Sunshine and Bullets

by Coralee June

  "What the hell is that?" Dad asked while wrinkling his nose in disgust.

  "Callum found him. He's staying here until we can get him to the pound tomorrow," I explained hurriedly. I needed to find a way to distract Dad so he didn't punish me for eavesdropping.

  "I don't have time for this." Dad sidestepped Mom, who now had glistening tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm headed back to the office. Going to try and coordinate some search parties in town. Then I need to work on my speech for next week.”

  "B-but what about dinner?" I cringed at Mom's shaky voice. Before, there was bitterness seeping through her accusations, but all her anger dissolved. Now, there was nothing but disappointment and uncertainty in her words.

  "I'll be back tomorrow morning to pick up that dog and take it to the pound," he sneered as his fingers twitched.

  Dad didn't give Mom a chance to argue further. He simply strolled out of the living room without a second glance. In the other room, we heard Callum call out to him. "Do you need help, Chief Bright?"

  But there was no response, only the sound of a slamming door and my mother's broken sobs.

  Mom was in a drunken stupor by the time Callum and I finished dinner. Callum didn't comment on her sloppy behavior. And when she couldn't stand, he guided her to bed like a perfect gentleman, despite her wandering hands. I didn't blame her for wanting some attention. Dad was distant and cruel. Something had to change, I just didn't know how.

  I wished her coping mechanisms revolved more around taking steps towards self-care and independence. She was too codependent and addicted to the idea that they'd figure it out. She lived in a fantasy. If she lost enough weight or became interesting enough to hold his attention, he'd get better. She had a vice-like grip on her need for perfection and control, and it was killing her.

  Mom came from a wealthy family, and she funded all of Dad’s endeavors. When he announced that he was running for office, she made sure to give him every advantage possible. She hired the best campaign manager and organized the best fundraisers. Mom loved his ambition and public charisma. I just wished he’d save some of his charm for his home life.

  When Callum returned from tucking her in, I noticed an all too familiar shade of pale pink lipstick on his cheek.

  "She's asleep," he choked out before helping me clear the table.

  I giggled while bumping into his shoulder. "You've got something on your cheek." He wiped it away and bumped back into me before rinsing off our plates.

  "Wanna watch TV?" I asked. It was innocent enough, right? We were two friends enjoying an evening together.

  Callum’s muscles went rigid as he looked at me with a hesitant smile. "I should probably..."

  "Your uniform still needs to dry. C'mon, it'll be fun, Officer Mercer. I promise to be a good girl," I said with a wink while tossing him a dish towel and heading back towards the living room. I tried to be confident despite my racing heart.

  It was dark in the living room. I snuggled in the corner of the couch while trying to calm my breathing. Soon, he shuffled in behind me and, instead of sitting in the nearby recliner, he settled beside me on the couch. He let out a small sigh as our thighs touched, and I squirmed from the heat of his body next to mine.

  "Wanna watch cheesy cop shows?" he finally asked in a low voice. I wondered if he was as affected as I was.

  "Absolutely."

  He grabbed the remote from my hand and began channel surfing. Curled up at my feet on the floor, Cat was content and snoring. I wished we could keep him. It would be nice to have some company in the house. I decided to talk to the Bullets about letting him stay with them until I convinced Mom and Dad to let me keep him.

  "Is this what you usually watch?" I asked with a smirk while staring at the screen.

  An officer was searching a white Toyota. And while digging between the seats, found a gigantic, pink dildo. I let out a snort as the officer on TV jerked his hand back. He immediately pumped what seemed like gallons of gel sanitizer into his palm.

  "I learned how to be a cop with this show!" Callum exclaimed while touching his chest in mock offense.

  "I need to talk to my father about his rookie training program." We both let out belly laughs while discussing what was happening throughout the show.

  "Why'd you become a cop, anyway? Don't you have an IT degree from Penn? You could do anything." I braided my hair distractedly.

  I felt Callum pull away, and when I turned to look at him, there was a faraway look in his eyes. I almost regretted my question.

