by Coralee June
Sunshine & Bullets
CoraLee June
Copyright © 2018 by CoraLee June
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by Marisa Wesley of Cover Me Darling LLC
For Muffin.
Without you, I would have happily hoarded the Bullets all to myself. I was too scared to introduce them to the world. You don’t let me live in fear, though.
You force me to share—my hopes, my dreams, my ambitions, my failures. You open me up and accept all the parts of me I’m too embarrassed to show. I love you for that.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Also by CoraLee June
Wings of the Walker
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
Callum
The club Gavriel picked for our annual meeting was different than his usual preferences. Over the years, I’d noticed the clubs he chose grew progressively upscale, each venue more lavish than the last. This time, it was a red-brick building hidden in the shadows of Harlem, but designed with posh comfort in mind. I didn't have to fight a line of drunks to get inside. When I gave the bouncer my name, he immediately fumbled to unclasp the gold chain in front of the door, allowing me in. It was busy enough to slip past the crowd unnoticed, but not too overcrowded, which meant we could speak comfortably. Being seen with a federal agent was “bad for business,” as Gavriel liked to say, so we had to be careful.
I’d taken the day off of work and driven from DC to get here, but we'd done this every year. I wasn’t exactly sure when we became friends, or even if that's what we were. I represented everything Gavriel hated about this world. Despite being a federal agent and bound to the law, I still met with one of the biggest, baddest crime bosses once a year—all because of a girl.
Our meetings were always quiet. We'd sit in a booth at whatever bar he deemed appropriate while giving each other understanding glances. Most years, we sipped Sunshine Whiskey and wordlessly reminisced. The cheap liquid tasted like shit, but we didn’t drink it for the flavor. We drank it to pay homage to the girl that brought us together. My bond with Gavriel and the Bullets was a curse. I loved her, and she loved them.
This year, he was running late, which I expected. His empire was growing rapidly. The bigger he got, the more enemies he made. Just because I upheld the law, didn't mean I wanted anything to happen to him. I’d even leaked a tip that he was spotted in Texas, hoping it would direct the FBI’s attention elsewhere for a bit.
He walked through the large wooden door of the club, bypassing the attendant without a second glance. Two of his men flanked him, one on each side, and it was odd seeing him in a suit that probably cost more than I made in a month. His Rolex shimmered under the lights of the piano bar, and his tie was subtle, yet stylish.
I stood. Although our meetings were rare and far between, I knew the drill. The man on his left—who had a tattoo the size of my fist around his neck—stepped forward and began patting me down. He checked for wires, and when his hand landed on my duty gun, I reluctantly pulled it from my belt and handed it to him. I understood why the pat down was necessary, but it didn't mean I had to like it. I hadn’t been without my gun since I became a public servant six years ago. It was an extension of me. A security blanket of gun smoke and metal. Once tattoo-neck determined that I was safe, Gavriel gestured towards the booth, and we sat.
"Hey, Callum," Gavriel said. It was a shitty greeting, but I accepted it all the same. Neither of us wanted to be here. We were friends, maybe. But without her? Everything felt empty. She was the glue that bonded us together.
The waitress brought over our glasses, and Gavriel downed his drink in one steady gulp. He didn't wince as the 90 proof slid down his throat, and when his glass was empty, Gavriel lifted his index finger to indicate that he wanted another. Usually, we at least pretended to exchange polite conversation, but not today.
"I have a lead," I said before taking a sip of my drink. The amber liquid burned in my chest.
"You always have a lead," Gavriel replied. He wasn't wrong. Since Sunshine disappeared, I'd been clinging to whatever information I could find.
"But this one’s good," I tried to explain. I knew it in my gut that I was close to finding her. I expected Gavriel to ask questions about my information, but instead, he surprised me.
"Why do you think she ran?"
I took another sip of whiskey while taking a moment to gather my thoughts. Although we weren't close, at least not in a conventional way, Gavriel could still dig up my deepest insecurities. Had he not gone down the path of crime, he would’ve made a good detective. He was an observer. He picked people apart and exploited their weaknesses.
"I have a few theories."
An older gentleman wearing an oversized suit shuffled across the stage and sat at the grand piano. We watched as he cracked his knuckles before tackling the keys. The song’s light melody didn't match the intensity of our conversation.
"She's in Baltimore," I said with steel certainty. It was the first time I’d had a lead so concrete. Before, the world felt too big. But when I saw her photo come up on a traffic cam scan, I felt hope for the first time in five years. "It’s a blurry photo, but I got it," I explained while watching Gavriel's reaction.
On the surface, he seemed unaffected, but I knew the truth. His heart was racing at the possibility of seeing Sunshine again. One look at the quick pulse in his veiny neck, and I knew. He wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all me.
