by Coralee June
“I think someone is listening in on my calls. Santobello has stepped up his hacker game recently,” he explained. Shit, what if someone heard our conversations with Nix? “I just sort of prepared for tonight and waited around for you all to get here.”
He slid the key in the door and opened it slowly, revealing a cozy one-bedroom cottage with rose petals covering the floor. I gasped at how beautiful everything looked. Callum quickly moved to a small table where he began lighting candles, the soft glow illuminating the room in a warm light that flickered with the wind blowing through the open door. He then went to a cozy fireplace and turned on the gas fire, the flames almost instantly warming the chill in the room. This felt like a test somehow. Or a trick. Everything was too beautiful, too perfect.
It wasn’t right. Nothing about being here was appropriate or normal. Just hours ago, I didn’t know where we stood or what the night would bring. I was tired. I was spread so thin my skin would surely become translucent. I had the attention of three other men waiting for me at a church but another willing to worship my body here.
And I didn’t care. It didn’t have to make sense. It didn’t have to fall into that neat little place or within a timeline that the rest of the world agreed with. There was a time I was willing to blame Gavriel Moretti for all the ridiculous and selfish things I wanted in life, but tonight, this was my fault. I’d claim Callum and not feel guilty for it. I’d guide him outside the barrier of his moral code and into our family.
Tonight I wanted to love Callum before I lost him fully to the Bullets.
I didn’t realize before now how I sort of enjoyed making him a separate entity in our relationships. Callum was an outsider, mine alone to treasure and love. But if they had to share me, then I had to share Callum with them. Their brotherhood was just as important.
I shut the door and slowly shuffled inside, feeling awed by the romantic setting. “Callum, this is…” There was a plate of melted chocolate and strawberries. “Did you seriously plan all of this? How…”
With everything happening, how had he had the time? “You told me you wanted me to comfort you. It made me sick that I just...used you like that. Then left you. I made it very easy for Nix to find me without alerting Santobello that I wanted you here. And I probably could have found a way to contact Gavriel, but I knew he’d just try to control the situation. I wanted to do this my way. I wanted to cope my way, accept what needs to be done my way…”
“I get that. But no more, okay? After this, we’re a team.”
“Done.”
Callum went to get a quilt, and he laid it down by the fire. “So that’s it, you’re just okay with everything?” I asked, needing to make sure.
Callum stalled for a moment, smoothing out the blanket while coming up with an answer. “No. I’m not. I don’t want to share you. I don’t want to kill a man. I want to have faith in the justice system. I want to live in a little house with a picket fence and love you for the rest of my life. But I’m man enough to let go of the things I want to get what I need—and I need you, Sunshine. And as much as I hate to admit it, I need the Bullets too.”
Callum went to the table and grabbed the melted chocolate and strawberries. “Come here,” he ordered, his voice thick with anticipation. I could barely hold back a sigh at the tone. Despite being exhausted, sore, and terrified of what was to come, I obeyed.
Moving towards him, I smiled while stripping from my shirt. I shrugged my tight black pants off, welcoming the warmth of the fire as it licked at my skin. Callum swallowed, and I watched the delicious way his Adam’s apple bobbed in appreciation. “You going to make this sweet for me Callum?”
“I never said that,” he replied. I stepped closer, placing my palm on his chest and looking up at his blue eyes. “I’m going to make this good for you. But good isn’t always sweet.”
I grew hot as my body sensed what was coming next. Callum licked his lips before closing the distance between us with a kiss. Swirling his tongue around mine, he’d showered me with every ounce of stored up longing, pouring it out on my lips. He offered up everything he was and everything he had.
He eased me to the blanket on the ground, kissing me all the while. The heat from the fire as well as his kisses made a red flush cover my skin. He pulled away, sitting on his knees to just stare at me. I felt treasured and desired. But I also felt scared. Something about the way he was memorizing every bit of my skin made what he said earlier sink in. The Callum I fell in love with as a girl would cease to exist after tonight. He had to come to terms with the new me, and now I’d have to say goodbye to the old him.