  "I wanted to be like my dad. If I’m being honest, I thought it would be exciting. I like that the job keeps me busy. Maybe it's cheesy, but I like defending the weak. I like standing up for what’s right. Not to mention, being here is like..." he trailed off and began tracing circles over my ankle, his fingers leaving a trail of heat. "Chesterbrook is the last connection I have with my parents. I became a cop to protect that part of them, I guess," he whispered.

  I stared at his calloused index finger moving across my skin and causing zaps of lust to flow through me. "Well, it’s a shame," I replied, hoping to lighten the mood. "You look awful in that uniform. No muscles whatsoever. You'd make a better IT guy, honestly," I joked while glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

  It took him a moment, but Callum let out a full and hearty laugh. "You little troublemaker," he chided, twisting his body towards me to tickle my ribcage. His fast-moving fingers were relentless, and I laughed at the tickle assault.

  "Stop!" I cried out while sinking lower into the couch and curling in on myself.

  Tears from my laughter rolled down my cheeks as he positioned himself on top of me. His fingers dipped lower, causing jolts of sensation to make me squirm. I bucked my hips, as he used one hand to pin both of my wrists over my head. His other hand moved up and down my body, tickling every last bit of skin.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist and squirmed. I wasn’t expecting to feel him hard as a rock as he settled between my legs. I writhed and pressed tighter, the playful wrestling veering into that dangerous territory I’d told myself to avoid. Callum let out a groan but still held me.

  I sucked in a deep breath, my rising lungs causing my breasts to brush against him. I pushed up again. My summer dress rose up, and the friction of his length against my underwear-covered core made me gasp.

  Callum licked his lips and let go of my hands before brushing them over me once more. His hands trailed the length of my collarbone. His touch followed the arch of my shoulder and pushed down the strap of my dress, revealing the top of my breasts.

  I shifted closer once again and was rewarded with the sound of his guttural moans. I knew I was pressing my luck, but as his fingers traveled up and down my body, I couldn't help but want more. I lifted my face closer to his while grinding against him, craving his lips on mine. There was nothing playful about our movements now. We could no longer pretend that this was innocent, or that his dancing fingers along my skin were the touch of a friend.

  I braced myself for the inevitable rejection, but still zeroed in on his peach lips. I wanted to taste them, if at least once.

  "We can't," Callum choked out. Yet he didn’t move. He stayed still, allowing me to make the decision to grind more against him. Pleasure built within me, and I ached to perpetuate the rhythm of our movements. I let out a little moan and lifted up, kissing his neck. The touch of my lips on his skin seemed to stop Callum. He pulled away from me and my eyes locked in on his hardness, begging to break free from his pants. He quickly adjusted himself. I wasn't very experienced, but I knew enough to realize that he wanted more. Much, much more.

  "I have to go, Summer." Callum’s voice was smoky and full of want. Yet he stood and made his way toward the hallway. I followed after him with a frown. I knew it was wrong of me to feel sad. He was doing what was right. Nothing about us would end well. My lust for him wasn't worth him losing his job or ruining our friendship. I still had two months until I turned eighteen and would be leavin
g for college.

  "I'll get your uniform," I said.

  I made my way to the laundry room and bent over to grab his clothes from the dryer, and when I straightened, he was behind me.

  "Don't say a word," he began in a rushed whisper while pressing his erection against me. "Please. Don't make a sound," he warned. I wriggled under his hold as his hands traveled up my ribs. "This can't happen. Not yet. But know that I want you." His whispers were full of heavy desire. I wanted to roll around in his words. "Feel how much I want you, Summer," he whispered, and heat pooled between my thighs. After one last thrust against me, he tore himself away. His hands brushed against my breasts as he grabbed his uniform dangling from my shaky fingertips.

  I turned around as he walked away. Too afraid that I would ruin the night and kiss him, I didn’t walk him outside. Instead, I stood in the laundry room and calmed my racing heart. I spent the night imagining a future where I could feel more of Callum’s intense attraction to me.

