Burn by Elana Johnson

Author:Elana Johnson [Johnson, Elana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AEJ Creative Works
Published: 2019-10-31T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Bulldog felt his phone vibrating against his chest as he rode, and he knew who it would be.

Dani.

He shouldn’t have called her. She was a smart woman, and she hadn’t believed him for a moment that he’d heard about the happenings on her street through a police scanner. The club did use them, but not very often, and not for domestic disturbances like the one on her street.

Except Bulldog knew the disturbance on her street hadn’t been something domestic. He suspected Tick and Razor had something to do with it, as Tick knew more than he should about the pyrotechnic qualities of kitty litter, and Razor had come to the club wanting to throw everything through every available window.

Tick wasn’t physically in the clubhouse at the moment, and Bulldog had thought he’d gotten rid of the annoying man for a little while. But it turned out, Tick was just as obnoxious out in the real world.

Bulldog leaned as he took a curve he’d already driven that night, the red letters on Ruby’s out now. He’d been with Maverick and the Sentinels when the news about a possible motorcycle club incident had happened in Grand Central.

“You should go,” Maverick had said, and Bulldog hadn’t hesitated. If his club was upset with him—and they obviously were—he didn’t need them coming to the Sentinels and starting a war.

But he couldn’t go back through Grand Central right now either. So he flew past the convenience station, toward the back of the motorcycle shop. The garage door there was lifting, and Bulldog drove right inside. The door started to close before he’d turned off the engine, and he glanced around, seeing no one.

The Sentinels were a good motorcycle club, and Bulldog actually liked Maverick Malone. He was a huge guy, with plenty of the traditional club tattoos, the edged eyes, the walls between him and everyone else.

The difference was he wasn’t corrupt. He didn’t deal in drugs or care much about money. He made sure his people did good things in the community, held down day jobs, and had families and relationships. He himself did all of those things, and Bulldog wanted to be just like him.

“What’s going on?” Maverick asked, and Bulldog spun toward the sound of his voice.

“I can’t go back through Grand Central,” he said. “Chatter on the line is that there was a motorcycle on that street.”

“So it was your guys.”

Bulldog didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t deny it either. So he said nothing.

Maverick shook his head. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Seems like we might need to accelerate our timeline,” Maverick said. “You can’t just sit back and wait anymore. They tried to target your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Yes, she is.” Maverick gave him a slow smile. “Come have another bowl of ice cream, and let’s keep talking.”

Bulldog didn’t see what other choice he had. He knew Maverick lived above the shop, in a six-thousand square foot apartment that probably had half a dozen bedrooms. Pure exhaustion ran through him, but he couldn’t sleep here.

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