“I remembered today that you have a sweet tooth,” he said while reaching over to pick up a strawberry and dip it in the melted chocolate. “You used to steal cookies all the time,” he joked while blowing on the chocolate before leaning forward and tracing lines of the sweet, warm treat over my stomach. It was a warm sensation that ignited me from within. “But here’s a secret for you, I have a sweet tooth too.”
Callum placed the strawberry to my lips, and I took a bite, smiling before swallowing. It was delicious but not nearly as good as the man sitting in front of me. He then eased my thong off and tossed it to the side. “You okay, Sunshine?” Callum asked. My breathing had become labored, anticipation kissing my senses.
“Y-yes,” I said, mentally cringing when I heard how inexperienced I sounded. I’d always felt naive and innocent with Callum. Even though I was now a grown woman with enough experiences of my own to know what to expect, I still found myself feeling like a fumbling teen.
“You look so beautiful,” he murmured before trailing his chocolate-covered finger down my slick slit, circling my clit along the way. My hips rose up to greet his touch, my body instantly reacting to how good he felt. The warm chocolate melted and mixed in with the wet pleasure pooling between my thighs. He pulled away to get more chocolate, and I inched my finger down, tracing a lazy circle over my nub before lifting it up to look at the melted chocolate there. With a groan, Callum abandoned the chocolate tray and turned his attention back to me. He then placed my finger in his mouth, licking it up before removing it with a popping sound that filled the room.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered, and I dropped them open wider for him.
Callum wasted no time, he buried himself between my thighs, lapping me up like the treat I was. “Mmm, so good.” Callum licked my clit, and once again I bucked as he plunged two fingers inside of me. Callum’s rough beard added just enough texture to my rising climax. And when I looked down at him, his eyes connected with mine in a flash, their blue hue bright and beautiful. He pulled away just before I arrived at that powerful peak, and I smiled when I saw the chocolate on his chin.
“Come here,” I whispered. Callum didn’t hesitate, inching closer until there was no space between us. I met him with a kiss. I licked his lips and chin, savoring the chocolate left there. It was delicious. His shirt was gone. And then his pants. And then his boxers. And then he was thrusting inside of me, rocking back and forth as he kept his gaze steady on mine. I was treasured and naughty but whole in that moment.
He rarely blinked, as if too scared to miss the way I responded to him. He stared at me with a lazy smile, contentment and determination on his face as we fucked by the fire. “Sunshine, I’d do anything for you,” he groaned.
Our bodies moved like that for what felt like hours. Both of us panting as we kept the steady rhythm of our pleasure until we couldn’t hold back the climax. My cries were like whimpers of finality, a comfortable plea for this to last forever. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the Callum I once knew.
“I love you, Sunshine.”
“I love you too.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The chapel we met the Bullets at was where I was baptized when I turned fourteen. I remember it because I got my period the same day. I thought I was being punished for wanting to be new. The historic chapel was owned by the Baptist church on Main Street, where everyone who
was anyone attended. They used it for special occasions, small weddings, baptisms, and sometimes they joked about hosting the occasional exorcism there too. People thought that exorcisms removed demons from bodies, but the ones performed here removed troublesome people from polite society. It’s where gossip determined who was worthy.
Mom wanted to be a member, she tried so hard to fit in. But apparently, Christians looked down on women that drank heavily. And they didn't like when she flirted with the handsome preacher either, bending over in her tight little dresses while praying he’d give her the second glance my father always denied. Still, every Sunday, we attended. I couldn't tell you a single thing about the Bible, though my father studied it intensively. Now whenever I looked at the cross, all I saw were all my father's victims lined up, their hands in a praying pose over their chest. My father thought he was God, and even though I wasn't against religion, I was definitely against the idea of men thinking they could use it to inflict their humanly power over another.
