Summer and Smoke (The Bullets Book 2)

by Coralee June

  Ryker grabbed three bagels and began eating them with brute enthusiasm. “Carb loading for your fight?” I wiped my mouth with a napkin and nodded at him. I was still learning his rituals, how he prepared, and how he conditioned his body. Blaise looked between us with a confused expression before Gavriel started explaining everything to him.

  “Santobello sent Ryker a challenge.”

  “Well, good morning to you too, Harlem,” Blaise answered sarcastically, slumping over on the kitchen counter and popping his neck.

  I stared at Joe while they continued to discuss the details. He was off in the corner, eyeing our bagels with jealousy. My hangry little bodyguard was kind enough to give us space yesterday, the least I could do was feed the poor man. Sliding off the stool I was sitting on, I walked over to him and placed a whole wheat bagel in his hand.

  “How’s Mrs. Joe?” I asked with a half smile. Joe’s eyes flashed to Gavriel in warning, as if trying to tell me that he wasn’t supposed to be with the missus instead of watching me. I zipped my lips with a smile, dragging my fingers along the seam of my mouth before throwing away the imaginary key.

  After making sure that no one was listening in to our conversation, Joe bent over slightly, parting his mouth to whisper in a rush. “She was fine and sends her thank yous.” I caught the edge of a blush on his cheeks, as if she chastised him into saying that to me. I hoped things calmed down soon enough so I could meet Mrs. Joe and join their little family. I bet she was always nagging him in that playful way familiar and older couples did. I longed for the teasing that danced along the line of too far, that comfortableness that came only from knowing for sure a person wouldn’t leave you, even if you were a bratty asshole.

  “Tell her I can’t wait to meet her,” I whispered back, smiling a bit at Joe’s annoyed expression. He would likely tell me “no,” and then I’d have to follow him home.

  What happened next was instantaneous. They say time slows during a near death experience. Everything moves at a snail’s pace, grazing reality with eternity and showing you what the end felt like by making your last few seconds drag for hours.

  I wasn’t gifted with that. Things moved too fast—everything was too sudden, a blur in the room that my eyes couldn’t focus on. Glass shattered, and a hand was on my back, pushing me down until my teeth were scraping against the hardwood of Blaise’s loft. I screamed, my voice breaking apart around us until a meaty hand covered my mouth, forcing me to be quiet.

  “Get her out of here!” Gavriel screamed. Twisting my head, I’d noticed that he was by the window, staring out fearlessly at the city below while the rest of us crouched and hid from the bullets.

  Another shot. Blood. There was blood. Joe was on top of me, letting out little grunts of pain as he covered my body with his own. “Joe, are you okay?” His hand still covered my mouth, making my question nothing but a muffled cry.

  His blood covered my skin, the crimson stain reminding me of my night in the basement. I fought through the triggering image, gasping for air while I wiped away the seeping evidence of the violence staining my tank top and yoga pants. It seemed to sink through my skin.

  “Joe?” I asked. He was deathly pale. Blaise placed a hand on my shoulder, pulling me out from beneath my burly guard and a few feet away as I stared at Joe’s bloodied body. His lips were white, and Nix applied pressure over his chest, his muscles straining as blood filtered through the gaps in his fingers.

  “We need an ambulance!” Blaise yelled.

  “We need to get out of here,” Gavriel growled.

  “We can’t leave, we don’t know how many of them there are!” Ryker was crawling towards me, his face determined as another shot rang through the loft. And another. Sparks flew as a metal bullet ricocheted off Blaise’s appliances. Within moments, men in black suits were storming through the front door of Blaise’s loft. Their deep voices were a chorus of screams, demanding that we get down.

  “Protect Sunshine at all costs!” Gavriel screamed. Surrounding us with guns drawn, his men were prepared to take on whatever threat was against us. We just didn’t know where the danger was coming from.

  “Yes, sir,” a man with blond hair answered him as three men circled me, blocking my view of Joe and of my guys. My breathing became labored as I took in their backs and the weapons in their hands. Once again, I had to remind myself that this wasn’t the basement. This was the top story of a building. A loft apartment in Harlem. The door was seven paces away. The knife Joe had given me was tucked beneath my pillow in Blaise’s bedroom. If I closed my eyes, I could feel each groove.

