Fire Meets Fire: Wretched Soulz MC

Chapter 21

It’s clear as soon as we arrive back at the clubhouse that in the time Helo and I had been making out like a pair of teenagers back at the rock, Slugger and my brothers had come up with a plan. I soon found that there was no room for me to have any input, or at least not without going against something that all my top officers had endorsed.

While I voiced, and not for the first time, my preference that Helo should play no active part, I was firmly shot down. Their reasoning was sound. Without her, the Dominators would not fall in with any part of our agreed strategy. They had, however, agreed that taking account of her affliction, they’d monitor her role carefully.

There were certainly parts of their tactics which I didn’t like, but I steeled myself as more of the starring role fell on me, the less danger she’d be in. Or so I believed.

Since meeting Helo, there’s been a lot of shit happening that I never expected to find on any bingo card. I hadn’t dreamt of being unceremoniously dropped off at the Dominators compound with my hands and feet bound.

Especially when a Slugger I don’t recognise, his hair covered by a flat cap, leans out of the van and shouts, “He’s all yours.”

I wouldn’t be normal if I didn’t have a bad feeling in the back of my mind, a question about whether I’d been filled in on all elements of the plan. Having hit the ground hard, at this precise moment if asked, I’m not sure whether I could swear that I trust my brothers. Some part of me questions whether this is their retribution for putting my woman first.

I recognise Ogre, their prez, as he approaches. Equally, even though I’ve already been divested of my cut and colours, there’s no mistaking who I am, causing Ogre to regard me suspiciously, and for that I can’t blame him.

Wretched Soulz and Dominators have never gotten on. The truth of whatever started the enmity between us is lost in the depths of time, though urban legends abound. But that doesn’t mean it’s water under the bridge and forgotten. No, we’ll be enemies for all our lives.

Slugger, the engine of the truck still running, remains looking on, as if expecting to be asked questions, while I’m trussed like a pig and completely at my foe’s mercy. Clearly suspecting me as a Trojan horse, Ogre steps over me carefully, refraining from issuing the kick in the ribs that I’d prepared for.

Approaching the truck with his sergeant-at-arms and enforcer either side of him, Ogre contemplates Slugger for a while. His eyes narrow. “I know you, don’t I?”

Slugger shrugs. “Unlikely. But you know him, and that’s all that matters.”

“Get out,” Ogre demands, his gun pointing unwaveringly into the truck.

Fuck, that man’s got balls, I think, as the elusive head of the Wretched Soulz obeys the prez of the Dominators. Ogre has no idea of the prize he almost holds in his hand. But what he notes is a non-descript, grey-haired man whose shoulders are bent over and the back of the cut that he’s put on, having exited the cage.

“So why have you,” he turns, his gaze resting on me momentarily before again facing to the front, “given me Chaz, Prez of the Arizona Charter of the Wretched Souls MC?”

Slugger’s eyes darken. Even from my prone position I notice both that, and the vein that throbs at his temples. He must be one hell of an actor to pull that off. “He’s not Prez.” Slugger emphasises his disgust by spitting saliva into the dust. “He’s a fuckin’ traitor. Pissed on his club.”

Again Ogre swings his head and regards me thoughtfully. I try to keep my expression blank. Once again his attention returns to the man who’d been driving the truck. “I repeat. So why have you given him to me? Surely the Soulz have their own methods of punishment.”

Slugger obliges with an explanation. “He’ll probably tell you himself if you give him sufficient incentive.” He manages a sideways look at me, and I mouth a response. Fuck you, Slugger. Their torture won’t need encouragement. His face twists as though he’s suppressing a grin, and then he continues, “Soulz fuckin’ got hold of a girl with a high bounty on her head, and this bastard here, well, he let her go. Helped her get out of the state…”

“You what?” Ogre rounds, and this time doesn’t hold back as he kicks me in the ribs. “Where the fuck is she now?”

Sucking in air as the man has steel-capped boots, I wait for the wave of pain to pass before I answer him, then with a wide smirk respond, “I’ve no fuckin’ idea. Just gave her the money and the means to get clear.” The first part at least, isn’t a lie. The second I wish was true.

“Thought you’d appreciate the chance to get even as that bastard stole from you as well as us.”

Still not accepting things at face value, Ogre sneers, “And you want me to believe all this and yet your club left him still breathing?”

“Bunch of pussies,” Slugger remarks in an agreeable tone. “Vote was taken, but he’s got allies. So he was dethroned and defrocked rather than receiving the death penalty.”

“And you brought him here?” Ogre raises a brow.

“I was supposed to drop him off someplace else, but I thought he deserved more punishment.”

