Fire Meets Fire: Wretched Soulz MC

Chapter 17

Flying a mission is never simply following a plan. A pilot wouldn’t survive if they didn’t learn how to react, adapting to changing situations and being prepared for the unexpected at all times. The enemy can’t be relied on to follow any rule book. A pilot unable to take alternative action in a split second is one who’ll not remain alive long.

Even intelligence gained can be faulty, and the lack of it lethal. That was the very thing that took me down.

I wouldn’t have become a Night Stalker if I wasn’t able to analyse information at the speed of light, read every slight nuance and react accordingly, preparing for danger rather than expecting safety.

I’d thought Chaz had betrayed me, but now it’s clear he’s as innocent as I am in giving away our location. I can also see he’s burning with anger and indignation. Indignant on my behalf rather than his, but I’ve heard the conversations and know he isn’t to blame. It’s not his fault. He got me clean away as far as he was concerned. It’s just down to pure luck that his overprotective sergeant-at-arms wanted to know where he was at all times.

The man who fired the shot is obviously in charge, even over Chaz. The president over the whole of the Wretched Soulz that Chaz had told me about. Their national leadership which they normally deny. Not hard to understand, if one charter gets caught then if there’s no acknowledged affiliation, the whole club wouldn’t go down. But that makes him, to me, a very dangerous man. Every man here will do his, not Chaz’s, bidding.

His chin raise just now, that was not the gesture of a man who senses victory, more like a sign of respect from a comrade-in-arms. Forcing my fight-or-flight mode down, I use my brain to re-analyse the situation. I’m used to reading people, those under my command and those whose orders I’ve had to obey. I read faces and attitudes just as well as I read the lay of the land when I’m flying. Something about this man suggests to me that Chaz, his adrenaline running high, is getting him wrong. He’s making threats but I sense no actual urgency to carry them through.

“Slugger,” Chaz calls out, sounding desperate, and the man I’ve been examining turns around. When he gets his attention, he states in a pleading tone, “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do to me, but let Helo go.”

Slugger’s still got a smirk on his face, the one he’s had almost since he arrived. I glance at the bikers standing around. While a couple look serious, others seem like they’re trying to keep grins off their faces. They in no way look like a tribe about to make a sacrifice. They’ve got no loyalty to me, but I sense they’ve still got a lot for Chaz.

“Let me go!” Chaz roars, trying to escape from the men who are holding him. “You don’t want to do this, Brothers.” His eyes flick around his men.

From the numbers surrounding us, I suspect the whole club is here. Bull, his VP, I’ve met before, same as the bald-headed sergeant-at-arms. Both look serious with expressions that are difficult to read. Legend, a thoughtful-looking man, has a half-smile on his face. A man with a beard down to his waist seems to have difficulty standing still, but there are no worry lines on his forehead. There’s a distinct smell of weed coming from the man standing close to me, and on the other side, one whose odour is not quite so pleasant. My nose wrinkles as I get an overwhelming whiff of stale sweat. Then there’s a redheaded biker who’s got his hand over his mouth. When he catches me looking at him, he turns away and I’d swear he was hiding a grin.

When the flight system screams a warning that an RPG is heading straight for the helicopter, a pilot cannot afford to have a second’s panic. Their brain works in milliseconds, analysing the threat and taking evasive action. I’m pissed that if Chaz hasn’t betrayed me, then it’s the rest of his club. But like when I’m flying, I don’t let emotion rule my head. I consider the threat and examine what exactly I’m seeing. And what all my senses are telling me is that this group of men are not getting ready to send me to my death.

They’re fucking with Chaz.Interestingly, he’s being too emotional to see. Is his judgement being clouded by me?

When Chaz’s plea is ignored, he redoubles his efforts to get free, somehow managing to get an arm loose and send a vicious right hook, but his captors recover immediately. Chaz’s own grunt of pain informs me retaliation has been made.

Unless something is done to break this impasse, someone’s going to get seriously hurt.

