by Coralee June
“So when did you two become friends?” I asked. They made eye contact, and I noticed the unspoken words in their gaze. They were silently arguing over who would have to explain.
“When you left,” Callum began, “we had search parties. Blaise was on my team, along with the other Bullets. We got to know each other, and we kept in touch over the years.” He shrugged.
"I see." Sensing that there was more to the story, I grabbed my napkin and began twisting it in my lap. "Do you see each other often?"
It was Blaise's turn to answer. "We all see each other as much as we can, but things are different now. We all have jobs and lives."
I couldn't help but wonder how I would fit into their new lives.
“How’s my Mom?” I asked, almost feeling guilty for not worrying about her more. I felt some twisted sense of responsibility for her, but she knew the kind of man my father was and decided to stay. That was reason enough to block her from my mind.
At that, Callum grinned and chuckled out his answer. “She’s still hitting on me.”
“Ah, nothing’s changed then,” I chuckled, remembering all the nights she’d fuss over him.
“I wouldn’t say that,” he replied cryptically.
After our meal, Callum walked us to the car. He had parked on the other side of the mall and was taking a separate flight to Los Angeles. He mentioned that it would look bad if a federal agent boarded a private plane owned by the infamous Gavriel Moretti. We all moved slowly as we walked.
“I’m sorry if I intruded today,” Callum said. I was glad he showed up; lighthearted fun was exactly what I needed. Something told me that seeing Gavriel would be hard. Now that I'd spent a few hours with Callum and Blaise, I knew that I could handle it.
“Gavriel is relentless. And I...just...” he began, “...I just wanted to make sure you were still here.”
I wrapped my arm around his waist, hoping to comfort him with my touch, because I knew my words wouldn't be enough. They would never be enough. Once at the car, Blaise nodded once before settling into the driver's seat. I watched him over my shoulder for a moment as he gripped the steering wheel and stared ahead. Was he trying not to watch?
I turned my head back to face Callum, who immediately swarmed in on my lips. His kiss wasn’t as fevered and rushed as last night. It was simple and loving. His lips felt like soft clouds on mine, and I leaned into the safety of his touch, reassuring him once more that I was here. “See you in Los Angeles,” I whispered after pulling away. I clasped my hands around his neck, and he placed a tender kiss on my forehead.
“Gavriel got me a hotel. I’ll visit when I can, but we both have appearances to keep.” Although it made me sad to know that he wouldn't be with me, I nodded my head in understanding before he continued. “I want to be mad that Blaise and Gavriel are making us travel across the country, but I’m kind of relieved that you’ll be farther from Chesterbrook.” He kissed me again, and I sank into his touch. Pulling as close as possible, I enjoyed the feel of him without shame or uncertainty. I had been running for so long that I didn’t think of how great it would feel to be found.
I wasn’t sure how Callum knew who I was running from, but it felt good to know that I wasn’t alone. Even if he didn’t know the gory details, it was good to have someone believe me. I ran because I didn't think my screams would be heard. “My father is a bad man,” I whispered, willing my voice to stay calm. I knew Callum wanted answers. He was on the hunt for justice, and I’d lead him to it. But not now. Not in this moment.
“I’ll make him pay for hurting you.” His whispered response resonated strength, and I wanted nothing more than to cling to it, but I knew better.
“Men like Paul Bright don’t have to pay for their sins,” I replied. “They have too much power. Too much influence. I’ll tell you what happened. I’ll tell you everything. But I’d rather carry this secret to the grave than see you end up dead, Callum. And if you try to go up against him, that’s what will happen.”
Callum went impossibly still. My lungs stalled as I waited for his response.
“I’ll see you in LA, Sunshine,” he whispered, not confirming nor commenting on the severity of my statement. I leaned forward to breathe in his scent. He smelled like home. I twisted my head to the side and stared at the full parking lot, the rumble of Blaise’s engine the soundtrack to our moment.
“When did you start calling me that?” I asked with a chuckle.
