Page 26 of Bullet

“Willa? It’s Bullet.”

In this place, right in this moment, the name actually doesn’t sound so absurd. With the dead calm to his tone that somehow promises both that everything will be just fine and total retribution, it suits him. He’s every inch the badass, capable biker who would tear someone apart with his bare hands if they hurt his own.

Holy fuck, do I want to belong to that category?

I can’t explain it. The only logic in it is that I know he’ll save Willa if I ask him to. He’ll protect both of us. I’ve never been more afraid than I am right now.

“I want you to keep driving. Is your phone plugged in? Good. That’s good. Keep it that way so it doesn’t die. Program Hart, Washington into your GPS and head in that direction. We’ll leave from here and meet you as soon as we can. You’ll hear us coming. A group of bikers is hard to miss.” He pauses, frowning deeply. “Even if it’s all for nothing, you know the saying about being safe rather than sorry. A what?” Even if I was across the room, his disbelief would be obvious. “Aboomersaying? Are you serious right now?”

I nearly laugh despite myself. That’s so classic Willa. I admire my sister’s courage. She’s always been able to find joy in the darkest moments. When I’m afraid, I go quiet. I try to research the shit out a situation in order to quell my anxiety. Willa just squares right up to life and hits it head on.

“When we ride out, the bike will be too loud to hear you properly, so I’ll give you back over to your sister, but whatever you do, don’t hang up. Everything will be fine, I promise.” He’s so calm and assured that I want to believe it. “What if what? They start shooting at you? They won’t do that. They’ve probably just been sent to scare you. We’re moving.Now.”

He passes the phone back to me. I ram it up against my ear, following him as he races out of the kitchen. It shouldn’t be possible for a human of his size to move that fast, but he does, and it blows my mind.

“Linny?” Willa pants, falling back on the nickname I hate so much.

I don’t correct her. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Bullet says they won’t start shooting, but what if they do? What if they try to drive me off the road?”

We’re back in the lounge and there’s a hurricane of movement. There are suddenly men everywhere, and not just Tyrant and Raiden, who I already met, or the younger man who showed me inside when I got here. I don’t know where Bullet is pulling them from. Back rooms? The compound? Guard duty in other parts of the building?

“Most of the guys are at Patterson’s. We can pick up anyone who’s safe to ride on the way out. I’ll call over,” Tyrant says, and it’s easy to see why he’s their president.

He’s young to be running a place like this, but he’s got the authority of a natural born leader. He’s a huge man, muscular and tall, as all the men in here seem to be. Is it a requirement to be a biker that you be above six feet and weigh at least two hundred pounds?

“Linny?”

“Sorry, Willa, we’re just getting organized here. We’re leaving right away. I don’t know how many bikers are coming, but I think more than a few. We’ll be okay.”

She blows out a breath into the phone, but it sounds more shaky than sassy. “You know we’ll owe them now, don’t you?”

Bullet turns to me and gives a quick nod from across the room. There’s something reassuring in his manner, in the way he and his club brothers spur into action. He then turns and heads to the door I follow, trailing the herd of fearsome leather-clad men outside into the dark night. I’m unsure why I’m evencalling him Bullet now—if only in my head—but somehow, it feels right.

I was so sure I could keep myself separated from this, keep this professional from start to finish, but now that’s become impossible. Maybe it’s seeing all the men rush to their bikes lined up in neat rows in their paved compound with the chain-link fencing and barbed wire surrounding it, looking hell-bent on perpetrating some very real violence that solidifies in my brain that Bullet is Bullet.

As someone who deals with the law day in and day out, with a very real passion for it, seeing Bullet look like he’s joining a pack of wolves on a hunt shouldn’t excite me the way it does, but my heart isn’t just racing because of the danger.

I slip behind the wheel of my car, and my phone instantly connects to the speakers after I start it.

“Lynette? Are you there?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.” Bikes roar to life all around me, the rumble so thunderous that the windows on the car rattle. “Do you hear that?”

“I hear it.”

“Where are you?”

“Still trying to get out of the city. You know what it’s like, even at this hour.”

“Is the car still behind you?”

“Yes.”

I drive through the compound since I was parked closest to the exit, then pull over and wait for the line of bikes to pass through. Tyrant, Raiden, Bullet, and three other men follow, Smoke at the rear. They all have their leather jackets on with their club logo, a granite angel with wings spread and head bowed, on the back. Some have closed helmets, while others wear ones without face shields. It’s nearly September and the nights have cooled. I don’t know how they stand the rushing wind and the chill.

Bullet stops and motions for me to roll down my window.

---