Sunshine and Bullets (The Bullets Book 1) Read online

  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.

  "Summer, you can't do stuff like this! Are you hurt? Did one of them hurt you?" he asked before taking a step closer. I approached him and heard Gavriel growl under his breath as I passed.

  "They didn't hurt me. I was trampled when the cops decided to bust the party, and some chick stepped on me with her stiletto."

  "Ouch," Callum replied.

  He was classically handsome. And with only five years separating us, he still had a freckled, boyish face despite his rugged beard. My gaze lingered on the way his hand rested on his duty belt just above the pistol, and I bit the inside of my cheek.

  "So, what's a girl gotta do to not go to jail tonight?" I asked, cringing once I realized how suggestive that sounded. Behind me, Blaise chuckled and Gavriel let out another one of his signature growls.

  "I don't know if I can get you out of this one, Summer," Callum replied with uncertainty before looking back at the door.

  "Can't you just go back? No one was in here. Say you were looking to see if any drugs were stashed but found none," I offered. Blaise quirked his lip in amusement as if plotting his next move, and Ryker crossed his arms over his chest.

  "What's in it for me?" Callum replied.

  I shuffled my feet as more blood seeped through Ryker’s makeshift bandage down my leg. Although nothing had ever happened between Callum and me, I'd caught him staring from across the dinner table.

  "Dinner. At your house. Make sure your Mom makes that lasagna I like," he replied. He gave me a sheepish smile as if also realizing that we were dancing into flirtatious territory.

  I avoided the Bullets' questioning stares. The Bullets have never visited me at my house. It was too risky. My father was Chief of Police and now running for Congress. The Bullets had a reputation for drugs, violence, and vandalization. My parents knew we were classmates and friendly neighbors, but if they knew how close we actually were, they’d keep me from seeing them.

  "Deal," I smirked.

  "Do you need something for that leg? I've got a first aid kit in the car," Callum added in a whisper, but Gavriel answered for me.

  "We've got her taken care of, sir." There was no respect in the way he addressed Callum. It was all sarcasm and mischief.

  Callum looked around the room once more. He paused as if trying to come up with another solution—one that didn’t involve leaving me here with the Bullets. "You owe me, Summer," he sighed before leaving.

  Gavriel, Blaise, Ryker and I stood there silently as we listened to Callum’s heavy footsteps exit the freezer. We each held our breaths as he yelled, "Already checked. Nothing in there."

  We waited a bit longer until, finally, we were sure that everyone had left. After scouting the restaurant’s perimeter, we filed into Blaise's Mustang. Once Ryker and I were settled into the ripped vinyl backseat of Blaise's car, Gavriel spoke.

  "How do you know that guy?"

  I leaned back before answering. Ryker was staring out the window, but our arms were touching. My skin tingled where it connected with his. "He works with my Dad, but he comes around for dinner. We're kind of friends?"

  The explanation felt hollow even to my ears. I didn’t exactly know what we were. It felt weird calling Callum one of my Dad’s colleagues, but he wasn’t quite a friend either. I wondered if it was a brotherly camaraderie between us, but his heated stares said otherwise.

  "Is something going on between you two?" Blaise asked. I glanced up at his reflection in the rearview mirror just in time to see him wiggling his eyebrows.

  "Not really. I mean, I've caught him looking at me sometimes, but that's about it." I shrugged. "But we sure did get lucky!" I added, hoping to change the subject.

  Now that we were safely settled in the car, I couldn't help but feel giddy from all the excitement of our evening. The adrenaline from the fight. Seeing my guys in their element. The cops. Me saving their asses. It was fun. It was addicting.

  "You are so not coming to anymore of our fights," Gavriel said. I rolled my eyes. For as long as I could remember, Gav had been telling me what to do.

  "Yeah, I've experienced the whole fight club thing. My next adventure will be one of your parties," I joked. I'd had a taste of excitement, and I craved more.