  One. Joe took a bullet for me.

  Two. Joe took a bullet for me.

  Three. Joe took a bullet for me.

  I tore my eyes from their weapons, ignoring the twitch in my fingers. Looking down at my lap, I’d noticed that my own hands were red, no matter how much I wiped them on my thighs, I couldn’t get rid of Joe’s sacrifice. “What’s happening?” I asked. One of the men yanked me up from under my arms and pulled me to his side.

  Gavriel’s voice carried over the group, answering me as the men in suits guided us out Blaise’s front door. “Sunshine, just keep quiet. We’re getting you to safety.”

  Blaise lived on the top floor of his building. Each twist in the staircase brought on a new level of unease, a new threat. We were out of breath but didn’t want to breathe too loudly. In the middle of our trek, someone had cut the power, making it impossible to see. Another shot, it was louder this time. I reached for my phone in my pocket, wanting to illuminate the staircase, but a hand reached for my wrist to stop me.

  “We don’t want them to see us,” a gruff voice explained before letting me go.

  When we got to the bottom floor, emergency lighting flickered on, as if the backup generator were finally working. The familiar hum of electricity brought me even more unease. The lobby of his building was deserted. People likely heard the shots fired and fled. “Marcus, is the building cleared?” Gavriel asked.

  “The team is currently clearing each apartment,” the man who had stopped me from flashing my phone said. I snapped my head to stare at Gavriel, surprised by how efficiently he ran his team. They acted more like a special ops group than a bunch of thugs.

  “I’d say I’m impressed, but we shouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. I’m snapping a neck for every goddamn shot fired at her, Marcus. It better not be you that let shit like that slip through the cracks,” Gavriel said, his voice quiet but still fierce as he took in the open lobby.

  Through the gaps in the bodies around me, I saw Gavriel’s town car idling on the curb, the front wheel almost on the sidewalk with how rushed the driver parked. Pedestrians were speed-walking away from us, they moved with a sense of urgency, self-preservation at the forefront of their minds. But they didn’t run. Some even looked blatantly at us while wearing curious expressions, almost as if this occurrence were normal for them. Just another bad man with another bad gun.

  One of Gavriel’s men jogged toward the car while we stood just outside the entrance to the building. “Once the door is open, we’ll run for it. The moment the door is shut, you leave. Get her to the safe house. I’ll follow.”

  I turned to look at Gavriel, a wordless plea on my lips for him to come with me. He must have seen the worried look on my face, because he bent low, whispering in my ear for only me to hear. “I can’t go with you. I’m the target. I won't be the reason something happens to you, Love.” He then kissed my cheek, lingering for far longer than what was appropriate, considering we were outside Blaise's building while bullets clipped past us.

  I turned my attention back to the man reaching for the driver side door to open it. Each of his movements lasted an hour, time finally slowing to drag out the severity of the moment. As his fingers enclosed around the handle and opened the black metal door, a chain reaction of fire exploded, throwing our group back six feet and into the glass of the front windows of the lobby from the power of the explosion.


  Car parts rushed past us, debris scraping my cheek as I landed on my back in a pile of glass. The hard ground rubbed my shoulders where my tank top wasn’t covering me, and tiny shards dug into my skin. Everything hurt. The smoke made it hard to see.

  “Sunshine,” someone choked out. Sounds were an echo within my skull, a distant tone my brain couldn’t connect with. There was a ringing too. A pitch so high and constant that I had to squeeze my eyes shut to block out how painful it was.

  “Help,” I choked out. A heavy body was on my legs. He wasn’t moving. No one was running.

  Was this what death felt like? Was this how it ended? Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Around us was a war zone, but all I could think of was my men. Two hands looped under my arms, pulling me free from the body that had collapsed on top of me. I looked down, crying out when I saw the man that inadvertently saved my life. It was the man named Marcus, and he had a long piece of metal protruding from his chest. He’d saved me.

