BULLET: Lords of Carnage MC Page 13

  “It’s to a safe deposit box,” Lexxi spits back. “Can’t exactly bust it open in a bank, now can we?”

  “Lexxi, shut up!” wiry guy growls. “Jesus!”

  “That seems like a bad place to store something valuable if you need to get to it quickly,” I observe.

  Ginger snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah,” he mutters. “No shit. Letting Flash take care of hiding the jewels was a big fucking mistake. Leave it to his dumb ass to choose a goddamn bank.” The wiry guy looks pissed. I get the feeling this is a bone of contention between them.

  “I don’t have the key,” Six insists. She raises her hands in a supplicating gesture. “And I don’t know where it is.”

  “Why the fuck should we believe you?” the wiry guy retorts. “Grimm. Lexxi. Search them. If it ain’t on them, we’ll just have to convince them to tell us where it is.”

  Six makes a strangled noise. I know she’s on the verge of losing control. I have to do whatever it takes to keep her calm.

  “It’s okay, babe,” I murmur. “Deep breaths.”

  The ginger, whose name is apparently Grimm, steps forward. I resist the urge to clock him in the jaw. Lexxi moves to Six. She tells Six to remove her shoes, and then her jacket. Six shoots me a worried look.

  “What the fuck is this?” Lexxi asks with a frown as she examines the jacket. She feels the lining where Six has sewn it back together with dental floss. As she does, her mouth opens in shock and then elation. “Holy fuck!” she yells, her voice echoing through the trees. “It’s here! It’s right here! I got the key!”

  Just then, a shot rings out, and then a volley. I barely have time to register what the sound is when Grimm is on the ground. I launch myself at Six and tackle her, bringing us both down and out of the range of fire behind a tree. I yell at her to stay down and crawl on my elbows over to the motionless Grimm. I find a gun tucked into a waist holster and pull it off him. Just then, the second guy and the chick bolt away and make a run for it. Taking aim at the guy, I fire at his calf and bring him down on one leg. A second shot hits him in the back, and he falls forward into the dead leaves. Off in the distance, a few more shots. Then a familiar voice rings out.

  “Bullet!” Angel calls.

  “Here!”

  I run over to where Six is lying as half a dozen of my brothers emerge through the trees. She’s unhurt, but shaking and bewildered. As I help her to her feet, she falls against me, trembling like a leaf.

  “It’s over, babe,” I murmur against her hair.

  “H—how did they find us?”

  “GPS. I left my phone in the car.”

  Angel approaches us, flanked by Thorn and Beast. “Brother. You okay?” He glances over at Six.

  I nod. “Yeah. Thanks to you. It was lookin’ a little hairy for a bit.” I look down at Six, who is still clinging to me like a lifeline. This is —”

  “Stacia,” she inserts, swallowing. “Thank you for saving us.”

  “All in a day’s work, little lady,” Thorn chimes in with a roguish look.

  “Who the fuck are you, Robin Hood?” I grouse at him, trying not to smirk.

  “What were these dickheads after, anyway?” Beast asks, looking around at the bodies lying on the forest floor.

  “Oh! My jacket!” I feel Six’s body stiffen as she glances around in alarm. “Lexxi has it!”

  As if on cue, Gunner emerges from the trees with her. Lexxi is wearing the jacket, and trying without success to wrench her arm away from him.

  “Caught this one trying to get away.”

  Lexxi gives him a venomous look and continues to struggle against his grip.

  “Look, you,” I snarl, stepping up to her. “You oughta be thanking your lucky stars you ain’t dead.”

  “Fuck you,” she hisses. I just laugh.

  “I’ll take that jacket now,” Six says beside me.

  Gunner lets go of her arm just long enough to pull it off of her and hand it to us. “What the fuck is so special about a jacket?” he frowns.

  “Long story. I’ll tell you later.”

  Six turns it inside out to look at the lining. “The key’s still here,” she says, holding it out so I can see it’s still sewn shut. “She must not have had time to pull it out.”

