bar, I washed the few dishes in the sink and wiped down the counter.

I checked the time and waited for him to come through the door. Didn’t he eat? I was starving, but he seemed content to hang around the fire in the oil drum.

“Hi.” Steele came into the chapel and sat at the bar.

I smiled. “Can I make you a drink?”

“If I drink a beer, I’ll be asleep in an hour.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few dollars. “Fuck it. I could use the sleep.”

I laughed. “Ah, okay.” I glanced around, looking for the beer fridge.

“Prospects usually work behind the bar.”

“I’m playing the part of bartender, but I’m not looking for a job. ”

Steele chuckled and stood on the rungs of the chair, leaned over, and pointed to the stainless-steel fridge. “Bottles are in there. Domestic beers on tap. I’ll take a draft.”

“Okay, so that means out of the tap.” I glanced around for a glass.

Steele jumped from the stool and came around to the back side of the bar. He scooted me out of the way, bent down for a glass, and handed it to me.

“This is my first time.” I tipped the glass under the tap like I’d seen in the movies and on television. Apparently, I was doing it wrong because the glass filled with foam.

Steele stood behind me, reached around, and covered my hands with his. It was close and familiar. But he wasn’t pressing against me or crowding any closer than was necessary to show me how to hold the glass and pour the beer.

“A slow pour. Keep the glass at a forty-five-degree angle. Don’t let the glass touch the faucet. And as it fills, bring the glass upright.”

Two inches of white foam topped the beer. “I think I gave it too much head.”

Steele froze behind me. “Lucky beer.”

I nearly dropped the glass as I spun around. “Oh, god.” My face heated with a blush. “I…I…uh…”

“I’m teasing you,” he said, then glanced around the chapel. “But where’s Bullet?”

I covered my eyes with my hand. “I can’t believe I said that.”

“You’re not wrong.” He chuckled. “You do want a little head on the glass.” He dumped most of the foam then chugged some of the beer as he moved back around the bar to the stool. “I wanted to thank you again for being nice to my kid.”

“She’s feisty.” I straightened the booze bottles on the shelf so that all the labels faced forward. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but I was serious when I said I’d help her with her ballet.”

“I get her from her mother on Tuesday night for a visit.”

“It’s a date.” I clamped my teeth into my lip. “Not a date. An appointment.”

He laughed. “About three?”

I smiled. “Yes. She needs new ballet shoes.”

Steele sighed. “She’s only had those about three months.”

“If she’s wearing them like shoes, they won’t last long. Maybe let her wear the old ones and have her keep her new pair to use when she’s in ballet class.”

Steele’s jaw ticked, and his hand curled into a fist on top of the bar. “I’ll talk to Heather.”

“If it’s a problem, don’t worry about it. She’s little. Her feet will be fine.”

He pushed his beer aside. “I’ll get her the shoes for Tuesday. I think I’m going to crash.” He slid off the stool.

Bullet entered the room. Steele gave him a two-finger wave and disappeared down the hall.

“You good?”

I leaned against the bar. “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too.” He reached in and brushed away a curl clinging to my lashes. The touch of his fingertips sent a flare of heat through me. For the beat of my heart, I forgot to breathe. A knowing smirk twisted his lips. “Burgers or tacos?”

I swallowed the extra spit in my mouth. “I’m easy.”

He chuckled. “Brown eyes, you’re anything but. Come on, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Out.” He pulled his bike keys from his pocket.

I threw the towel into the sink and scampered around the bar. “Really? Is it safe?” He had me walk in front of him. “I guess that’s a stupid question. Probably not, but we need to eat. Maybe we should bring Rogue with us.” I glanced over my shoulder. “You know, he’s terrifying.”

He didn’t laugh, just hooked an arm around my shoulders, tugged me close, and kissed my temple. “That mouth.”

My heart skipped a beat. Friends , I reminded myself, even though every part of me relished the closeness. He opened the door for me but kept his palm curled around the nape of my neck.

“Maybe I should get my knife. It scared methhead Billy.”

“Do I want to know about methhead Billy?”

“Seeing as you like violence, probably not. He was my neighbor at the motel. He’s sort of an entrepreneur.”

“Did he touch you?”

