Sunshine and Bullets Page 2

  I swallowed my emotions. When Blaise said things like that, it made me question if there was more than friendship between us. I had to consistently remind myself that it wasn’t like that with him—or with any of them.

  “It’s almost annoying how easily you find me,” I huffed. Last week, Gavriel, Blaise, and Ryker crashed a date I was on.

  “Are you still mad about your date?” Blaise asked with a laugh. “That guy was a dick.” He leaned back in his seat and rested a single hand on the steering wheel.

  “I’m never going to get laid if you assholes keep running everyone off. This is the third time you've crashed one of my dates. Next time, I’ll make the guy take me out of Chesterbrook,” I joked. The guy was our class valedictorian, and his mom was best friends with Dad’s campaign manager. There was nothing romantic about our date, but Blaise didn’t have to know that.

  Without warning, Blaise slammed on the brakes. I gripped my seatbelt and braced my feet on the floorboard.

  After pulling over and putting the car in park, he shifted to face me. “You wanna get laid, Sunshine?” he asked in that cocky tone I’d heard him use on the girls he messed around with.

  “M-maybe,” I replied.

  Blaise crept his hand up my thigh and leaned in closer. My breath caught in my chest. Was this really happening?

  “You wanna fuck some boy? Let him buy you a cheap dinner and suck him off in some fancy car his parents bought?” he asked.

  I felt him drift even higher and tensed. It took a lot of effort to force my eyes to stay open. I wanted to enjoy the feel of his hand seeking the heat between my thighs, but I couldn’t let him see how much he affected me. I’d never hear the end of it.

  “I’ll never get the chance if you keep crashing my dates, Blaise.” I was impressed with my ability to keep my shaky voice even despite how much I craved his touch.

  I knew this was just a game for him. All the Bullets liked pushing my buttons. I wasn’t necessarily a prude, but I was inexperienced. I wanted more—from all of them. We'd cuddled. Had lingering stares. Flirtatious banter. But we never went too far. Never crossed the invisible boundary that would ruin our dynamic.

  Every time they danced along the line, smirking at my blushing face and teasing when my breath hitched, they broke down my carefully constructed illusion about our friendships. They knew how to bend a woman to their will. And they loved to leave me guessing what they did behind closed doors with their girlfriends of the month.

  “Then I guess I’ll have to crash every damn date you go on.” Blaise winked at me before pulling back and putting the car in drive.

  The abandoned restaurant at the corner of Main and West Street was filled to the brim with bodies. They were like vultures circling, waiting for something to happen. Blaise walked in like he owned the place, and the moment Brooklyn saw him, she flocked to him like a magnet of cheap perfume and desperation. She was pretty—long brown hair and full lips. But all I saw was the rigid way she carried herself, almost like a toy that was always wound up.

  Brooklyn and Blaise smiled and greeted people while I gaped from behind. It was surreal seeing how he commanded the room. I always knew that I only saw a small part of the Bullet persona, and usually, I preferred it that way. But tonight, I craved the full effect.

  I spent a few moments observing the crowd. It didn't take long for me to realize that there were three types of people here. Some of them were out for blood. They saw an opportunity to displace the brutality that lived inside of them. They let the Bullets act out all their gruesome fantasies then got off on it.

  Then, there were the gossips. They showed up to whisper about how tragic it all was. They clutched their cross necklaces, whispering prayers over the bloody offering before them.

  Lastly, there were those enamored by Gavriel and his band of misfits. Since Gavriel showed up four years ago, the entire town watched from a distance. The Bullets’ devotion to chaos demanded attention.

  I was the only one that knew the truth—the Bullets were strong and fierce, but they were also broken.

  Blaise stole a ball cap from one of the guys chatting up a girl beside me. He held it out to people, nudging them with stern glares and then clapping their backs as they dropped the price of admission in. He walked around the circle until he came to me. I took in his plump lips framing a bright smile before dropping a twenty in the collection. His smile widened, pleased by my communal offering.

  "Look at you. Already fitting in." His eyes shown mischievously.

