Page 17 of Bullet
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 afriendon 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.