“While we searched for you, the Bullets screamed your nickname over and over. It was the first time someone called you something that completely illustrated what it felt like to look at you. You’re Sunshine, Baby. You’re light. Warmth. Pure life illuminating those lucky enough to know you.”
I nuzzled closer, burrowing my face into his chest so he couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. “I’ll see you soon,” he affirmed while pulling away and opening my car door. He didn’t have to tell Blaise to keep me safe. The look they gave one another was silent confirmation that they would do whatever it took to care for me.
Chapter Nine
Five years Ago
* * *
I expected to wake up cuddling Cat in my bedroom, but when my eyes opened the next morning, he was nowhere to be found. I went downstairs, assuming that Mom had let him outside, but she was still passed out in her bedroom from the night before. It wasn't until I entered the kitchen that I realized what had happened. Dad left a note on the counter:
Took the dog to pound. -Dad
The tears that filled my eyes surprised me. Although my time with Cat was short, I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye. The Bullets and Callum kept me company enough, but I craved companionship at home. Without him, I suddenly felt more alone.
Dad had an aggressive temperament, and Mom was self-destructive. Their high standards, combined with the constant scrutiny of the town, exhausted me. I guess I'd been in survival mode for so long, I didn't realize how lonely I was. I had the Bullets, yes. And in some ways, I had Callum, too. But I was keeping them at arm's length because it was easier than telling them how bad it had gotten.
Not anymore.
I quickly got dressed in one of the outfits I kept hidden in the back of my closet. Mom and Dad preferred that I wear modest clothing. I had more knee-length skirts, headbands, and cardigans than I knew what to do with. But not today.
I shimmied into a pair of tight cutoff shorts then grabbed a black off-the-shoulder crop top. The shirt was loose but still showed off the abs I'd been working hard for. I casually swiped mascara on my lashes and gloss on my lips then waltzed downstairs. I didn't bother to check on Mom again. For too long I'd been enabling her self-destructive behavior. She wasn’t going to get better until it was the only option she had.
Making sure to haphazardly slam the door behind me, I grinned when I thought of the headache Mom would wake up with. The Jamesons’ Mercedes wasn't parked in their drive, so I assumed that they were gone again. They were always gone.
It was still early, but I knew Ryker was likely working out. Blaise was at the garage where he worked on the weekends, and I predicted that Gavriel was still asleep. I grabbed the spare key to their house and let myself inside.
Upstairs, I opened the door to Gavriel’s room and found his bulky frame still sound asleep in bed. A red, plush comforter covered him, and I took a moment to appreciate how peaceful he looked. Normally, his rigid frame was always on the defense. His brown eyes observed the world through a pessimistic lens. It was like he was waiting for someone to punch him in the gut.
His room was mostly bare. Despite living here for almost four years, it lacked a personal touch. No pictures covered the walls, no posters or clutter. It looked like a guest room. Like he was just visiting—and I guess he was.
The mornings were my favorite with Gavriel. It was in that blissful post-dream state that he let his guard down. He didn’t challenge me or pick fights. He was lazy and...sensual...in the mornings, so I made sure to wake him most weekends. However, I knew bet
ter than to sneak up on him while he was asleep.
"Gav, wake up," I said in a playful voice. He shifted under the sheets, and I licked my lips as they fell down around his waist, revealing his scarred back. I looked at the circular scar close to his shoulder and frowned. Everyone in the town of Chesterbrook knew how he got that wound. He wore it like a badge of honor. It’s why everyone called them the Bullets.
I knew the story well, as I’d heard him tell it at least a couple dozen times:
"When the cops showed up to raid my Dad's operation, I tried to flee with the drugs and a couple of pistols. A trigger happy cop shot me in the shoulder." The girls cooed and gasped at his story, one even leaned closer, pressing her breasts just inches from his face. "The doctors said they couldn't know for sure if they got all the lead out." He looked around to see if any teachers were approaching before taking off his shirt to show the scar. "Guess I'll always be part bullet."
