Page 70 of Fire Meets Fire

CHAPTER THIRTY

HELO

Iowe a lot to this old man, more than I can ever repay. It wouldn’t be a simple monetary debt. He’d given me a place to stay and a reason to keep getting up every day. Sourcing parts for that bike had brought me into the path of the Wretched Soulz, and that, in turn, had led me to Chaz as well as vanquishing my enemy. If Harold hadn’t rescued me out of the goodness of his heart that day, I may not be breathing now, and definitely not be able to consider a future.

I’m stunned he ventured into the clubhouse to come to my rescue. I obviously had grown on him more than I thought. Venturing into the Wretched Soulz clubhouse is something no one would do lightly. In truth, though, I’m not too sure how much effect one old, unarmed man would have had should there truly have been reason to save me.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Helo? With them. Him.” He adds the last in a hiss, sending a sneering glance Chaz’s way.

“Long story, old—” I bark a laugh. “It’s a long story. Best heard with a beer in your hand.”

At my words, Chaz signals to Shitface who’s behind the bar. He reaches for a few bottles and starts to hand them out.

“I’d rather have one of those.” Harold, challenging Chaz with a glare, points to the whisky that’s hidden on the top shelf.

Chaz chuckles, but gestures agreement to the prospect, adding, “I’ll have a shot myself.”

Sticking with beer, I take a bottle in my hand, idly starting to pick at the label. Harold takes a sip of his whisky, then one more, before turning impatient eyes on me and raising a brow.

“It was Senator Netherton who was after me.”

Harold slams his glass down. “Netherton? What the fuck?” His eyes become slits and deep furrows appear on his brow. “The senator was all over the news this morning. Seems he committed suicide last night.”

“Ain’t it funny how things work out?” I say casually, while being unable to suppress a grin.

His mouth opens and shuts. He turns to survey the room, but I’m certain while there may be a few faces showing amusement, no one will be giving anything away. His shrewd eyes narrow again once he’s back looking at me. “So there isn’t anyone after you anymore?”

“Nope.” I pop the p. “I’m free.”

He continues to look suspicious as he examines my face. “You owe a debt to the Soulz, girlie?”

I laugh, as Chaz states firmly. “No debts to be repaid, old man.”

At his look of disbelief, I, too, reassure him, “Soulz and I are even, Harold. There’s no need to worry. I’m totally here of my own volition.”

“And him?” He shoots a wrathful glance at the man standing close to me.

Taking a moment to smile up at Chaz, I defuse the situation, putting it as plainly as I can. “I’m in his bed, willingly.” And just to make sure there’s no misunderstanding. “And his are the only sheets I’ll be lying between.”

For a second, Chaz rests his lips on the top of my head, his gentle, loving gesture, seems to speak volumes.

The tension visibly fades from Harold, and he drinks more of his whisky. “So you’re free.” He looks almost whimsical. “You can go anywhere you want now.” At my nod, he asks, hopefully, “You going to be coming home with me?”

Placing my hand over his gnarly one, I know I’m going to be letting him down. While he was always moaning, he clearly appreciated the company. “No, I’m going to be staying here.”

“With him?”

Smiling up at Chaz, I confirm, “With him.”

Chaz indicates that Shitface should top off Harold’s glass. Then he leans forward, placing his arm firmly around me.

“We’re going to get that bike of yours fixed up like new, MacPherson,” he states, while Harold’s eyes widen in confusion.

His lips purse. “Why the fuck should you do that?”

Chaz grins. “Because Queenie here will need something to keep her occupied.”

Harold frowns. I reach over and plant a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be staying around, Harold. This is not the last of me.”

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