  Blaise always teased me for keeping to myself in school. At the beginning of our unconventional friendship, the Bullets tried to get me to tag along to their ragged adventures, but I had too much to risk. They only saw the surface of my family's fucked up dynamic, and I intended to keep it that way.

  I looked up at him through my thick lashes as Brooklyn grabbed the crook of his arm, steering him away. He turned to look at me, debating whether he should leave, but I waved my hand. I didn't need a babysitter, and I knew I’d never fill the role that the many women who rotated in and out of their lives did. The Bullets liked their women raw, confident, and damaged. I was unwilling to compromise our friendship for something temporary. I preferred their loyalty in the form of friendship—or at least, that's what I told myself.

  Someone brought out speakers and began playing music with an adrenaline-boosting beat. I looked over to my right and saw Ryker, the newest recruit, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette. The milky white clouds from his death stick filled the space. The sharp, musty smell made me cough.

  "That'll kill you," I said.

  "So'll fighting." He took another slow drag.

  His long, dirty-blond hair was tied up in a bun, and his well-defined muscles pressed against the tight fabric of his shirt. Ryker had pale skin and vibrant, green eyes. His peach lips were curled around the white cigarette, and I watched as he puffed out rings of smoke. I was always amazed by how mature and wise he seemed. He moved with intention. Despite being the quietest person in the room, when he did speak, it meant something.

  "I don't get it," I said to myself. "Why do it? Why fight? It’s easy enough to walk away, right? Is it just some macho display?" I crossed my arms over my chest.

  Ryker threw the butt of his cigarette on the ground and smashed it with his red sneakers. His green eyes were bright and blinding. For a moment, I stilled, captivated by his good looks. His moody expression was sultry, demanding. He smelled of smoke, but there were undertones of another scent I couldn’t name.

  "Sometimes people need an opportunity to bleed. Gavriel lets us hurt each other so we don't hurt the people that matter." His watchful eyes appraised my long legs and too-short dress. "You look good, Sunshine," he added before heading towards the center of the crowd. I watched him walk away in his red gym shorts and a tight t-shirt. All the guys called me Sunshine, but he was the only one that made it sound like a prayer. His voice danced over the syllables, and the sound of it made me want to hum at his bass melody.

  Ryker ripped off his shirt, revealing an impressive array of defined muscles. A scrawny announcer danced around the center of the room, high off the energy of the antsy crowd. "Knockout wins. Keep it clean, no cheap shots. And don't just stand there either." His voice squeaked and the crowd laughed as his face turned red.

  I pushed myself off the wall and inched closer, my gaze intent on Ryker. I watched as he closed his eyes, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looked far too comfortable for someone about to get the shit beat out of him. Ryker popped his neck and massaged his knuckles in the center of the makeshift ring as the crowd parted. I turned my attention to the left to see the man of the hour—Gavriel Moretti—taking purposeful strides towards Ryker. It was like he moved in slow motion. Everyone's gaze locked on the broody Bullet leader before more cheering erupted.

  His stern brown eyes looked daring as they locked on their target. He’d combed back his jet black hair, and his tanned skin, alluding to his Italian heritage, g
listened with droplets of sweat. He'd spent the last thirty minutes running around outside to burn off the excess energy. He once told me it was how he prepared for fights.

  "Look who it is! Summer Bright." A blond guy fell into me, spilling beer on my dress as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The interruption caused me to tear my stare away from Gavriel’s flexed, unyielding stance.

  "Can I get Chesterbrook’s good girl a drink?" he asked with a sly smile that made my stomach churn. “Although I hear you’re the Bullets’ dirty little secret. I'm willing to bet you’re not as good as you want everyone to believe.” I opened my mouth to refuse when a hand jutted out between us and connected with his chest, pushing him away.

  Blaise had returned and was not amused. "She doesn't want to be date raped tonight, Lionel."

  I took a step behind Blaise. Lionel balled his fist like he wanted to punch Blaise in the jaw.

  "Whatever, dick-breath. We all know you’re Gavriel’s bitch. There's a reason we never see you in these fights. It’s ’cause you’d get your ass whooped," he said before pushing through the crowd, away from us.

