Fire Meets Fire: Wretched Soulz MC

Chapter 28

While getting a story into the press used to involve the expertise of typesetters and a whole printing press, let alone the distribution network it then required, nowadays any news can have worldwide reach within minutes of the words being written.

We’re still checking that we’ve left no trace of our appearance in this bedroom. Legend appears with his phone showing an article. All the sordid details about Senator Netherton have come out, about his statutory rape of a child, and the resulting son he’d ignored. It was the perfect excuse for his suicide.

Some of the cash received went to buying the silence of the staff who’d been treated well, albeit confined to the basement.

It’s taken more than a minute for the words Chaz had uttered after Chet took his last breath to sink in. You’re free. As I sit between Chaz and Shitface as we return to his clubhouse, that simple statement keeps going around my head and I’m not sure what it means. Free? But to do what?

I’ve no career to return to, my affliction isn’t going away. I might no longer have a price on my head, but I’ve nowhere to stay. Except here, with the outlaw MC prez who’s turned my head. As the roads pass by and my view in front is that of a long line of bikes, I realise this is where I want to be.

In the presence of the prospect, we don’t talk much. We don’t elaborate or examine Netherton’s demise, nor what our future will be. But there are tactile indications that Chaz’s thoughts are running on the same lines as mine. He’s saying a multitude of things without using words, such as the pressure of his knee against my thigh, and the grasp of my hand when he takes it and holds it on his lap. Then, there are his little glances toward me. Questioning, as though he’s not sure of me.

But still we don’t speak. Not until the end of the two-hour drive, the truck’s parked, Shitface has left us, and it’s just him and me.

“What do you want to do now?” he asks, but he doesn’t sound sure of himself.

I’ve been wearing the same clothes for the past few days, and he’s in much the same predicament as me. “Shower.” I grin. “Oh, and is there any chance of getting my stuff from Harold’s? All my clean clothes are there.”

“A shower sounds pretty good to me. And…” he raises his voice. “Shitface?”

When the prospect appears, he’s given instructions to go to Harold’s and not scare the shit out of the old man while getting what belongs to me.

I’m tired, exhausted. It’s been two long days without sleep. Suddenly depleted of all energy, I use the banister to pull myself up the stairs as Chaz is delayed by a couple of brothers wanting a word. At the top, I pause, realising I’m making assumptions about heading straight for his room.

Does Chaz still want me? Was all that had been said been heat of the moment and both of us driven by the reminder of how fleeting our lives could be?

Before entering, I pause. What do I want for me?

It’s a hard question to answer. As I open the door and step toward the bathroom, thoughts whirl around my head. After I was medically discharged, I’d already had no idea what to do with my life. Although a helicopter pilot might have found work in civilian life, I couldn’t fly due to my medical condition. Then, before I’d come to terms with the little I had left, even that was taken away from me when I was forced to go on the run.

Being realistic, even before I signed up, I was fighting to survive, then in the Army, I’d follow the rules and direction that others laid out for me.

Now, what should be a huge weight off my shoulders suddenly feels like the whole world is weighing me down. Feeling I’m having the biggest adrenaline drop of my life, my legs feel unable to support me, and I sink to the ground, with my head in my hands.

Moments later, that’s how Chaz finds me.

“Queenie?” I hear the sound of the door close, and then he’s beside me. “Queenie?—”

As his arms surround me, I reassure him, “It’s okay. I haven’t had one of my turns.”

“You’re shaking.” He pulls me into his chest. “What’s the matter? Talk to me.”

I hate showing weakness. Rather than accepting the comfort he’s giving me, I push him away. “I’m just tired.”

His hand is there to help me get to my feet. “Let’s take a shower and get to bed.”

Not sure how much I want to shower with him, I mean, we’ve already been intimate, but showering together is a level of intimacy that I’m not quite sure I’m ready for next. “Can I go first?”

“Sure.”

Without any argument, he lets me disappear alone into the small bathroom. I take a military shower, one that’s quick, wasting little water, making sure some is left for whoever’s coming after me, but it’s enough to get rid of the grime and sweat that’s had my clothes clinging to me for the last few hours. As follows, a bald man has no need for shampoo, so I make do with the soap, thankful it doesn’t take much to wash my short hair. Only a couple of minutes have passed when I’ve finished and have wrapped his bath sheet around me.