"How sure are you that it's her?" he finally asked. The waitress brought over another glass of whiskey. I waited until she'd left before responding.
"Her hair is lighter, but it’s her. Either she learned some new skills, or she’s working with a seriously skilled hacker. The image was gone within twenty-four hours. I barely caught it.”
I pulled her photo from my coat pocket and handed it to him. I’d spent the last three weeks staring at her, tracing the lines of her face with my fingers. She had tattoos now. Her eyes were downcast, and her lips pursed. It was a grainy traffic camera, but I knew in my gut that it was her. It was both amazing and difficult to look at. Her hardened exterior was so unlike the simple, sweet girl I once knew.
"I don't have the resources you do. There’s too much red tape, and I’m not sure I want the media breathing down our necks. You see her dad is running for Lieutenant Governor now?"
Gavriel didn’t respond. He looked down at the photo, and I hoped to see some sort of reaction, but there was none. I guess being in the mob did that to a man. He was desensitized, jaded, emotionless. "It could be her, I guess," he said before taking his finger and lightly tracing the edges of the photo. The small gesture was the only crack in his facade.
"I can put up a bounty on her, but I can't make any promises. We can’t keep doing this, Callum." Gavriel looked back towards his men who were standing off to the side while he adjusted his jacket. "The only thing we have in common is a girl you and I don't even know anymore."
I took a good look at Gavriel. Before, I was so concerned with finding Sunshine that I didn't notice the black circles under his eyes. Scattered crimson blood was lightly dusted along his collar. When I looked down at his whiskey glass, I noticed that his second one was already empty. I opened my mouth to speak as he beckoned the waitress for a third.
"Are you okay, Gavriel?" I asked, knowing full well that he wouldn't answer. Instead, he picked up the photograph, folded it, and slipped it into his coat jacket.
“This is the last time, Callum. I think maybe we need to start considering that she didn’t run away. I think we need to at least be open to the possibility that she’s dea—”
I slammed my fist on the table, the loud bang causing the pianist to stumble and hit the wrong key. Gavriel’s guards reached inside their coat pockets while stepping towards us. Gavriel held up a hand, stopping them.
“I would know if she was…” I began, unable to say the word. I would feel it, wouldn’t I? When you loved someone, you just knew.
“Dead,” Gavriel finished. He ground his teeth and stared pointedly at me. Gavriel never allowed his feelings to disillusion him. He was a realist.
"I'll try this one last time. But afterward? We’re going to stop pretending like we know each other, and put an end to these yearly meetings."
It was bittersweet, watching him walk away. On one hand, I knew that he was the only person that could help me find Sunshine. He was right, though. I'd been clinging to his group with what little connection I had. She was what brought us together, and she’d inevitably be what tore us apart.
Chapter One
Five Years Ago
Sneaking out of my parents’ two-story home was painfully anticlimactic. I didn't have to shimmy down the large white oak outside my window in my too-tight dress. Nor did I have to say I was going to a “friend's house.” I waltzed downstairs, past the sad figure of my passed out mother's too-thin frame, and quietly walked outside.
It made the build-up to my escape meaningless. For years, I feared going against my parents. I never realized how too absorbed in their own problems they were to truly worry about me. As long as I smiled for the camera, they couldn’t be bothered with whatever else I did.
I stood in the front yard, debating whether to knock down my father’s campaign sign. The one that said, “The future is Bright when you vote for Bright.” The slogan annoyed me each time I saw it. And now that campaign season was in full gear, every lawn on the street paid homage to him. Woodbury Lane was a shrine to the Bright name.
Dad was out again, and he claimed it was work-related. But the Chief of Police for a wealthy neighborhood didn't usually work nights. And since running for Congress, he didn’t really work at all. It was all paperwork and publicity. Occasionally, if things were particularly tragic, he'd make an appearance. But otherwise, he had a very predictable schedule.
I had my suspicions about where he disappeared to most nights. She’d never admit it, but Mom’s nightly cocktail of wine and sleeping pills made me think he was having an affair. So when he called a few hours ago to say that he would be late, she knocked back more pills. When she fell asleep, I made the last minute decision to attend a Bullet Fight.
I was feeling reckless, desperate. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I walked down the drive. My high heels clicked triumphantly against the concrete. It wasn't long before a beat-up Mustang pulled up beside me. Blaise. Everywhere I went, he magically appeared. It was like an invisible force guided him to wherever I was.
Biting my lip, I turned to face him as he leaned over the passenger seat. I watched in amusement as his flexed arm rolled down the chipped glass. He looked different without his signature aviator sunglasses.
"Sunshine, what the hell are you doing walking around in that?" he asked in a loud voice over the sound of his roaring motor.