I remembered rolling my eyes, but he didn't tell that story too often now. I wondered if he regretted labeling himself that way. Most girls found his tragic past to be attractive, but unlike them, I felt pity when I thought of a fourteen-year-old Gavriel working with a crime syndicate.
"Wake up!" I urged once more. Again, he stirred with a groan but didn't budge, so I sauntered over. Leaning over to look at his face, my hands acted on their own and brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. At my touch, his eyes fluttered open.
"Sunshine, you know better than to wake me up," he growled in a sleepy voice that made my stomach clench. It was the same thing he said last Saturday. I grinned, and before I could defend myself, he sat up enough to wrap his arms around my waist and pull me into bed. I fell on top of him with a giggle.
"What have I told you about early mornings?" he asked.
"If I wake you up before ten a.m. on the weekend, you'll...s-spank me," I recited, stuttering on the word “spank.” For some reason, the idea of Gavriel spanking me was too tempting. I forced those thoughts to the back of my mind and gave him a small smile.
He, too, seemed to catch on to what I was thinking, and his hands roamed my back, drifting up under my crop top. Stroking the strap of my bra, he chuckled when goosebumps pebbled along my skin. Cuddling with the Bullets was a normal occurrence for me. We'd held hands and fallen asleep on the couch many times. But lately Gavriel had been pushing the boundaries—and I loved it. A caress here, a heated stare there. He lingered when we hugged or brushed his fingers against my sensitive neck.
"I should spank you," he whispered. There was a smoky quality to his voice that made me squirm. "I know you get your rocks off seeing me first thing in the morning, but it stopped being cute a couple years ago." He shifted us and pulled my back towards his chest. I stiffened when I felt his morning wood digging into me. Having best friends that were guys meant that it came with the territory, but it was the first time I was so...close.
“How are you feeling since the fight?” I asked casually, hoping to change the subject.
“I’ve had worse. Don’t you say a fucking word to Ryker, but I was impressed with how well he held his own.”
I laughed. “I'm sorry, could you repeat that one more time? Gavriel Moretti's impressed by something other than his own reflection?!”
“You’re such an ass,” he murmured into my hair, and I felt his smile. His playfulness made me grin. These moments were rare, so I had to soak them up whenever I could.
“Gav?”
“What?” he grumbled, trying to go back to sleep.
“Did you really get shot trying to help your Dad?” I wasn’t sure what made me ask, maybe it was seeing the scar again. Even though I'd heard him tell the story at least a dozen times, I always wondered if there was more.
“Yeah?” he replied in a sarcastic tone as if I had insulted him by asking. “Why?”
I shrugged and felt his chest behind me. “I don’t know, I just always wondered if there was more to the story.”
I worried that I pushed the magic of our mornings together too far. Gavriel was sensitive about his past. Letting out a long sigh, he responded. “The cop that shot me? He actually worked for my Dad. Got tangled up in some bad stuff, Love. Weapons and drugs are one thing, but human trafficking is a whole ’nother level of hell."
His New York accent came out more when he spoke of his family. "We were at one of the Moretti warehouses in Harlem. I was helping Dad unload the box trucks early in the morning before school. I expected another shipment of coke, but it was women on the truck. Some of them looked half-starved. Some of them drugged out of their minds. Most of them my age or younger. Dad got pissed. He said it was one thing to fund an operation, but he didn’t want that ‘shit’ landing on his front step. But the cop was relentless. He went nuts and pointed his gun at one of the girls. She had blond hair, or at least I think that’s what color it was. There was so much dirt and grime in it, I couldn’t tell.” I realized that I had been holding my breath, and let it out while imagining the world he described. I knew that Gavriel grew up with some dark shit, but I never realized how traumatic his life before Chesterbrook was.
“When he pointed his gun at her, I didn’t think. I jumped in front of it. It was weird, like I didn’t feel the shot. It took awhile for the pain. I’m not sure if time was moving slowly or if my brain couldn’t process what had happened. I fell to the ground and bled out, then he emptied his magazine on the truck. The girl died anyways. He and my Dad were fighting when we got busted, all while we washed the concrete with our blood.”
