Fire Meets Fire: Wretched Soulz MC

Chapter 5

There’s never been occasion for anyone to accuse me of being a coward. I won’t stand by and let someone else be threatened and hurt for something I’m responsible for. As I’m also not suicidal—even though some days I’m not too sure why I bother to get up and continue living—I climbed up into the rafters once I saw the bikers approaching. I’ve got the advantage and am in charge of the situation. As I steady my hold on the gun, I see the exact moment when their leader, Chaz, if I recall his name correctly, looks up and sees the predicament he’s in. His narrowing eyes and slight flush to his cheeks shout out it’s a situation he doesn’t like.

Hidden by the beams, I’ll be hard to hit, while I’m able to pick them off one by one. I demonstrate that now. When Chaz doesn’t immediately back away from Harold, I fire a warning shot at his feet, kicking dust up over his shoes. To give him his due, he doesn’t flinch, just looks down disdainfully at his now dirty footwear, then he turns his cold eyes up to meet mine, and one eyebrow rises in question.

I got this. Confident, I call out, “Harold. Back away and go to the house.”

But the older man’s lips compress and he gives a vigorous shake of his head. “Not leaving you here with these assholes, girlie.”

Girlie?Under the circumstances, his moniker for me almost makes me snort. But I’m annoyed that he uses this time to show his chivalry.

“Go to the house, Harold,” I repeat.

But he shrugs and just stands there steadily. Fuck it. Souls recognise souls, and while I have to force myself to see the benefit in climbing out of bed every morning, I’m fairly certain Harold feels the same way, surviving only by pinning his hopes that I can bring his son’s bike back, and therefore his son out of the coma’s hold. Knowing there’s only a slim chance of success, he probably values his life as little as I do mine.

I give up trying to persuade him, narrowing my focus on the men standing below. I might not have a lot to live for, but if I’m to go out, it will be on my terms. Rock steady, I wait on the alert for any movement toward a weapon or for one to slip out and take a back way to try to find me. Never underestimate your enemy is a lesson that’s been ingrained. Rather than considering I’ve some members of a motorcycle gang who are only brave when in numbers and riding their intimidating metal beasts, I treat them exactly as I would a group of highly trained special forces. Though nothing about them at the moment particularly impresses me. They seem at a loss as to what to do.

The other man who’d been there last night taps Chaz on the arm, then speaks into his ear. The man spoken to nods, and while keeping one eye on me, addresses Harold.

“Where’s the other fucker?” As he speaks, I notice the third person, the man I’ve not before seen, cautiously looking around.

Harold is rightfully confused. “There’s no one else here.”

“The mechanic,” Chaz snaps. “The man restoring the bike?”

At last Harold seems to find some amusement in the situation, and barks a laugh. He points up to where I am. “Oh, that fucker is her.”

After taking a moment to digest that information, and having shared a raised eyebrow conversation with his companions, Chaz leaves Harold and walks front and centre, putting himself directly underneath me. His eyes focus on the sturdy wood I’m resting on as though calculating what it might take to bring me down. This barn’s not newly built and I’m lying on thick timber, I doubt even a hail of bullets would do much damage to it.

Clearly seeing the same, instead, he resorts to words. Shading his eyes from the beam of evening sunlight that’s angling its way in, he moves his head side to side. Unlike Harold, his moves slowly, thoughtfully. “A coward and a thief,” he eventually announces scornfully. I’ve been injured and hurt in too many ways to count, but words have never hurt me. I don’t respond, just wait for him to continue. He doesn’t disappoint. “Why don’t you come down and face us?”

“So you can take me captive again? No thank you. I think I’ll stay where I am.”

“Captive?” Harold blusters. “What the hell has been going on? Is this anything to do with that black eye you got last night? Did these fuckin’ bikers hurt you?” Even from here I can see his fists clench, and realise he’s going to get hurt unless I find some way to defuse the situation, or he obeys me and clears out of the way.

I’m opening my mouth but Chaz gets in first, raising his brow as he turns to face Harold. “She didn’t tell you?” His expression and tone suggest there’s a wealth of shit that Harold might not know, and now he shoots a glare up at me, as Chaz says casually, “Oh, her crimes are many. She’s been stealing from us. Caught her red-handed yesterday, so yeah, we offered our hospitality?—”

“Fucking amateurs.” I snort. “They couldn’t hold me, Harold.”

But instead of sharing my amusement, Harold shifts uncomfortably foot to foot, then he grimaces. The old man’s not stupid. He’s put two and two together fast. “Helo’s been getting some parts for me. She was getting them off a scrap heap.” His eyes reach up to meet mine accusingly.

“I was,” I confirm.

About the same time as Chaz repeats, “Helo?” He smirks widely. “What kind of fuckin’ handle is that?”

It’s the name I earned though I don’t know why I should confirm it, instead directing my next comment to Harold. “They’re just pissed I got into their premises.” Chaz’s face hardening is the affirmation that I’m right on the money. I continue, “See, if they were sensible, instead of coming after me for trespass, they’d ask where their weak points were in their security. I could have taken something of value, or stolen one of the bikes.”

The man who wasn’t there yesterday, barks a laugh. “She’s offering us advice?”

Before Chaz can answer, I call back down, “Don’t see why not. My expertise in return for the parts.”

“We’ve got cameras where you entered already,” Chaz points out, showing how they were on to me yesterday. “And we’ve plans to heighten the fence and put more razor wire on top. No one’s getting in that way anymore.”

“And you think that would stop me?” Already I’m running through the other options I’d explored.

Chaz rubs his neck as if he’s getting a crick from looking up. “Come down and talk to us man to,” he coughs, “woman. And maybe we’ll be interested in any weaknesses you can point out.”