My life, and that of my crew, often requires reading between the lines. Taking orders at face value then dissecting them to look for hidden agendas and threats, and knowing when things don’t quite add up, is definitely the case here.

The hold on my arm seems looser than it was before. Testing it, I step forward, my movement unimpeded. Seeing Chaz starting to go ballistic, I know someone needs to deescalate the situation.

I step in front of Chaz. “They’re not going to hurt us.” It shouldn’t be me who can interpret their intention better than the man they’ve followed for years, but I suspect Chaz is blinded both as he’s not in control and because he wants to protect me. I park what that makes me feel inside to ruminate on later—I’ve never before had anyone to stand up for me. “Look at them,” I demand. “They’re fucking with you.”

From behind me, Slugger snorts. “And you’d know that… how?”

“Years of military service and dealing with assholes,” I snap back, turning to face him.

Someone barks a loud laugh and quickly turns it into a cough.

Fixing his eyes on me and raising an eyebrow, Slugger slowly lets a grin cover his face. “You’re pretty opinionated for someone in your position.” And as if I might be in any doubt, he adds, “Unarmed and surrounded.”

Oh, honey, if only you knew. He’s underestimating me, no doubt about it. But he’s also trying to provoke me, and the more he does, the more I’m sure of my ground.

Instead of acting on impulse, on focusing on the need to escape or get to safety, I put myself in the position of thinking like them. Two million dollars is a good payday, and probably very useful to their club. But you can tell a lot about a team from the man who leads them. I know from the first moment he knew about the bounty, Chaz never had plans to sell me out.

So what would I do in their position?It’s not hard to come up with a plausible idea, and, as long as they’ve thought through all the pros and cons, it’s one that could benefit both me and the MC. The question is, do I stop running and stand my ground?

Of course it wasn’t pleasant having my tat burned off, and I’d hoped that punishment would have been the end of it. I could understand why somebody would think I don’t deserve to wear the Night Stalker insignia anymore, or how that would appear to them. How could a man know how a woman could be tortured without leaving visible marks? The terrorists had made me out to be a traitor, and I wasn’t even able to open my mouth to defend myself. It’s not fair, but how much in life is?

But that wasn’t the finale. It was the start. They weren’t giving up. I’ve been forced to leave what passed as home behind and have then been hounded across the country. Do my perceived crimes really merit such a penalty? No one deserved to be tortured or killed in that faraway country, to have their dignity and life stripped away. I doubt I’m the only survivor unable to understand why me, or find life hard to endure knowing it was only the throw of the dice that kept me living. I have no family, no one to mourn me. Maybe it would have been better to have been me rather than them.

Self-preservation keeps me running. I might think I don’t much care whether I live or die, but there’s something inside me that’s intent on staying alive. Maybe it’s simply because I endured so much and survived. Maybe it’s because I owe it to the others who didn’t make it out, to not throw away the gift given to me.

Why should my life be worth less than anyone else’s? Or be sacrificed in place of someone who didn’t make it?

There’s only one way to end this. Either I die, or the person who wants me that way is taken out of the picture. I’ve no illusion that there’ll be any benefit in arguing my case. The bounty on my head, for me to be captured preferably alive, or dead if needs be suggests there’s no room for negotiation. Only my demise will satisfy the person who thinks they’ve been so badly injured by my survival.

I’ve been running as I don’t want to be responsible for anyone’s death.

As the thoughts go through my head, I risk a glance at Chaz who’s still distraught and futilely struggling. He thinks I’m worth fighting for. It’s the first time I’ve had someone who seems to care. To give up would disappoint him. While I know whatever’s between us is likely only to be fleeting, I know I owe him. Never before has anyone offered to give up so much to keep me breathing.

I don’t know these men standing around, but it’s not unlike being introduced into a new flight team. I’ve knocked disparate groups of people into something resembling a cohesive group before.

Mentally girding my loins with the captain’s rank that I’d earned, I straighten my back, ignore Chaz, and turn to Slugger, him being the man currently in charge. “Tell me the plan.”