  I let out an exhale and tried to look unaffected. That wasn’t the first time people had accused Blaise of being Gavriel’s bitch. People didn't get it. There was a certain air of codependency about their relationship. Bullet loyalty was bred from the harshest of pasts. I saw their brotherly love for what it was—a lifeline.

  Off to my right, Brooklyn was hanging onto a guy that appeared only mildly interested in what she had to offer. I wondered if she had ditched Blaise for the night or if it were the other way around.

  "Stay right here,” Blaise said, bringing my attention back to him. “I can't wait to see Gavriel's face when he realizes that you're actually at one of his fights. He’s gonna be too worried about you to focus. Shit, Ryker might actually have a chance.” Blaise chuckled while slapping a palm on my shoulder. “I should go place a bet."

  I rolled my eyes as Blaise disappeared into the crowd once more.

  Although there was a certain mysterious appeal to the Bullet’s fight club, I preferred our time alone. In our quiet moments together, we weren’t an accumulation of the various stereotypes the world labeled us with. We were just four friends.

  The music cut as Blaise returned, and for a brief moment, there was complete silence. No one moved. No one spoke. It was as if the entire crowd were holding their breath, waiting to hear the first punch. The thud. The impact of skin on skin. A whistle blew, and the sound of the first hit was clear, distinct, and harsh. I stepped forward with a gasp.

  Sweat covered Gavriel's tanned chest as he dove and jabbed at Ryker. It was a dance full of intensity and power. Their skin rippled with each impact, and their scary movements enthralled me.

  "I'm surprised," Blaise said in my ear. Goosebumps traveled down my neck at his closeness. "Looks like Ryker can hold his own."

  Gavriel punched Ryker in the cheek, and blood sprayed over the crowd. Brooklyn let out a high-pitched squeal as splatters of red spit covered her dress. Ryker staggered for a brief moment before diving into more punches. Their feet bounced as they moved around one another. Each punch grew consecutively harder.

  As the fight continued, the crowd got more restless. Feeding off of Gavriel’s and Ryker's fists, they were salivating from the violence. The noise level grew even louder, and I wondered how long this would last. Ryker and Gavriel were perfectly matched. I continued to stare, soaking up the opportunity to gawk at them so openly.

  They dodged one another until Ryker had his back to me. He swiped his head left and right, evading punches with skilled precision. I looked over his sweaty shoulder and finally got a good glimpse of Gavriel's face.

  He was handsome, with his strong jawline and pointed nose. The scar above his lip was tempting. With labored breath, he wiped sweat from his brow before readying his stance again.

  There was a split second where his mud brown eyes connected with my hazel ones. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. For a brief moment, he stared at me with calm intensity, and my heart raced at the tiny gesture of recognition. His eyes flashed back to Ryker in time to dodge a hit, resuming his focus on the fight.

  "Aha!" Blaise screamed while throwing a punch in the air. "I knew he would be shocked to see you!" Blaise grabbed my hand and began a slight victory dance while spinning me around. He was always playful, but it felt different tonight. I let out a high-pitched giggle while bumping into people around us.

  Blaise released my hand to check his phone, then began typing out a quick message. The hardened expression on his face made me wonder what was wrong. "We gotta go cut the music," he finally explained before grabbing my wrist and moving us towards the stereo. I dipped my brow in confusion while following after him.

  "What’s wrong?" I yelled as he reached the speakers and pulled the power cord. Instead of answering me, he simply released my wrist and jumped up on a chair before screaming, "COPS!!!"

  Chapter Two

  Five Years Ago

  * * *

  There was a brief moment where all you could hear were feet shuffling on concrete and fist hitting flesh. Blaise sucked in another deep breath and yelled once more. It wasn’t until then that everyone realized what was happening.

  Drunks swerved through the crowd, stampeding towards the exits. I tried to find my way towards Gavriel and Ryker. They were still fighting, despite the scattering crowd around them.

