Page 52 of Fire Meets Fire

CHAZ

It’s clear as soon as we arrive back at the clubhouse that in the time Helo and I had been making out like a pair of teenagers back at the rock, Slugger and my brothers had come up with a plan. I soon found that there was no room for me to have any input, or at least not without going against something that all my top officers had endorsed.

While I voiced, and not for the first time, my preference that Helo should play no active part, I was firmly shot down. Their reasoning was sound. Without her, the Dominators would not fall in with any part of our agreed strategy. They had, however, agreed that taking account of her affliction, they’d monitor her role carefully.

There were certainly parts of their tactics which I didn’t like, but I steeled myself as more of the starring role fell on me, the less danger she’d be in. Or so I believed.

Since meeting Helo, there’s been a lot of shit happening that I never expected to find on any bingo card. I hadn’t dreamt of being unceremoniously dropped off at the Dominators compound with my hands and feet bound.

Especially when a Slugger I don’t recognise, his hair covered by a flat cap, leans out of the van and shouts, “He’s all yours.”

I wouldn’t be normal if I didn’t have a bad feeling in the back of my mind, a question about whether I’d been filled in on all elements of the plan. Having hit the ground hard, at this precise moment if asked, I’m not sure whether I could swear that I trust my brothers. Some part of me questions whether this is their retribution for putting my woman first.

I recognise Ogre, their prez, as he approaches. Equally, even though I’ve already been divested of my cut and colours, there’s no mistaking who I am, causing Ogre to regard me suspiciously, and for that I can’t blame him.

Wretched Soulz and Dominators have never gotten on. The truth of whatever started the enmity between us is lost in the depths of time, though urban legends abound. But that doesn’t mean it’s water under the bridge and forgotten. No, we’ll be enemies for all our lives.

Slugger, the engine of the truck still running, remains looking on, as if expecting to be asked questions, while I’m trussed like a pig and completely at my foe’s mercy. Clearly suspecting me as a Trojan horse, Ogre steps over me carefully, refraining from issuing the kick in the ribs that I’d prepared for.

Approaching the truck with his sergeant-at-arms and enforcer either side of him, Ogre contemplates Slugger for a while. His eyes narrow. “I know you, don’t I?”

Slugger shrugs. “Unlikely. But you know him, and that’s all that matters.”

“Get out,” Ogre demands, his gun pointing unwaveringly into the truck.

Fuck, that man’s got balls,I think, as the elusive head of the Wretched Soulz obeys the prez of the Dominators. Ogre has no idea of the prize he almost holds in his hand. But what he notes is a non-descript, grey-haired man whose shoulders are bent over and the back of the cut that he’s put on, having exited the cage.

“So why have you,” he turns, his gaze resting on me momentarily before again facing to the front, “given me Chaz, Prez of the Arizona Charter of the Wretched Souls MC?”

Slugger’s eyes darken. Even from my prone position I notice both that, and the vein that throbs at his temples. He must be one hell of an actor to pull that off. “He’s not Prez.” Slugger emphasises his disgust by spitting saliva into the dust. “He’s a fuckin’ traitor. Pissed on his club.”

Again Ogre swings his head and regards me thoughtfully. I try to keep my expression blank. Once again his attention returns to the man who’d been driving the truck. “I repeat. So why have you given him to me? Surely the Soulz have their own methods of punishment.”

Slugger obliges with an explanation. “He’ll probably tell you himself if you give him sufficient incentive.” He manages a sideways look at me, and I mouth a response.Fuck you, Slugger. Their torture won’t need encouragement.His face twists as though he’s suppressing a grin, and then he continues, “Soulz fuckin’ got hold of a girl with a high bounty on her head, and this bastard here, well, he let her go. Helped her get out of the state…”

“You what?” Ogre rounds, and this time doesn’t hold back as he kicks me in the ribs. “Where the fuck is she now?”

Sucking in air as the man has steel-capped boots, I wait for the wave of pain to pass before I answer him, then with a wide smirk respond, “I’ve no fuckin’ idea. Just gave her the money and the means to get clear.” The first part at least, isn’t a lie. The second I wish was true.

“Thought you’d appreciate the chance to get even as that bastard stole from you as well as us.”

Still not accepting things at face value, Ogre sneers, “And you want me to believe all this and yet your club left him still breathing?”

“Bunch of pussies,” Slugger remarks in an agreeable tone. “Vote was taken, but he’s got allies. So he was dethroned and defrocked rather than receiving the death penalty.”

“And you brought him here?” Ogre raises a brow.

“I was supposed to drop him off someplace else, but I thought he deserved more punishment.”

Ogre regards him carefully. “Fuckin’ old to be a prospect, ain’t cha?” He indicates the cut Slugger’s wearing.

“Served my fuckin’ time.” Slugger spits at the ground. “He blocked my way at every turn.”

A loud laugh comes from Ogre. “Biker’s should be able to fuckin’ fight, not look like they’re already halfway to the grave. You even able to hold up a bike?” He eyes him and sneers. “Reckon in this, I side with your prez. What the fuck are you doing trying to join an MC, man?”

I want to snort at how much he’s underestimating Slugger. But then, strip away the years of experience, not see the covered-up muscles and tats, and maybe you’re left only viewing a shell of a man.

“It’s what I fuckin’ want. And might get. With him out of the way.”

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