Page 61 of Fire Meets Fire

Shitface laughs. “Nah. He was a bit cagey about when he’d be able to arrive, but Legend’s been tracking his credit card. He’s booked a flight first thing tomorrow. First class, of course. Should be here late afternoon. Slugger thought we’d go and get into position before his security arrives.”

I’m wondering where the prospect had positioned himself to “overhear” the amount of information that he had gained. Apart from making a note to check on his whereabouts in the future,I’m in no position to chastise him. He’s been far too valuable, and at least now I know what I’m heading into.

Or the guts of it, at least.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

HELO

What does a man do when he arrives at a property late in the evening after a long dreary flight? The assumption was that maybe he’d have a drink in the luxurious lounge, but his most predictable destination was probably the bedroom. The master at that, it had obviously been prepared for him.

But it wasn’t just guesswork that leads me to the here and now, which finds me lounging back on the California king-sized bed in the kind of luxury I’ve never enjoyed in my life. I’d been both amused and impressed to see the men from both clubs—once the insults and threats were pushed to one side—come together to work almost as well as any military special forces team I’ve ever been part of. I’d been worried about discipline, but with the burly sergeants-at-arms kicking their men into shape, and Claw and his counterpart enforcing their words, no man seemed to dare take a misstep.

Despite Slugger having had to take off to deal with something in one of the other Soulz charters, the men bonded against a shared enemy. Like a well-oiled machine, obviously takingadvantage of the military experience within their ranks, the skeleton staff and minimal security manning the estate, vastly outnumbered, were taken down, and admirably, with minimum bloodshed. All are now securely detained in the basement, with some of the bikers making sure there’s no way they can escape or otherwise raise an alarm. They’d been provided with cushions, blankets, and enough food and drink that they’d decided to co-operate. None seemed particularly loyal to either the owner or the guest who was about to arrive.

From our captives we’d learned that Netherton would be expecting a meet-and-greet man, a typical butler. It had taken a bit of debate, but in the end, it was Fire who was assigned the role. As it was agreed redheads never look “normal” in most people’s eyes, they thought he could pass despite his shock of red hair and matching beard. In a borrowed suit hiding his tattoos, he looked almost respectable.

Legit, and one of Ogre’s men, Squint, were chosen to act as security, believing their muscles would make them look the part, but they were also given strict instructions not to open their mouths.

The absence of the myriad of other staff it apparently takes to keep one man satisfied would be explained by them being off duty due to the lateness of his hour of arrival. The only unknown will be the number of men he’ll bring with him, though Legend has checked the seats booked on the flight and there were no more in his name. There’s no doubt a man like Netherton should be worried about dealing with a group of bikers. Surely, he must consider they could be about to scam him. We’d been on the lookout in the event he’d employed local security, but so far none have arrived.

Perhaps he’s confident in the company of one percenters. Scum does clump together. While I don’t personally know the man, that he’s been hounding me for months is enough toconvict him, let alone that he’d go to such lengths to see a woman, who, to my knowledge had never personally harmed him, meet her death. In my mind, he’s earned his place among the bottom dwellers.

“His plane’s landed. He should be here in half an hour.” Chaz looks concerned as he provides that information, his mood confirmed when he adds, “Are you alright?”

The man standing beside him takes a different stance. “She going to play her part?”

Chaz inhales sharply, and I jump in fast to stop the two fighting. “Sheis going to play her part admirably,” I inform him, then remind him what they should be doing. “Shouldn’t you be finding a place to hide?”

I was perfectly happy to be left alone to confront Netherton, but neither wanted me to face him without backup. Ogre, because he doesn’t trust me, and Chaz out of some misguided sense of chivalry, and concern that something I learn could trigger me, causing me to pass out.

There would be an easy way to end this, a bullet in Netherton’s head, but that wouldn’t get the closure I’m after—the answer to the question of why it’s so important to him that I’m dead. There’s always the chance with him out of the way, others may come after me instead. And shooting him wouldn’t achieve the bikers’ primary objective, the money. Apart from Chaz, I know few are here because of their concern for my health.

So my role is to get the explanation I want, and to get Netherton to open his coffers. After that, I’ve no issue with what happens next, nor that Netherton is unlikely to leave in anything other than a coffin.

Minutes tick by. Chaz and Ogre check out possible positions. A closet with slatted doors seems the ideal place. When word finally reaches us that the unsuspecting senator has arrived onthe estate, and, as predicted, is only stopping for an expensive tot of brandy before making his way up the stairs, the two bikers disappear as silently as a discreet fart in fresh air.

The door slams open, Netherton strides in, flicking the light switch and illuminating the scene. I brace but he doesn’t even look my way as he shrugs off his jacket and throws it over the back of a chair. Next, he undoes presumably expensive cufflinks before pushing up his sleeves. He rolls his neck, and winces, and I feel a brief twinge of sympathy for the stiffness that comes from hours spent on a plane, although he was in first class with little to complain about. It's only then that he turns and spies the strange female lying under the covers.

His reaction is of surprise, but not one of regret. His first words are mumbled under his breath, and I have to strain to hear them.

“Hey, John boy. You certainly came through for me.”

He starts moving in my direction, a smirk on his face, his tongue licking his lips. His obvious thoughts of depravity to come makes me swallow hard, as memories of when I last saw such expressions on men’s faces threaten to shoot me back to the time when my captors knew they had it all their own way. A hard swallow, and a strict reminder that this time I hold all the cards enables me to, for the moment, play my part.

I smile sweetly at him, an expression I hadn’t thought was in my physical vocabulary, and wait for him to get close.

“Well, you’re pretty enough. I’ll give him points for that. Could have done with putting a bit of makeup on though, honey.” He chuckles softly. “Though practical I suppose, your tears would soon wipe that off.”

From his reaction, I take having strange women procured for him is not abnormal in his world. But his reference to making me cry has me wondering just what he does to them.The realisation knocks a dent in my decision to hear him out, to decide whether he’s got a case against me.

At my lack of response, he continues the initiative. “Well, take off the cover, sweetheart. Let me see what you’re hiding under there.”

I can’t resist obeying his instruction seductively, lowering the covering one inch at a time. I see his gaze narrow when the straps of my tank top come into view. Naked was obviously his expectation.

I’m watching him carefully as I reveal the rest, and am rewarded with his loud gasp and the way he staggers back from the bed as I expose the explosive attached to my chest. I’m not worried when he races to the door, one of the bikers will have locked that already. And again, I enjoy his look of distress as he tries the handle, rattling it uselessly, before realising he’s trapped and turning to face me.

“Who the fuck are you?”

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