  "You don't seem the type," Ryker replied. He was right. I wasn't the type. I've never been the girl that put herself out there. I played by the rules my parents set. Got good grades. Wore pretty smiles. But sometimes good isn't good enough.

  "I want to see a bit more of your world before you leave," I admitted. Knowing that pretty soon Blaise, Ryker, and Gavriel would be on to the next stage of their lives made me reckless. I knew they were feeling it too.

  "Dad gone again tonight?" Gavriel finally asked. I knew he wouldn't respond to my vulnerable admission. He simply wasn't the type.

  "Yeah," I replied quietly. It was no secret that things had been strained at home, they just didn’t know exactly how bad it had gotten.

  "Wanna stay with us then?" Although I knew it was a question, there was no flexibility in his tone. When Gavriel wanted something, he got it.

  I smiled and looked out the window, watching the streetlamps pass by in a blurry haze. I bit the inside of my cheek while fidgeting with my fingers in my lap as Ryker stilled beside me.

  "Okay," I replied as we pulled into the Jamesons’ drive.

  The Jamesons, the Bullets’ foster parents, were wealthy. Their home was elegantly decorated and easily the largest one on our street. The Jamesons collected sad stories and looks of pity, then auctioned them off to the loudest gossiper. They were rarely home, and when they weren't traveling or smiling at the Bullets’ social worker, they were drinking and partying.

  I wasn't surprised when I saw that their driveway was once again empty. I long ago gave up trying to know what island resort they were off to each week. Now I just assumed that, unless the state was making a visit, they were gone.

  When we walked upstairs, Blaise paused at the top step and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. He wrapped me in a big hug, lifting me off the ground. "You surprised me today, Sunshine," he whispered before setting me down and heading off to his room.

  I turned to wave goodnight to Ryker, but he was already walking away. He paused at his door though, and threw me a smoldering look. With a singular nod, he went inside and shut the door.

  Gavriel guided me to the upstairs bathroom. After picking me up to set me on the counter, he began pulling the tape from my leg. Beneath the bright bathroom lights, I noticed that his cheek was bruising, and there was a cut on his lip. Rarely did I see the evidence of his fights. Ryker really was holding his own. Gav poured alcohol on the cut, making me wince and cry out in pain. The top of his lip quirked in amusement as he cleaned the cut and placed a bandage on it. He then pulled me off the counter.

  “You scared me tonight,” he said. “You want to attend our shit? Let me know so we can make sure you’re safe.”

  “Yes, sir,” I joked in a hoarse voice. I was always teasing him about how bossy he was. But sometimes, when it was just us, his eyes turned fiery at my nickname for him. His spine stiffened, and without a second glance, he left me in the bathroom and headed to bed. Kissing my cheek and telling me a bedtime story wasn’t his style, so instead, I called after him.

  "Goodnight."

  I went to their upstairs game room. After changing into the shirt Blaise left out for me, I settled on the overstuffed leather couch. Layi
ng there, I processed all that had happened, while cursing myself for not trying something new sooner. At that moment, I vowed not to let the summer go by without seeing each side of the Bullets.

  Chapter Three

  Present Day

  Hot Birds was a rundown bar with shitty music, watered-down drinks, and shady people. Located in the heart of Baltimore, it was just a few blocks from John Hopkins University. The patrons were either rowdy college kids or alcoholic locals, and it was a busy but low key place.

  College towns were great for hiding. Students were always coming and going, so the face of a new twenty-two-year-old wasn't out of the ordinary. Bars were plentiful, and owners were always looking for reliable employees. A low cut shirt and flirty smile typically got me an interview, but my promise not to drink on the job almost always got me the job. Apparently, that was a rarity many bar owners wanted to capitalize on.

  My boss, Rick, was a beefy man who hated to drink. His addiction of choice was work, which was only second to his love for money. His bar, Hot Birds, was a busy enough place, and Rick got a boner every time I rang up someone's tab. The tips were good, and the company wasn’t bad either. Rick was mostly normal, and the cook liked to test out new dishes on me. I never went hungry, which was a nice change. Baltimore was only supposed to be a temporary home, but it ended up being the fresh start I needed.

