Fire Meets Fire: Wretched Soulz MC

Chapter 10

Christ. Her story has cut right through to my cold heart of stone. I’ve heard sad stories before, almost all of my brothers has one of their own, and I’ve listened to them without much empathy. Helo? Fuck. She’s not had it easy from the day she was born, but not one word she’s uttered has been one of complaint.

How did I dare have thoughts about taming her? She’s far too good for me. I’d only taint her. But even though I’ve now more reasons for staying away, something still draws me to her. Something that makes me want to see the Queenie she’s hidden under that hard-as-steel exterior.

I’d sent my VP away, in some ways to test whether she’d open up to just one person, speak to me, let me know what’s going on inside her. Then again, I’m selfish. I want everything about her to be mine, including her secrets.

She’s staring past me now, her eyes unfocused, her jaw tight and her lips narrowed. It’s not hard to see it was that stupid question that came out of my mouth that affected her. Of course she was fucking abused and tortured, and from the sound of it, she’s lucky that she’s alive. First, she survived the helicopter crash, then for some reason, her captors kept her breathing. The rationale behind that, I don’t like to think about, though I can read the truth of it in her eyes. I’d suspected she’d been abused, but I could never have dreamt how bad it was.

She got out of there, but definitely not unscathed. I’m sure she’s suffering from PTSD and that’s what makes her have the episodes, which means she can’t be in charge of anything mechanical in case she passes out. Though she’s now safe on US soil, someone is trying to kill her. What the fuck’s up with that? Who could it be? The SEALs who survived, or maybe the family of one of those who had died? But why? Why blame her? It doesn’t make sense though I’ve lived long enough to realise not everything in life has a reason, or all action grounded in logic. That she can’t tell me more details of where, when or who suggests she was involved in some kind of black op.

I’m so full of admiration for her. I can imagine how fucking hard it is for a man to become a Night Stalker, let alone a woman. I doubt many reach the grade, and wasn’t it only just recently, they started allowing females in? She must be a trailblazer, and would have to be the best of the best. I’m actually in awe sitting opposite her. Though it’s obvious the Helo sitting in front of me is not the one who owned the air. Instead of the warrior I envision her to be, I’m faced with a woman haunted by demons. I find myself wishing I could put a smile back on her face.

Having that kind of job ripped away from her probably equates to me losing my club. She’s strong just because she keeps moving forward, even though she’s got a nemesis trying to hold her back.

Unusually for me, I’m at a loss for words. I know I’m insanely attracted to her but feel the tables have turned. She’s a true hero while I’m just a pretend one. I feel like a fish out of water, and when my phone vibrates with a message, I grab hold of it like a lifeline. Seeing the message is from Legend, I tap with my finger to open it.

Legend: There’s a two-million-dollar bounty out on Queenie ‘Helo’ May.

Not knowing how the hell I manage it, I keep my face completely impassive while my brain whirls. What the fuck? Apart from that injury to her shoulder, anyone could be forgiven to have doubts there was anything other than demons in her head chasing her. This is proof she’s told me nothing but the truth, and ups the ante considerably. She had mentioned a bounty, but I had no idea how much.

This isn’t just one person searching for her. There’s no knowing who’s taken up the challenge. That’s some serious change, which means whoever’s after her isn’t fucking around. With a sum like that I can just imagine how many assholes will start crawling out of the ground trying to find her. Does she know the size of the price on her head?

Under my eyelashes, I consider her carefully. Would she have told me as much as she had if she knew how much betraying her was worth? How can she know who to trust? Or is she just tired, and would welcome the opportunity to stop running, paying only a token tribute to keeping herself hidden. For some reason, I hope to hell she hasn’t given up.

But two million dollars is enough for me to contemplate momentarily just what an amount that high would be worth to the club… it would be a new ride for everyone for a start. New clubhouse too, perhaps. The temptations are endless.

She’s a bitch to whom we owe nothing. The opposite, she owes us for fucking with the club. To my brothers, I owe everything.

Could I turn her in for the money to give my brothers a better life? My heart thumps in my chest, and a sour feeling roils in my gut. I couldn’t do that. For some inane reason on this occasion, because of her, I can’t put my club first.

She’s a hero for fuck’s sake. A woman in a million, a woman of the like I’ll probably never meet again. It’s me that’s not worthy to have her in my bed.

There and then I determine I’m going to help her, whatever the ramifications are for me as Prez. Quickly I tap out a message to Legend.

Prez: Keep that info to yourself.

