Page 19 of Bullseye
Considering everything I’ve been through and known in my life, this should terrify me. But it doesn’t. Avery isn’t Ironclad or his punk-ass minions who framed Matt. Bullseye knows how to handle a gun. He isn’t going to shoot if he doesn’t have to, and he sure as hell isn’t going to miss when he does.
“Who is it?” Avery snarls. It’s like he morphs into some taller, stronger, even more sexual creature.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I will the sound to be a stray dog, going through the garbage cans looking for food.
Suddenly, a flash of a figure runs from the bushes and into the parking lot. I can feel the energy from Avery’s body. He pounces away from me, and breaking out into a full run, chases the figure into the parking lot with his piece drawn. He jumps into ready-position, with his feet wide and knees bent. He’s going to shoot.
Damn.
I know I should turn and run into the house, but I don’t want to leave Avery out here alone, and I’m so relieved that it is one person and not two… I squat down, catching my breath, very nearly crumpling to the ground.
The roar of a motorcycle engine starts, and a motorcycle spins around the parking lot, then drives off. Watching it go, I note its direction—it’s heading back into town. Into Hoppa.
“Are you okay?” Tucking his piece into the back of his jeans as he moves, Avery comes rushing up to me.
Holding out his hand for me to take, I slip mine into his, and he pulls me to my feet.
“Thank you.” I’m reluctant to ask, but I have to. “Do you know who it was?”
Nodding seriously and looking me dead in the eyes, he answers. “Seth.”
“Seth?” Relief washes over me and putting a hand to my mouth, I fight back a giggle. “As in, our Seth?” Oh, good grief. Here I was thinking it was the punk-ass hitmen from a high-level drug dealer who’s connected to the New York mob come to kill me, but it was only some guy from the club who thinks he’s crushing on me.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Because that’s a huge relief.” As soon as I say it, I realize what I’m saying.
“What do you mean ‘a relief’? Who were you expecting?”
Crap. Looking down at my purple Docs, I kick the path. Little pieces of the broken cement crumble under my boot. I hate lying, and yet it seems to be the thing I consistently do.
“No one. I just meant I’m glad it was only Seth. Not like a mugger or a serial killer or something.”
He looks me straight in the eyes. “Do you know what Seth’s nickname is?”
“Yeah, Dynamite.”
“Exactly. He seems like this really quiet, antisocial guy, who just keeps to himself and works with Harry on the books, but underneath it all, he’s a volcano ready to blow. He did time when he was younger—”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
He raises an eyebrow quizzically. I’m too quick with my response. I need to be cooler.
I explain. “What I mean is, people deserve a second chance. Don’t they?”
Nodding, he steps up to me and closes the void between us again. Stroking my cheek once more, he nods. “Yes, they do. But what I was going to say was that he was in juvie. And he was in on a manslaughter charge. He was fighting, and it got out of control. You’re new here. To Hoppa and to the club. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
“Why?” Rocking forward onto the balls of my feet, I bump against him playfully. “Why do you care if I’m safe?”
“Because…”
Bumping against him again, I bite the corner of my lip and stare up into his eyes. “Because why?”
“Because I don’t want you to be hurt. Or in danger. And frankly, I don’t want to have to hurt someone—like Seth—if they touch you.” Reaching out, he wraps his hands around my forearms. But his expression changes from pure passion in his eyes to… sadness. “And you also have to be smart. You have to know that a guy like Seth can’t be trusted. If ever you need anything, and I’m not around, Harry’s your go-to guy.”
“Harry hates women.”
Nodding, Avery agrees. “Yeah, but he’s working on it. No matter what, he would take care of you.”