It”s then I realise I’m unprepared, having no clean clothes with me.

Bracing myself, I re-enter his room with a, luckily generous, towel wrapped around me. Instead of finding him waiting for me, he’s stripped the bed, and is tucking the new sheets in. Not quite with military corners, but close.

Becoming aware of my presence, he points to a familiar duffle bag that’s been dropped inside the door. Then, having replaced the pillows, with clean covers I notice, he picks up some of his clothes and enters the room I recently vacated.

Hurrying to what passes as my “go-bag”, belongings I would need if I needed to leave town at any point, I extract some essentials—clean underwear and a t-shirt. Feeling self-conscious and strangely shy, I slide between the crisp and fresh sheets.

I’ve perfected the art of being able to sleep anywhere, so many times in my life I didn’t have the luxury of a real bed. The soft, yet supportive mattress should feel like a luxury, but as I wait, I can’t get comfortable. It’s all because I don’t know what Chaz expects from me, or perhaps more to the point, can I be all that he needs?

Our frenzied coupling driven by predicament and circumstances hadn’t caused me distress, nor sent me back into my memories. Right now, though, I don’t feel aroused at all.

How the hell my training failed me I can’t say, but I don’t know Chaz has finished the shower until I feel the sag of the bed. Opening my eyes, I see him looming over me.

“So fuckin’ glad to see you in my bed.” I can’t help it. I tense. “Oh, babe.” He sighs, cupping his hand around my face.

Swallowing hard, I admit. “I don’t think I can do this.”

He chuckles softly. “We’ve had hours of stress, nights with no sleep. Much as my dick wants inside you, Queenie, I’m content to just hold you while you sleep. Just knowing you’re here with me…” he pauses to shake his head. “I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve this, to deserve you. And we’ve all the time in the world. We can go at your pace.” His arm nudges at my shoulder, and automatically I raise my head, lying back, resting against his warm, shower-fresh flesh.

All the time in the world.His words repeat in my head. “You want me to stay?”

“Fuck, yes.” He pushes up on his other elbow and looks into my face. “I thought you already knew that.”

As he stares at me, a tear, one of those I never shed, leaks from my eye and rolls down my cheek. To my surprise, as well as to his, it’s followed by another.

“Fuck, babe. I thought you wanted this. Thought you felt the same way.”

I raise a hand and try to brush the tears away, but they keep coming, and I’m flummoxed when they’re chased by a sob. “I do. I…” I swallow hard, and then decide to tell him the truth. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Now I’m in his arms, not imprisoned so I couldn’t easily escape, but held gently in such a comforting way I find it impossible to resist. He rests his chin on the top of my head.

“You’ve got time to figure that out, darlin’. And maybe you’ll come to discover that what comes next could be better than what you’ve lost. Different, for sure, there’s nothing to say what you make won’t be as good. I want you to stay with me, Queenie. I want you to make your place here. But if that’s not what you want, if I can’t give you enough, then there’s nothing holding you here.”

“I can’t promise you anything.”

“I’d promise you the world, but I don’t deserve you.”

He’s so wrong. He’s shown that he does in spades. No man, no person, has ever put themselves in a position where they were going to give up so much for me.

As if he can read my mind, he murmurs softly, “You owe me nothing. You don’t ever need to do anything you don’t want. Though it would kill me, I’d let you go. Fuck, some of that money belongs to you anyway, and that will get you started elsewhere.”

“I don’t want money. It’s your payment for all that you’ve done.”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can be what you need.” The tears, which had ceased, start flowing again.

Again, he’s on the right wavelength. “You think I can’t control my dick? Fuck, Queenie, just holding you, lying here, is enough for me. Can’t deny I’m a fuckin’ man, and I want you so bad, but we’ll go at your pace.” He yawns, betraying he’s just as tired as me. “For now, why don’t we just sleep?”

As they often are, his expression of tiredness is contagious, and I raise my hand to cover it as my own mouth gapes. He doesn’t let go of me, his only movement is to place his lips to the top of my head, and then our breathing synchronises, our hearts in unison slowing their beats.

Maybe it’s my extreme tiredness. Maybe it’s being able to let go of all the months of stress. Or, maybe, it’s the arms holding me, but I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.