Page 18 of Fire Meets Fire

He jumps as if scalded, and I don’t like the way his hands shake as he trains the weapon on me.

“Whoa.” I hold up my hands. “I’m unarmed.”

He stares at me, then at the bike, then at the door. “Are you alone?”

“Yup.” Keeping my hands in the air, I confirm, “It’s just me.”

He stares through the open door behind me, sensibly too cautious to go and investigate the truth of my words on his own. Then, with his left hand, he liberates a phone from his pocket. He taps a number and raises the device to his ear. “Prez. It’s me. That flat-chested broad you’ve all been speaking about? Well, I think it’s her. She’s here at the shop. Looks like she’s stealing a bike, and I got here in time to stop her.”

Bristling, I glance down at my breasts. I’m not very well-endowed but to call me flat chested is just mean. Raising my eyes, I glare his way. “Not fucking stealing. If I had been, you’d never have found me.”

“Yeah,” he says into his cell. “I’ll keep her here.”

He’ll keep me here?I suppress a snort, knowing I’d have him unarmed in seconds if I’d any intention of getting away.

“Prez is on his way,” he growls, then waits as if I’m supposed to quiver in my boots.

“Great.” My shoulders rise, then lower and I relax back against the wall. “That’s who I wanted to see.” I hope he’ll makegood on his bet. I hate being in debt to Harold. “Can I put my hands down now?”

He gives a cautious nod but growls, “Keep them where I can see them.”

Taking that means I can relieve some of the ache, I lower them to my lap, my eyes on his, analysing whether he sees this as a threat. He doesn’t.He should.If I had been armed, I could have rolled, drawn my weapon, fired and killed him before he could finish blinking his eyes. But he’s oblivious to how much danger he’s in.

Reckoning we probably have a good few minutes to wait, I decide to defuse the situation before he gets a cramp in that hand holding the gun, or coughs or sneezes. His finger is on the trigger.

“What’s your name?”

His cheeks flush. For a moment, I’m not certain he’s going to say anything, obviously not wanting to share information with his prisoner. He gives a deep sigh and lets out through gritted teeth, “I’m Shitface the Second.” Well, I’ve got my reason for his hesitation. No, I wouldn’t want to admit to that either.

And, the third…?I snort. “What, as in you were named after your dad?” I’m unable to stop the grin that widens my mouth.

“Not after my fuckin’ dad,” he snarls, then gives the explanation. “Soulz named a prospect Shitface a couple of years ago. Renamed him when he patched in, but the handle kind of stuck, so I’m the one who’s inherited it now.”

I have no idea how to respond to that, so, I settle for, “Well, Shit. It’s nice to meet you.” I can’t help but smirk. It’s no different to the hazing that goes on in the Army, but at least I got a better moniker out of that. “I’m Helo.”

“I know who you are,” he grunts.

Ah, yes. The woman with no boobs. I suppose there have been worse phrases used to describe me and better ones.Thethief who broke into their premises. The bitch who made fools of their security.

He takes a breath as though he’s going to start questioning me back, but before he can, the dull roar of multiple motorbikes gradually increases in volume. Ignoring both the prospect and his gun, I get to my feet to face them as they arrive. I’m unsurprised to see Chaz at the head of the line. Shielding my eyes against the low early morning sun, I recognise Legend with him, but there are also a few others I’ve not met before.

Now am I a curiosity, or do they really need so many to take me?The latter thought makes me snort. I manage to compose my features by the time Chaz has kicked down his stand and dismounted his sled.

He takes off his gloves and slips them into his pocket while studying me with narrowed eyes. I meet his stare without flinching, then two of his long strides close the gap between us.

His eyes are cold, his cheeks tinged red with either anger or the wind. His voice is steady, though there’s an underlying vibration that belies the effort he’s taking to restrain himself.

“So you’re thieving again,” he states, then sneers. “Presumably you can’t help yourself. And escalating, I see.” He nods toward the gleaming machine I’m still standing beside. “I suppose I’m fuckin’ lucky the prospect decided to get some work done early else I’d be down one customer’s bike.”

I knew this was how it was going to look, so I need to set him straight. “I liberated it. I wasn’t going to steal it.”

He snorts loudly, half turning to catch the eye of a man wearing a VP patch, before looking back. “Yeah, and a bear doesn’t shit in the woods.”

I shrug. “I was sitting right here when your prospect turned up. Believe me, if I’d wanted to take it, I would have.” The drawn down V between his eyes suggests he’s considering my words. “You asked me to check out your security.” Adding a shrug, Icontinue, “Thought this was a good way to make a point. I could have left it here for you to find in the morning, but instead, I stayed to make sure no one else would take it.”

“Can’t believe a fuckin’ word that comes out of your mouth, bitch,” his VP growls.

“Stealing parts is one thing, Prez. But a fuckin’ bike?” Another man looks and sounds disgusted. Staring harder, I can see his patch reads SASSergeant-at-Arms.

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