Page 11 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

I offer her my lighter and she leans in close to catch the flame on her cigarette, our bodies brushing. Our eyes meet, her hazel ones locking with mine. I can see the mischief dancing in them, daring me to make a move.

I don’t bite.

“Thanks,” she purrs.

“What are you really here for?” I ask, not even trying to hide the suspicion lacing my voice.

“I wanted a smoke,” she shrugs, blowing a gray ring out of her mouth. I notice she doesn’t inhale, just lets the dark smoke rest between her red painted lips.

“Really?” I probe, not buying it for a second.

“Fine.” She sighs, taking another drag. “I wanted to see the man everyone’s been talking about for myself. You’ve got everyone in the city interested.”

“You’re talking about me?”

She gives me a big, white toothed grin, resting her hands on her hips.

“Of course. I heard it’s your birthday.”

“Vance and Tank like to talk,” I mutter under my breath.

“They’re good friends.”

I nod thoughtlessly. This conversation’s forced and pointless, but I will linger out of curiosity.

“Your type would die for one another.” She speaks slowly and articulates as if to make a point. She does, but I can’t tell if she knows it yet or not.

“That’s what happens when you ride together, it’s no longer one man, it's about the family,” I say for some generic response.There’s far more to the commitment we share with one another. We’re all we have out here in our territory. We have to protect one another. I doubt it’s what she wants to hear, but she’s not getting anything out of me.

Sorry, sweetheart.

She nods slowly, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. I stub out my smoke on the ground, crushing the half finished cigarette into the dirt. I’ve had enough with this conversation.

“The three of you probably do everything together, huh?” She asks.

“You could say that.”

“Interesting…” she muses, flicking the butt of her own cigarette into the back parking lot.

We study one another, and behind her eyes I see a million questions dancing there, and she hasn’t even begun to ask any of them.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re actually doing here now that you’ve had your smoke?” I ask.

“Why does it matter?” She crosses her arms over her chest, looking away from me.

“Because I know you didn’t come here just to see me.”

“Is it a problem that I’m here?”

“Oh yeah. Either you have no idea where the fuck you are or you’re sniffing where you shouldn’t be. I don’t know which one is worse for you.”

She stands her ground, resting a hand on her hip.

“I know exactly where I am.”

“Then you know, you’re a dead woman.” I take a step closer, towering over her. She’s short, rather petite and tilts her head back just to meet my eyes.

“I can take care of myself.”

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