Page 17 of Inferno

“There’s a copy of the letter she got tonight in there,” Trooper says.

I flip to the last page and skim the words. Rage burns beneath my skin, and flames begin to dance along my arms. Suddenly, the papers are ripped away from me, and Viking is gripping my shoulders.

“Inferno!” he shouts. “Get control of yourself.”

I lock eyes with my president and focus on the way his touch mimics the feel of

water.

“Breathe, brother,” he coaches. “In, out, in, out.”

Following his instructions, I’m able to calm myself enough that the fire dissipates. Once he’s sure I’m not going to combust again, he takes a step back.

“That never gets old,” Rave comments. “I can’t wait until I have the abil?—”

“You don’t want this,” I snap, staring daggers at him. “Trust me on that.”

“Anyway,” Trooper says, pulling all of our attention to him. “Thought you should know about the report, and now that you do, we’ll be on our way.”

Viking thrusts out his hand. “Thank you. If anything else comes up, please let us know.”

Trooper stares at Viking’s hand for a long moment before shaking it. “Will do.”

The living Valhalla Rising MC brothers make their way out of the room, and only when I hear the front door close behind them do I turn and face my crew.

“Now what?”

Reaper grins. “Sounds like things are about to get interesting.”

“How are we supposed to figure out who the stalker is?” I ask, ignoring Reaper’s excitement.

“You keep doing what you’re doing,” Viking replies. “Go to work, get close to Emmy, figure shit out.”

“You make it sound simple,” I bite out.

Viking chuckles. “Inferno, there’s nothing simple about it. Emmy’s a living female. Reaper might think things are gonna get interesting, but I know they’re only about to get fucking complicated. You better buckle up.”

“Buckle up? I ride a damn motorcycle.”

“Then put on your helmet,” he retorts. “Because something tells me you’re gonna need it.”

Groaning, I stride out of the room, and my brother’s laughter follows me all the way down the hall.

Great. Just fucking great.

9

Emmy

One week later…

“C’mon, Em. Let’s go.”

I glance up from the file I’m working on and frown at Steph. She’s been on me all day to go out for drinks after work, and I’ve explained that I have paperwork to get caught up on. Apparently, I need to tell her again.

“I can’t, Steph.” I nod at my desk. “I’m buried in paperwork.”

I’ve had two new client intakes this week, not to mention the group I lead and my already established patient’s appointments. Things have been busy, and I love it.

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