Fire Meets Fire: Wretched Soulz MC

Chapter 13

It’s probably counterintuitive that I feel safe in this outlaw bikers’ clubhouse. Instead of sleeping with one eye open, once I’d heard the door lock behind Chaz, I’d let myself relax and catch up on some zzz, not only replacing those which I’d missed last night, but also several nights before that. While I trust Harold, he’s not particularly security conscious, and anyone could just walk into his place. I’d been surprised to find that in Chaz’s bed I slept like the dead, though undoubtably part of it was physical exhaustion brought on by the embarrassing episode I’d had once again.

After Chaz had woken me, though, I couldn’t go back to sleep. My anxiety about my identity being discovered returned in full force, and after using his bathroom—tidier than I expected a man like his would be—I was more than ready to put this place in my rearview, and mentally swearing because he was making me wait. But I’d hold him to his offer of a ride, anywhere, in any direction, as it would be further than I’d get on my own two feet.

I’m not naturally a patient person. I’d rather be doing something, anything, other than waiting, but the Army had curbed my impatience to some extent. While I used to hate hanging around before we went on missions, wanting to throw myself into the fray of things rather than putting them off, I learned the best results came from careful planning, and waiting for the best time to present itself.

It’s not easy waiting. Sounds come up from the clubroom below. I find the increasingly loud voices disturbing, warning of multiple men down there, far more than when I entered earlier. I’ve listened hard but can’t distinguish any of the words. They all mingle into a cacophony of sound. As my heart rate speeds up, I force myself to remember the woman and her daughter who I’d met earlier—surely they wouldn’t be around if there was any danger? I might not have talked to her long, but in no way did she seem cowed or fearful of her situation, or worried about the appropriateness of having such a young child around.

I know I’m being crazy. I’d lived my life in the Night Stalkers’ world, and you can’t get much more masculine than that. While on active duty, I’d never thought twice about being capable of holding my own in what was a predominately male environment.

So why’s my heart racing now, adrenaline pumping around my body as if telling me I need to run? Deliberately slowing my breath, I manage to slow the blood rushing through my veins, while acknowledging the devil on my shoulder who reminds me of when men were definitely deleterious to my health.

Hearing male voices drinking and having fun used to have me not hesitating to join them, being well able to down beer and horse around just as much as them. But those six months, those twenty-six weeks, broke me. My hands clench.

I’m Queenie ‘Helo’ May. I’m a fucking Night Stalker, top of my game.

I’m a broken woman, no longer able to drive, ride or fly.

Try as I might, I can’t slow my heart down, nor can shake the feeling of impending doom. This no longer feels like the sanctuary that allowed me to sleep. I’m on edge. I’m trying to fight sinking deeper into a mental dark hole of my own making when a brisk warning knock sounds at the door before it’s pushed open. A wild-eyed Chaz enters.

My initial thought is that I’m grateful for the company to get me out of my head, the second does nothing to restore my equilibrium when I see the expression on his face. For the first time since I’ve met him, he doesn’t seem sure of himself. His hands brush back over his bald head, then he does that again. His mouth opens, then shuts without any words coming out.

I watch as he takes a shuddering breath and draws back his shoulders. Then he bows forward, putting his hands on his knees, murmuring unintelligible words under his breath, before finally, he straightens, his mouth firm, as he obviously comes to a decision.

“We’ve got to go now,” he snaps.

I’ve heard that tone before, used it myself, normally in a matter where delay was a matter of life or death. He hasn’t brought the food that he promised, and my stomach’s decidedly empty, but his expression warns me not to mention that.

I don’t know him well enough to blindly follow him. “Why now?”

His eyes still and become dark. His chest expands, then deflates, and the words that he utters sound like a plea. “Trust me?”

If it was a demand I give him my faith, then I’d have baulked against such instruction. But that undeniable question mark at the end shows me he’s giving me a choice. I’m bemused. When he left, there was a calmness about him, a confidence that all was well in his world. Now he’s back, that certainty seems to have deserted him. He seems unsure, uncertain, and for a second I can’t understand why. Then the only answer I can think of occurs to me. While I wouldn’t expect a hardened MC prez would be overly worried about the fact, his behaviour suggests my past has caught up with me, and he needs to get me away.

Could I have underestimated whoever was after me? Could they pull together enough of a crew to threaten an MC? Of course, knowing the size of the bounty offered for me, that I have underestimated is probably fact.