"So why are we here?" I asked with a frown while looking up at the stained windows, the moonlight was reflected in the glass, giving it a sort of ominous feel. I never really liked this chapel, but it was a staple of Chesterbrook, standing proudly despite the time that passed.
"Your father is hosting a mental health meeting for people in the community to share their struggles. He started it right after your mom died, apparently. It’s a publicity stunt.” I nodded, recognizing his motivations instantly. Seemed fitting he’d meet with a bunch of people fighting the demons in their minds to feel better about the devil in his. Add in the bonus of good publicity, and it was worth the two hour drive from his townhouse in DC. “I've been studying his habits lately, and I noticed that he’s made large donations to the restoration of this chapel over the years. It means something to him."
I wasn’t much of a profiler. I couldn’t tell you what happened to my father to make him so evil. I didn’t know what his fixation with the praying pose was about, or why he picked blond boys with innocent faces and sharp cheeks. But his obsession with a chapel seemed fitting. Scary, but fitting.
We were still sitting in Callum’s rental car, and the relaxing bliss from before had completely worn off. I knew that, pretty soon, we'd have to face my father. I made a note to go back to Blaise’s loft when this was all said and done to retrieve my knife. If I had it now, I could comfort myself with its sharp edges.
One. My father was in that church.
Two. I had all my men.
Three. We were about to murder Paul Bright.
But even more so, I was nervous that Callum’s kisses felt too much like goodbye. What did Callum have planned for this evening? How do we even get away with something like this? Gavriel was the professional criminal. I didn’t want to think of all the rivals whose bodies had gone missing over the years. If anyone was equipped to do this efficiently and under the veil of secrecy, it was him. So why was Callum the one calling the shots?
A knock on the car window jolted me out of my thoughts. I rolled down my window to stare at Ryker, who was peering back at me.
"You okay?" he asked. I wanted to kiss him right there.
"Yeah," I mumbled, not really feeling okay at all. I was happy with Callum but terrified with what was to come. On the other side of that large wooden door was my father.
“Right now, we're going to wait for the others to leave. I have a feeling Paul is going to be the last one out," Callum said, avoiding Gavriel's eyes. He was standing behind Ryker, and Blaise was parked in the car beside us. Soon, people started leaving the church, and I watched as men and women with bright smiles on their faces joked while walking towards the parking lot. They didn't look like candidates for a mental health meeting, nor did they look like people that had just met with the devil himself. Looks could be deceiving though.
"Think that's it?" I asked Callum.
"Probably. Let's wait until your father locks up. We'll approach then."
I scanned the darkness, minutes stretching into what felt like hours. I was in this strange place of wanting more time but wanting to get this over with.
Pretty soon, a man wearing a trench coat sauntered outside with an unmistakable confidence that immediately alerted me that it was Paul Bright in the flesh, standing outside beneath the full November moon.
"There he is," I said before swallowing the terror that threatened to rise up my throat. Ryker moved quickly, assessing the parking lot to make sure that it was empty before approaching. I opened the car door, grabbing Gavriel's hand like it was a lifeline before following after Ryker. I heard two car doors slam and knew that Blaise and Callum were close behind. Ryker was efficient, grabbing my father from behind and locking his wrists. Paul Bright had grown older now. He didn't even struggle.
I looked over my shoulder and saw Callum grab some rope from the trunk of his car, as well as a crow bar. That was...primitive. Gavriel brought my attention away from Callum and back to him, tugging me closer until I was just feet away from Paul fucking Bright.
"I knew you'd be here. Santobello had warned me as much," he said. I wasn't sure why I was angry with his choice of introduction, but it made my blood boil. Always so cocky.
"Hey, Paul," I said while watching his body for signs of distress, but he didn't stiffen, didn't pause. His entire body was relaxed as he stared at the door. Like my voice didn’t bother him one bit.
Ryker slammed his cheek against the wood before he responded, "Summer. You sound pretty alive for a ghost." Blaise got to the door and opened it, checking Paul’s shoulder as he went inside.