  Even though Baltimore wasn’t ideal, it was still better than sleeping under bridges or offering blow jobs in exchange for fast food. What I loved most about my new life was that I could finally be the girl that didn't give a fuck. I didn't have to watch my every move or ask permission to piss. My image wasn't constantly being scrutinized. I was finally free.

  But freedom came at a price. Even though I’d made friends here, I still got caught up in the uncertainties of a life on the run. I could never get too comfortable. There was always the threat that he would find me.

  “Liv, can you take care of table four?” a distant voice asked. I stalled for a moment, too lost in my memories to remember that Liv was my name now. Summer Bright was dead.

  “Liv, baby. Are you in there?” Rick waved a beefy hand in front of my eyes, shaking me out of my stupor. Fuck. I had to get this name business down. Every move, I changed my name. It was easier that way, but it also gave me a small identity crisis. Even after five years, I struggled to adapt to whatever name I assigned to whatever place.

  “Rick, I was supposed to be off two hours ago,” I pouted, crossing my arms to push up my cleavage. I hoped he would get distracted so I could leave for the night.

  Loud chatter from excited customers filled the small bar as some of the barbacks set up the stage. We had a guest DJ tonight, the November air filtering through the swinging door was cool and crisp.

  “Baby, you know that shit doesn’t work on me. You’re like my daughter,” Rick said while cringing. I dropped my arms and rolled my eyes. “Go. Take care of that table, and I’ll drop an extra twenty in your wallet,” he said while walking off. Bastard.

  It was Thursday, and Hot Birds was packed with students celebrating the end of midterms. I felt a twinge of jealousy at all the excited chatter. College was just another dream he ripped from me.

  I turned my attention towards the table he had in mind and sighed at the man on the wooden chair. His attention was glued to the flat screen overhead, and I hoped he didn’t want to chat football. He had short, brown hair in a copper shade.

  “What can I get you?” I asked in a bored tone, scowling at an asshole to my left puffing on an e-cig. He was blowing grape-scented smoke my direction, making me cough. After working a double, I was too tired to pretend to care about a good tip. And with Rick already promising me a flat twenty, this guy would be getting the bare minimum.

  “Do you sell Sunshine Whiskey?” His voice was like velvet, caressing the recesses of my memory. I closed my eyes, trying to place the familiar tone. It was bright. Playful. I opened my lids again then shuffled forward. He then turned to meet my stare head-on.

  Fear and excitement plummeted in a swirl of angst at the base of my gut. My breath stalled, blooming against my tight chest. "Blaise?" I whispered in shock. It couldn't be…Blaise Bennett was nothing more than a distant memory.

  He stood and stared as if also stunned into stillness. I’m sure I looked different to him. My highlights and tattoos were nothing like the raven-haired girl next door he once knew. Seeing him standing there tore me apart. I itched to touch his broad shoulders, to test if it was really him. He was unfamiliar to me now, but seeing him felt like home. All the things I loved and missed about my old life were hidden within his confident smile.

  "Hey, Summer," he replied, “or should I say Liv?” His hazel eyes took in my appearance with a smirk, before approaching me.

  "H-how did you find me?"

  The loud chatter and thumping music disappeared. Walking closer, Blaise towered over everyone else in the room. He was wearing a small smile, and I got the feeling he was amused by my surprised state.

  He was the same, yet different. There was always a cool confidence in the way Blaise carried himself. I spent the majority of my teenage years watching him command the halls of Chesterbrook High. His charisma felt amplified now. It overflowed into his gaze, his smile, and his knowing posture. You couldn’t help but stare at him.

  "Don’t you remember? I always find you," Blaise replied.

  My heart raced. He’d found me.

  How could I feel so happy and terrified at the same time? The conflicting emotions twisted up my stomach as I shifted my feet, fighting the urge to squirm and flee. Blaise stepped closer and grabbed a strand of hair. He then traced his fingers down my neck, grazing over the script tattoo along my collarbone that read, “I belong deeply to myself.” His cinnamon breath feathered over my cheeks.

