Page 27 of Fire for Effect

Riley

Griff

I knew she’d come out to the back deck eventually. I could predict her the way I could predict enemy action. I had tucked myself into a corner she wouldn’t see right away when coming out the back exit, and just waited for her to come out for a smoke.

I don’t even think she was a nicotine addict. She just liked fire in all its forms, even on the tip of a cigarette. It soothed her inner arsonist.

It took everything in me to stay perfectly still when she came out.

She placed her hands on the deck rails, looking out at the field of wheat. I was surprised she didn’t notice me. She didn’t scan her surroundings. She must have had a lot on her mind.

With my ruck kicked under the table, I took the time to just watch her; relishing the fact that we were sharing the same space.

The world was different when she was in it.

She was a walking action figure. Her chestnut hair was in a messy braid, the baby hairs around her forehead curling against her skin. It was probably from the sweat of wearing her full-face helmet. She pulled a packet of Marlboros from her jacket, tugged one out with her teeth, and took out the silver zippo with the Lucky 13 logo – predictably a four-leaf clover and number 13 on it – laser-etched into the side.

I let her have the first puff in peace as she peered out at the open deck, her face towards the golden setting sun.

Her skin was radiant as she stared off into the distance, lost in her own thoughts. What complicated things were going on in that big brain of hers?

Her black biker boots had a wide opening at her slim calves, giving her an overall casual, slouched appearance. It matched her riding jacket which had thick shoulder and elbow pads in case of a fall.

Good girl, wearing your Personal Protective Equipment.

Her rounded hips, and muscular thighs were perfectly outlined in those slim fit jeans.

Each time I laid eyes on her after a long absence felt like Christmas morning. Like life had endless possibilities.

I touched the platinum bracelet in my pocket, feeling the small tracking device I had planted into it. The band with the intricate firefly, its wings with lines and dots that spelled out in morse code, my own name. I had that detail added as bit of barely concealed vanity.

You’re not respecting her privacy, are you, tough guy?

Sierra had talked me into it, and she’d made it with her little jewelry kit. The platinum band, with its custom chain would look good on Guerro. I couldn’t wait to see it, to finally tell the world who she belonged to. News flash, it wasn’t Riley, the boy with a girl’s name.

“I thought you quit smoking,” I called.

She jumped, dropping the cigarette into a puddle on the ground.

In a shot, her hand went to her back, and I found myself staring down the barrel of a pocket pistol.

I lifted my hands up my sides in a surrendering gesture, knowing that if she was feeling a little jumpy she could put two in my heart, and one in my head faster than I could blink. One couldn’t just shrug off years of training when they hang up their boots.

“You shouldn’t point your weapon at something you’re not prepared to kill.” I slowly came to my feet. “You gonna kill me, Psycho?”

If I was a smarter man, I’d have stayed put. I’d let her put the gun away, and we’d have a good laugh.

But like a million times before, I couldn’t ignore that pull. It was something bone deep, and cock sure. Something that drew me to her. I had felt it since day one and denied it. But that was before…

The burn of the scar on my chest reminded me of my mortality, and I mentally cursed all the time I had wasted not having what I wanted. Who I wanted.

She stood her ground, pistol still up as she searched my face, and I searched hers right back.

Something seemed off with her. Like she was distracted.

Almost like she didn’t recognize me.

“Asshole?” She gasped the question.

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