It’s the tone of voice that I use, one to which even commanding officers listened, that makes his eyes widen. I can see him mentally take a step back, and his brain’s gymnastics that take place as he seeks an answer that would put me, a woman, in what he sees as my place. Conversations around us have ceased as the bikers look on with interest. I reckon if any of them started a pot most of the betting would be on him.

As he recovers, the smirk returns to his face. “The plan? We’re going to let the fucker who wants you know where you are and pick up the two million bucks.” Breaking off, he shrugs. “Bit much for a whore as far as I’m concerned, but hey, what do I know?”

“You fuckin’ bastard,” Chaz roars.

Turning swiftly, I shoot him a look that would have made any member of my crew stand down. He interprets it correctly, but doesn’t look happy about it.

Swinging back to Slugger, I breathe in air and let it out on a sigh. “When you’re done showing me what a big dick you are, maybe we can get down to discussing business?” My stance lets him know I’m not buying what he’s trying to put down.

“Oooh, I like her.” The biker with the red hair sighs.

Like everyone, I ignore him. Deciding to take charge, I cast my eyes around until they land on Legend. “You,” I say sharply, pointing his way. “Get yourself on the dark web and let them know you know where I am, and that you’re willing to trade.”

Their computer guy almost snaps to attention at my tone, but after a split second considering my request, shakes his head. “Someone’s already been assigned the contract to find you and take you down.”

But not them, I surmise.“Who?”

The man who could do with some lessons in personal hygiene literally spits out, “Fuckin’ Dominators.”

Fascinated, my eyes follow the globule of saliva as it lands on the ground. The gesture showing me just what they think of the group that have stepped in to find, then trade me for cash. I’ve heard of them, of course. Rivals to the Wretched Soulz MC. Rumours are they’re just as bad as each other.

Chaz makes a startled sound, then calls out, “Fuckin’ figures. Slugger, man, we’re not in the skin trade?—”

Again, I wave him down, and again turn back to Legend, wondering how he could find that out. And, if he’s got that knowledge, does he know more? “You know who’s behind putting a price on my head?”

Again, his head moves side to side. “No.”

I like a man who doesn’t waste words even though I might not like his answer. Frowning, I change my instruction. “Make contact and tell them you’ve got me. A bird in hand, etc.” All these Dominators have is a wide network to keep an eye out for me. But wide it certainly is. They’ve got chapters in all of the US.

I hear Chaz roaring again, and take the couple of steps to put me in front of him. “You trust me, Chaz?” It’s a strange thing to ask as half the short time I’ve known this man I’ve been fighting against him. Why should he put his faith in me when I haven’t demonstrated I’ve the same in him?

“I trust you,” he blurts out, then raising his chin and circling his head, he adds, “But I don’t trust them.” At the hisses sounding all around me, an expression forms on Chaz’s face that makes even me want to take a step back. “I did,” he states, addressing his brothers. “But I can’t believe you’d put new bikes in front of a human’s life.”

A couple of men step forward, their hands on their guns, while others look like their prez has gone totally mad.

The funny thing is, I seem to be better able to get a handle on the mood in the room, and I trust the men who it seems Chaz now doesn’t. He’s been blindsided by their arrival, still focused on the words he’d overheard to make him escape with me, and, for some unfathomable reason, fully consumed by his desire to protect me.

“It’s your fault.” I point my finger firmly at Slugger who’s come up to stand right in front of Chaz, hands clenched at his sides. Pushing my way in between the two men, I again use my commander’s voice. “Now enough of this. We’ve got planning to do.” Having made sure they’re not coming to blows, I turn my back on them both and seek out another man. “Legend? You going to make that contact?”

“Helo!” Chaz roars. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Multiple pairs of eyes come my way, and brows are raised in interest waiting for my response. I shrug. “Well, with the help of the Wretched Soulz, I’m going to get rid of whoever’s after me once and for all, and ensure the club will end up two million richer.”

“Well, fuck. Now that’s what I’m talking about,” the man with the long beard calls out.