Ogre regards him carefully. “Fuckin’ old to be a prospect, ain’t cha?” He indicates the cut Slugger’s wearing.

“Served my fuckin’ time.” Slugger spits at the ground. “He blocked my way at every turn.”

A loud laugh comes from Ogre. “Biker’s should be able to fuckin’ fight, not look like they’re already halfway to the grave. You even able to hold up a bike?” He eyes him and sneers. “Reckon in this, I side with your prez. What the fuck are you doing trying to join an MC, man?”

I want to snort at how much he’s underestimating Slugger. But then, strip away the years of experience, not see the covered-up muscles and tats, and maybe you’re left only viewing a shell of a man.

“It’s what I fuckin’ want. And might get. With him out of the way.”

Ogre takes a moment to respond. Part of me is screaming out for him to see through the ruse and have me slung back into the truck for Slugger to take away. But were the positions reversed and I had him at my mercy? I think I’d be sorely tempted by the chance to score points off my enemy. I know Ogre’s not going to let me go.

Now my concern is for Slugger. He has to be crazy as hell to even think of delivering me himself. But Ogre remains oblivious to his true identity, and Slugger’s clearly getting his kicks from staying in role. Still, I’m anxious about the outcome, until, instead of shooting the man on the spot, Ogre waves his hand impatiently, instructing, “Get out of my sight, old man.”

Slugger wastes no time getting back into the truck, and zooming away with tyres screeching.

It’s not hard to see how Ogre got his name. He’s a tall fucker, ugly as hell, and covered in tats. His muscles are so pronounced I’d be hard put to believe he spends all the necessary time in the gym, and think it’s more likely his physique comes from steroids out of a can. But whether earned honestly or not, it wouldn’t do to underestimate the man. Though I don’t suffer from a lack of confidence, in a fair fight, I’m not sure I’d come out the winner. And anything fair is far removed from the current situation, being trussed as I am. The helpless state I’m in is confirmed as Ogre waves his hand and two equally brawny men start to drag me into the clubhouse.

Wretched Soulz are an outlaw MC, but in most charters, we respect our women. Even the sweet butts are allowed to say no from time to time. We look after them and protect them, and in return they work with the prospects to keep the place tidy and relatively clean. I already knew the reputation of the Dominators. They look on women as only good for one thing, and the absence of a woman’s touch is clear from the interior. It stinks of stale beer, cigarettes, and grosser things I try not to distinguish. Could someone really have taken a dump and just left it there? I dismiss the thought, thinking that blocked heads are hopefully more likely.

The best of Ogre’s men seem to be the ones who’ve dragged me in. Looking at the others, I honestly start to wonder why he was so dismissive of the persona Slugger showed to him. A number milling around regarding me with interest have paunches, showing they spend no time at all exercising, and most of their hours by the bar drinking. A waft of something far stronger than nicotine greets me, familiar as it’s also common in my own clubhouse. But the sight of members openly snorting cocaine is something I wouldn’t tolerate. Doped-up men are sloppy, and withdrawal can make them do the craziest things. An addicted man can’t be trusted. Ogre, though, apparently runs a far looser ship to my own.

But that just makes my predicament all the more dangerous.

We’ll get you inside, Chaz. Just play it by ear once you’re there.That had been Slugger’s passing comment. I can’t recall him confiding how he was going to get me out again. That part had been deliberately left vague. If I don’t know the plan, I can’t unintentionally give away any part of it.

I’d had his assurance that Queenie wouldn’t be put in danger. I had, hadn’t I? Or was Slugger again being obtuse?

For a second, I wonder whether there could be any truth in what he’d told Ogre, that my brothers had voted me out. Surely not? No. Fuck no. Not a chance. But I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t harbour some doubts about it. Especially as Ogre approaches me with a look of glee on his face.

“You’re going to tell me where to find the woman.”

I grin at him. I’ll be telling him shit. It’s the truth that I don’t know exactly where she currently is. I’d give anything to know she’s tucked in my bed back at the clubhouse.

The Dominator prez doesn’t like my non-response, as his steel-capped boot in my ribs would suggest. I swallow the oomph while keeping the corners of my mouth turned up. Slugger’s got something planned, and all I’ve got to do is survive until he and my brothers turn up.

I am starting to doubt the merits of Slugger’s initiative though. Does he think giving me to Ogre will make him take his eye off the ball and leave his clubhouse undefended? I begin to wish I’d demanded more details, but that ship has now sailed. I’d been only too happy that Helo wasn’t going to be walking into this den of vipers. I’d have agreed to anything other than that at the time.

Ogre spits down at my face, a globule of saliva landing on my cheek. It feels like it’s burning my skin as, with my hands tied, I’ve no way to remove it.