I giggled. I guess I did look different. The dress was black, tight, and short. My heels added four inches to my height, and I’d left my hair down in large curls that fell along my back.
"I'm headed to the fight." I gave him a coy shrug while stepping off the sidewalk and into the street. I slowly strutted towards him and leaned over the door of his car, peering inside. His hazel eyes dipped to my cleavage before shifting back up to my face with a gaze of approval. Although we were just friends, he never missed an opportunity to make me feel beautiful. I bit my lip to hold back the laugh stuck in my chest, which made his eyes zero in on my bouncing shoulders.
Blaise chuckled in disbelief, shaking his head before running a hand through his short, rust-colored curls. "No, you're not. You never go to our fights. Could you believe the scandal if Chesterbrook’s golden child was spotted at an underground fight club?"
"Well, it's the last one before I go off to college, right? Figured I'd like to see Gavriel in action at least once before..."
Blaise tossed me a sympathetic frown. Whenever I couldn’t finish a thought or say the words caught in my throat, he just knew. Our friendship was odd at best. We were complete opposites in every sense of the word, but somehow it worked. I was quiet, observant, and reserved. I preferred to watch a room rather than be at the center of one. Blaise was rude, cocky, and dangerous. He was brave and charming and belonged to the only gang in our small town of Chesterbrook, Virginia.
The Bullets.
The Bullets were my best friends. They ran the school, the town, and my heart. I never smoked their pot, attended their parties, or met their girlfriends. But I knew their fears, their hopes, their goals, and ambitions. They were an enigma. At the end of this summer, they'd disappear into whatever life awaited them after foster care. I felt compelled to see them in their element—at least this once.
"Fine. If you’re going to go, at least stick with me. Where did you even find that dress?" Blaise swallowed when I opened the door and dipped low into the passenger bucket seat. I winced when the back of my bare thighs scraped against the torn vinyl. Blaise let out a hiss of air as I crossed my legs, adjusting the black fabric so that it lay at the middle of my thigh.
"I’ve been hiding it from the parents," I answered with a shrug while forcing myself not to smile. Everything about tonight was out of my comfort zone. Sneaking out. The revealing clothes. It was thrilling, and made me regret not doing it sooner. Not to mention, I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t feel a slight sense of glee at Blaise’s obvious stare.
“You should wear it more often.” Blaise put the car in drive and sped off.
“This is a one-time thing, Blaise. If Mom saw me, she’d skin me alive. I don’t even want to think what would happen if Dad’s campaign manager saw,” I said with a shiver.
Mom had always been hyper-aware of our image in the community. Being Chief Bright’s daughter meant I had to hold myself to a certain standard. And since the start of election season, she’d become even stricter. She controlled every aspect of my life, except my friendship with the Bullets. That was the one and only secret I got away with.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to make the most out of your little walk on the wild side,” he joked, and I rolled my eyes in response. "I—uh—was supposed to meet Brooklyn there. If I'd known you were coming, I wouldn't have asked her. Do you mind?" he asked, his voice unsure.
If I remembered correctly, Brooklyn was his girlfriend of the month. I could never keep up with who the latest conquest was. She was pretty enough, but I knew she was temporary. They always were. I was probably the only constant in their lives. They did their best to keep me separate from their dating habits. Girls usually got jealous when they found out how close we were. Over time, it became second nature to just downplay our friendship. But I knew if I made them choose, they’d always choose me.
&
nbsp; "Sure," I answered while adjusting the radio volume and changing the station.
Blaise had an obsession with acoustic music played by obscure artists. It completely contradicted his rockstar persona, and I teased him about it regularly. Although I usually found the quiet strumming of a guitar relaxing as we studied, I craved a more aggressive beat for my night of rebellion.
"You think Ryker can handle the fight?" I asked over the music while pulling at my dress.
"I'm not sure. He's strong though," Blaise responded, referring to his newest foster brother.
The Jamesons, the Bullets' foster parents, were assigned another placement about eight months ago. Seventeen. Abusive parents. Ryker was quiet but easily slipped into our group dynamic.
This was his first fight. I’d caught him working out in their front yard on many occasions to prepare. Gavriel had been training him for months. There was something primal about his dedication to learning to fight, so I was curious to see how he’d hold up. Most everyone assumed that he'd have his ass handed to him by Gavriel Moretti, the original foster kid. The original Bullet.
"Probably not as strong as Gavriel," I murmured, but loud music overpowered my voice. I didn't have to attend a Bullet fight to know that Gavriel was ruthless. People cowered when he walked the halls of our school.
“What brought this on?” Blaise asked while turning down the music.
“I was feeling…” I didn’t know how to explain. On one hand, I’d never felt like I was missing out on this side of the Bullets. I’ve always been content to be their lowkey secret. I’d rather know their hearts than see what everyone else saw.