  “Good,” I nod. “We’re good to go here, then.”

  Angel looks around in disgust at the bodies littering the ground. “We’re gonna have to do some cleanup here.”

  Still glaring at Gunner, Lexxi seems to realize the gravity of her situation. “What are you gonna do to me?” she asks.

  “You’re a witness, bitch,” Beast growls. “What do you think we’re gonna do to you?”

  Lexxi’s face pales. “You can’t! Please don’t kill me!” She starts to cry, her voice rising to a wail. “Please!”

  “Shut up,” I cut her off. We ain’t gonna kill her, but she doesn’t need to know that yet. “Give me one good reason why we should give a shit what you want?”

  Six puts a hand on my arm. “I have an idea.”

  I look at her and she continues.

  “I’m pretty sure Lexxi here might be able to buy a ride for herself back to civilization with us,” she says. “For the price of what she knows about this key. And her silence.”

  19

  Six

  In the days after the shoot-out, I tried to forget about the bank box of jewels that had ended up costing so many people their lives. But try as I might, I couldn’t put it out of my mind completely.

  Part of it might have been that the key to the box was still stitched into the lining of my leather jacket. And the jacket, of course, was my one remaining physical reminder of Flash. He had been a terrible boyfriend, and an even worse ex-boyfriend. But he had been alive once, and I found myself remembering some of the good times we’d had, few as they were. Things I’d long since forgotten. He was a man who had grown up poor, and made a lot of terrible decisions in his life. In some ways, he wasn’t that different from me or Bullet in that respect. In a strange kind of way, I found myself mourning his passing.

  Once it was all over, I realized I no longer had to go by the nickname Six. When Bullet introduced me to Angel, the president of his club, I decided I wanted my life back. And that included my name. I felt like I’d earned it. So, for the first time in years, I introduced myself as Stacia.

  Six, it turned out, was the final number of times I would go on the run.

  With the permission of Angel, Bullet introduced me to Tweak, the Lords’ resident hacker. Tweak and I spent a good part of the next few weeks holed up in his cave-like computer room at the clubhouse, brainstorming ways to track down the location and owner of the safe deposit box. All Lexxi had been able to tell us before the Lords finally let her go was that Flash was the one who set up the account, and only he and the other two men had known which bank it was.

  Part of me wanted to let it go, and let the box sink into oblivion at the dusty back of a bank vault. But another part of me needed to see what was in it that had caused so much trouble. Besides, I didn’t have a whole lot else to do during my non-work hours, anyway.

  The rest of the Lords got used to my presence in their space pretty quickly. Apart from some good-natured flirting, they mostly left me be. I wasn’t sure how much Bullet’s influence had to do with that, but I was grateful for it.

  It took us a while, but we eventually figured out which bank Flash had the safe deposit box with. Tweak and I started by looking at the records of all the banks within a five-mile radius of the apartment he was living in at the time. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to find his name as an account holder, at a local branch of one of the large banks in the city.

  When I see his name and the correct address come up on the monitor, I let out a whoop of excitement that makes Tweak chuckle and hold up his hand for a high five.

  “Okay, then,” he grins. “So, we probably have the bank. What do we do next?”

  I hadn’t thought that far yet. But as soon as the words are out of his mouth, an idea comes to me.

  “I think I’ve got a plan,” I say, smiling at the screen.

  My idea revolves around the fact that Flash’s real, full name is Sam Randall. Not Samuel Randall, mind you. Just Sam. That’s the name his account is under at the Third National Bank.

  Which makes it just a tiny bit easier for Tweak and me to forge identity documents and adopt his social security number as Samantha Randall.

  Tweak and Bullet accompany me up to the city, armed with the key to the box. I have a new fake drivers license in my bag, complete with a name and address that matches the one on the bank account. I’m nervous as hell on the ride up, but I do what I can not to show it. I must run over all the things that could possibly go wrong in this scenario a thousand times during the drive. But amazingly, it ends up being almost ridiculously easy to get access to the safe deposit box. The teller barely even looks at my license when I tell her what I’m there for. She just gives me a brief, professional smile, and calls another employee to take me back to the deposit box area.

