BULLET: Lords of Carnage MC Read online

  Hannah looks chastened. “Okay, fine.” She reaches up and pulls her riot of flame-red hair into a messy top knot. “But you could have texted me.”

  “I could have, but I assumed you’d check the damn voice mail,” Chance shoots back, giving her a pointed scowl. “You know, like the receptionist who opens is supposed to do?”

  “Um, receptionist? You mean, the tattoo artist who is filling in at the front desk?” she lobs at him.

  “What’s wrong with being a receptionist?” Chance says, cutting his eyes at me with humor. “That’s kinda classist, and maybe even sexist, don’tcha think, Hannah?”

  “Who says a receptionist has to be a wom-”

  “Okay, kids,” I say, exasperated. “Let’s break this up. Y’all have customers waiting.”

  Chance looks like he wants to retort, but my appeal to his professionalism wins out. “Who’ve we got?” he asks me, tossing Hannah one last glare before coming over to look at the computer screen.

  About half of the customers waiting in the reception right now area have appointments. The rest are walk-ins. One of the appointment groups is a mother, daughter, and aunt. They’re here to get matching tattoos in honor of the aunt’s daughter, who died in a car crash a few months ago. They immediately gravitate toward Hannah, who takes them back into one of the larger rooms so they can all do them together and give each other moral support. Chance takes the two guys, who seem like they’re here on a mutual dare. Finally, Dez comes out and greets an older man who’s on his third session for a large back tattoo.

  Once the three of them have taken their clients back, I set up the third group and the lone woman with albums of art to browse while they’re waiting. There’s a mountain of paperwork behind the desk that hasn’t been gotten to yet, so I start in on that next, more than grateful for the distraction.

  The time passes quickly. The woman who’s here by herself eventually seems to chicken out. She stands and mumbles that she’ll come back another time. I smile encouragingly at her and let her go. It’s never a good idea to get a tattoo unless you’re absolutely sure you want to do it, so we’re not about the hard sell at Rebel Ink.

  The last group, three girls in their early twenties with pouty lips and expensive blowouts, chatter at each other loudly, laughing the whole time. After a lot of consultation with one another, they each finally pick out the tattoos they want. When Sumner comes out of the back room for their appointment, they all stop and look up at him wide-eyed. Then, one by one, they each catch their breath and let out a coordinated giggle, like identical triplets.

  Sumner is pretty damn good looking, to be fair.

  “Okay. Which of you ladies wants to go first?” he asks in his deep baritone. All three girls’ hands fly up in unison. Sumner glances over at me, one ironic eyebrow raised, and I suppress a snort. I know he’ll take all three of them back at once, and flirt with them the whole time. From now on, every time one of these chicks tells the story of how they got their ink, “the hot tattoo guy” will be a major part of the story. Sumner will become the stuff of legend for this little gaggle for years to come.

  A few minutes after Sumner leads his blond bevy into the hallway, Hannah emerges with the mom, daughter, and aunt. All three of them look happy, triumphant, and a little teary. I can tell right away that it was an emotional session. They thank Hannah over and over again, and tip her lavishly before they leave.

  “Those poor women,” Hannah shakes her head as the door closes behind them. She leans against the front counter with a sigh. One strand of her hair has escaped the messy bun on top of her head, and she distractedly hooks it behind her ear. “God. It always gets to me when someone comes in for ink to commemorate someone they’ve lost, you know?”

  For some reason, my mind drifts to the rose tattoo on my neck. “I know what you mean,” I murmur softly, reaching up to touch the spot. Hannah must catch something in the tone of my voice, because her eyes lock onto mine. “Um,” I continue hurriedly, “what art did they ask you to do?”

  She gives me an odd look, then continues. “A pink lily — Lily was the girl’s name — with the dates of the girl’s birth and death in a circle around it.” Hannah flexes her shoulders and rolls her neck. “They told me all about Lily while I worked. She was getting ready to be a freshman in college this year.”

  “That’s so sad.” I shake my head in sympathy. So young, and so much to look forward to.