“God, Gavriel,” I murmured while settling closer to him. I couldn’t imagine surviving such an ordeal.
“I like my version better. At least then, when I tell people, I don’t have to explain how I failed at being the hero. I like setting the bar low.”
We were quiet for a moment, both of us settling into the awkwardness of his revelation. I wanted to tell him that he saved me. From my loneliness. From my family.
A full three minutes passed before he spoke again. “Fuck, change the subject already. I can practically feel you trembling, and it's pissing me off.”
"I had a...hard...morning," I say while cringing at my choice of words. How could my morning even amount to the sort of shit he endured? He pulled me closer. "Callum brought over a stray dog last night, but when I woke up, Dad had taken him to the pound." Raw emotion poured into my words, and again I wondered why I was so attached to a dog I had for only a few hours. He was friendly, quirky, and a ball of companionship. The dog embodied the warmth my home had been lacking.
"So you and this Callum guy, huh? I'm not one to judge illegal activities, but you're underaged, Love. And why does it feel like you’ve been keeping him a secret?" I smiled and brushed my lashes against his bicep, which was acting as my pillow. They all called me Sunshine, but when Gavriel let his defenses down, he'd let the little pet name slip.
"I thought you knew about him. He stayed with us the summer his parents died. Callum is..." I tried to think of what to say. He was amazing. Handsome. Reliable. He was everything I wanted, but, if I were being honest with myself, so were the Bullets.
"Nothing is going to happen," I finally said. “He started coming around more these last couple of months. I didn’t intend for it to be a secret. You never discuss the women in your life, I didn’t think it pertinent to discuss the men in mine.” I knew I was sounding defensive, but I didn’t like the double standard. Besides, Callum wasn’t even a man in my life, not really. I frowned at that realization.
All these men, but none of them were mine.
He scoffed. "Don’t tell me you want something to happen?" Gavriel asked. He lifted his leg and placed it over me, sandwiching me further between his thighs. My skin felt hot as we cuddled.
"Maybe?" I answered. "So what? I’m tired of being the naive girl next door that hides behind closed doors. I want to explore."
Gavriel went impossibly still. His body was rigid and firm, and I worried that the spell of our early morning was over. Usual
ly, it took at least an hour before he remembered to be the brooding asshole everyone feared.
"Come on," he finally choked out. It sounded like something was stuck in his throat. "Get out of my bed." Although he said he wanted me to leave, he didn't release me. He interlocked his arms around my chest and his legs around my hips kept firm. I wanted to test the boundary, too. I arched my back, pressing and wiggling against him. It wasn't the casual cuddle we'd shared many times before, this was tempting and forward. Here, in this room, I wasn't the awkward friend that hid while they terrorized the town.
"We should really go," I pushed while pressing back once more. I knew Gavriel wasn't going to ask what I was doing. He wasn't the type to confront change or conflict with his words, he was all action. And right now? I was begging him to act. He unlocked his arms and lay his left hand over my collarbone. His pinky finger dipped between my cleavage, just barely.
Instead of getting up, I rolled back over so that we were facing one another. His morning breath made my nose wrinkle, but the smell of his cologne on the sheets overpowered it. "You get up first, bossypants sir," I joked, tempted to wrap my leg around his body and pull closer. This wasn't what friends did. I shouldn't want this.
I knew what the Bullets did to women when they were done with them, and I never wanted them to be done with me.
Instead of answering, Gav grabbed my thigh and guided it over his hip, doing exactly what I wanted. I gasped and cursed the tight shorts covering me. His fingers drifted up over the denim by my ass. I held my breath, too nervous to do anything and ruin this moment.
He saw the wanting in my stare. I knew if I broke the silence, he would stop. I wanted to let Gav show me exactly what he did to the girls he paraded around town. He teasingly pulled his hand away from my ass and traveled towards the button on my shorts. Another boundary I wanted him to shatter. His knuckles grazed against me over the denim, and I let out an involuntary moan.
