Page 43 of Fire Meets Fire

“Slugger,” Chaz calls out, sounding desperate, and the man I’ve been examining turns around. When he gets his attention, he states in a pleading tone, “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do to me, but let Helo go.”

Slugger’s still got a smirk on his face, the one he’s had almost since he arrived. I glance at the bikers standing around. While a couple look serious, others seem like they’re trying to keep grins off their faces. They in no way look like a tribe about to make a sacrifice. They’ve got no loyalty to me, but I sense they’ve still got a lot for Chaz.

“Let me go!” Chaz roars, trying to escape from the men who are holding him. “You don’t want to do this, Brothers.” His eyes flick around his men.

From the numbers surrounding us, I suspect the whole club is here. Bull, his VP, I’ve met before, same as the bald-headed sergeant-at-arms. Both look serious with expressions that aredifficult to read. Legend, a thoughtful-looking man, has a half-smile on his face. A man with a beard down to his waist seems to have difficulty standing still, but there are no worry lines on his forehead. There’s a distinct smell of weed coming from the man standing close to me, and on the other side, one whose odour is not quite so pleasant. My nose wrinkles as I get an overwhelming whiff of stale sweat. Then there’s a redheaded biker who’s got his hand over his mouth. When he catches me looking at him, he turns away and I’d swear he was hiding a grin.

When the flight system screams a warning that an RPG is heading straight for the helicopter, a pilot cannot afford to have a second’s panic. Their brain works in milliseconds, analysing the threat and taking evasive action. I’m pissed that if Chaz hasn’t betrayed me, then it’s the rest of his club. But like when I’m flying, I don’t let emotion rule my head. I consider the threat and examine what exactly I’m seeing. And what all my senses are telling me is that this group of men are not getting ready to send me to my death.

They’re fucking with Chaz.Interestingly, he’s being too emotional to see. Is his judgement being clouded by me?

When Chaz’s plea is ignored, he redoubles his efforts to get free, somehow managing to get an arm loose and send a vicious right hook, but his captors recover immediately. Chaz’s own grunt of pain informs me retaliation has been made.

Unless something is done to break this impasse, someone’s going to get seriously hurt.

My life, and that of my crew, often requires reading between the lines. Taking orders at face value then dissecting them to look for hidden agendas and threats, and knowing when things don’t quite add up, is definitely the case here.

The hold on my arm seems looser than it was before. Testing it, I step forward, my movement unimpeded. Seeing Chazstarting to go ballistic, I know someone needs to deescalate the situation.

I step in front of Chaz. “They’re not going to hurt us.” It shouldn’t be me who can interpret their intention better than the man they’ve followed for years, but I suspect Chaz is blinded both as he’s not in control and because he wants to protect me. I park what that makes me feel inside to ruminate on later—I’ve never before had anyone to stand up for me. “Look at them,” I demand. “They’re fucking with you.”

From behind me, Slugger snorts. “And you’d know that… how?”

“Years of military service and dealing with assholes,” I snap back, turning to face him.

Someone barks a loud laugh and quickly turns it into a cough.

Fixing his eyes on me and raising an eyebrow, Slugger slowly lets a grin cover his face. “You’re pretty opinionated for someone in your position.” And as if I might be in any doubt, he adds, “Unarmed and surrounded.”

Oh, honey, if only you knew.He’s underestimating me, no doubt about it. But he’s also trying to provoke me, and the more he does, the more I’m sure of my ground.

Instead of acting on impulse, on focusing on the need to escape or get to safety, I put myself in the position of thinking like them. Two million dollars is a good payday, and probably very useful to their club. But you can tell a lot about a team from the man who leads them. I know from the first moment he knew about the bounty, Chaz never had plans to sell me out.

So what would I do in their position?It’s not hard to come up with a plausible idea, and, as long as they’ve thought through all the pros and cons, it’s one that could benefit both me and the MC. The question is, do I stop running and stand my ground?

Of course it wasn’t pleasant having my tat burned off, and I’d hoped that punishment would have been the end of it. I could understand why somebody would think I don’t deserve to wear the Night Stalker insignia anymore, or how that would appear to them. How could a man know how a woman could be tortured without leaving visible marks? The terrorists had made me out to be a traitor, and I wasn’t even able to open my mouth to defend myself. It’s not fair, but how much in life is?

But that wasn’t the finale. It was the start. They weren’t giving up. I’ve been forced to leave what passed as home behind and have then been hounded across the country. Do my perceived crimes really merit such a penalty? No one deserved to be tortured or killed in that faraway country, to have their dignity and life stripped away. I doubt I’m the only survivor unable to understand why me, or find life hard to endure knowing it was only the throw of the dice that kept me living. I have no family, no one to mourn me. Maybe it would have been better to have been me rather than them.

Self-preservation keeps me running. I might think I don’t much care whether I live or die, but there’s something inside me that’s intent on staying alive. Maybe it’s simply because I endured so much and survived. Maybe it’s because I owe it to the others who didn’t make it out, to not throw away the gift given to me.

Why should my life be worth less than anyone else’s? Or be sacrificed in place of someone who didn’t make it?

There’s only one way to end this. Either I die, or the person who wants me that way is taken out of the picture. I’ve no illusion that there’ll be any benefit in arguing my case. The bounty on my head, for me to be captured preferably alive, or dead if needs be suggests there’s no room for negotiation. Only my demise will satisfy the person who thinks they’ve been so badly injured by my survival.

I’ve been running as I don’t want to be responsible for anyone’s death.

As the thoughts go through my head, I risk a glance at Chaz who’s still distraught and futilely struggling.Hethinks I’m worth fighting for. It’s the first time I’ve had someone who seems to care. To give up would disappoint him. While I know whatever’s between us is likely only to be fleeting, I know I owe him. Never before has anyone offered to give up so much to keep me breathing.

I don’t know these men standing around, but it’s not unlike being introduced into a new flight team. I’ve knocked disparate groups of people into something resembling a cohesive group before.

Mentally girding my loins with the captain’s rank that I’d earned, I straighten my back, ignore Chaz, and turn to Slugger, him being the man currently in charge. “Tell me the plan.”

It’s the tone of voice that I use, one to which even commanding officers listened, that makes his eyes widen. I can see him mentally take a step back, and his brain’s gymnastics that take place as he seeks an answer that would put me, a woman, in what he sees as my place. Conversations around us have ceased as the bikers look on with interest. I reckon if any of them started a pot most of the betting would be on him.

As he recovers, the smirk returns to his face. “The plan? We’re going to let the fucker who wants you know where you are and pick up the two million bucks.” Breaking off, he shrugs. “Bit much for a whore as far as I’m concerned, but hey, what do I know?”

“You fuckin’ bastard,” Chaz roars.

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