  "Ryker! Gavriel!" I yelled as someone pushed against me. I fell to the ground and let out a scream as someone's heel dug into my calf. Another sneaker stepped on my finger as hands circled my waist. In a flash, I was picked up and pulled towards a hard chest that smelled like salty sweat and vanilla. Gavriel.

  "I'm going to spank your ass for coming here tonight, Sunshine," he yelled with the ghost of a smile. Before I could answer, he yanked me across the room.

  Blue and red lights flashed through the cracked windows of the abandoned restaurant. We dodged people fleeing the building and made our way to a side door.

  "Where are we going?" I yelled.

  "They'll already have the exits covered, we're going to hide," Ryker yelled back, passing us. He opened a metal door hidden off to the side and everyone but me filed in it. I took a second to observe the bare freezer in the stripped-down kitchen with trepidation. I dug my heels in as Gavriel tried to pull me inside. I shook my head. I'd rather get arrested and punished than be locked in a metal coffin that smelled like moldy food and rat poop.

  Gavriel turned to me as a girl’s screams filled the area. Men shouted orders behind us.

  "Oh no, Sunshine. You wanted to come play with us, you're going to do what I say. Get your ass in this freezer. Right. Now." Gavriel's voice was stern and forceful. Despite my doubts, he wasn’t going to give me the choice to flee. I nodded with reluctance before following him inside. And when the door shut, I winced as the claustrophobic tension spiked up and down my spine.

  "Come here, Sunshine," Blaise said softly, and I shuffled towards him with a slight limp. Gavriel placed his ear against the metal door and listened before turning to face me.

  "Why are you here? You never come to these," Gavriel whispered before squatting and shining the light from his phone on my calf to inspect the cut. I looked down to see that it was bleeding.

  "I don't know, I wanted to see you in action. At graduation, it really hit me that you're going to leave soon." I slipped my shoes off. Once the bottoms of my feet connected with the grime of the floor, I cringed in disgust.

  "I wish I would have known you were coming," Gavriel grumbled. He always was the bossy leader of the group. Quick to anger, slow to forgive, Gavriel was a broody, overprotective asshole.

  "I'm sorry, Gav. If it makes you feel better, I won't ever attend another one of these."

  Blaise groaned. "You have to come! It was fun having you here! We only ever hang out at our house." He pouted for a moment, and my brows shot up. Was it really that important to him that I take part mor
e?

  "And you!" Blaise patted Ryker on the back. "You held your own! I've never seen Gavriel struggle like that. You totally could have had him!"

  Ryker didn't respond to the compliment, he simply shrugged before looking back at my calf. He dug around the pockets of his gym shorts until he pulled out some tape. "You need to cover that," he said in a no-nonsense tone before squatting and swatting Gavriel away. With precise fingers, he wrapped the tape around my cut, and I let out a slight hiss. Gavriel was still shaking from the adrenaline high of the fight, but Ryker seemed unfazed.

  Things were different with Ryker than with the other guys. Blaise and Gavriel had seen me through my awkward teen years. I'd been their recluse, dorky friend for so long, they didn’t know anything else. But Ryker? My breathing went shallow and my blood simmered whenever he was near. There was a certain depth in his observation of me that made me flush.

  Abrupt yelling outside the freezer made us all go still. "Yeah, let me check in here," a muffled voice filtered through the steel door as the handle turned. We each held our breaths as it opened, its rusty hinges groaning as an officer walked inside. I smiled when I realized who it was. Ryker, Blaise, and Gavriel stiffened as I relaxed.

  "Summer?" Officer Mercer asked in a whisper while shining his flashlight in my face.

  I squinted and turned away from the bright light while throwing my hands up to block it. He lowered his flashlight then glanced over his shoulder before sliding inside the small room. He shut the steel freezer door behind him.

  "What’re you doing here?" he looked around at the Bullets and let out a low sigh. "Actually, I don't want to know."

  "I came to see the fight," I replied with a shrug while Gavriel looked between us in disbelief. Callum Mercer, or Officer Mercer, was one of the youngest rookies on the force. His parents died a few years ago, so Mom invited him over for dinner every week.