BULLET: Lords of Carnage MC Read online

  “Check these, out, Bull,” he says. Bullet leans in and takes a look. I watch him, hoping he’ll be impressed, too. But as he looks through one image after another, his face darkens.

  “Yeah. That’ll do.” His eyes flick to me, expressionless. “Thanks,” he says gruffly.

  “No problem,” I say meekly.

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, he turns to Sam. “I gotta take care of a couple things here. Could you drive her home for me?”

  “Sure, no problem,” she replies.

  Bullet turns and half-storms out of the room, almost like Lug Nut did earlier. I want to follow him to ask him if anything’s wrong, but I don’t have the guts. It’s like my feet are glued to the floor.

  Sam doesn’t seem to notice anything. “Just let me get this equipment broken down,” she says to me kindly. “Hawk, baby, can you help me load this stuff into the car?” She glances at the exercise tracker on her wrist. “Ooh, perfect timing! I have just enough time to get to school to pick up Connor after I drop you off.”

  When we emerge back into the main room of the clubhouse, Bullet is nowhere to be seen. With a last glance behind me, I follow Sam outside and get in her car. I give her directions to my apartment, and do my best to keep up my end of the conversation as she chatters away — all the while, trying not to wonder whether this is how Bullet and I end.

  21

  Bullet

  Sam goes home and spends some time messing with the photos she took of Six. A few hours later, Hawk comes back to the clubhouse with a large envelope in his hands. He spreads the prints of five photos out on the table in front of Tank, Striker, and me. These are the best ones, Hawk tells us.

  “They’re good,” Tank remarks. He picks one up and examines it more closely. “Damn.”

  “‘Course they are,” Hawk rumbles. “Sam’s the best at what she does. I knew she’d have an eye for this.”

  “Not just her. Stacia is a fuckin’ actress. It’s fuckin’ freaky.” Striker lets out a low whistle. “Jesus. These pictures are convincing as hell. If I didn’t know better…”

  They’re right. The pictures are good. Almost too good. Sam has made Six look beautiful and arresting, of course, which she already is. Any idiot with a camera could capture that.

  But there’s something more to it. They’re sexy as hell, but in a way that is somehow deeply fucking disturbing. Pretty white girls like Six are at a premium for this kind of shit. And considering what his clients get off on, they’ll pay top fucking dollar for the right one. These photos are perfect in that respect. Six looks exactly the sort of girl a sick fuck like that would be attracted to. A would-be predator’s fantasy prey. Sam has made her look helpless and vulnerable. Fragile. Haunted, even. The girl who stares out at me from these photos knows that no one is coming to save her from the fate that awaits her. She knows she’s been abandoned — that she’s no longer anything but an object, to be used, and abused, and thrown away.

  It makes me sick to look at this picture and think of Six in that position. And I about want to rip my fuckin’ hair out thinking about Ellis looking at these photos of her. My stomach roils at the idea of him planning to sell her as a fucking sex slave, to a man who would get off on terrorizing her.

  A lot of these girls are only used a handful of times, I know. Some of them, just once. Each of them is worth a fortune. And at the same time, they’re worthless. Completely deprived of their humanity. It adds a depth and dimension to my fury that threatens to overwhelm me.

  Thick bile rises in my throat. As much as I hated Ellis after my mother burned to death, the rage and fury I feel now is a hundred times worse.

  When I kill Ellis — and I will kill him — it will be for even looking at these pictures of Six and seeing her as an object and nothing more.

  “Remember. It’s me who ends him,” I remind my brothers, my voice hard as a diamond cutting through glass. “No one else.”

  That night, I don’t go to Six. I can’t touch her right now. I’m too disgusted with myself. I can’t fucking deal with the fact that I’m using her body to get at my stepfather. As I lie in my own bed, alone, I stare up at the ceiling, but all I can see is her face in those photographs. Even now, they’re being served up to whet the appetites of some perverted fuck with money. I feel sick to my fuckin’ stomach about the whole goddamn thing. Even though it’s to help catch a man who doesn’t deserve to live, and wipe him off the face of this earth. I hate that I’ve gotten her involved in my shit.

