Page 36 of Fire Meets Fire

“I think we can handle that ourselves,” I tell her.

Helo quickly glances down at what Jacinta’s brought inside. Seeing just groceries, she says, “Just leave.”

Jacinta’s eyes narrow as she looks at me. “Mujer loca,” she decides. I have to agree Helo does indeed seem like a crazy woman. “¿Necesitas ayuda? Help? You need?”

As much as a man held at gunpoint can, I attempt a reassuring smile. “Nah, I’m fine, sweetheart. I’ll call if I need anything else.”

“Go,” Helo directs as Jacinta seems to still be summing up whether I need rescuing or not.

It’s when I add another sharp nod, Jacinta throws up her hands, and with one last “Mujer loco,” mumbled half under her breath, she goes back to her car and opens the door.

“Padlock the gate,” I call out to her, and the up and down dip of her head shows me she’s heard and understood.

She slides into the seat, starts the car, and performs a complicated and unnecessary five-point-turn manoeuvre to get pointed the right way. Helo stands still as a stone behind me as Jacinta disappears down the track.

While she’s distracted, making sure our visitor leaves, I decide it’s time for me to take control back. Swinging around fast to take her by surprise, I grab the gun, wrenching it from her fingers. Now it’s me pointing the weapon.

“It’s time we had a fuckin’ talk.” As, at last, I’m now in charge, I can allow myself to be angry.

But does my tone of voice faze her? Not one fucking bit. Her eyes narrow as she glances at the gun in my hand, then, as if assessing she’s in no real danger, she turns her back. Stepping over to the table, she peers into the bags Jacinta had left. Extracting a package, she lifts it out, bringing it to her nose and breathing in deeply.

“Mmm. Coffee.”

Ignoring that the sound goes straight to my dick, I jerk my head. “Kitchen’s that way if you want to get some brewing.”

My stomach rumbles, reminding me we need other sustenance as well. As she disappears in the direction I indicated, I take the risk of putting my gun back in the waistband of my pants, then pick up the rest of the groceries to check. One of the contents should be a frozen pizza that won’t take long to prepare.

In the small kitchen area, she glances as I approach, but seeing a flat box has replaced the weapon, quickly resumes the task she’s begun. For a few moments we work together in silence. Once I’ve a hot coffee in my hand and the pizza emitting tantalising smells from the heated oven, I sit at the table andkick out the second chair, then jerk my chin toward her, then toward the seat.

I watch, analysing her as she takes a moment before accepting the invitation. She’s not uptight, but also not relaxed, and hasn’t yet put down her guard. Wise, as she knows I’m the one with the weapon. Then I realise she doesn’t seem particularly bothered about the inequality, leading me to have my suspicions.

“You’re armed?”

Her eyes meet mine across the table, and one side of her mouth turns up. Guess she’s answered that. Ankle holster, I’d bet.

We both know where we are, an uneasy truce. Who’s going to survive the encounter may depend on who can draw first. I must need my head examined as the thought of meeting my match turns me the fuck on, meaning I subtly have to adjust myself to avoid the imprint of my zipper on my cock. That part of me thinks finding out whether she’d be just as feisty in bed is the most important thing to discover.

I can’t hope to think other than she’s worth it. Right now I’m a wanted man by my club.What the fuck have I done?But however I try to reason with myself, I can’t see how I could have done anything else. Queenie deserves a chance, and hopefully, as I’m the one who’s giving it to her, I’ll get my reward.

Luckily it appears she reads nothing of my thoughts as she cups her hands around her drink, then lets out a deep sigh. She grimaces slightly, and her brow furrows as though she’s perplexed. When she speaks, her tone is far from combative. “What the fuck is going on, Chaz? Why am I here? Why didn’t you just drop me somewhere and leave me?”

Good questions which I’m not sure I’ve got answers to, or none that she’ll want to hear. Sure, I needed to get her away safe, but why did I come with her? I doubt she wants to know howmuch she intrigues my cock, or all the very dirty things I want to do to her. Or, actually, it’s more than that. How much I want this amazing woman to be mine. Whatever, I’m a fucking grown man, a president with responsibilities. I shouldn’t be led by my dick. I take a couple of sips of coffee, then begin to let her into my thoughts.

“I’ve fucked up royally by taking you,” I admit, accepting what I’ve done today has been totally out of character.

If she wanted to hear I had a plan, I’ve clearly disappointed her. Puzzled eyes stare into mine for a moment, then she raises her chin. “I’d rather you were straight with me, Chaz. Are you going to betray me?”

I know she’s intelligent enough to understand that if I was, I’d hardly be telling her. But as I see her waiting for my response, I notice her concentration, analysing my features for the tiniest tell. But I’m going to tell her the honest truth. It’s up to her what she does with it.

I snort but with no amusement. “I worked for my patch, Helo, gave blood, sweat and tears to the club. Got the trust of my brothers. Carried on doing my bit, was made sergeant-at-arms. The brothers recognised my club meant everything to me, and when there was a vacancy, put me forward to be prez. Every day since, I’ve tried to be worthy of it.”

Her eyes narrow and she shrugs.

I raise my chin, waiting until I can see her watching me, hoping she’ll understand the seriousness of what I’m going to say. Inhaling sharply, I admit, “Bringing you here might, nah, will most probably mean, me losing my patch.” Which, before meeting her, was the most important thing in my life. I stare down into the coffee for a moment, then again raise my eyes to meet her face. In a solemn tone I voice the worst outcome. “I might be facing a death sentence.”

For a second she stops breathing completely. When she moves again, it’s to put her coffee cup down and to lean forward, elbows on the table, hands clasped. “What exactly are you saying?”

My shoulders rise then drop down. “I knew the size of the price on your head while we were still at the shop.” I watch her face remain expressionless as if she expected nothing less. “I decided to keep that info to myself, and Legend, who’d found that little tidbit out had his own reasons for not betraying a Night Stalker. But my other brothers? Two million dollars could prove one hell of a temptation, and you,” I point a finger toward her, “stole from us. Hell, most thought you intended to take off with the bike.”

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