Page 41 of Fire Meets Fire

CHAZ

There was no need for her to tell me I shouldn’t have brought her here, I’ve been reminding myself ever since I left the compound. I still don’t know what made me take such precipitous action—action which could quite possibly see me killed or has probably lost me the most important thing in my life, my club.

And now it seems it’s all been for a woman who I’m unlikely ever to get into my bed.

But I’m fucked to hell and back because even that thought doesn’t make me regret what I’ve done. I respect her, like her, and, if I have to look at her like one of my brothers, well damn, that’s going to be hard, but it doesn’t stop me wanting to help her.

Although she’s made it clear that it can only be platonic between us, my brain screams that Helo is mine and can’t be touched by anyone else. And being mine, I’m not going to countenance letting my club betray her or anyone hurt her.

She let me hug her, so maybe not all hope in the physical arena is lost. I’ll just have to take things slowly. Deep inside that I’ll want her even after her trouble is sorted. Which means I’m seriously considering having an old lady. What would it belike? StoryTeller seems to have done alright. Sure, Sheri gives him flack as she’s more than capable of sticking up for herself, but he’s not been emasculated. He still rides, fights, and knows how to have a good time. On top of that, he always seems to be content and smiling. That wasn’t the case before Sheri tied him down. Back then I thought I’d never get him to stick in one place and give up being a nomad. He quite regularly admits finding her was the best thing that ever happened to him in his life, and he values her and his kid over his bike.

I smile briefly as I think of the forthcoming addition to his family he told me about, then frown. While I’ve only barely faced that I may be wanting to make Helo my old lady if there’s any possibility at all that I could persuade her to see me that way, I’ll never have what StoryTeller has. Even if I can get her into the sack, as a result of the abuse she’d suffered, she’ll never be able to carry my, our, her, baby.

Rage sweeps through me at what she’s already lost.

Since I called her a coward, and after her comment about the mistake she thinks I’ve made, she’s become closed off. Though her posture is stiff, her hands keep moving, clenching and unclenching as if it’s hard for her to keep still. I guess she wants to be moving, and on her own, not having to deal with me.

She didn’t seem to make much effort seeking help to deal with the threats. It’s as if she’s accepting her nomadic existence as punishment for surviving, as if she doesn’t deserve to live.Survivor’s guilt.This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen it. It’s the only answer I have for why she’s run instead of what I now think she’d have done before she’d been taken captive—stand and fight.

She’s a fucking hero and she deserves to have everything good. If my sacrifice is going to be for anything, I’ll do my damndest to give that to her. But first I’ve got to work out how toachieve that objective, which means I’ll have to get her enemies off her back.

I walk to the cupboard where I keep the good stuff, pulling down a bottle of Jack and a couple of glasses. Pouring two shots, I take one over to her. The small raise of her chin accepts my offer as a truce.

I allow her a few seconds to appreciate the mellow liquor.

“What we’ve got to do now is come up with a plan.”

She rolls her eyes and opens her mouth, but before she can get out a word, I’m making shushing motions with my hand, putting down my drink and turning in disbelief to look out the window. A distant roar of multiple motorcycle engines has reached my ears. I stop breathing to hear better, but I’m not mistaken. They’re headed in this direction, which means I immediately know who they have to be. But fuck knows how they found me, or how fast.

Helo’s not deaf or stupid. Her eyes are wild. “It’s your club.”

“I swear I didn’t call them.” I know she’s going to go straight there, and doubt she’s going to believe me. All the steps forward I thought we’d made have been lost.

But it seems our conversation hasn’t been for nothing. As she picks up her pack, swings it over her shoulder and walks to the door, she calls out, “If you want to help me, cover my back.”

For once in my life, no quick decision comes to me. I don’t want her to leave, but I don’t want my brothers to sell her out. Realising I don’t care what happens to me just emphasises how important she’s become. But being the prez of my club also means I know the members, and that announcing their arrival isn’t the normal way of how we’d do things. Which means…

As Helo opens the door, she’s looking down the barrel of a gun, as simultaneously an ominous click sounds at the back of my head, and a hand takes my weapon from my waistband. Risking tilting my head to one side, I see it’s fucking Fire, anex-Navy SEAL who’s lighter on his feet than any six-foot man should be.

It’s Iron who’s got Helo in his sights. I can see her tensing as though working out whether she’s able to go for her ankle holster, when Weasel, also apparently having entered from the back, walks, like Fire, silently around me. Some sixth sense of Helo’s must warn her of his approach as, ignoring the threat in front of her, she swings around.

I’m trying to process everything at once, like how my brothers arrived so quickly when I thought they hadn’t known about the cabin, and had assumed we’d be safe. The hate I feel for myself in underestimating them comes only second to the devastation in Helo’s eyes that suggests though she might not think I’d summoned them here, she blames me for leading her into a trap.

She might not yet, or ever, be my old lady, but I know some things about her as well as I know myself. She’s going to try to fight her way out even though the odds show it’s helpless. She’d rather die than be taken.

I’m opening my mouth to issue a warning, but the delay is I’m not certain who I want to caution first, Helo, who I’ve met so recently or the men to whom I’ve pledged allegiance to for years. Her actions are faster than I can get any words out, as Weasel’s disarmed and pulled in front of her as a shield in a flash.Oh shit,I think to myself when in the next second, Weasel’s a whir of movement and somehow turns the tables on her. Luckily the weapon flies out of both of their reaches and skims across the floor.

I try to move but Claw butts his gun into my head and growls. Worse, Bull appears, wrenches my hands behind my back and zip ties my wrists together. All I can do is watch the bodies writhing on the floor, fearing for Helo but not being able to doanything to help her. If she breaks Weasel’s neck, then she’ll join him in death.

My heart pounds, my breath saws through my lungs, but I can do nothing. Then, another man saunters in through the doorway, slowly removing his gloves, placing them in his pocket, then raising his sunglasses to perch on top of his head. He looks only mildly interested in what’s going on.

It’s Slugger. After his eyes adapt to the gloom, he glances toward me, giving me a chin lift as though nothing was out of the normal and I was not bound and held prisoner by one of my own men. He starts to move toward me, having to jump out of the way as the brawling pair barrel into him. He kicks out, luckily hitting Weasel, not Helo, and growls, “Watch the fuck what you’re doing.” Then he continues over in my direction. He’s got one of his annoying smirks on his face. While he’s pretending to be oblivious, it’s easy to tell he’s loving the situation. Mind you, I’ve seen the man grinning as he happily burns off a rogue member’s tattoo.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he tells me once he’s close. Obviously I can’t argue with his summation so I ignore him. “You think you’d get away with running from your club?”

Again, I deign not to answer. Instead, my eyes find Legend who’s just entering. I narrow a glare toward my computer expert. “How the fuck did you find me?”

“That was me,” Iron answers. “I’m the fuckin’ sergeant-at-arms and you’re my prez.”

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