  There had to have been another way to get to Ellis. A better way. But I chose this. And Six probably agreed because she felt like she didn’t have any choice.

  I used her. And now, because of that, my fucking stepfather will look at her like an object. He’ll get hard looking at her, and thinking about all the fucking money she’ll make him.

  “Fuck!” I roar into the darkness.

  How am I any better than he is?

  * * *

  The next day, I’m at the clubhouse in the game room late in the afternoon. I’m on pins and fucking needles waiting for word from the contact who brought Ellis the photos of Six.

  Ellis/Edge is careful as hell, as anyone who deals in this kind of crime has to be. There can’t be a digital footprint of any part of this transaction. It’s not as easy as loading up the images onto a website like Backpage, or emailing them to him. We had to have our contact courier the photos to one of his people, whose job it is to get them to him. It’s the only way we can provide proof that we’ve got a girl with the look Edge wants for his client.

  The waiting is making me goddamn crazy, so I’m trying to work out some of the frustration with a first-person shooter game. I’ve got the volume turned up so fucking loud I don’t hear Striker calling my name until he and Tank are standing between me and the large TV screen mounted on the wall in front of me.

  “Turn that shit off!” Striker yells, raising his hands in exasperation. “Goddamn!”

  I hit pause on the controller and toss it onto the leather couch beside me.

  “What?” I demand.

  “We got a problem, brother.”

  Fuck. I stand and rake a hand over my scalp. “What is it?”

  “Just got a message from our contact,” he answers. “Edge is saying the photos aren’t good enough. He’s gonna send one of his guys to the meet-up in his place, to make sure this is legit.”

  “What the fuck?” I shout in frustration.

  “The contact says Edge told him photos can be doctored. He wants to check out the goods in person. Says he needs to know that the girl in the pictures really exists, and that she looks like she does in the photos. The way it’s gonna work is, his guy will come to the meet-up, and if he determines she’s the real deal, he’ll call Edge to come in person to check her out.”

  “Shit. Are you saying we need to bring Six with us?” I stare at him.

  “Sounds like it.” Tank looks grim. “But look, we can make it work. We can keep her safe.”

  “No.”

  “It’s the only way we’ll get Edge to come out in the open, Bull,” Tank warns me.

  “No.” I shake my head firmly. “I can’t do that. I can’t fucking bring her into this anymore than I already have.”

  “We’re in too deep now, brother,” Tank protests. “If we don’t bring Stacia, the deal falls through. We’ll never get close to Edge.”

  “There’s got to be another way.”

  “There isn’t,” Striker cuts in. “Not unless we start all over from zero. Look, he isn’t gonna hurt Stacia, Bull. She’s not valuable to her unless she’s in perfect condition. So we just bring her in, let him look at her, see she’s real, and then take her away. Tell him we’re keeping her under wraps until the transaction is completed.”

  “No. No. I can’t…” My mouth won’t form the rest of the sentence. I can’t treat her like a fucking sex slave. I can’t do that to her. “Someone else,” I say stubbornly. “We have to find someone else.”

  “Who else are you gonna get to do this?” Tank insists. “No girl, no Edge. You get that, right?” He taps his forehead with a finger, like I’m dense. “And he’s seen her picture now. Stacia’s who he’s expecting. If you bring someone else, his guy won’t bring Edge to us. Come on, Bullet. We’re at the finish line! What the fuck? We can’t back out now!”

  “I said fucking no!” I explode at them both. “I’m not gonna ask Six to do this! End of fuckin’ story!”

  “Ask me to do what?”

  Surprise mixing with dread in my gut, I wheel around to see Six standing in the doorway.

  “What are you doing here?” I growl.

  “Tweak called me in about the diamond registration thing.” Six cocks her head, narrowing her eyes at the three of us. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Bullet’s stepdad says he won’t come to the meet-up unless you’re there in person,” Tank pipes up.

  “Goddamnit, Tank!” I yell, turning to glare at him.