Bullet’s thumb ran along my flesh. I shouldn’t want him to touch me. I shouldn’t want his teasing and his attention. But I hadn’t felt safe in a long time. With Bullet, I did. And with the pinch in his brow, he was considering ways of hurting Billy .

“No. I would’ve stabbed him. If I had a gun, I would’ve felt safer walking home.”

Bullet growled. The playfulness between us thickened into a darker heaviness. His tone mired me in wants. He was the most dangerous kind of drug. A taste would become a craving and then a relentless, unescapable slide into addiction. It would be too easy to become corrupted by him, his abrasiveness, the grit and danger.

Friends teased. Lovers were possessive and protective.

I gave him a flirty smile, disarming the brutally beautiful man who’d plagued my nights for months.

“Maybe I should get a gun. You have a gun.” Breaking the burn of his touch, I pivoted and faced him, then took a step backwards. “Rogue has a gun.”

“Mine is bigger.”

I stumbled in my steps.

“Nothing else to say?”

“I didn’t get a good look at his gun,” I mumbled.

“Good.” His hand was on me again. “Jazzy is the only one getting a good look at his weapon.”

Outside, he steered me toward his bike. Before he started the engine, he opened the saddlebag, grabbed a pair of gloves, and handed them to me. “Do you want a helmet?”

“Why don’t you wear one?”

“Personal choice. I figure I’ll die doing what I love if the road takes me.”

“That’s morbid. ”

“Nah, it’s living today because shit could go sideways tomorrow. Your choice,” he said.

I gave him a cautious shake of my head, and he climbed onto the bike and held the Harley steady while I climbed on behind him. This time I didn’t hesitate in winding my arms around his waist and bracing my feet against the rear pegs. “Don’t crash.”

He chuckled.

The gate of the MC slid open. As soon as he turned onto the road, he rolled the throttle. I tightened my hold as the vibration caused a fluttering deep in my core. His abdominals tightened beneath my fingertips. I brought my chin to his shoulder, feeling the wind on my face.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded, and he covered my hand with his. We left the city and hit the highway. The sun set low on the horizon. When the road curved, I leaned with him. The rush of adrenaline matched the blur of the asphalt beneath my feet.

With my eyes closed, I rested my face against his cut. His hand glided along my outer thigh. For this moment, I was going to pretend I was his, and that he was mine. In the encroaching darkness, it was just the two of us.

My fingers curled into his T-shirt. I felt him and the bike everywhere. In the hardening of my nipples, the quivers in my stomach, and in the heat of my pussy. In a final burst of speed, he passed a vehicle. I clenched my jaw to keep from moaning as my thighs bracketed his hips.

The bike slowed as we exited and turned into a roadside taco stand. He parked the motorcycle, but I held him a moment longer. My heart raced, and my body still hummed from the vibrations.

He pivoted, and I loosened my hold on him.

After getting off the bike, we walked to the stand. Faded pictures of menu options wallpapered the front of the taco stand. I couldn’t decide because everything looked good.

“I’m so hungry.” I tilted my head to look up at Bullet. “What are you getting?”

He closed the space between us, the warmth of his chest seeping into my back and pointed out his favorites. “I’m getting the tacos de barbacoa.”

“I’ll have the chicken tacos.”

An older woman poked her head out of the window. She smiled at Bullet. “ Listo para ordenar? Ready to order?”

“Sí.” He held up two fingers and pointed to pictures on the board. “ Con arroz y frijoles, por favor .”

She nodded and hollered to someone in the back. Bullet paid for the food and two bottles of water, then cupping my hip, he led me to a small, weathered, bistro table on the left. He set the drinks down, then pulled a cigarette from his pack and clamped it between his lips. The flame on his lighter danced in the warm evening breeze as he inhaled.

“I wouldn’t know this place was even here,” I said, to fill the awkward silence between us. I’d gone from going to ice cream shops with my friends during high school, to getting involved with a wealthy criminal.

Emerson had standing reservations every Thursday night at eight at Tuscany in the city. He’d never eat from a place where half the menu had been faded by the sun. He required valet parking, a bottle of Marcassion Chardonnay, and a wait staff to impress.

Bullet faced me and rested his forearms on the table. “Rogue and I used to ride out here a couple times a month.” He took a drag off his cigarette. “After that night in the warehouse, his priorities changed.”

I waited for him to elaborate.