  “Yeah.” Hannah goes over to the couch in the waiting area and flops down. “Oof. Thank God there are no other clients waiting. I need a break.”

  “You’re not going out for a smoke?” I ask. Hannah usually spends her breaks out back.

  “Nah. I quit on Saturday.” She holds up an arm and pulls back the sleeve of her shirt to reveal a nicotine patch. “See?” she grins.

  I congratulate Hannah and give her some quiet, turning back to the computer to finish keying in the last of the paperwork. A few minutes later, the sound of the front bell announces a new customer. Before I can raise my head to greet the person, Hannah does the job for me.

  “Hey, long time no see!” she calls out. “Afraid Chance is busy right now. You got time to wait?”

  “Actually, I came to see someone else,” Bullet answers.

  My stomach flips as I raise my eyes to meet his. Bullet comes up and leans across the counter, exactly where Hannah was a few minutes earlier. “Hey, there,” he rumbles. His voice hums through me, deep and penetrating.

  “Hey, yourself,” I blush back. The flood of happiness that washes through me is almost overwhelming. I try and fail to keep a cool, detached demeanor. “You here for ink, or for something else?”

  “Yup.” He grins that gorgeous, reckless grin of his, and just like that, I’m practically a puddle on the floor.

  “You know, you don’t have to get a tat to see me.” My words come out high and girlish. I barely suppress a giggle. Good lord, what’s wrong with me? A giggle, for Christ’s sake!

  “What if I want both?” Bullet shoots back.

  “Um… if you want me to do it, I think Chance is gonna be occupied for a while,” I start to explain, but he stops me.

  “Chance will let you do me without him watching.” He lifts his chin toward the back, then gives me a wink. “Just go ask him. Tell him I’m good with it.”

  I toss a quick glance at Hannah, who is gaping openly at us. “I can take the desk,” she stammers, giving me a look that clearly means, You are going to tell me all about this later.

  “Uh, okay… Let’s go back and ask him,” I reply shakily. I lead Bullet into the back to find Chance, who just shrugs and gives his okay when Bullet tells him he wants me to do the tattoo unsupervised.

  This time, the design he has in mind is a hellhound. He wants me to put it in the space just below the bullet.

  As nervous as I was last time, this time it’s almost worse. Because this time, the heat of his skin reminds me of what it was like to be in bed with him. I can’t help but remember how I shuddered against his tongue, and then against his cock, as he made me come. How good it felt when he lost control inside me. How whole I felt. How complete.

  I never told Bullet this, but I woke up once that night, and he was holding me in his arms. I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I can’t remember ever feeling safer than I did right then. My body still aches with the memory of how warm he was. How solid, and real. I slept better that night with him than I have in years. It was like every cell in my body knew I was protected. That nothing and no one could hurt me, as long as he was there.

  It’s hard to concentrate on my work, even though Bullet hardly talks the whole time. My skin feels electric, the low buzz of the ink gun almost like it’s coming from inside me. In fact, I’m so nervous that I make my first mistake ever on a customer: I give one of the hellhound’s eyes a heart-shaped pupil.

  “Shit,” I hiss. Bullet looks down and frowns.

  “What’s up?”

  “I, uh… well, I made one of your hound’s eyes heart-shaped. I can fix it,” I add hastily. “It’s small. I just have to…”

  “Leave it,” he interrupts me.

  “But…” I stammer.

  “I mean it.” Bullet chuckles. “I can’t see it. But I’ll know it’s there. I kind of like the idea.”

  “Are you sure?” I stare at him in disbelief.

  “Yep.” His eyes twinkle. “I won’t even tell Chance you fucked up. On one condition.”

  “What’s that?” I’m trying to sound casual, but inside my heart starts to pound.

  “You let me take you out tonight.”

  I wish I could say I consider turning him down for even a split-second.

  “Really? Bribery, Bullet?”

  He shrugs. “Call it what you will.”

  I heave an exaggerated sigh.

  “Well,” I quip, keeping my voice light, “if that’s the only way I can get you not to rat me out to my boss, then I suppose so.”