  “I’ll do it,” she says simply.

  “No!” I roar.

  “Bullet, stop! I said I’ll do it.”

  I stride toward her, until I’m less than a foot away and facing her. I have to make her understand.

  “It’s not safe, Six! I fucking refuse to bring you any further into this. I’ve pulled you in too far already.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m going to do it.” Her voice is firm.

  “What?” I gape at her, dumbfounded. “That makes no fucking sense.”

  “Yes it does,” she says patiently. “Look, Bullet. You’ve told me enough about this man for me to know what my involvement in this represents. I can’t help but think of how many girls are in real danger because of him, and the clients he serves
. Think of how many of those girls might be saved if we do this.”

  “That’s not why —”

  “I don’t care.” She fixes me with a strong, direct stare that tells me she’s not about to back down. “I don’t care why you started this. What I care about is what it means to finish it. When you get to Edge — before you…” Six trails off, momentarily averting her eyes. But when she looks back at me, resolve is etched on her beautiful features. “Before you do whatever you plan to do with him, I want you to get the name of the client that he wants to buy me for. And then I want you to find him, too. Make sure he never, ever does anything like this to a girl or a woman again. That’s my price.”

  “You know that’s not why I started this,” I warn her.

  “I know,” she says softly. “But that doesn’t matter to me. What matters is what you’re going to do to end it. And I want to be part of that.” Six pauses. “I know if I ask you to do it, you will. So I’m asking. And that’s why I’m going to help you. Because it’s the right thing to do.” She puts a hand on my forearm. “I’m doing this. You saved me once, Bullet. I know you’ll keep me safe this time, too.”

  “No,” I repeat, but even I can hear that I’m losing steam.

  “Yes. It’s a done deal, Bullet. So stop arguing. We’re in this together.”

  Six breaks my gaze and turns to Tank and Striker.

  “Okay. So, tell me what I need to do.”

  22

  Bullet

  “You nervous?” I ask her.

  “A little,” Six admits. She’s dressed up and ready to go, in an outfit that looks similar to the one she was wearing for the photo shoot with Sam. This time she’s got on a long-sleeve black mesh shirt over a black cami, a short skirt, and bare legs with platform heels that accentuate their shapeliness. Her hair is pulled back from her face. She’s not wearing any makeup except for the stuff that’s covering up her tattoos and some blush-colored lipstick. The end result is that she looks about sixteen years old, which of course is the idea.

  Six looks jittery. Her face is pale, which accentuates the beauty of her fine features. I’m guessing she didn’t sleep that well last night, judging from the hint of shadows under her eyes. She looks gorgeous and vulnerable. Perfect bait for the sick fuck we’re trying to lure in.

  Angel and Beast aren’t here at the clubhouse with us. They’re not going on the run; they’re too well known as the prez and VP of the Lords of Carnage, so they could be recognized. It’s just Tank, Striker, me, Tweak, and Lug Nut. We’re all out of uniform, exchanging our cuts for suit coats that conceal our weapons. Tank is the lead — the one “selling” Six — and we’re his bodyguards.

  We all have to play our parts, and we have to be spot on, or the deal will fall through.

  And if that happens, we all might be in danger. Especially Six.

  Tank’s heavy footsteps sound on the floorboards, and we all turn to see him. He’s got on an expensive-looking suit, and shoes that probably cost more than my monthly fuckin’ mortgage.

  “Jesus fuck, Tank,” Striker snickers. “You look like a fuckin’ high-roller pimp.”

  “Yeah, which is exactly the point, numb nuts,” Tank shoots back. His eyes glide to Six, and he gives her a satisfied once-over. “Nice get-up, darlin’. You’ll do.”

  Six snorts and grins back at him. “You clean up pretty good, Tank. You almost look respectable.” She cocks a brow and sniffs. “Cologne, too? You go all out.”

  “Why thank you,” he shoots back, doffing an imaginary hat. “If you ever get tired of this fucker,” he continues, indicating me, “you know where I am.”