Legend: K

But it’s one thing to decide to give her assistance, quite another to plan how I’m actually going to keep her safe. One thing you can take to the bank is I’m not going to let her out of my sight. Fuck her desire to go to the state line, with no resources, no transport. Even someone as skilled as her wouldn’t be able to protect herself. Not against assholes who only see dollar signs and not her not-classically-beautiful but-characterful face.

But how to keep her? My brain begins to whirl through various options until I decide persuasion is probably the best. If only I can come up with a proposal that she won’t be able to turn down. Telling her she’s staying will have the opposite effect, and as for suggesting she can’t look after herself, well, my jaw already aches in anticipation.

While I’ve been thinking, she’s been content to stay silent. As she rubs her strained eyes and covers her mouth to hide a yawn, I remember she’s been up all night. Not unusual for a Night Stalker, but even they have to rest sometime.

Sounds filter in through the office door, the increasing noise level in the shop telling me more brothers are arriving to start work. It’s time to make some decisions, and an idea begins to form in my mind.

“If I take you to the state border, what will you do then?” I jerk my head to indicate the lightened sky outside. “It’s daylight, surely you’d be better travelling in the dark?” Night Stalkers fly under cover of darkness. She’ll be programmed to think there’s safety in that. From the glint in her eye, I’ve caught her attention. Taking advantage, I press my point. “You were awake all fuckin’ night. Not a good start when you’re taking off, not knowing where you’re going to lay your head or where your next meal will come from.”

Her lips press together as she considers my words. After a moment, she says, “I can’t go back to Harold’s. Knowing they could be so close…” She shudders. I doubt MacPherson would be much good in a firefight, and somehow I know she wouldn’t want to put him in danger.

I rap my fist on the table as if I’ve suddenly had an idea. “I’ll take you to the clubhouse. You can get your head down for a few hours—catch up on the sleep you should have had last night. Get some food in your stomach and give some thought about where you want to go. You can wait until night falls.” I’ve no intention of letting her leave then, but it buys me a few more hours to persuade her she’d do better to stay. I sweeten the pill, and scoff. “No one will look for you on an MC compound.”

My words don’t convince her. “If your enquiries left a trail, that would be the first place they’d come for information.”

“Do you think we’d let an outsider get close?” My tone is sneering. Then I rethink. If Legend doesn’t keep his mouth shut, some of the brothers actually might. All they’d see is what they could do with a share of that reward, while to me she’s worth so much more. Hell, not many of them even know she’s a Night Stalker, although StoryTeller might have been spinning his tales by now. I’ve got to give them a chance to see her as someone worth saving and not just a thief who stole from us in the night.

Practised, I don’t let one iota of my thoughts show on my face. My sneer, accompanying my statement, remains pasted in place.

After a moment, her eyes rise and she frowns. “Why on earth would you want to help me?”

I shrug. Knowing I can’t tell her I believe meeting her was fate, that somehow whatever passes for God in my world sent her my way. To reward or torture me? Well, that I can’t yet say. So, I scramble for a reason that sounds plausible. “You helped us when you found the flaws in our security. And some of our members are ex-services. They’d have no problem giving some space to one of their own.”

“You?” she asks. “You served?”

My shoulders rise and fall. “Army, but I did my four years then got out.” The Army and I weren’t a good fit. I preferred giving orders to taking them and rules be fucking damned. The MC was a much better fit.

Queenie stifles another yawn, seems to think for a moment, then her shoulders slump. “I’m not quite sure why I should take sanctuary with the men who outed my presence in Arizona, but I suppose you’re right. It is the last place anyone would think of looking for me.”

“Accidentally and possibly outed,” I correct. “There’s a chance that no one’s watching that closely for you.” Slim chance, I would think, considering how much they want her as evidenced by the size of the bounty. “But you’ll be able to rest better if you play it safe and you couldn’t be safer than on an MC compound.” Unless my brothers got wind of the amount on her head. I cross my fingers again, hoping Legend has kept his mouth shut.

I probably trust our data expert more than most. This isn’t the first time he’s been asked to keep information close to his chest.

She’s wavering, I can see. Her contorted grimace and raised hand show she’s unsuccessfully trying to stifle yet another yawn. Taking my chance and giving her no more time to think about the wisdom of entering my den, I stand and retrieve my bike key from my pocket. “Come on. Let’s take you back.”

As though complying with a senior officer’s order, she follows me out. As I lead her through the shop, various heads turn our way, but the look on my face shuts any questioning down. It’s only when I’m outside that I realise there’s no other transport available except for the bikes. Briefly I toy with the idea of asking the prospect to take her on his, but a burning sensation in my chest makes me direct her to mine instead.