  Tweak decided to wait out in the car, but Bullet comes with me for emotional support. He left his Lords of Carnage cut in the trunk, and even wore a long-sleeve flannel shirt that conceals the majority of his tattoos. As a result, he looks as nondescript as it’s possible for a six-four, ruggedly handsome biker to be.

  The bank employee who comes out to greet us leads us down a sterile, dark hallway to a reinforced steel door that must lead to the safe deposit boxes. We wait as he unlocks it and motions for us to go in ahead of him. The room we find ourselves in is lined floor to ceiling with more than a hundred numbered drawers. There’s nothing else in the vault except a large table in the center. It’s easily ten degrees colder in here than it is out in the main room
of the bank, and I can’t help but shiver.

  Bullet and I watch as the bank employee goes to one of the numbered boxes, and inserts his key in one of the two keyholes in the door. I produce mine and turn it in the second lock, then pull gently. The door swings open.

  “I’ll be outside,” he tells us. “Let me know when you’ve finished.” Then, giving us a quick, wordless nod, he exits the room to give us our privacy.

  I grasp the handle of the box inside and pull it out. It’s heavy, but not much heavier than I would expect it to be if it was empty.

  “Oh, my God,” I breathe. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “You can always lock it back up and walk away, you know. Whatever’s in there, you’re not under any obligation to do anything about it.” Bullet says.

  “No. I want to see what’s in it.” I reach out and splay my fingers across the top of the cold metal. “I want to see what’s cost so much trouble, and so many lives.”

  I lift the lid, noticing my hand is trembling slightly. Inside is a large manila envelope with a metal closure. I pull it out, then pry up the wings of the clasp. Holding it over the table, I gently shake the contents onto the surface.

  What falls out are an assortment of loose gems. None of them are in rings or any other setting. There are about a dozen of them: some diamonds, what look to be topaz, and a few emeralds.

  “Huh,” Bullet mutters. “This ain’t that much. Maybe ten-thousand dollars’ worth. Fifteen.”

  “Really?” I have no idea what jewels are worth, having never owned anything but costume jewelry. I frown. “That seems odd. Ten thousand doesn’t seem like nearly enough for Flash to be trying to keep Grimm and Paco’s share for himself.”

  “Unless there used to be more. Maybe Flash had been selling the gems while Grimm and Paco were in the pen.” Bullet snorts softly. “That’d explain why he was coming after you by himself, instead of doing it with their help. That dumb shit probably knew they’d kill his ass if they found out part of it was gone. Maybe he wanted to grab what was left of the gems and leave the state. Or the country.”

  I contemplate his words. “He did seem pretty scared at the prospect of meeting up with them again. I couldn’t figure out why at the time. It didn’t make sense. But now it sort of does.”

  I pick up one of the larger diamonds and hold it up to the light. It’s beautiful — shimmering, hard, nearly indestructible. I’ve never held a real diamond before. This thing would make one hell of an engagement ring for a rich socialite. “I wonder where these came from.”

  “Not likely we’d be able to figure that out, unless they’re registered,” Bullet tells me. “If the diamonds are certified, there’ll be a serial number inscribed on then with a laser. If not, they’re not really traceable. That’s why they were removed from their settings.”

  “How would we find out if they’re inscribed?”

  “Tweak ought to know someone who can check that out for us.”

  Bullet watches impassively as I scoop the gems back into the envelope and seal it back up. I slide it into the inner pocket of my jacket and close the empty safe deposit box, turning my key to lock it.

  “What are you gonna do with the gems?” he asks me.

  “I have no idea,” I admit. “I sure don’t want to keep them. It feels wrong to sell them. But if what you say is true, we might never be able to find the owners they were stolen from. Besides which, I don’t exactly want them calling the cops on me if they don’t believe I’m not the one who stole them in the first place.”

