Page 32 of Fire Meets Fire

I’m staring straight at Legit when he states, “New pipes will do for me.”

“A new fucking clubhouse!” Fire shouts. “That’s where we should start.”

A horrible feeling comes over me, and I search for Legend to find him waiting to catch my eye. He shakes his head rapidly and holds up his hands, his gesture conveying,nothing to do with me.

Then, like the parting of the Red Sea, brothers step aside, allowing me to see we have a visitor. Without him uttering a word, it all becomes clear.

I wouldn’t be the prez of a Wretched Soulz charter if I hadn’t the brains to think quickly and come up with rapid solutions. Summing up the situation in a flash, I prepare to play this cool.

“Well met, Bro. Well met.” Slugger, the titular head of the Wretched Soulz, stretches out his hand to me. “You’ve got yourself a fuckin’ winner this time, haven’t you?”

Playing dumb, I dutifully pull him in for a man hug and back slap. “Welcome, Prez.” When I step back, I admit, “I haven’t a fuckin’ clue what you mean.”

His eyes gleam like a man who’s got a secret to share. “Mayhem didn’t catch up with you?” As he names the IT expert of the Las Vegas crew, I recall it’s him who’s been helping Legend, and it’s him who’s clearly got a loose mouth. But without waiting for my response, Slugger informs me as eagerly as a child informing their parents about a good report, “That bitch who’s been stealing from you? She’s worth two million dollars.”

I let my eyes widen as if this is new news, swinging around sharply at the slap on my back to see Bull’s eyes gleaming at me. Then I turn back to Slugger needing to somehow buy time. “You’re fuckin’ kidding me.”

“Nah. God’s honest truth. You boys are gonna be rich.”

With my mind working a mile a minute, I turn back to him, trying to keep my real emotions hidden. “Well, that’s just great.” I let a wide grin stretch my face, hoping it doesn’t look like a skull’s grimace.

It’s not the first time I wish Slugger hadn’t appeared in my clubhouse.

Ask any Soul and they’ll tell you that each charter is run separately and there’s no one at the head, no mother chapter nor national prez. What man would be stupid enough to have that target on his back? But all members know that bullshit is a ruse to keep Slugger protected. With no home base, our dear leader,or Alpha as some call him, travels various charters, in my view, sticking his nose in where it may or may not be wanted.

Not that he isn’t a man I want on my side, but he can be a loose cannon, and it’s not always possible to know what he’s thinking or what he’s going to do next. The fact he’s obviously already announced our windfall means I’ve limited options on what I can do. Especially, when looking around me, I see the excited, eager faces. How could I disappoint my club?

How could I betray Helo?She’s a woman who’s already been through so much. She’s already almost given her life for her country and even now I’m not sure how much she actually sacrificed—she’s been left with severe PTSD for fuck’s sake. I’m ninety percent sure if I had time to talk to my brothers, they’d understand how little she deserves being literally sold as though her life can be measured in a few new Harleys. Or make that fifty percent. Maybe.

I’m not sure I could chance it.

I couldn’t live with myself.Or more correctly, I wouldn’t want to live in a world without her in it. Already she’s come to mean so much.More than my club? My brothers?Fuck no, never that. But I need to buy time. If I let Slugger have access to her, I’ll lose her for good. I’m sure if I have a proper chance to explain the situation I can get my brothers on board, bring them around to my way of thinking that giving her up is exactly the same as the sex trafficking which we all abhor.

But there’s no way of talking to them right now. Apart from Legend who’s glaring daggers at me, everyone else seems to be caught up in the idea of how we’ll spend our new funds. As for Slugger, I know he’ll be calculating how much he’ll ask for himself.

If I bring her downstairs now, into the midst of all this, someone’s going to do something that I, at least, will always regret.

I’ve a good poker face, and now I use it. Still with my lips curving upward, I raise my chin at Slugger. “Carrying a value like that, she needs to be secured. I’ll go get her then we can put her in the basement where she won’t be able to escape.”

Again, Bull’s palm meets my back, while Slugger snorts a laugh.

“Fuckin’ like the way you think, Brother.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

HELO

It’s probably counterintuitive that I feel safe in this outlaw bikers’ clubhouse. Instead of sleeping with one eye open, once I’d heard the door lock behind Chaz, I’d let myself relax and catch up on some zzz, not only replacing those which I’d missed last night, but also several nights before that. While I trust Harold, he’s not particularly security conscious, and anyone could just walk into his place. I’d been surprised to find that in Chaz’s bed I slept like the dead, though undoubtably part of it was physical exhaustion brought on by the embarrassing episode I’d had once again.

After Chaz had woken me, though, I couldn’t go back to sleep. My anxiety about my identity being discovered returned in full force, and after using his bathroom—tidier than I expected a man like his would be—I was more than ready to put this place in my rearview, and mentally swearing because he was making me wait. But I’d hold him to his offer of a ride, anywhere, in any direction, as it would be further than I’d get on my own two feet.

I’m not naturally a patient person. I’d rather be doing something, anything, other than waiting, but the Army had curbed my impatience to some extent. While I used to hate hanging around before we went on missions, wanting to throwmyself into the fray of things rather than putting them off, I learned the best results came from careful planning, and waiting for the best time to present itself.

It’s not easy waiting. Sounds come up from the clubroom below. I find the increasingly loud voices disturbing, warning of multiple men down there, far more than when I entered earlier. I’ve listened hard but can’t distinguish any of the words. They all mingle into a cacophony of sound. As my heart rate speeds up, I force myself to remember the woman and her daughter who I’d met earlier—surely they wouldn’t be around if there was any danger? I might not have talked to her long, but in no way did she seem cowed or fearful of her situation, or worried about the appropriateness of having such a young child around.

I know I’m being crazy. I’d lived my life in the Night Stalkers’ world, and you can’t get much more masculine than that. While on active duty, I’d never thought twice about being capable of holding my own in what was a predominately male environment.

So why’s my heart racing now, adrenaline pumping around my body as if telling me I need to run? Deliberately slowing my breath, I manage to slow the blood rushing through my veins, while acknowledging the devil on my shoulder who reminds me of when men were definitely deleterious to my health.

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