Yeah, and I was born yesterday. I know you don’t trust men like them, and coming down from my perch would give them the upper hand. Up here, no one can get close to me without getting a bullet in their head.

Chaz rolls his head to relieve his ache. I have to admit, I’m impressed that he seems to be thinking about the situation and not simply screaming and yelling. He already knows I’m not a good little girl who’s going to simply do what I’m told. Instead, he eyes Harold with a narrowing of his eyes.

I’m sure he’s wondering how much I’m invested in the old man and calculating the odds of being able to take him with them. But I’ll shoot anyone who touches him.

Then, the president of the Wretched Soulz surprises me. Instead of making a move on Harold, or issuing more threats against me or him, his lips turn up in an approximation of a smile, and instead demands, “Five hundred dollars and we’re quits.”

To be honest, while well over the top, what he’s asking isn’t extortionate if it gets me off the hook. Problem is, I’ve not got the money. Well, not where it’s accessible, that is.

Harold glances upward and frowns as he thinks. His eyes flick between me and Chaz. Finally he exhales a heavy sigh and grumbles, “Keep them here, Helo. I’ll go get it.”

“No, Harold. Harold?” But as I call out, he’s already striding off and his only response is his raised middle finger. I grimace. Damn it. That’s one more debt I’ll need to add to what I owe this grumpy bastard. On my part, if he’s really gone to get the money, and there’s nothing in me to doubt it—Harold’s not the type to come back all weapons blazing—I think he’s given in far too easily. Nothing about this suggests Chaz is a man to be trusted. Quits? I don’t believe him for one minute. Nothing is ever that simple. It’s a trick to get me to come down from my perch. Nah, he won’t be satisfied with his money. He’ll want his pound of flesh as well.

“Hey, biker boy,” I call down. Chaz, who’d been staring thoughtfully at the door through which Harold had exited, again looks up. I don’t need to see his hands fisting to know he doesn’t like the name I just called. “You going to swear on your fucking Harley that if Harold pays you the money that will be the last of it?” I use a warning tone to let him know I won’t be messed with.

His face reddens, that beam of sun emphasising the colour. “I believe we’re the wronged fuckin’ party here.” Again he seems to analyse the situation, examining me on the beam and then the rest of the barn. I can almost see him calculating whether he can get one of his men to sneak up behind me, but then clearly correctly dismisses he can’t. I’m the one holding all the cards.

Obviously, there’s a chance I’ll eventually need to come down if they stay and lay siege to my position, but I’m banking on they’ve got better things to do with their time. Eventually, with a slight grimace, a shake to his head, then, after he cups his hands to his cheeks, draws them down and away. I watch the tension leave his body and realise he can’t be bothered to fight. Then, when we all hear the sound of footsteps, he swings around.

As Harold approaches with a bundle of notes in his hand and his face set in a frown, Chaz makes a gesture to the man who was there last night.

“Legend, make sure it’s all there.”

Without hesitation, the man relieves a glaring Harold of the money and rapidly swipes through as he counts the bills. Once satisfied, he gives a chin lift toward his prez.

Chaz turns around and points to the door. Legend makes a move in that direction, but the other man holds back, leaning over I see his lips moving at Chaz’s ear. Watching carefully, what he says has Chaz stiffening again, and a stunned look appears on his face as if asking him whether he’s serious. He listens to him speak in an undertone a little more and while I strain my ears, I can’t make out any words. It’s enough to make Chaz snort a laugh. As if it’s a signal, both men look up.

Chaz calls out, “You want to make that money back? Find another way into our shop and you can have a refund. You hear me, little girl?”

He gives me a moniker meant to taunt me, but it’s not going to work. Try as he might, he can’t deny once again I’ve got one over on him. His attempt makes me grin, and it takes a moment longer than necessary to process what he means. Then it’s my turn to laugh. “You want me to check your security out?”

One side of the MC president’s mouth turns up. “I’m challenging you to find another weak spot.”

“Which you can’t,” Legend, who’d reversed his decision to exit, dismisses the possibility while giving his prez a sideways glance.

Hmm. I can’t deny that the challenge excites me, particularly as I’m certain I’d end up winning Harold’s money back. But I’m not stupid and sense a trap. They’ll be watching out for me and it wouldn’t be good for my health to place myself back in their hands. Still… The prospect intrigues me. Perhaps not for a while, but when they least expect it, I could give it a try.

They haven’t bothered to wait for my response. Chaz beckons and the other gang members move out. The man whose name I didn’t catch is the last to leave with one final look and a shake of his head in my direction. I wait until I hear the sound of three bikes start, then concentrate until the roar of all the engines have faded. For good measure, I pause a minute or two longer to make sure none have come back.

Then, finally, I put my gun into my belt and descend from the rafters to where Harold is standing with an apoplectic expression on his face. He’s as angry as I’ve ever seen him.

Wincing, I apologise as profusely as possible. “I’m so sorry, Harold. I didn’t mean to bring trouble to your door. I promise I’ll pay you back.” Somehow, eventually.

His cheeks puff out. “Fuck it, girl. I’m not concerned about the money. I’m worried that you’ve got the Wretched Soulz on your back. Why the fuck did you go and do something so stupid?” He kicks at the dirt. “If I had the slightest idea that’s where you were getting the parts, I would have stopped you. Have you a fuckin’ death wish? You don’t mess with that club.” He starts to list all the reasons I shouldn’t, and the shit they’re rumoured to have done. How the area is probably littered with bodies of those who’ve crossed them. How I’ve probably never come across their like before.

I wait him out, letting the words flow over me.

No. But while I haven’t come across the Soulz previously, I’ve come across far worse.

What I’ve been through makes the Soulz look like choirboys. I won’t underestimate them though, but I’ll have to be smart.

His final point is harder to argue.

“You could have fucking passed out up there, girlie.”