Page 3 of Bullseye
Gripping the gun high on the backstrap, I wrap my left hand around the remainder of the grip. With the backs of my hands interlocking like a puzzle piece, and my feet at hips’ width, I lift my arms and peer down the sight. None of these checks are necessary, this is all second nature to me now. I’m like a professional athlete when I shoot a gun, but something about being nearthis womanmakes me want to go through all the motions.
Lining up my mark, I take a deep breath and, on my exhale…
How tight is that little body? And what color are her ey—
Bang!
What the…? I missed.
Looking down the alley, I shake my head in disbelief. No, most people may not care that I nicked the first ring outside of the splatter target’s bullseye, but I’m not most people.
When I was in with the Bordonos for that year straight out of college, a mistake like this could have meant life or death.Mylife or death. What if my mark was more than seventy-five feet away, and I only had a second to kill him or be killed?
I let myself get distracted by a sexy woman, and it could have cost me my life. And that is the reason I can never be involved with a woman long-term. Women are a distraction I don’t need. And more than that, I can’t drag a woman into my world. Yeah, sure, I’m clean and my record was wiped, which was how I cleared the background check when I pledged with the Knights but is anybody ever really out? What happens if my old man needs something or stumbles deeper into debt, and Bordono decides that I need to work it off?
No.Focus, Bullseye, focus.
Staring down the sight again, I take another shot.
Bang!
Holy Mother. I missed, again. And this time it’s outside the line. It’ll be even harder to make it seem like I did it on purpose.
“Well, well, well…”
Placing my gun down, I wheel around and catch Clyde, a member of our filthy rival group, Unchained Dogs, waltzing in, clapping and howling over my missed shot.
“Nice shot, Bullseye!”
Warmth creeps up my spine, and I growl under my breath. A fail is bad, but a fail in front of this guy, and her, is unbearable.
Glancing quickly at the door to see if any more of his pack is with him, I consider keeping my weapon. Since he’s alone, I put it down. When this standoff is over, Jackson is sure going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do…
“What the hell do you want, Clyde?” I ask through gritted teeth. The tension in my jaw is creeping down into my shoulders, and I take deep breaths to fight it back. “What are you doing on Knights’ turf? You got a death wish?”
Stepping into the hallway, I fight against my concerns as a bead of sweat trickles down my forehead. Was I just played? Did I let myself get sidetracked? Did the damned Dogs send this goddess in here to distract me?
Glancing at her in her lane, she’s changed. Her stance is less confident, and she suddenly appears smaller and weaker. She stays as still as she can, like she’s trying not to draw attention to herself. She’s nervous. Does she know something’s about to go down? Or have the two of us intimidated her?
“I asked you a question, Clyde.” My voice is calm, and I keep it steady.
If I’m getting ambushed, might as well let them know who they’re playing with.
She begins packing up her gear, and relief washes over me, like a million pounds fall away. She’s not part of the sabotage, if that’s what this is. But now, that means I have to protect her. Yeah, she’s just some random girl at my range, albeit a sexy as hell girl, but women deserve our respect, and it’s up to men like me to protect them from scum like the Unchained Dogs.
“I came with a message.” He’s chewing something stuck in the side of his cheek.
“Here?” Holding up my hands, I stand up to my full six-feet-three frame.
“You got a better place?”
In his colors and jacket, he’s definitely here on official business. Being thin and at maybe five-eleven, Clyde’s significantly smaller than me, and with the streaks of gray he has lining his full beard and long, wavy hair, he’s also significantly older. It would be an easy fight for me, but these damned Dogs can’t be trusted. All I need is for him to pull out a blade and try to slit my throat for fun.
“How about Hoppa’s Taphouse?”
Clyde looks down at the ground and spits a wad of tobacco. “You expect me to go waltzing into the clubhouse of the Steel Knights? Shit.” He jams the floor with the toe of his boot. “I’d never get past the parking lot with the insignia of the Dog in broken chains on my bike.”
“That’s true. You would have had the crap beaten out of you before you made it to the front door. So? You’re here now. What’s the message?”
