Page 12 of Bullet

It’s a trait among Satan’s Pride guys that the women they fall in love with become their queens. The women have even formed their own group called the Lady Pride, with Ava, Guard’s wife, at the helm. I’m guessing it won’t be long before I get a call from Vi, Orion’s wife, asking when they can meet Amelia. I’m going to try to hold her off for a week or two, but it’s a coin toss on whether Vi will listen or not. Vi can be tough as nails, or soft and gooey like caramel. You never know which one you’re going to get, and that’s the way Orion likes it.

“It’s cool. Rose is staying with Izzy overnight. Saint has a patient at the hospital who isn’t doing well, and he can’t leave until the patient is more stable. He didn’t want Izzy and the baby left alone. For a doctor, he’s being ridiculous about being away from his family.” He laughs.

“Did he give you the ‘just wait until it’s Rose’ speech?”

“Yup.”

“I never thought I’d want a kid, but with all the cute little dudes running around, it’s making me think it might be time.”

“What does Rose think?”

“She wants a baby Thunder.”

I laugh out loud, trying to picture what Thunder looked like as a baby.

“Whatever.” Thunder gives a shrug. “Get some sleep, bud.”

I’m all for that. It’s been a long day.

Where most of the men have homes outside the club, Crush and I still live at the compound. There’s plenty of room, and we save a ton of money because we’re not paying rent. After becoming full members, we could have moved out, but we decided to stay and sink our money into Fix-It Guys. Because of that decision, we’re not in debt, and we’re showing a small profit. In a couple of years, Crush and I will be making good money.

I get into bed and fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

“Bullet! Bullet! Wake the fuck up, man. We’ve got trouble,” I hear Crush yelling as he pounds on my door.

I jump out of bed and yank my door open. “Amelia?” My heart is in my throat. “Thunder?”

“They’re fine,” he says, raking a hand through his hair. “Sal’s dead. Cops are asking questions, and Guard’s on his way.”

Did I hear him right? Sal’s dead? “What the fuck happened?”

“Get dressed and come down. If the cops arrive, we sit tight until Guard gets here. He’s called Sofia. She’s on her way.” He doesn’t give me a chance to say another word and books it down the stairs. I throw on a pair of jeans and splash water on my face to wash the sleep out of my eyes. I glance at the clock on the bedside table and see that it’s coming up on four in the morning.

I pull on my boots and head downstairs. Before I even hit the main common area, I can hear Guard and War talking.

“He was very much alive. Pissed off, but breathing,” War tells him.

“Someone’s trying to pin this on a Pride brother. His crew is saying that Pride men showed up, demanded money, roughed up a couple of their guys, then came back and finished the job later,” Guard states.

“That’s bullshit!” I interject as I approach the two men.

“I know that, but that doesn’t mean the cops aren’t going to ask questions,” Guard says. “Sofia is on her way. Not one word until she gets here.”

Sofia, Demon’s wife, is a pit bull lawyer. Guard hired her years ago when we were expanding our businesses. Primarily, she takes care of all our corporate contracts, but she now handles all legal needs as well. She’s proven herself several times when the cops found it easier to blame the local MC than go hunt for the real criminal. She’s smart, savvy, and takes no shit from anyone. She protects the club like a mama bear protecting her cubs. For a tiny woman, she packs a wallop.

It’s not long before the police show up, and Sofia comes in with them. She sits down on one side of the table with War, Roscoe, Blade, and me, with the officers sitting across from us. Sergeant Wilson drops several photos on the table of Sal tied to a chair with a bullet in him. The pictures are gruesome. As much as I didn’t like the way Sal ran his business, he didn’t deserve that.

“Is that your handiwork?” Wilson asks, his gaze drifting from War to me.

Sofia turns to War and nods. War replies with a clear but curt “No.”

She then turns to me, and I follow War’s example with a simple “No.”

“You went to see him yesterday, then a few hours later, Sal’s dead. That’s quite a coincidence,” Wilson states.

“That’s not a question, Officer,” Sofia says. Her eyes narrow on the man in front of her.

“All right. Can I ask the reason you went to see Sal?” asks Wilson.