  One. Joe took a bullet for me.

  Two. Marcus shielded me.

  Three. Who would be next?

  I was cradled against someone’s chest. Nix. Tears streamed down his cheeks as we moved. “I’ve got you, Sweets. We’re going.” Or at least, that’s what I think he said. The ringing wouldn’t let up, forcing me to read lips and expressions and the drops of blood on the concrete.

  It wasn’t until we were in an alley that I truly collapsed into my fear. My limbs shook. The adrenaline coursing through me left me struggling to breathe. I felt like I could run a triathlon and collapse all at once. Each nerve ending was on fire, the cuts along my skin a painful reminder of what just happened, but also a welcomed distraction of everything I couldn’t cope with.

  “Wh-where are they?” I asked, choking out my question as I swallowed more smoke.

  “I lost Ryker in the blast. Blaise stayed behind with Joe. Gavriel was just here...” Nix was shaken up, pacing the ground and wiping his hands on his pants. He’d always worked behind the scenes, hiding behind a computer to fight his battles. Seeing the gore of crime had scared him.

  I cradled my head in my hands. If anything had happened to them, I’d never be able to forgive myself. “They’re okay, Sweets. Just keep calm. They’ll find us.”

  Nix watched me pace for a moment before tackling me with another hug. More glass cut deeper into my skin, but I didn’t care. I hugged him back, feeling the drops of blood ooze from my various cuts as I held my best friend. Sirens in the distance drew my attention, and I broke away from Nix to start walking towards the sound, eager to see if the bodies on stretchers were Gavriel, Blaise or Ryker. I didn’t know how much time had passed. Had it just happened? Was this real?

  One. Joe took a bullet for me.

  Two. Marcus shielded me.

  Three. Who would be next?

  Two arms wrapped around my waist, yanking me back into the safety of the shadows, and I cried out when I recognized the strong man holding me back.

  “Gavriel?” I cried while spinning around to hold him tight. Two more bodies circled me, and I nearly collapsed in relief. The Bullets were safe. I took inventory of all of them, stepping back to see their faces clearly. Blaise had a slash across his forehead. Gavriel’s face was covered in soot. Ryker had blood all along his torso, but no visible cuts, so I knew it wasn’t his.

  “Is Joe...” I asked, not sure if I was ready to hear the answer.

  “He’ll be okay. But he had to go to the hospital,” Ryker answered me. “Are you okay?” he asked while looking at me up and down.

  “I’ll need a doctor to pull some glass from my back,” I answered him while spinning around. It wasn’t much, but the nagging pain would become excruciating if not dealt with soon. “What just happened?” I asked.

  “Santobello. He wants a fight. He got it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Joe was alive. We sat in an unmarked SUV outside the hospital, waiting for updates against the wishes of my men. In the driver’s seat, Gavriel’s leg bounced the entire time, anxious fingers tapping against his knee as he made various calls to cuss out his security team.

  “A fucking sniper. I want footage from Blaise’s building emailed to me within the hour.”

  I was a mess. The blood of the man that died to save me stained me with everything that had happened. We smelled like rust and sweat and salty tears.

  “Has anyone called Joe’s wife?” I asked, my voice tired from the harsh screams that ripped through my throat earlier. I’d kept silent once we got to the car.

  “Fuck,” Gavriel muttered before pulling his phone out. I held out my hand, eager to be the one to call.

  “May I?”

  Gavriel furrowed his brow, settling back in his seat in the front, but twisting to stare at me incredulously. “I guess,” was his whispered response as Blaise banged his head in exasperation against the cool glass of the car window.

  Gavriel dialed the number before handing the phone to me, brushing his fingers against mine, as if to prove to himself that I was still alive and that I wasn’t some ghost, haunting him. She answered on the second ring. Mrs. Joe had a breathless quality about her tone that, in any other circumstance, I would have deemed warm and relaxing. She had a Southern accent too. It was cute.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Joe’s wife?” I asked lamely. Before, I’d gotten used to calling her Mrs. Joe in my mind, but now it felt silly not knowing more about the family of the man who saved my life.

