Fire Meets Fire: Wretched Soulz MC

Chapter 27

Ihonestly thought dear old Chet was going to have a heart attack on the spot as I open the closet door and me and Ogre step out. His hand goes to his chest, his face goes red, and it’s easy from here to see the increase in his breathing. He’s staring at our cuts, even putting up his hands as if to ward us back. I stifle a laugh. He thinks we’re the threat? Even without that fucking bomb strapped to her, with Helo he wouldn’t have a chance.

Maybe I’ll let him go one-to-one with her to prove that females have a place on the fighting line.

The woman herself is raising a querying brow toward me. True, she’d given no signal she needed help, nor had there been anything remarkable in the conversation that would have warranted our appearance. But little did she know it all rested on the last question she’d asked. Those questions about his relationship with Karen.

She’d go up in my estimation again if it was possible for her to rise higher. There’s no remonstration, at my interruption, no I’m handling this. She’s just interested to know why.

“I can answer that,” I state, then realise a few seconds have passed so I add an explanation. “What Karen is to him.” I wave my phone. “Legend’s come up with some interesting details.”

Netherton has made an effort to pull himself together. “Ogre, I presume?” he asks, addressing me, the wrong man. From my side Ogre huffs loudly, but doesn’t bother to introduce himself. “Look, you’ve fulfilled our bargain. I’ve brought two million in cash…”

“The price is now four.” Ogre grunts the new demand.

Now the senator’s gaze settles on the man behind me, but before he can speak, I inform him, “You thought you’d get away with your little plan, but now the extra payment is for our silence.” Though from what we know about him, there are secrets here that will be taken to the grave. His to be precise. I let my eyes find Helo. “See, Chet here is a lovely man. He might call Karen his nephew, but the relationship is closer than that. Twenty years back, when he was running for senator on a platform of being a family man, he had a second family waiting in the wings. A family that he was ashamed of. Karen was his son.”

Ignoring the opening and closing of Netherton’s mouth, I continue, “He’d been paying his mother off for years, buying her silence. Oh,” I pre-empt her question, “Karen didn’t know. His mother happily kept quiet, blaming some long runaway man. Maybe she knew Chet wouldn’t be a good influence in his life.” As an enraged snort sounds, I add, “I mean, a liar, cheat and sexual predator—oh, did I fail to mention Karen’s mother was only sixteen at the time? — well, she rightly concluded that Karen was better off not knowing the man.” Helo makes a gimme gesture, and I don’t disappoint. “I don’t really know why Karen was better off with his mom. Apparently she went crazy when he was killed, and the person she blamed was Chet for not looking after him and making sure he got only cushy jobs. I suppose that was part of the bargain for her not opening her mouth. That and the money.”

Helo’s chuckle is loud. “Then she really didn’t know what he was doing. It was no fucking desk job.”

“What he was doing was classified,” Netherton snaps.

I don’t let him add more. “Karen’s mom was threatening to disclose their sordid affair, even get him charged with child rape as retribution. With Karen gone, there was no reason for her to keep quiet. But Chet found how to weasel his way out. He had to find someone else to blame, and promise to get revenge for her. He persuaded her Karen dying wasn’t his fault, but was down to the person piloting the helo. The person who’d taken her precious son’s promotion and job from him.”

“Which she had?—”

I wave Helo down when she righteously bristles. “Only in your warped mind.”

Ogre speaks for the first time. “And she was happy with that? Helo’s death would avenge her son and leave you free to do whatever the fuck you want to? Why not just off her instead?”

It’s a valid question. Us two bikers look to him to respond, but it’s Helo who supplies the answer. “Because he already hates me and all that I stand for. He tried to discredit me but that didn’t go anywhere. He’ll get more satisfaction taking me out, and honestly, who’d miss me? While his baby momma presumably has family who’d raise a fuss.” She snorts. “He probably rubs one out to the thought of having taken out a female soldier. Outwitting me when he thought I’d survived without a scratch.”

She might not have visible injuries, but those she has go bone deep.

She takes a step toward Netherton. “You know what? I felt guilty for what happened. I felt so much remorse for having survived when others died. But you? You regard life so cheaply. You wouldn’t have blinked an eye that your son died if it hadn’t been for the complications it could have caused you.” A slight nod my way suggests that she might be on the way to healing.

