Bailey 'The Bullet' Teller

.2.

The flight was horrendous. Bailey could never sit in one place too long, and there she was for hours on end, right next to some piece of shit buisness man. The guy tutted and huffed at babies who cried, while he sat on calls most of the flight while people slept.

"Fucking babies shouldn't be on planes." He huffed at a baby cried while waiting for its bottle to cool.

"No, they shouldn't. Especially when they think 2am is a good time for a conference call." Bailey spat. "Piece o' shit."

As she walked out of the Airport, she was so damn thankful that she sent her bike ahead of her and wandered over to the docks, duffle bags weighing her down slightly. Admittedly it was a terrible idea to get on her bike while carrying four duffle bags, but she didn't have much choice.

Bailey dropped her bags at her feet as she dug through one of them. Bike keys, helmet and Kutte all being pulled out. She sighed contently as she slipped the cool leather over her shoulders. Sunglasses and helmet being put on next. She stood smoking a cigarette, her bike a few meters away from her, completely unaware that she was being watched.

"You can't wear that." A nervous voice spoke from behind her.

She turned to it looking amused. A thin blonde guy, wearing a prospect badge, climbed out of a van.

"And why's that?" Bailey asked with a hint of humour.

"We don't have any female members. You'll get hurt." He warned. "Clay, he will be pissed."

"Clay Morrow?" Bailey chuckled. "Oh he might be pissed to see me, that's for sure. But not for the Kutte."

"Who the hell are you?" The guy rushed.

"Bailey Teller."

"Bullet?"

"The very same."

"Oh my god. I'm so fucking sorry, man. I'm Kip. Or Half-Sack." Kip introduced himself as he rushed over to her and started putting her bags in the truck. "You are going to the Club House, right?" He asked slightly panicked as he realised he just took her stuff.

"Yeah, mate. Chill out." Bailey laughed as she put her last bag on the back of the truck. "What you doing here?"

"Just picking up some parts for TM. I'll get your bags back too. Let me know where you're stayin', and i'll deliver them." Half-Sack grinned.

"Imma just stay at the Club House if there is a free room." Bailey chuckled.

"They never let anyone have your room. Think Juice crashes in there when he's drunk by accident, though." He laughed.

"That doesn't surprise me in the slightest. You get the shit for TM already?" She asked.

"Oh, yeah. Only hung around cause i saw the bike." He laughed.

"Yeah, she's a beauty." Bailey grinned. proudly. "C'mon, then, Prospect. Lead the way home."

Gemma Teller was sat in her office on the lot of TM. All the guys were in the garage or Club House, messing with their bikes or doing small repairs on customer cars. Gemma was supposed to be doing the books for the shop, but she just couldn't hold her focus.

Her only daughter, her youngest child, had called the company number first thing yesterday morning. Four words. That's all she got from her kid after seven years. Gemma had been nothing but spaced out since. Unable to do anything but watch the gate or listen out for the sound of a bike.

But something in the woman told her to stand up, so she did. She moved to stand in the doorway. At first, she thought she was imagining it, the low sound of a singular bike driving quite far away. Until it got louder. And louder. Gemma was almost having an out of body experience when she first saw that all of the club guys were looking at each other confused. Then she saw Bailey.