  “Yes. It’s about time you call me. Am I on speakerphone? Let me speak to Mr. Moretti this instant,” she growled, her warmer tone no longer serene. I clicked the speaker button, making Gavriel wince. He was apparently familiar with Mrs. Joe and was prepared for the confrontation about to happen.

  “Gavriel Moretti. I changed your diapers, and you wait six hours to call me? Six goddamn hours!” she roared. I covered my hand over my mouth, instantly amused by Mrs. Joe. This pretty much solidified my resolve to keep her.

  “Mrs. Ricci, I sincerely apologize for taking so long to call—”

  “Your sister was the one to finally inform me, only after I saw my husband being carted into the hospital on the news! Six hours, Moretti,” she said his name like it was a curse, and I imagined her waggling her index finger at him when Gav was a kid. I didn’t realize how far back their working relationship had gone.

  “If I told you, you’d try to come here,” Gavriel replied. “You know Joe’s rules. You’re not allowed to be involved, not with your heart condition getting worse. The doctor said no stress!”

  “That’s a bullshit excuse, and you know it. Okay, Summer, you can take me off speakerphone now,” she cooed, her voice softening as she said my name. I took a moment to process how fucking adorable Gavriel’s relationship was with them, as well as scowl at him on her behalf. For a split second, I found myself feeling jealous of Gavriel. He had a...a family. A makeshift one of thugs and scolding women with Southern accents. He had a brotherhood. All this time, I’d been so worried about Callum feeling accepted that I’d forgotten that I was an orphan too. For two years, it had been Nix and me against the world.

  “Okay, dearie. You can talk now,” Mrs. Joe—I mean—Mrs. Ricci said.

  “We’re at the hospital. Joe...he saved me…” I cried. The tears that filled my vision were nothing but a prickling reminder of everything that had happened, and everything yet to come.

  “Is he okay?” she sobbed, her earlier bravado had completely disappeared, and now I found myself consoling her. I pictured a beautiful woman with grey hair and laugh lines around her eyes clutching her chest in a cozy kitchen.

  “He’s in surgery, but they’re saying he should be okay. I know you probably want to come up here, but it might be safer for you to stay home…” I turned to look at Ryker; of all of us, he looked the most guilty, his knuckles were white as he gripped his thighs.

  “Ain’t nobody or nothing gonna keep me away. You think Santobello cares enough to kill an old woman
with one good eye and two left feet? Y’all need to worry about yourselves. I’m so glad to finally get the chance to speak to you. I’ve heard so much about you.” I smiled at that. So my broody bodyguard had mentioned me? Nice. “You just worry about yourself. Joe and I can handle ourselves. He’d be pretty pissed if he saved your life just for you to get yourself killed. Go somewhere safe. Can I call you on this number?”

  “Yes,” I blurted out immediately. I wasn’t sure why I ached for a connection with this stranger, but I did. That’s the thing about craving a family, it made you find the first candidates and cling to them. “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Sherrie. I’ll see you soon. Get out of town, dear,” she offered before hanging up the phone.

  When I handed Gavriel back his cell, he looked at me with pity and an expression similar to guilt. “Remember what you told me, Gav?” I asked, calling him out for the sad expression on his face.

  “Don’t even fucking say it. Your life was in danger, Love. I’m allowed to feel whatever the fuck I want to.” Gavriel looked to Ryker and Blaise for support. I was enjoying how the tables had turned.

  “Don’t confuse empathy with blame, Gav. This wasn't your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

  “Yeah, well, I could have been better fucking prepared,” Nix yelled, thrusting his hand up and gesturing between all of us. He was still worked up, shocked by how everything went down, and I couldn’t even blame him. “I mean, that was crazy. Bullets flying everywhere. Explosions. A fucking detached arm grazed my thigh. You had me watching Paul when I should have been keeping an eye on Santobello.”

  It was beyond crazy, it was terrifying. It was intense. I didn’t know where the blood ended and the destruction began. “I should have never let you guys disappear at Blaise’s loft. If Nix was running surveillance, none of this would have ever happened.”