  Chapter Six

  Present Day

  * * *

  "So where are we going?" I asked Blaise while interlocking my fingers in my lap. I was clinging to whatever distraction Blaise could offer to escape the sadness I felt. Did I make the right decision in leaving Nix? When I fled the Bullets five years ago, it had felt like I had no other options. But now, things didn't seem so black and white.

  "Gavriel gave me explicit instructions to bring you to him first, but I need to make a pit stop. Callum is waiting nearby," Blaise replied while entering the highway.

  I froze. Last time I saw Callum, he worked with my Dad. "I don't care where we go. But please don't take me to Chesterbrook, Blaise," I whispered. Fear was like a vice on my throat. I hated how timid and weak my voice sounded.

  "Whatever you're running from is in Chesterbrook—good to know," he replied with a knowing smile and a nod. "I'm not taking you there. Tonight we're staying at a motel an hour away."

  Blaise's phone rang. I took advantage of his distraction to lean against the cool glass of the window and think. Outside, the leaves had just begun to fall.

  "Hey, yeah. I got her." Blaise’s tone was curt. I straightened in my seat. Was he talking to Gavriel? A low, muffled voice sounded through the receiver, and I wished I could hear what was being said.

  "Well, about that," Blaise said while looking over at me. He grinned before turning on the speaker and holding the phone between us.

  "We’re making a little pit stop," Blaise said.

  "I didn't say you could make a pit stop, Mr. Bennett.” I recognized it as Gavriel’s voice, despite the harsh tone. “I said bring her directly here. In fact, you're twenty-three minutes late to arrive at the airport." My pulse raced at hearing his voice. He sounded different, but still recognizable.

  "I need one night. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same."

  There was silence on the other end, and I tried to conceal how much I ached to hear his authoritative voice again. It had gotten deeper, more rugged. It sounded groggy, sleepless and sexy as sin.

  "Bring her to me now, Blaise. I won't ask again. You've seen what happens to men that defy me."

  I bit my lip. Gavriel was always so...intense. I couldn't help it, I needed to say something.

  "Gav?" I asked in a soft voice while leaning forward. The seatbelt strained against my chest.

  Again, silence. The wait was painful, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Blaise sneak a peek at me. The way he gripped the steering wheel made me worry that I upset him. I didn't mean to show how much Gavriel’s voice affected me, but I couldn't help it. I craved him on a visceral level.

  The sound of a huff of breath rushing over the phone receiver filled the car while Blaise's soft music played. "Sunshine," Gavriel said softly. My name was part moan, part sigh of relief.

  "Bring her, Blaise. Now."

  Blaise ended the call and tossed his phone on the dash. I bent my head, staring at the floorboard while tapping my feet. Gavriel sounded angry, and I wondered how our reunion would go. Already, I was hurting Blaise again. Maybe going with him was a bad idea. A hand gripped my knee.

  "I looked for you, you know," Blaise said, his voice low. "It’s how I got to know Callum. We would spend entire weekends going over the details of your disappearance.”

  "I didn’t..." I replied softly. I knew I’d handled it all wrong. I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. But I was a scared seventeen-year-old girl. “...I didn’t think it would affect you that much.”

  Blaise laughed, obviously uncomfortable by the serious turn of our conversation. “Of course we were affected, Sunshine. Didn’t you know? I fucking loved you.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes. Blaise always preferred to be playful—it was easy, noncommittal. His admission filled me with both shame and hope.

  "Let's not talk about that right now. Let's discuss that kick you delivered back at that shitty bar you were working at. I don't think I'll ever have kids, by the way. It probably left permanent damage." He chuckled, dispelling the dark mood of the car with a self-deprecating joke.

  "Ryker'd be proud," I mumbled. More emotional turmoil shot through me at saying his name out loud.

  Ryker. Would I see him too? Could I handle seeing him?

  “Hell yeah, he would,” Blaise replied. The playful banter made me feel almost normal again, like there weren’t five years of betrayal separating us. “You looked good in that uniform, too. Although it kind of kills me to know you wore that every night,” Blaise added.