“If Jazzy hadn’t been there, Rogue wouldn’t have made it out.” Bullet squinted into the night and flicked ash from his cigarette.

“What happened after you closed the door on the truck?” I remembered the hollering, the gunfire, and the stench of sulfur.

“We couldn’t leave witnesses.”

“But you did.”

His gaze locked on mine. “The situation was fucked from the beginning. We had to get out from under the cartel. The Crawlers had a hit out on Blade and Rogue. We’d planned for months. I fucking shot Rogue to prove my loyalty to the Crawlers. Left my club, spit on my cut, and turned my back on my brothers.”

The woman hollered that our order was ready.

Bullet stubbed out his cigarette. “I’ll get it.”

My chest ached. I’d been focused on what that night had meant for me, I hadn’t considered what Bullet had been through. I didn’t need to know all the details to know he had scars.

He set the open cardboard box on the table. “White wrappers are the barbacoa, yellow are chicken.” He handed me a plastic fork. Styrofoam containers were filled with rice and beans .

I grabbed one of the chicken tacos. I took a big bite and moaned as I chewed. “Oh my god, this is good.”

Bullet paused, reached over the table, and gathered a drip of sauce from my lip. My tummy flipped as he sucked the flavor from his thumb. “Mmm.”

I swallowed hard and held the taco over the table between us. “Do you want a bite?”

Bullet leaned in, wrapped his hand around my wrist, parted those full lips, and ate half the taco in one bite. I stared at the remainder of my taco and laughed. “Remind me not to share with you.”

He smiled as he chewed and swallowed. He opened his second taco and offered me the first bite. I shifted onto my knees, braced my hands on the table, and leaned over. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and took a huge bite.

Barely able to close my mouth, I groaned and tried not to choke. Juices leaked from the corner of my mouth and trickled to my chin. I sat down, gathered the drip, and sucked my finger into my mouth.

“Yours is better.” I garbled the words as I chewed, trying not to let any taco fall out of my mouth. Tears filled my eyes as I tried not to laugh.

“I’m not going to let you eat in public.” He shifted on his seat, looked around confirming no one was nearby, and he slid his hand into the front of his jeans and adjusted his cock.

“Are messy eaters a thing for you?” I asked, swallowing the last of the bite and picking up the bottled water .

“I was wrong when I said your mouth was only good for bitching.”

My eyes widened.

“Suck your finger again and the ride back is going to be uncomfortable for me.”

I picked up the napkin and wiped my mouth. He dug into the rice and beans, but my appetite had morphed into a different kind of hunger.

“You’re thinking too much, brown eyes. I just meant your mouth is made for smiling. You have a nice laugh, too.”

“Oh.” I forced a chuckle, but I had to admit, that stung. I unwrapped the other chicken taco, but the image of Scarlett on her knees still burned in my mind. In that moment, I’d wanted to be her. But he was teasing, and I was still humming with pent up sexual energy. “Really?”

He shrugged. “No.”

“What?” I tried to laugh his comment off again.

“Fuck, Stormy. Yeah, you have a beautiful smile unless you’re directing it at Steele. Then I fucking hate it. Same with your laugh.”

“Probably how I felt about seeing your dick in Scarlett’s mouth.”

I’d mumbled the words, but he heard. He closed the container of rice and gathered up the wrappers. “That shit won’t happen around you again.” He stood and took the containers to the garbage. I finished my water, tossed it into the trash, and followed him to the motorcycle.

He threw his leg over the bike. I rested my hand on his shoulder. My stomach tumbled with regret. I shouldn’t have said anything. “I’m sorry,” I softly said as I settled in behind him.

“You got nothing to be sorry about.” The engine rumbled, and the bike rolled forward. “Last night was a mistake. I wanted you, and I used Scarlett.”

For the first couple of miles, his shoulders were stiff. I was careful to keep my hands still. Whatever progress we’d made seemed to have evaporated with one careless comment. Maybe he was waiting for me to make it okay between us.

A flare of anxiety stripped my confidence. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his back. It wasn’t as if our friendship could be any more difficult or get any more awkward. I splayed my hand and gently rubbed against the scallops of muscle on his stomach.

Bullet took his left hand from the bike and covered mine. He slid his fingers through the crevices of mine until they interlocked. A slip of relief heated my blood. I didn’t want to fight with him, not when I’d already fallen for him.