Page 42 of Bullet

So was murder, but he wanted to kill Emerson. I still didn’t want to vocalize the reality that Bullet wanted him dead. “The club doesn’t care if you kill Emerson. But they won’t let you be a pimp?”

Before he could elaborate, the huge biker I’d bumped into last night stood. My stomach clenched as he approached. A black T-shirt molded to his chest and massive shoulders. His beard did nothing to soften the firm curve of his lips.

The man was like a villain from a comic book, stripping me down to my insecurities with the intensity of his eyes. Dark and dangerous. A flash of fear scorched through my veins. Bullet was intimidating, but as a group, these guys were terrifying.

I grabbed onto Bullet’s cut. He glanced down at me, and his hand rested on my back. I was such a liar. There was something mesmerizing about being under his protection. I could feel the searing heat of his palm through the cotton of my T-shirt.

“You’re good, brown eyes.”

The biker called Rogue gave Bullet a hard slap to the back.

Blade grabbed his cup of coffee. “Boardroom.”

Dozer’s chair scraped the floor as he pushed away from the table.

Bullet moved his hand to my shoulder as he escorted me to a door off the side of the chapel.

Rogue walked on the other side of him. “If you’re worried about my support, don’t be. You know I’m always going to be a yes at the table. Whatever you need.”

Bullet’s fingers tightened on my shoulder. Once we were in the room, Blade pointed to the chairs on the left.

Now that the guys were seated around the large table, I could read the names on their cuts. Torch wore the road captain patch. Romeo was the treasurer. I remembered that Blade was president, and as VP, Rogue sat to his right.

I imagined how Bullet would look at the table with the enforcer patch instead of Dozer. Bullet was bigger, more intimidating, but there was a simmering danger to Dozer. His hooded eyes focused on me, but his expression gave away nothing of what he might be thinking. If I had to guess, I’d say he was pissed about something. Since I was the stranger in the room, I assumed his issue was with me.

I didn’t blame him. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, I averted my gaze and stared at the floor. Bullet leaned back in his chair and purposefully widened his thighs until his leg aligned with mine.

The simple touch had my heart rabbiting. I refocused on his muscular thigh beneath the worn black denim of his jeans. The fabric molded to the soft mound of his groin. I swallowed, knowing what he had beneath the faded denim. The heavy sac, the thick shaft, and the piercing through the head.

My chest tightened, and I wished I only had the memory of him in the bathroom, sleepy sexy with his gravelly voice and arrogance. But the memory of Scarlett on her knees poisoned my mind.

Bullet leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “Breathe, kitten.”

The grit of his tone sent a tingle low into my belly. How could I breathe when he draped his arm across the back of my chair? But I nodded, released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and willed my nerves to settle.

Sully was the oldest biker at the table. His patch said Sergeant at Arms. A lazy smile curled his lips, lips nearly hidden by the beard brushing his chest.

Blade leaned forward. “This meeting is off the official club records.” His gaze met Sully’s. “You okay with that?”

Sully tipped his head toward me. “I figure it’s got something to do with the girl. Bullet’s involved, so I know it ain’t nothing good.”

Bullet glanced at me, then turned his attention to the guys, finally focusing on Torch. “I know how you feel about the bylaws, about keeping the club legit.”

“Then you know if you’re here to ask us to get involved with anything illegal, I’m out,” he said. “I have too much to lose.” He pointed to Blade and Dozer. “We have too much to lose.”

Bullet’s jaw clenched. “The MC is already involved. This is unfinished business.” He took a deep breath. “Stormy was in the warehouse.”

Torch growled and raked his hands through his hair. Blade and Rogue stared at each other and then focused on Bullet. Silence stretched thin in the room.

Bullet removed his arm from the back of my chair. The shift in his position brought his body closer to mine. Our shoulders brushed, and another flare of awareness snapped alarmingly in my gut. The scent of him, spice and cigarettes, sex and danger, came out of my dreams. I didn’t want this twist of arousal crowding into the dark place he’d lived inside of me for months.

Rogue’s gaze narrowed on me. “Who are you?”

A tide of panic welled in my throat. “Madison Jones,” I said, clenching my hands in my lap.

“She’s the girl from the truck,” Bullet said.

“Fuck.” Blade leaned back in his chair.