  I snickered. If he was upset by that, then he’d be positively outraged to hear the other things I’d been up to over the years. Particularly my job at the strip club.

  He squeezed my knee, and I found myself entwining my fingers with his. For the moment, I felt seventeen again, holding my best friend’s hand and enjoying the ride.

  The motel we pulled up to was dingy and dark. Rusty cars with cracked windshields lined the parking lot, making Blaise's polished Mustang stand out.

  "So where's Callum?" I squirmed in my seat, filled with equal parts dread and excitement.

  "Room nine. He asked that you come alone, which I'm not really on board with, but it's for the best." Blaise twisted in his seat towards me. “He said he wants to ask you some questions," he explained in a worried voice, as if not completely sure I should go.

  “Okay,” my voice was shaky, and I felt frozen, unsure of how this could go. Five years was a long time.

  Blaise’s eyes softened. “Is it wrong that I want to keep you to myself a little longer? I know Callum wants to see you, and Gavriel has a private plane waiting for us, but...”

  I lifted my free hand and stroked his cheek. I tried to imagine what it would be like—Blaise and me, a life on the run together. Then, I imagined never knowing what happened to the others, and my chest ached.

  Blaise was only a piece of my heart. I had to see this through. Maybe I was naive for letting go of my inhibitions, but I'd already gone this far. I had to see all of them. I denied Callum and the Bullets a chance to stand by me five years ago, I owed it to them to try now.

  "One hour." Blaise shook off his somber expression. "He’s got to go back to DC tonight. I’ll join you after his time is up. We can get some rest then head to the private airport."

  “DC?” I asked. “When did he leave Chesterbrook?”

  “I’ll let him tell you that,” Blaise answered. I put my hand on the door handle to leave, but Blaise gripped my knee. I paused as he said, "I'll be right here."

  It was cold outside, and I wrapped my arms around myself after shutting the car door. Room nine was directly in front of Blaise's parking spot and, once at the door, I hovered my fist over the metal. I willed myself to knock, but couldn’t. The moment I gained enough courage, someone yanked open the door. I stumbled inside, collapsing into a hard chest.

  "Callum?" I asked as arms wrapped around me. He smelled like mint.

  He held me for a moment before pulling away. The abrupt hug surprised me.
Up until a few days before I’d left, we didn’t allow ourselves to cross physical boundaries. It felt strange yet comforting. I wanted more, yet felt guilty for wanting it.

  "Sunshine," he said with a tight smile.

  My eyebrows shot up at the familiar nickname. How much time had he been spending with the Bullets? I’d never heard him call me anything but Summer.

  He was older now. A few years shy of thirty. A light beard covered his cheeks and, despite the darkness of the room, I could see his freckled skin and bright blue eyes. He looked handsome. Tortured, but handsome.

  "Callum, what's going on?" I asked, breaking the spell of our reunion.

  He looked down, and I realized that my hands were gripping the lapels of his suit jacket. I released them in embarrassment before making my way over to the unmade bed in the middle of the room. His chest rose and fell as I settled and folded my arms.

  "I don't even know where to start," he said while running his hand through his dirty-blond hair. I swallowed hard. "I can't believe it's you. I can't believe you're here."

  I thought Callum would’ve moved on after I’d left. He was a fixture in our home, constantly inserting himself in my life, but it wasn’t like leaving the Bullets. I’d always assumed his life would continue. That I’d just be a distant memory.

  "I want to do and say a million things, but we have to talk." He stopped pacing and approached the bed. "Summer, I have to know, did something happen with your father that caused you to leave?"

  I stiffened. Cool, icy shock filled my system as I processed his words. For five years, I’d suppressed my memories, pushing any thoughts of my father into the deepest parts of myself. He was a constant threat, ebbing at the recesses of my consciousness. My father was my darkest secret.

  Talking so openly about the person I was on the run from felt wrong. For so long, I pretended he was a distant memory, and now he felt closer than ever.