Whatever the question, the answer is clear. Chaz is suggesting nothing I don’t want. I’ve got to get away from here.

Maybe it’s stupid to put my trust in one man. Chaz could be taking me to my enemy instead of away. But there’s something about his agitation, his urgency to leave that transmits to me. He wastes no time. After I give him a rise of my chin, agreeing to go with him, he throws my backpack at me, then as he opens the door, signals me to stay back until he’s checked it’s all clear.

Are they already in the clubhouse?It’s the only explanation that comes to mind. Just the thought gets adrenaline rushing through my body as my heart starts to pound. Not fear, but anticipation, much like hearing the sound of the rotors starting to turn, knowing we could be lifting off and facing anything.

My hands don’t shake. My nerves are rock steady as I go into action mode. Following Chaz’s example, I quietly step out of the door and follow him along the hall in the opposite direction to the stairs. Without being told, I quietly ease down the fire escape stairs which brings us to the rear of the building, then carefully skirt the brickwork until we’re out front where the bikes are parked.

Chaz signals me to stay back while he gets his bike out of line, then, when he gives an urgent summons with his hand, I rush forward and throw myself on behind him. He waves to the prospect manning the gate and instructs him.

“Close the gate behind us and don’t let anyone else out. You do and you won’t be getting your fuckin’ patch.”

Shitface’s eyes widen at his strange instruction, but snaps to attention as his prez starts the bike and quickly gets into gear, twisting the throttle so hard, if I wasn’t holding on, I’d have been in danger of sliding off the back.

I glance behind as we hit the road and see the prospect has done as instructed.

I tap Chaz’s shoulder as we pass the turn that would have led to Harold’s, but he ignores my touch and the wind whips away my frustrated shout. I’ve no option but to be driven away into the unknown without clothes, toiletries or anything.

Fuck my life.

Accepting it must be too dangerous to go get my shit, I let my heart rate gradually slow to match the thump of the engine. I’m just relieved to be moving away from any threat. When I see an object fly past and just have time to note it’s Chaz’s phone, I realise he’s doing all he can to ensure danger remains behind. There’s no way to track us.

Miles fly past accompanied by the roar from the exhaust. I lose sense of time as the road rushes beneath us. At first, I’m exhilarated, enjoying the ride even though I’d rather be controlling the bike. There’s something about motorcycles that give the illusion of freedom that I miss from the sky. But as more time goes by, I start to feel my ass getting numb and wonder how far Chaz intends to take me before dropping me off. For the first few miles, he’d constantly been looking in his rearview, but then when he turned off the main road, made so many twists and turns I could almost believe we were going back to the place we started from, I could feel the tension leave his body.

We ride and ride, keeping to secondary roads and past signposts which don’t help much to give me a final destination and it’s then that belatedly my brain kicks back in. Why did Chaz prevent his brothers from following him?

Damn it! Has he discovered the bounty on my head? Is he now riding to deliver me to my nemesis? Did he delay his brothers as he didn’t want to share the reward?

As the wind whips through my hair, that’s not the only thing starting to chill me. Would Chaz really betray his club like that? What do I know of the man? He’s a criminal living outside the law but the one thing I thought he’d possess in spades is loyalty, to his club if no one else. If he knows of the bounty, would he really keep that to himself?

Two million dollars would be enough to set a man up for life, or, at least, for a very long time. Perhaps he’s been looking for an out from the club and I came along at the right point in his life.

Glancing around his shoulder, I see the bike’s pushing a steady eighty miles an hour. Unless I want to kill myself, I’m his unwilling passenger for now. The one plus is that he’s taking me far away from the place I could have been reported to have been last seen. The danger could be that he’s delivering me to the exact people I don’t want to see.

Moving closer to hug him tighter, as if I’m enjoying the ride, I can feel the bulge against my stomach that suggests he’s carrying a gun in his belt. Although it would be too hard to explain my wandering hands were I to try to prove it, I’d be surprised if he didn’t have another in an ankle holster. I’m carrying one myself. Like normal, underestimating a female, the assholes hadn’t searched me.

Confident I can disarm him without him suspecting a thing, I decide to let this journey continue. If he thinks I’m going to blindly trust him, he’s got another think coming. I’ll wait until we get to our destination then he’ll see how wrong it is to mess with a Night Stalker.

It would be a shame if I have to kill him. But even the most perfect looking skin of a fruit can hide a rotten core.