  “Let’s just take first things first,” Bullet suggests. “First, we find out if they’re registered, and then we go from there. But the choice is yours. You were the one who was in danger because of them. You’re the one who had to uproot your entire life and leave everything behind over and over to keep yourself safe. You choose what to do with them next.”

  When we get back to the clubhouse to drop off the car, Tweak waves goodbye and heads inside. Bullet takes my hand and leads me to his Harley. I get on the back. But instead of taking me back to my apartment, he heads in the direction of his place.

  I don’t argue. I’m not in the mood to be alone right now, and I’m still processing what it means that I have several thousand dollars in gems in my jacket pocket.

  Almost as soon as we’re in the door, I’m in Bullet’s arms and he’s carrying me to bed. All the tension and fear of the last few hours melt away as he makes love to me, long and slow.

  “You’re so fucking wet,” he rasps as he lowers himself onto the bed beside me, settling between my legs.

  The heat of him is slick, delicious torture as he brushes his erection against me. My hips buck, straining toward him. A low, desperate moan wrenches from my throat. He teases me, bringing me to the edge with slow, deliberate strokes against my clit. Leaning forward to tower over me, his mouth finds one breast, and his tongue begins to flick and caress the nipple in the same rhythm. It drives me wild, and I wrap my legs around his waist, angling myself, rocking against his cock head as the pulse between my legs gets deeper and more insistent.

  “You drive me fucking crazy, Stacia,” he mutters against my skin, which turns electric at his touch and at the sound of my name, my real name, on his lips. My body is on fire for him, every word setting me further ablaze. “I need you. I fucking need you, now,” he growls. He rears back, just long enough for me to open my eyes and take in the splendid, muscular beauty of him. He takes his cock in his fist and I whimper at the sight, my mouth watering with the urge to take him like that, to taste him, to make him lose control. But I know that will have to come later. With his other hand, he grasps my hip and pulls me to him. Then, with a flex of his thighs, he sheathes himself inside me.

  I shudder, loving the fullness, how he stretches me to my limit. How every movement, no matter how small, sends tingles pulsing through me. His first thrusts are slow, but soon they’re speeding up, becoming harder, more demanding. Deep inside me, his cock hits a spot that makes me come unraveled, crazy with need. I won’t last long like this, can’t last long, and I can only pant and gasp and hold on for dear life as I get ready to shatter into a million pieces around him.

  “Fuck, baby, fuck, I’m close, you’ve got me so close… Jesus, yes, come with me,” he urges, and his voice is like a flame licking me everywhere at once, making me obey his every word. I open my mouth to answer him, yes, but suddenly the dam breaks and I’m crying out as the waves crash over me and Bullet explodes inside me, filling me with everything he’s got as he roars his release.

  Afterwards, I lie in his arms, working to catch my breath and clinging to him as though he’s the only thing tethering me to this earth. For at least the hundredth time, I marvel at how there’s never been anyone like him for me. All other men pale in comparison, both in and out of the bedroom. Ever since our first night together, I’ve tried to tell myself it’s just good sex, but I know that’s not true. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him. I’ve just always assumed I couldn’t possibly have him. Not like that, anyway. And now…

  In spite of myself, my throat tightens, and for a second I’m afraid I’m going to cry. I must make a noise, because Bullet hears it and pulls me closer. “What’s up, babe?”

  I swallow a couple of times, until I’m sure I can trust my voice. “I’m just thinking about everything that’s happened,” I murmur, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. It’s sort of true, I tell myself. I’m just leaving out some of it. “It’s just weird to realize I don’t have to run anymore. I’ve never really thought about how it would feel to be able to settle down. Maybe even put down roots here.”

  “Glad to hear you’re thinking of sticking around,” he rumbles.

  I can’t quite read his tone, and that makes me cowardly.

  “I mean, at least for a while, anyway,” I add, trying to sound casual. “Chance has said I’m ready to start working unsupervised as a tattoo artist, and he’s hoping to move me up to full-time in a few months if business stays good. If he still wants me, that is,” I can’t help but add, my mood turning dark.

  “Why wouldn’t he?”