I’d been worried if Chet had had a justifiable reason for landing all that had happened at her door, she’d have pulled the trigger on herself. But knowing she wasn’t being chased as anything other than a scapegoat for his own misdemeanours might help restore balance within her. No one, except for this asshole, placed one ounce of blame on her. And I know I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure she understands what an amazing woman she is, and how no one could have done more in the circumstances she was under. She’s worth a thousand Chets.

I’ve heard enough. Helo deserves to live her life without fear, and Netherton doesn’t deserve to live his at all. I call Legend up as he’s necessary for the rest of the plan. As I thought, he’d been hovering close by, and soon he is seated at the desk with Ogre’s gun pointed at Netherton’s face to make sure he complies. Which he does, seemingly without hesitation. Does he still think there’s a chance we’re going to give Helo up? Nah, even he couldn’t be that stupid. He must be trying to appease us in the hope it will save his life. Zero fucking chance of that. Even though there might not be tangible evidence, I can smell corruption on the politician which makes me suspect the whole country would be better off without his interference in our military. And, at the least, it would make serving in the armed forces more comfortable for people of Helo’s sex.

Without knowing the details, another thing that makes me admire her more, the woman beside me looks on without questioning as Chet contacts his bank, arranges for a two-million-dollar transfer, and then obeys Legend as he sends it through various unidentifiable accounts, some overseas, and some dealing with bitcoin. I note Legend consulting his notes and am pleased he’d taken the advice of the financial wizard, Data, in Texas, who seems to know what he’s talking about.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long before the Dominators and Soulz have a million dollars in our bank accounts, and now it’s just a matter of dividing up the remaining two million that Chet brought in cash. Ogre assigned two of his men and told me they were happy doing that task. Yeah, right, and I was born yesterday. Beard, as treasurer, has been appointed to make sure they can count.

My phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket, check caller display, and step out of the room.

“Slugger,” I greet him.

“How’s it going?”

“Almost finished. Time for the grand finale coming up.”

“Good. Look, I’ve got to stay here for a while. Got a bit of a mess to sort out. Won’t be making it back to AZ anytime soon.” Can he hear my sigh of relief? I hope not. “Take care of your woman, Chaz. I like her.”

Praise indeed from the man himself.

I grin, though no one’s here to see it. “Ain’t going to be cutting her loose.”

He chuckles. “I rather thought not. But,” his voice turns whimsical, “will she stay when there’s no longer a price on her head?”

He’s voicing a thought that had only recently occurred to me. It was easier to keep her when she couldn’t go out and show her face. The world will be her oyster in just a few hours.

I decide not to answer him. “Ride safe, Slugger.”

“You, too, Brother. You, too.”

Taking the hint, he ends the call without pressing his last point. Nevertheless, his mention of my own fear escalates it in my mind. Can I keep her? Helo, Queen of the Skies? Why the fuck would she want to stay by my side? What have I got to offer her? Except for my dick. As I recall, despite the rushed circumstances, she had enjoyed that ride.

“Ogre’s ready.” As if I conjured up an apparition, she appears at my side. “But as I wasn’t let into that side of the plan, I don’t know what they’re planning.” She sighs.

I do. Ogre and I had exchanged text messages and had quite the conversation when we were forced into close proximation in the closet and forced to keep quiet. While Queenie and I had been getting our rocks off, Slugger had suggested a course of action which Soulz and Dominators alike had agreed with. Okay, so sometimes the man does come in handy.

Yeah. Sometimes Slugger comes up with a good plan. What man doesn’t enjoy some liquid indulgence after a long flight?

As if summoned, Weasel appears at the top of the stairs, and I can overhear his conversation clearly.

“Should be running a bath for you, fucker.”

Even before he comes into sight, I can guess at his companion. Skunk. I grin. Yeah, Chet’s last olfactory moments won’t be exactly pleasant.

“What’s going on?” Queenie asks casually, as two of Ogre’s men follow behind mine.

“Come see.” I risk taking her hand, and she allows it, even going so far as to squeeze my fingers. Her touch makes my dick pulse and I resolve that soon I’ll be getting her horizontal and proving how much it’s worth her staying in my life.

But once we re-enter the master bedroom, my attention rightfully returns to making sure this is done right. A murder but one which will leave no clues that it was anything other than an unfortunate accident.

