Page 33 of Bullet

“Thankfully, they did. I didn’t have to get a subpoena, which might be difficult now that, uh, now that I’m without a job and everyone in this state is probably against me.”

“I don’t believe that. Just because one judge was corrupt and an asshole, doesn’t mean they all are.”

“It’s a lucky thing that, after getting fired, they were still willing to send it a personal email when I called.”

“Does it show that I didn’t do anything?”

I sniff the meat, hoping it’s still good. I can’t remember what day I even got it and there’s no best before date on the package. “I’ve watched it a few times. It clearly shows Willa being dragged to the dance floor and she’s pretty halfhearted about it.” Seeing her face in the black-and-white footage made me want to get ahold of Harold’s piece of shit kid and beat him senseless myself. “You look like you’re on a holy terror when you went after them, so that might cause some problems.” That part, too, had given me shivers, the look of pure intent on Bullet’s face. He could have been capable of ripping actual limbs off, so Donny probably got away lightly. “The footage isn’t all that clear on the headbutting bit, but you can see Donny’s face dip down. Yours doesn’t appear to come up. And then he’s freaking out, grabbing his nose, bleeding all over, and the bouncers are taking you both outside.”

“If we showed it to Harold, would it be clear?”

That’s obviously the part Bullet cares about. Harold is vastly more dangerous than any judge or courtroom at the moment.

“I think he might see what he wants to see.”

“Fuck.”

“Maybe not.”

“Are there other angles? Other footage?”

“That’s all they had. I’m sorry.”

“For a club that size to only have one feed…”

“It seems sloppy, I’ll admit, especially for such a seedy place. You’d think they’d have problems all the time and they’d need to cover their ass.”

Bullet’s brows crush together in a deep frown. His palms rest flat on the square espresso-hued tabletop. It’s got seating for four, but those large palms take up just about all the room there is.

What would those hands feel like on my body?

He could break you, break you, break you. You’d enjoy it.

I grab a knife and slice far too forcefully into the overripe tomato. It pretty much explodes, juicing red pulp all over the place.

I snatch the towel off the stove to soak it up.

“The tomato is squishy.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll eat anything.”

Don’t go there. Don’t you dare go there.Of course, an image of me spread out on my bed, my skirt pushed up around my hips, him feasting on my pussy pops up in my head. My body turns into a sizzling inferno, my hands shaking as I wash the lettuceand chop the rest of the tomato, slice pickles, and assemble it all on a bun that’s only stale, not rock hard.

I wonder what it would feel like for him to put his rock-hard cock inside me, inch by inch.

Oh. My. God. I need to sleep. I need to takeallthe melatonin. I need to do that right now, but with my luck, I’d only go straight into dreams that I couldn’t control.

I set the two sandwiches in front of Bullet, who eyes them, but doesn’t take them.

“The deli meat might not be edible. Actually, the whole thing is doubtful.”

“Getting sent all over the world gives you an ironclad stomach.”

“I hope so.” It would be in poor taste to food poison him after all that he’s done tonight.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”Unless you’re on offer, no thanks.

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