Page 20 of Fire Meets Fire

My days in Arizona are numbered, as well as, quite possibly, my days on this earth.

Chaz is studying me closely, and I’m surrounded by his men. If I make a bolt for it, I can’t bank on being able to outrun them. I’ve got to get them to let me leave.

“Chaz,” I say his name, hoping to make a personal appeal. “You don’t know what damage you’ve done. You have to let me leave. I’ve got to get out of state?—”

He’s faster than I expected, swiftly adding two and two together. “You’re on the run from someone and you think we’ve given you away,” he interrupts, summing it up precisely.

Air leaves me in a heavy sigh as I gently raise and dip my head. He sweeps his hand over his brow, then stands unmoving, staring at me. With nothing else to do, I wait for his decision, hoping he makes the right one. There’s no way of knowing how quickly my location will be traced, or whether there’s now someone coming to find me. I may only have hours. I can only pray that I’ve got days. Every minute I’m standing here is allowing my enemies to come closer.

“Where will you go?”

I can’t answer, so I shrug. I’ve no money, no transport, only my legs to rely on. I’ll need to detour back to Harold’s to pick up my pack containing my meagre belongings, then get the hell out of Dodge. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.

Pursing his lips, Chaz doesn’t remove his eyes from my face.

I’ll get no sympathy here.

I rise on my toes, anxious to start heading off into my uncertain future.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAZ

From the very moment I arrived, I didn’t believe that she intended to steal the bike. If she had, she’d have been long gone, and we’d have had a cat’s chance in hell of getting it back. If that had been her objective, Shitface would have been very unlucky to arrive in time to catch her, and if he’d attempted to stop her, I’ve no doubt I’d have found him in a heap on the ground.

It’s not even that I now know she’s a Night Stalker. It’s my own take on her, my intuition that she could give any man in my club a run for his money when it came to street smarts. But Iron and Bull would have thought I’d lost my mind if I hadn’t played along, putting her on the spot, letting her come up with reasons why we should believe her. I had enjoyed the word play with her. Until…

Until,fuck it, damn it,until she’d confessed as to why it would have been impossible—or at least, very unwise—for her to have ridden the bike away. The desolation in her eyes stole my breath.

Because it’s not fucking hard to understand how devastating that would be. If I couldn’t ride my bike, I don’t think I’d survive. I live for the open road, the freedom of the wind rushing past.And I’m just a biker. I would think as a fearless, revered Night Stalker, being told they could no longer fly would be crushing. How could I not feel sympathy for her? I have to clench my hands against my sides to stop from reaching out, pulling her close and hugging her, knowing instinctively someone who’s survived and excelled in a man’s world wouldn’t want to admit to weakness, nor need the comfort I itch to provide.

That’s when I started to put together that she was running for her life. Who the fuck could be after her? I mean,who?I’m having difficulty processing her having to stay under anyone’s radar. Unless it’s the law. Tapping my finger on my chin, I think for a moment. That has to be the most likely reason for her to be concerned about anyone checking her out. Any number of the alphabet teams could have been alerted.

What’s she most worried about? Is it because she doesn’t want to be locked up? I’m not quite sure they’ve yet built a prison to hold her, and apart from the petty theft enacted on us, I can’t see her as a hardened criminal. The way I read her is she wouldn’t be scared at the thought of escaping authority. She’d take it as a challenge, pitting her wits against theirs. Like breaking into our shop, it would be an adrenaline rush. No, from the way her face paled, her problem’s more visceral, a matter of life or death.

Maybe an ex?But again I find that hard to believe. If that’s the answer, even I wouldn’t like to meet the motherfucker who could take someone like her down. Any man brave enough to live with her would need to keep her happy or always sleep with one eye open.

An abuser?Again, I’d have thought anyone messing with her would soon find he’s picked on the wrong one. But I can’t forget the way she froze when I had her under me, and there was no denying her struggling had turned me on. And that, like a switch being thrown, had turned her off. Slave traffickers? Has shecome to the notice of the wrong people? She might be able to take one person on, but could be overcome by numbers.

Or perhaps it’s something from when she served.

Or maybe… I purse my lips as I look at her. Maybe it’s all in her head, a result of some injury. Perhaps she’s just paranoid.

Whatever the answer is, I’ve got this strange desire to help her.

I’m not a man who’s ever been accused of being empathetic. Someone in my position can’t afford to be. If a brother’s in trouble, I might sympathise, but I’ll look at the situation calmly, identifying any risk to the club. I’ll provide help and support, but I’ll never get emotionally involved. In Helo’s case though, I feel her pain, can feel the anguish at not being able to ride.

I know I don’t understand the extent of it. How can you live life on the fly when you’ve got no transport to escape with?

I’m torn about what I should do. I don’t know whether it’s my dick talking when I remember how I’ve been attracted to Helo, but that’s precisely the reason that I should let her walk away. I just need to think of StoryTeller to realise I’m right to keep my distance. Just look at him now with not only his old lady but his two-year-old wrapping him around her little finger. My role is to protect my club, to make it a safe environment so people like StoryTeller can enjoy their families. It’s not to be distracted with a woman of my own, and the club girls are adequate for keeping my dick amused.

But when I try to dismiss her, when I think about walking away, my gut joins my cock in screaming I’m making a mistake. I try to rationalise that it’s just curiosity that I don’t want Helo to disappear without finding out her answers. That I don’t want her leaving until she’s helped us failsafe our security. Of course I’m not worried that her legs won’t carry her far enough to escape whoever’s looking for her. Why would I be?

I’m also not known for being indecisive, and one raised eyebrow from my VP shows he expects my answer. Quickly, my brain comes up with an option that I believe sounds reasonable. “You’re coming back to our clubhouse. There are things we need to discuss.”Like why you bring out emotions in me that I’d considered long lost.

Bull snorts, Iron swings around fast, staring at me with narrowed eyes, while the woman herself takes a step back, looking a combination of perplexed and worried.

“Why the fuck should I do that?”

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