Page 1 of Bullet

Prologue

Madison

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

I was in trouble. Again. Trouble being neck deep, drowning, and mired in an unfortunate situation. Another bang. Gunfire! This was more of a cataclysmic disaster. Like watching a wildfire burn, there was nothing I could do. As if searing flames burned closer, I felt the heat and sensed the impending destruction, knowing whatever was coming was going to destroy me, along with everything around me.

The acrid scent of gunfire burned my nostrils. Or maybe it was the stench of my fear.

Earlier tonight, I’d heard part of Emerson’s phone conversation. The cops were involved. A man had spoken through Emerson’s speaker phone. While Emerson scrambled with papers and hit keys on his computer at his desk, I’d listened.

“Move the merchandise now.”The thick Irish accent on speakerphone had dripped venom.“If you can’t get them moved, dispose of the problem. Or I’ll fuckin’ bury you with them.”

Emerson had gone crazy, and I couldn’t ignore what I’d heard. This time I wouldn’t pretend there was nothing I could do.

I had to be the brave one because the youngest girls huddled in the corner of the trailer. A couple of petrified-with-fear teenage girls stood next to me. They expected me to save them.

I couldn’t. We wouldn’t be strong enough to fight off the men holding us. Part of me felt responsible, not for them being taken, but for not doing more to save them. I could’ve gone to the police. I could’ve brought a weapon. I could’ve done a lot of shit. And there was just as much I never should have done.

I’d been naïve. In the beginning, I’d been too trusting because I hadn’t realized monsters masqueraded in Armani, drove Bentleys, and whispered lies with the same lips that promised passion. The same hands that had once worshipped my body, also struck with deadly accuracy and caused bruises where no one could see.

Not all my bruises had been on the outside. Emerson Barras had tried to break me on the inside, too, when he’d shattered my trust, enslaved my future, and promised punishment if I ever betrayed him.

But I wasn’t broken. I’d run with my secrets.

“Shh,” I whispered to the girls.

Would his punishment be worse than this? More gunfire erupted outside the truck trailer. This was what they meant when they said life passed in front of your eyes just before you died.

I used to have dreams. Now, I existed in a nightmare with my tormentor.

No one said there wouldn’t be consequences for the choices I made. Momma had seen dollar signs where my dad had seen danger. Like a stupid girl, I’d chosen love over my family.

Because Emerson wanted me, I’d sacrificed school, my dancing, and my independence. I was none of those things anymore.I’d sacrificed being me to be what he wanted, to become his property.

My body vibrated with fear as the accordion door rolled up, and a man lunged onto the ramp.

Bang!

I lurched with the explosion of more gunfire.

The man’s eyes widened. Time slowed as he stared at me with his mouth agape. Blood bloomed across his gray shirt, his body jolted, knees crumbled, he tipped back and fell off the truck.

The girls’ screams reverberated through my head, mixing with the roar of chaos. Gunfire echoed through the steel warehouse. Some men were wearing suits. Others were clearly part of a motorcycle club with their leather cuts and heavy boots.

Everyone had guns. Somehow, I’d ended up in the crossfire of a sex trafficking ring and a motorcycle club turf war.

“They’re killing everybody.” One of the girls choked on a sob.

Bang! Bang!Every pop from a gun sent another sharp dagger of fear through my chest. I couldn’t protect these girls. I couldn’t protect myself.

I shoved one of the girls behind me as a large biker rushed forward. Broad shoulders blocked myview from the massacre happening behind him. Jeans hugged his hips, and a deadly knife hung from his belt.

There was nothing small about the intimidating biker. He was a volatile storm of muscle and intimidation. Tattoos covered arms like pythons, and fingers that could collar my neck, cut off my air supply, and snuff the life from me. With the weight of his stare, I could almost feel the cold steel of the rings on his fingers pressing into me.

I’d known I’d die at the hands of a man, but not this man and not tonight. Long legs, muscular thighs, and a chest with well-defined curves stretched to an inked neck thick with tendon. Dark hair, wild and windblown, curled to his shoulders.

Not only was I terrified of the fight, but the man’s gaze paralyzed me. He was huge. Yet, long lashes softened the dark hooded eyes drilling into mine. The muted blue of his irises looked almost gray in the darkened trailer. Facial hair didn’t distract from the contours of his jaw or the hard line of his full mouth.

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