“You sound pretty calm for someone about to die,” Ryker said before pushing Paul inside the chapel with more force than necessary. Blaise turned on the light, and the church was filled with a warm glow. Callum followed after, his posture tall as he stalked forward. He was a man on a mission. The softness from before had completely faded. Scary and proud, tortured but determined. Even if he hated himself for it, Callum really was a Bullet now. Gavriel reached out for him with his free hand, stopping Callum from going inside.
Once Callum stopped, Gavriel let go of his wrist and spoke. "You're doing this, Mercer.” Gavriel tucked me under his arm and walked forward. We had just stepped inside the chapel when I heard Callum's response.
"Yeah. I know."
“I’ll clean up your mess, make sure it doesn’t come back to you. But his blood will be on your hands.”
Callum closed his eyes, a strange look crossing his features. Happiness. Peace. Fear. Hope.
“Yes, sir.”
The chapel was just as I remembered it; pews lined each side, and a maroon carpet on the floor led towards an altar at the front. Blaise grabbed a wooden chair and set it in the middle before Ryker forced Paul into it. Callum approached from behind with the rope, tightening the slack between his two fists with an intimidating snap before approaching Paul.
"Callum, I didn't think you had it in you. I never imagined you had the balls to actually stand up to me."
I'd seen my father on television and knew that the five years in government had aged him considerably. But looking at him now had me feeling surprised. His hair was thinner, the lines on his face, deeper. But his grey eyes were still that haunting hue that scraped at the nerves of anyone brave enough to look back at him. He was rounder too. Like he'd been eating more. I wondered if Santobello sedated the victims he handed over to him, because the man sitting in the chair in front of us wasn't strong enough to overpower anyone.
All this time, I thought my father was strong. I thought he was a towering man that could kill innocents with a look. Being on the run for so long had built him up to be something much bigger than he actually was. Now, all I felt was an annoyance that I let someone so insignificant have control over me. Maybe it was the false sense of security I felt surrounded by my men, but I felt like I could grab a knife and shove it in his chest.
Callum tied the rope around him in silence, pulling it tight and jerking my father's body in the
process. Ryker stopped in front of me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You good?” he asked. And surprisingly, I was. I didn’t feel hopeless or weak. I felt like the girl that survived. I felt like the woman that stood up for herself and commanded the attention of four strong men.
“Yeah,” I replied with a nod while Ryker redirected his attention to Paul Bright.
The air smelled of incense, and I couldn't help but feel empowered by the odd venue for such a criminal act. Paul Bright would die in a church. If Callum had any sense of poetic justice, he'd cross his arms over his chest and leave him here like his victims.
Callum stood, letting out a slow sigh before rearing back and punching my father in the jaw. Blaise whistled. “They grow up so fast,” he joked while pretending to wipe away a tear. Leave it to Blaise to be the comedic relief during a murder.
"You get off on people's reactions to you, don't you,” Callum said while massaging his knuckles. Gavriel was still holding my hand, squeezing tightly to reassure me that he was still there. Or maybe he was holding himself back, letting Callum get his revenge without interference. I knew that he wanted to take over, control the situation and beat the ever living shit out of Paul Bright, so I was proud of him for letting Callum have his moment.
Ryker and Blaise stood behind my father, arms crossed over their chests like imposing bodyguards, prepared to tap in should anything happen. "I don't know what you mean," Paul said with a grin before turning his attention to me. At once, all of my men went rigid, preparing themselves to intervene.
"Summer. What on earth did you do to your skin?" he asked, and I subconsciously looked down at my arms, observing the swirling ink in the shape of a rose like it had just appeared there. Old habits die hard, and falling prey to my father's aggressive perfectionist attitude was still something ingrained in me. But instead of cowering at his words, I twisted my arm, showing off how large the tattoo was and how much skin it covered.
Gavriel squeezed once more, and I snapped my head up, refusing to back down into the insecurities of Summer Bright. I was Sunshine, dammit.