Page 88 of The Fire We Crave

26

SMOKE

Iguess I have a girlfriend.

It’s probably not the most obvious thought to be having as we all take our seats around the table at Church, a session called urgently by Butcher.

But it’s the only thought I have.

Two days ago, Dice showed up at the house and missed the show by seconds. I’d just withdrawn from her and pulled her towel to cover her pussy and thighs when he rounded the corner. Was pulling up my zipper as he came into view.

If he noticed my cum dribbling down her inner thigh like I did, he was too polite to mention it. But I’m pretty sure he noticed the way Quinn ran her fingers over my softened dick tucked in my denim as she walked by me on the way to the shower.

From there, it domesticated further. She showered, and I started making eggs and toast. She took over while I showered. I was halfway through my food when the call from Butcher came, to get my ass into Church while Dice kept an eye on Quinn.

And here we are. Two days later. Back in church with imminent problems.

Usually, urgent Church means imminent problems.

And yet, I’m still thinking about the way Quinn’s cunt sucks the life out of me.

The minor chub I’ve got going on thinking about it suggests that, after Church and my appointment to have my burns looked at, I should go home and see how she’d feel about having her hands tied and hooked over the winch I have in the garage. Let me play with her body a little while she balanced precariously on the tips of her toes.

Having a girlfriend might not be such a bad thing after all.

When I look up, I realize I’m the only one thinking about the good things in life.

The tension in the room is so thick, you can touch it. It sits heavy on the shoulders and is present on the faces of my brothers.

“Calling the meeting to order,” Grudge says, and Butcher slams his gavel.

“Rurik Zakharov,” Butcher says. “The fucker had the audacity to call me.”

The room falls completely silent, and I shift in my chair to lean forward. “What did he want?”

“To shatter any illusion of control we might have,” Butcher said. “He’s calling in a blood debt.”

“A what?” Taco asks.

Jackal and Shade both wince. Like me, they both know the answer.

Butcher looks at Taco, and for a moment, I feel the familiar father-to-son connection we have all felt with Butcher at some point. As if he hates having to bring more suffering into our lives. “A blood debt. We killed one of theirs, so he wants us to hand over one of ours for them to kill. Think of it like an honor killing for vengeance.”

Taco’s eyes widen. “That’s a fucking thing?”

Catfish nods. “It is. Doesn’t mean we need to comply.”

“It’s usually only used for someone really important to the family, though,” Jackal says. The nomad has a calm and measured way about him. “Who did we kill?”

“Fuck, did I kill Lev?” I ask. “Not that I care about the debt, but did I?”

Butcher shakes his head. “Rurik’s brother-in-law when they tried to raid the compound. Although, he was pissed about Lev.”

“What exactly did he say?” I ask. There is intel in the details. And knowing Butcher, he was probably too busy telling the guy to go fuck himself to properly listen.

“He asked if I was the president of the Iron Outlaws Colorado chapter. I told him I was. He introduced himself like we were fucking strangers standing in line at the hardware store. All polite and shit. He asked how I was finding the peace in our town. I told him that once I’d gotten rid of the vermin, it would be as it fucking should be.”

Atom crosses his arms. “Fucking weird.”

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