Riding The Bullet Book Novels & Stories

I scooped Caleb up, tucking his feverish, shaking body against my left shoulder, his heat seeping through my shirt. With my right arm, I swept Leena off her feet, hoisting her onto my hip. She was heavy, but in that moment, she felt weightless. I just wanted them away from the gore, away from the sight of the woman who had been her mother and my son's captor bleeding out in the weeds. Byron Rider was still standing. He was rooted to the spot, his face the color of ash, his eyes fixed on the spot where the bullet would have hit him. He looked like a man who had looked into the abyss and realized the abyss knew his name.

Bullets ripped through the vehicles. Stacy dropped behind a concrete pillar. Lucas's security team returned fire. The rider sprinted toward the upper level. Lucas chased him. “Don't let him escape!” Two guards followed. The rider reached a stairwell. Lucas was close behind. The man turned and fired. Lucas ducked. The bullet struck the wall. The rider rushed down the stairs. Lucas followed. They burst onto the lower level. The rider suddenly turned. His hands moved into a martial arts stance.

His pupils constricted. He stumbled backward, panic ripping through him. He drew his gun and fired without hesitation. BANG! Margaret lowered her gaze to her chest. Blood gushed from the bullet wound, flooding her clothes in deep red. But she didn't seem to feel pain. Her lips even curled into a soft smile. The lighter slipped from her fingers, spinning twice in the air. The second bullet hit it midair--shattering it. Sparks burst out like a shower of falling stars. Cecilia instinctively backed away.

Or… someone the Nest hired. The thought twisted something in my gut. No time to think. The first two bullets hit the wall above me in bursts of plaster. The third came for my side. I threw myself to the ground, wings sweeping wide; the bullet grazed my ribs, leaving a burning stripe like a wire drawn red-hot across my skin. The demon inside me growled—that part was his domain. “You think too much,” his voice snarled. “They didn’t come to talk.” “I’ll indulge you this once,” I muttered and let the blackness creep in around the edges of my sight.

Another tries to slash him—Cassian ducks, grabs the arm mid swing, and twists until bone cracks over the roar of the engine. But there are too many. We’re cut off, surrounded.. But Cassian doesn’t slow, doesn’t yield. His body tightens beneath me, a storm ready to break. The first bullet moves past my ear, grazing it. I scream, ducking against his back. The second moves past us, the third goes in a rival’s tire. Someone’s shooting wild, not caring who drops. Cassian jerks the bike off road. And the world buckles, and we are flying across the desert

From the look on his face, I knew it was safer not to argue. I shrugged. “We'll see.” Lyle bounced back up the steps. “Mommy, can I ride Bullet?” A smile stretched across my face. “Tell you what, how about you and I take Bullet for a ride?” Lyle smiled widely. “Yes!” I followed Lyle to the barn and got Bullet saddled up. River came down. I got up on Bullet. River put Lyle in front of me. I showed him how to hold onto the reigns. I kept one arm around his waist and one hand on the reigns.

(Bandit) Banging on the door, I can hear footsteps slowly coming to the door, with an annoying tone the bandit opens the door, only to meet my riffle barrel right in front of his face. I pulled the trigger, the bullet goes through his head, Then I kicked his torso causing him to fly right back, and opened the door widely. The remaining 3 bandits inside were shocked, but before they managed to ask what was going on, I already pulled the trigger aiming for all of them.

Gunfire erupted. Bullets shattered the tinted windows beside Annie. Her scream ripped through the air. Something inside me snapped. My finger tightened on the trigger. The first biker took a round straight through the throat. He lost control instantly, swerving across the road before crashing hard against the asphalt. The last one barely had time to react. I fired twice. Both rounds struck center mass. The force threw him backward off the motorcycle, and he hit the ground without moving again. I pushed the door open and strode toward the taxi. Opening the rear door, I carefully scooped Annie into my arms.

The opening was four feet wide, half-filled with wet leaves and freezing, stagnant water. The first motorcycle rounded the curve. The rider didn't brake. He saw our dead truck blocking the road, stood up on the foot pegs, and laid the bike down sideways. The heavy machine slid under the truck's chassis in a shower of yellow sparks, the rider rolling clear on the asphalt, his short rifle already coming up to his shoulder as he hit the ground. The bullets hit the top of the concrete pipe right above my head, spraying sharp stone chips into the back of my neck.