Ogre raises his chin as we approach and nods toward the whisky bottle and glasses he’s already lined up. I lift a querying eyebrow when I expected just one. He grins as an answer.

Filling four glasses, he passes them out. One to me, one to Queenie, takes one for himself and offers the other to Chet who looks totally bemused at what’s going on. There’s a cockiness in his eyes as if he thinks that he’s won.

He even clinks his tumbler with Ogre’s when invited, and gleams. “You’re going to fulfil the bargain, aren’t you? Hey, man to man. You don’t allow females into your clubs. You know where I’m coming from.”

My head shakes in confusion. Has he bonded with Ogre in the time I’ve been gone? Nah, he couldn’t have done. Helo was with them.It’s more likely that Chet fully believes he is in a likewise-minded male world.

“Look, I’m no angel, but you know I have a point.” Ignoring me, Chet appeals to Ogre, as if having given me up as a lost cause.

“Don’t have much truck with bitches,” Ogre agrees, topping Chet’s now empty glass up. Chet doesn’t notice the side-eye look he spares for us. I might not wear the same patch, but I understand him just fine. Can you believe this dick? he’s asking without using words. I manage to suppress my laugh.

The three of us sip our drinks while Chet downs his, not appearing to notice his never-emptying glass. He swallows, licks his lips, and seems to enjoy watching Helo until something clicks in his rapidly befuddling mind. “Why’s she not running?”

“Don’t worry,” Ogre says soothingly, tipping the whisky bottle again. “She knows there’s no way out. There’s more than enough of us to stop her.”

I actually doubt that or not without a fuck of a lot of bloodshed. But I’m not telling him that.

“She’s got a bomb,” Chet suddenly remembers with a decided slur to his words.

“Dummy,” Ogre reassures.

“No, no more,” Chet finally protests. But Ogre pulls his hand away from the top of his glass and offers him more.

Chet starts to sway. I nod my head toward Weasel and Skunk that it’s time for their part of the plan, the man now so far gone having consumed half a bottle of whisky fast, that he’s unlikely to hear the running of the bath.

“Hey, Helo. Why don’t you help the man out of his clothes?” Ogre’s mouth splits his face from one side to another. I stiffen, but Helo cottons on fast.

She tightens her fingers around mine before letting me go and kneels in front of her tormentor. “You’re a handsome man, Chet,” she purrs. “How about one for the road?” Ogre produces a pair of rubber gloves from somewhere, and so gone, her victim doesn’t notice her sliding them on.

“You’re… deaf… Dead,” he corrects, having difficulty forming words.

Looking totally unbothered, she replies, “Maybe I am, but how about some fun first. Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

He might hate her, but I can see that male gleam in his eyes showing he’s not going to turn down any chance to get his dick wet. As eagerly as a drunken man can, he sits up and accepts her assistance to pull off his shirt. His paunch is flabby, and I have to give top marks for her acting skills as she doesn’t let any disgust show.

“Now your pants.”

“Undo me.”

There’s clearly a limit to how far Helo will go, but at the shake of her head, Chet’s so eager that somehow, he manages to fumble and undo himself, and manages to raise his hips and kick his pants off, followed by his underwear. I’d laugh at his flaccid, unimpressive cock, if I thought that wouldn’t spoil the show.

His eyes are all for Helo. I think he’s forgotten his audience now. She takes the glass Ogre offers, and yet more whisky goes down the senator’s mouth. His head rolls back as I notice a second bottle of whisky is half-empty.

Ogre produces more rubber gloves, and we both put them on, then haul Chet to his feet and half-guide, half-drag, him to his final ever bath. It takes a little manoeuvring to get him into the water, but we manage it. He even helps. Being so drunk, he slides under the water. Then, at first, little resistance as I apply pressure to his head, keeping it down.

His automatic sense of self-preservation kicks in and he makes a feeble attempt to fight for his life as water enters his lungs, but so drunk, it’s ineffective, barely making a splash. It seems anti-climactic when he goes completely limp.

“I almost wish his final moments had been worse,” Helo remarks softly.

“Dead is dead,” I tell her, though I agree. What we’d done to him was nothing like the mental torture he’d put her through for months. “And now, you’re free.” I grimace as I voice the truth.

She’s free. Will she still want anything to do with me?

What can I offer as a jaded MC prez when she can pick up the reins of her life?