  Bullet waits patiently while I concentrate on finishing up his tattoo without screwing up again. When I’m done, I recite the spiel about aftercare that Chance makes us say to everyone, regardless of how much ink they already have or how many times they’ve been to our shop. When I walk back out to the front with him, Hannah is still sitting at the front desk. He pays her, and then turns and gives me a wink. “Tonight, then. What time do you get off work?”

  “Seven,” I murmur self-consciously, not daring to look at Hannah.

  “I’ll pick you up at your place at eight.”

  Bullet doesn’t wait for an answer. He just pivots and strides out the door.

  I may or may not stare at his tight ass in his jeans the whole time.

  “What in the hell was that?” Hannah demands the secon
d the door latches behind him. “Jumping Jesus Christ, Six! Why didn’t you tell me you had a thing going on with one of the Lords?”

  “I… well…” I stammer. “I don’t, I mean, I didn’t…” I shake my head and try again. “What I mean is, I don’t exactly have a thing going on. It’s just, he’s been flirting with me for a while. And yeah, a few nights ago, I let him take me out. But I don’t think it, like, means anything.” I shrug helplessly. “Until just now, I figured he’d forgotten all about me, to be honest.”

  “And now?” Hannah skewers me with her eyes. “That didn’t exactly look like forgetting.”

  “Now…” I trail off, my eyes moving to the front door. “Well, maybe we have a little bit of a thing going on?”

  “Hot damn, girl.” She lets out a low whistle. “Way to go. And here I thought you had put on your chastity belt and thrown away the key.”

  “So did I,” I admit. “To be honest, I’m a little freaked out. I keep wondering whether I’m making a big mistake.”

  “Well, if you are making a mistake, you’re sure as hell making it with the right person. Those Lords men are hot. Every damn one of them.” Hannah sighs. “I just don’t know how there can be that much sexy packed into one club. And Bullet’s one of the hottest ones among them. Which is saying something.”

  Hannah seems so happy for me that it stops me from saying what’s on the tip of my tongue to confide to her: that I’m starting to think I’m losing my footing a little bit where Bullet is concerned. It’s like I thought I was wading safely in the shallows, and now all of a sudden the water is up over my head and can’t touch bottom anymore. It’s only now, when I’m so happy he’s come to ask me out again I feel like I’m going to burst, that I see how much I’ve been trying to push down my feelings for him. This whole time I’ve been telling myself he’s just a fun fling before I leave town. I mean, sure I’ve had a thing for him ever since we met, but I thought it was just because he was sex on two wheels. Now I’m starting to think it’s more than that.

  This whatever it is with Bullet is definitely a mistake. The more time I spend with him, the worse I feel about having to eventually leave town. He’s like a magnet that’s gotten too close to my compass. I feel all discombobulated around him. Like I can’t figure out what direction my head is going.

  I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I completely forget about my car being broken into, until I get off work and see the still-open glove box when I slide into the driver’s side.

  By then, it’s easier to tell myself I was just overreacting earlier. Because I have more important things on my mind now.

  Like what I’m going to wear for my second date with Bullet.

  12

  Bullet

  Well, fuck. Looks like my date with Six is gonna have to wait for a bit.

  I’m on my way to pick her up a little before eight p.m. when my cell phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull over to the side of the road and fish it out to see that Beast, the VP of our club, is calling me.

  “Yeah,” I bark into the mouthpiece. “What the fuck? This better be important.”

  “Hey, brother. I need you to come back to the clubhouse. We got a situation with a shipment we’re driving down to Ironwood. Striker was coming with us on the run but he’s stuck up north and won’t be back in time. Angel needs you to fill in for him.”

  “What, now?” I frown. “Can’t it wait until morning?”

  “Nah. It’s gotta be there tomorrow in the morning. They shoulda left by now, but they were waiting for Strike. They’re gonna leave as soon as you show up. How quick can you be here?”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Beast whether someone else can do it. But that ain’t the way I operate. Club business comes first. It always has. That’s part of the oath I took when I patched into the Lords of Carnage. Just because it’s inconvenient right now don’t mean shit.

