Page 11 of Bullet

I’ve had two real relationships. One was in college, where Dave and I were both studying to be teachers. We got on so well, and everything felt natural, until one day it didn’t. Dave and I were both cramming for finals, but when our grades were posted, he saw that I had the top score in the class, and it didn’t sit well with him. Dave’s score was in the top five, but instead of being proud of me, he concluded that the professor had been more lenient when marking my paper, implying that I didn’t earn the grade I received. That shed a whole new light on the guy I thought I loved and loved me back. Our relationship ended very quickly after that, and he hooked up with a new girl within a week. It hurt like hell back then, but now, I’m glad I didn’t waste any more time on him.

Jesse came along several years after I started teaching. He’d been at the school for several years, and we had a lot of the same interests. We cared for each other, but I don’t think either one of us was in love. When he took a job in another state, I was happy for him. After a couple of months, I realized that our friendship was what I missed the most.

With Bullet, I feel a passion like never before. I like how protective he is of his buddies, and I can see how close he is with Crush. The idea of him wanting to right a wrong and go to see Sal on my behalf is humbling. He’s a special man, and the more time I spend with him, the more I realize I could fall in love with this man, and I don’t even know his real name.

“What’s your name? I mean your real name?” I ask.

He shimmies me off his lap and turns to me. “Aaron Foster. I was abandoned as a kid. There was a note in my pocket with my first name on it. My last name was a gift from the state. Since I was going into foster care, they thought it was appropriate. Sometimes I wondered who my birth parents were, but Helen, my foster mother, showed me what a real mom should be. Eventually, I stopped thinking about finding my biological parents.”

Aaron is a nice name. A strong name. He looks like an Aaron. Not that I know what an Aaron should look like, but it suits him.

“Aaron,” I say quietly. “If your biological parents did nothing else, they gave you a great name.”

“Yeah?” He raises his brow with a smile.

“Yeah,” I confirm. “I’ll get snacks. We can order a pizza later if you want to stay for dinner.”

“I’m staying. And I’m paying,” he insists.

I giggle. “I got all this newfound money, remember?”

“I’m that guy, babe. When I’m with a woman, I take care of her. If we go out, I take care of it.” He sounds very determined about this. I’m not sure what to think. Partly, I love the old-fashioned thought of wanting to care for your woman. The flip side is that I’ve been independent for so long, and I’ve always taken care of myself. I like my independence.

“You know this is the twenty-first century, right?”

He nods. “Yep. I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to show you that you mean something to me.”

“How do I show you that you mean something to me?” I ask. “What if I want to surprise you with dinner one night, or something like that?”

“I’d love it. But honestly, having you beside me and just being here are priceless to me. There aren’t a whole lot of people I give a shit about outside the club. I learned the hard way that people aren’t always nice. I’ve never had a woman in my life for long, and that’s always been intentional. I’m sure I’ll fuck up along the way, but I’m hoping we can find our rhythm together,” Bullet tells me. “Do you think you can handle that?”

“I can handle it. But we’re going to have to negotiate on who pays for what. I’ve always taken care of myself,” I tell him truthfully.

He brushes his mouth over mine. “We’ll figure it out.”

Am I floating? My lids flutter open to find that I’m in Bullet’s arms and he’s taking me down the hall to my bedroom. This is happening after we watched back-to-back action flicks and ate yummy pizza from Alfredo’s Pizzeria, which I had no idea existed, but I’m so glad I know about it now. I must have fallen asleep during the movie.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

“Putting you to bed, baby. Got an extra key so I can lock up?” His voice is soft and low.

“In the drawer, in the kitchen,” I murmur. “Bullet, I had a really good night.”

“No, sweets. It was a great night.” He lays me down in bed, covers me with my blankets, then kisses me softly and leaves me to fall into a blissful sleep.

Seven

Making a Statement

Bullet

My arm is numb from Amelia lying on it for the better part of the evening, but I couldn’t bear the thought of her moving away from me. The scent of her perfume, the way she burrowed into my side, just feels too good to shift her off me.

It’s getting late. I force myself to put her in her bed and leave her, but not before I pull the blanket over her sleeping form, allow myself one last look, and lock up. As I make my way to my bike, I see that Thunder is sitting in his Range Rover across the street. This is one of the things that were the hardest to get used to when I joined the Pride: understanding that when a Pride brother says he’s going to do something or be somewhere, he actually intends to follow through. I back out of the driveway and stop at his window.

“Thanks, man. Sucks that you get the night shift,” I tell him.

Thunder is an older brother and a no-nonsense kind of guy. His rule for life is simple: Treat me right, and I treat you right. Fuck me over, and you’ll pay dearly. Thunder likes to keep moving. Where most of the guys in the club have a set job, whether it be the bounty business, the mechanic shop, the parts distribution business, construction, or any of the other areas we dabble in, Thunder wants to float between them all. It makes him valuable because, of all the guys, he knows a little bit about everything. Besides the club, his only other devotion is to his woman, Rose.