  "You look good, Sunshine."

  My eyes fluttered shut at the old nickname. It had been five years since someone called me that. I basked in the sound of his honey voice as it danced over the sentimental name.

  Blaise wasn't the seventeen-year-old boy I once knew. He’d grown taller, his muscles were more defined. Despite all the changes to his appearance, he still wore his signature tight jeans and a graphic t-shirt.

  "I can't believe it's you," he said in awe. “It's time to go home.”

  I couldn't go home. I could never go home.

  "Can’t believe you managed to keep away from me this long," Blaise added with a cocky chuckle. His laugh was like a drug. I’d spent many nights listening to his joy echo off the walls of the Jamesons’ house back in Chesterbrook. I wanted to wrap my arms around his back and hold on. I wanted to slip back into my memories of him.

  But I couldn't.

  I didn't dare look around the room, knowing full well it would tip Blaise off that I was determining my escape route. Hot Birds was too crowded, and my bright orange uniform stood out in the dark bar. I'd have to be fast. The kitchen exit was my best bet.

  "Aren't you happy to see me?" Blaise asked in a teasing voice. He was always the cocky one of the group, and it usually got him in trouble.

  "Honestly?" I asked while balling my left hand into a fist, preparing to attack, preparing to run. He'd always had this effortless bigger-than-life way about him. He enjoyed catching me off guard, but it would be me that got the last laugh.

  "No. I'm not happy. Not at all," I finally replied before rearing back and punching him in the jaw. When my fist connected with his skin, my knuckles stung. He immediately grabbed his cheek, and I pumped a hard kick to his balls. He collapsed on the ground, curling in on himself and groaning in pain as I shot through the bar, grabbing my purse, then darting towards the kitchens and outside.

  The crisp air hit my cheeks as my All-Star sneakers pounded down the street. Cars sped past me, and I looked over my shoulder to see if Blaise was following. My apartment was only a few blocks away. I jetted down the street, determined to put as much distance between us as possible.

  How did he find me? Wh
y now? Why at all? We were once friends, yes. I still wore the bullet ring they gave me the night before I ran, but the girl he knew was long gone.

  I rounded the corner and headed down a dark alleyway as shouts echoed off the brick buildings around me. "SUNSHINE!" I didn’t dare stop.

  A hand gripped my shoulder, stopping my forward momentum and pulling me back into a hard chest. I wiggled and tried to break free, but strong arms wrapped around me, holding me still.

  “Sunshine, you don’t have to run from me!” Blaise was breathless, and his lips brushed against my neck as he spoke.

  I continued to shift and writhe. I needed to get away. I was in flight mode and didn’t want to hear his words of assurance. I knew that if I listened, I’d stay. My willpower wasn’t strong enough to run from him yet again.

  “Yes, I do!”

  Blaise turned me around, forcing me to see his pained expression. Tears fell like knives down my face, and the cold air stung their wet trails. His brows dipped, and I watched as his eyes filled with doubt.

  “All this time—” he began. I shifted my weight, dipping my shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to slip through the gap in his arms. “—the others thought you ran from us. I never believed it, but now I’m not so sure.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and, for a moment, was able to fight through the instinct to flee. “I wasn’t running from you,” I finally whispered.

  It was the only peace I could offer him. Just because he was here didn’t mean I would run off into the sunset with him. I couldn’t go back to my life in Chesterbrook, but I could leave him with the assurance that he wasn’t the reason I left. I went impossibly still while waiting for him to relax his grip. He smiled, seemingly content with my answer. Perfect.

  “But I am now.” I jerked from his hands and fled once more. Thunder echoed around me as the wind kicked up. A storm was coming.

  At the end of the alley, I jumped on a crate and scaled a wire fence, leading to the back of another restaurant. After circling its exterior, I sprinted across the busy street to the shithole apartment I shared with my roommate, Phoenix.