  Six blushes a bit and glances over at me. I can’t help but avert my gaze. I still feel shitty for bringing her into this. She basically fucking insisted, but I could have put my foot down. I should have put my foot down. Goddamnit.

  But the fact is, we need her. I need her here, in order to pull this off.

  “You, look good, too,” Six breathes. “But weird. I barely recognize you.”

  “Good,” I grunt. “That’s the point.”

  As well as wearing this monkey suit get-up, I’ve shaved my head, and also removed my short, dark beard. In its place is a blond, mountain man beard that conceals my features. It’s pretty fucking realistic, if I do say so myself, even though the adhesive itches like a motherfucker.

  “You should have worn a wig, too,” Six giggles. “You’d look like Grizzly Adams in a suit.”

  “Har, har. You’re in a pretty fucking’ jovial mood,” I grouse, without knowing why. Jealousy, maybe. It doesn’t sit right with me that she’s letting Tank flirt with her. “Thought you said you were nervous.”

  “Of course I’m nervous. But this is how I cope with nervous.” She gives me a searching look. “You okay?”

  Fuck. “Yeah. I’m fine,” I spit out, and turn away. It almost feels like I’m looking for reasons to pick a fight with her. I think in a way I want her to be mad at me. Hell, if she was mad enough, maybe she’d change her mind about doing this. And I wouldn’t have any good reason to stop her if she walked out right now. Part of me wishes she would. I don’t deserve her help. I shouldn’t take it. I should be protecting the woman I love.

  The woman I love.

  Goddamnit, that’s what’s got me all the fuck out of sorts, isn’t it? I love her. I am all the fuck the way in love with this beautiful, brave, gorgeous woman.

  But fuck, right now I don’t feel like I deserve her. Not one goddamn bit.

  “Okay,” Tank calls out. “Everyone get over here. Let’s go over the plan one more time before we head out.”

  The group of us gathers around him. Six wraps her arms around her body protectively, and after a second walks over and grabs that damn leather jacket, pulling it on over her skimpy outfit. I resist the urge to put my arm around her to give her some extra warmth.

  “We’re all going in the limo together,” Tank explains one final time, referring to the black Lexus with fake plates we have parked outside. “Tweak’s the driver. The rest of you fuckers are around me at all times as my guards. Bullet is gonna hang back. He can’t talk, since Edge might recognize his voice.”

  Tank looks at each of us one by one before continuing. “We don’t make any moves until Edge is actually in the room, guard down, ready to make the transaction,” he says. “Stacia is the priority. We keep her safe, and we get her out of there immediately if shit looks like it’s starting to go south. The plan is to pull her out of there as soon as Edge has looked her over, so she’s out of the way before we make a move. If shit goes to hell, the signal to act is when I say the word ‘deal.’ You all know what to do in that case: Stacia, you hit the ground, go for cover. Striker, Lug Nut, Tweak, you’re guns out. Depending on how many men they have, you shoot to kill or to wound.” Tank glances toward me. “Bullet and I grab Edge. We clear?”

  A rumble of assent moves though the group. Six bites her lip and nods.

  “Okay. Let’s move.”

  The meet-up point is a place we suggested. It’s a stroke of fuckin’ luck Ellis agreed to it. Assuming everything goes according to plan, it’s perfect for what I have in mind for him. The pole barn used to have a farm house not far from it, but the house was in such bad shape the owners razed it a while ago. The barn itself sits at the end of a long gravel driveway, on a parcel of land that’s been for sale for a good amount of time — a few years, at least. I’m guessing any farmer worth his shit must know the land isn’t worth much, or it would have sold by now.

  A large black Lexus limousine pulling off on that driveway would probably raise a few eyebrows out here — if there were any eyebrows around to raise. As it is, there’s not a person or a car in sight as we drive the half-mile of the driveaway and park in back of the pole barn, out of sight of the main road. We’re the first ones here, about half an hour early. Tank sends Lug Nut and Striker to scope out the area, to make sure Ellis hasn’t sent any snipers out ahead of time. They come back about ten minutes later, satisfied we’re alone.