After a couple of hours, he pulls over to top off his tank. Suspecting he might not have chosen this place as random, my hand hovers close to my ankle, ready to draw my weapon, but the place seems deserted. No other vehicles have come to this out-of-the-way service station. Testing him, I tap his shoulder.

“I need the facilities.”

“Sure.” He kicks down the stand as I dismount. Then he gets a look at my face. This man isn’t stupid. “Er, Helo. I’ve not kidnapped you.”

“Haven’t you?” I swing around. “Then where the fuck are we, Chaz? And don’t kid me this is a shortcut to the border.”

His lips press together. “I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

My brows rise. “Okay. But where?”

His brows draw down in a V and his eyes harden. “Somewhere no one will find you. I promise you that.”

“Where?” I repeat, ignoring his rising temper. “You asked me to trust you and so far I’ve done that. But I need more information other than just follow you blindly.”

“For fuck’s sake, woman. I’m in this as much as you are now.” His head jerks toward the shop. “If I don’t give you information, you can’t share.”

He thinks I’m going to contact someone and give myself away? My eyes widen. If I knew where we were going, there’s no one I can call in any event. I do need to pee, so I turn and walk away, if only to give myself a few minutes to think about what I should do. Stay, and let Chaz take me where he wants to? Or extricate myself from the situation and head off on my own?

If I take the latter option, I’ll have to beg, borrow or steal to get food and clothing, but that’s nothing I haven’t had to do before. As I wash my hands, I consider it. I’m out in the middle of nowhere, and to be honest, I’m sick of running. While the weirdness of the journey means I now don’t trust Chaz further than I could throw him, if he is taking me to claim the reward, then it would give me a chance to face my enemy head-on. It would at least be good to discover who wants me dead so badly.

Maybe I can end this once and for all.

Wondering how much of a fool I’m being, I go back outside, and obediently situate myself back on the bike.

Dusk falls and the skies grow dark. Soon the way is only lit by the headlight. We’ve passed no houses for miles and now the road starts to narrow and wind up through trees.

This is definitely nowhere near the state line, and there’s no bus to be caught or taxicab in sight.

Chaz turns onto a rutted track, dropping our speed to a crawl, then, finally, comes to a halt. He taps my leg and I get off, then wait as he dismounts and undoes the padlock on a rustic gate.

“Where are we?” Looking around, I see no fresh tire tracks on the ground, nothing to suggest that someone is waiting for us.

For a reply, he pushes his bike through the gate then waves me to join him. He closes the wood barrier behind him, failing, I notice, to reapply the lock, then gets back onto the bike and turns expectantly in my direction. I shrug. Well, I’ve come this far, might as well continue onto the end. Storing up the knowledge that if Chaz intends to betray me, it’s a visitor I need to prepare for.

I stay quiet as he continues up a track that’s barely suitable for a bike, and after a couple of minutes, the headlight reveals a cabin in the middle of the woods.

Okkayy.Another sign he might have brought me here to kill me—sure would be a good place to hide a body.

Without waiting for him to tell me, as he kills the engine, I’m already off the bike, standing with my hands on my hips and peering through the gloom at the building in front of me.

Exchanging the headlight for a flashlight, Chaz steps up beside me, and takes hold of my elbow.

“Watch yourself. It’s a bit uneven.”

“Where the fuck are we?” This time I ask, I get his attention, having whipped his own gun from his belt and now have it pointed at the back of his head.

Unfazed, he chuckles softly as he holds his hands out to his sides. “It’s a cabin I own.”

I suppose it’s something I’ve not been brought to someone else’s home, but I’m not even sure I believe him.

“And why have you brought me here?”

“Woman, I’m trying to fuckin’ help you.” Exasperation sounds in his voice. “You needed some place to hide off the grid, and that’s what I’m giving to you.” He shakes his head, and I swear he adds a murmured, “Fuck knows why.”

Fuck knows why indeed. I certainly don’t. I’ve no idea why he made sure his brothers couldn’t follow him, or why he’s brought me nowhere obviously near the state line. He’s done nothing to make me trust him.

Warily, I examine what I can see of the cabin. It looks deserted from the outside, no other vehicle unless it’s hidden, and no sign there’s anyone else here. I’ve learned to have eyes in the back of my head, to be aware of threats before I can see them. As all my senses are on high alert, my ears pick up the sound of an engine. And, while it’s still a distance away, I quickly realise, in this isolated place, there’s only one place it could be heading.

“Fuck you!” I scream, jabbing my gun painfully into his scalp. “You’ve given me away. I’m going to fucking kill you!”