“Cocky fuckin’ bastard, ain’t cha?” he remarks, then grins broadly. “I don’t think you’re going to hold out against our interrogation methods.” He cups his hand under his chin. “One chance. Tell me all you know about Ms. Queenie May, and I’ll kill you fast.”

I’m telling him fuck all. He can hack me into pieces before I say a word that could cause any harm to one hair of her head. She’s a fucking hero while me? Well, I’m a jaded MC prez. Anyway, while he might be proud of what he can dole out, it will pale into insignificance against the months of horror my woman experienced. For her I’ll endure anything I have to. I just hope Slugger doesn’t take too long and I’m still left with most of my body parts.

“Hatchett. Screw. Take our visitor down to the basement.”

As the two burly men who’d carried me in approach in order to take hold of me once again, there’s a roar of a motorcycle engine coming up fast to the club. Nothing unusual, except that I recognise the sound of that exhaust. It’s my fucking bike. My bound hands clench into fists. It’s one thing for Slugger to use me as bait, but my ride? No fucking way. I’m going to kill whoever the fucker is who’s riding it.

But when the door opens and a vision appears, my anger escalates into fury. My fingernails bite into my palms, drawing blood as I suppress the urge to scream get out of here. Doing so would alert Ogre to my strength of feeling for her, and right now, I’m not only unsure how this is going to play out, but no one has even hinted at the game play.

I thought I was the Trojan horse armed with bugs, banking on Ogre not diligently searching a trussed and bound man, and one his club obviously wanted to get rid of.

As my face fills with horror, I notice Ogre’s fills with delight. Or, at least, before he gets close to her.

“That’s near enough.”

Seeing what I saw seconds ago stops Ogre in his tracks. She’s let the sides of her light jacket open to reveal the suicide vest underneath. It’s then I see that her hand is clenched around the trigger. All that goes through my mind on repeat is don’t faint. For fuck’s sake, don’t faint.

Recovering fast, Ogre gives an evil chuckle and sneers. “You want me to believe that’s real?”

“It’s real,” Helo responds in a soulless tone. Her eyes are so cold and devoid of emotion it makes me shiver inside. On Ogre it appears to have a lesser effect, but there’s still a miniscule straightening of his back.

After considering for a moment, the Dominator prez scoffs. “Nah, you’re not going to blow yourself up, honey.” His dismissal of any concern makes his men who’d all stiffened, relax and laugh.

“Aren’t I?” Once again she uses that cold, dead voice. “What do you know about me except that I’ve got a bounty on my head?” It’s her turn to sound scornful. “You’d be quite happy to give me to someone who wants me dead, but have difficulty believing I’d rather go out on my terms instead?” She eyes Ogre for a few seconds, then shrugs. “Either you do what I ask, or you’ll have no clubhouse left. I’m carrying enough C4 to erase it out of existence.” She gives a chuckle that makes goosebumps rise on my skin. “Of course, that includes you and everyone inside.”

“And him.” Ogre jerks his head over his shoulder toward me.

“And him,” she confirms, emotionlessly, leaving no one in any doubt that she’s ready to do whatever she needs. “And in case you didn’t know, the bomb will explode if this trigger,” she raises her right hand, “is released. There’s a limit to how long I can hold this before my hand cramps.”

Or she faints.I swallow fast.

Ogre contemplates her for a moment. “Okay. Assuming I’ll buy that you’re really wearing a death trap and are prepared to set it off—” His tone is sneering as if he still doesn’t believe she’d commit suicide.

“She’s got nothing to fuckin’ lose,” I interrupt with a shout, wanting him to know she’s serious.

He turns momentarily to spare me a scornful look, then starts speaking again. “Right. So what would make you take that fuckin’ bomb off?”

“Chaz set free for a start.” Her eyes rise in challenge.

Ogre snorts. “You came here to rescue him?”

Helo shakes her head. “I came here to find out who put the contract out on me.” She gives me a cold glance. “Him being here has nothing to do with me. If the bomb explodes, he’s collateral damage.”

It’s only because I know her so well that I know she’s lying through her teeth. Helo might not give a fuck about her life, but she cares about me. As long as she stays upright, I’ve got a chance to get out of this unscathed. Slugger? Well, I’m already planning his painful death after sending her in, knowing the risks.

Helo widens her stance. “Who posted the contract?”

“You don’t know?” Ogre’s eyes open wide. “You destroy a family and don’t know who they are?”

Hatchett gives her a sneer of his own. “Probably fucked up too many lives to remember one in particular. Bitch.” The last word he sneers, accompanied by a splat of his spittle hitting the ground.