  “Yeah. Tell Angel I’m on my way. Just gotta make a quick phone call. Half an hour, max.”

  “Sounds good, brother. Will do.”

  Beast hangs up. I go to the home screen and start to flip to my contacts, then spit out a curse as I realize I don’t have Six’s number. Well, I’m almost to her house anyway. I’ll just run over and tell her in person. That way at least I get to see her for a bit.

  When I roll up to Six’s apartment building, she doesn’t make me wait. She comes out the front door right away to meet me before I’m even off the bike. She’s dressed simply, in a tight black pair of jeans that look painted on and a red tank top that matches her cherry lips. She’s wearing her oversized leather jacket against the chill of the evening air. That jacket shouldn’t look so sexy on her, but I dunno — somehow it works. I groan as my cock stirs in my pants. Jesus, she looks good. If I had time, I’d take her inside right now show her just how good.

  Six sashays up to my bike, a happy, expectant look spreading across her beautiful face My chest gets tight when I see in her eyes how much she’s looking forward to this date. Shit, I was, too. I hate like hell to have to leave her like this. So does my cock.

  “Hey, babe,” I murmur before she can say anything. I note with satisfaction that her face flushes at the pet name. “Look, I hate to do this to ya, but something just came up. I got some club shit to attend to that can’t wait.”

  Six’s eyes grow sad, but to her credit, she doesn’t pout about it or make a fuss. “Oh. That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah. It is.” I frown. “Believe me, I wish I didn’t have to. But it ain’t my choice. Club business.”

  Six pauses for a moment at my words, then nods. “Okay. Well…”

  But I’ve grabbed her by the hand and pulled her toward the bike. Standing, I thread my fingers through her hair and tilt her head up to mine. I give her a long, deep kiss that leaves her breathless and panting. By the time I pull away, she’s bright red. She gives me a dazed half-smile.

  “Rain check?” I rumble hoarsely. She nods again. “Okay. Look, I need your number. I ain’t gonna be back in town tonight, but I’ll call you when I can and let you know what’s up.”

  Six pulls her phone out of a small bag looped around her shoulders. We exchange numbers. When we’ve finished, she looks at me through dark lashes.

  “I’ll miss you,” she murmurs. “Be careful. I do expect a rain check on this date.”

  “I’m always careful, babe. Don’t you worry. I’ll be back before you know it, and I’ll make it up to you.”

  I fire up the engine and give her a one-finger wave, taking one last, long look at the fiery, beautiful mystery standing there. Knowing she’ll be waiting for me to come back to her should feel like a burden. But instead, it feels like a goddamn present. And life is definitely not in the fuckin’ habit of giving me presents. It’s a new sensation, for sure.

  And I’m pretty sure I like it.

  I nod toward her front door and raise my eyebrows, signaling that I’m gonna wait until she goes back inside before I leave. She gives me a soft, doe-eyed smile, and turns back toward the apartment. I watch her ass until she’s all the way inside.

  Jesus fuck, I wish like hell I was going in there with her.

  Then, cursing under my breath, I put the bike in gear and head for the clubhouse.

  The club’s a little late heading out, on account of the last-minute change in plans. It’s already dark by the time we get to Ironwood, the newer, southern chapter of our club. We’re there to help pick up a shipment of guns from a cartel that has a base in Atlanta. The cartel runs them up to us through Nashville and Lexington. Normally, the Ironwood chapter could handle this run by themselves. But this time their prez, Axel, sent half of them on another run out to the east to deal with another problem. So Angel said we’d go down and give them a hand, since the guns are coming up to us anyway. Once they’re in our possession, we’ll drive them further north up into Milwaukee, to sell them to one of our contacts up there.

  When we get to Ironwood, there’s a party already in full swing at their clubhouse. The fact that they’ve got a run tomorrow doesn’t seem to be slowing the party down at all. Liquor is flowing like water. Club girls run around on stiletto heels with skirts so short you can see daylight between their thighs. Axel, the Ironwood prez, emerges out of the crowd of men in leather cuts and comes out to greet us.