Call For Me (The Forewarning #2)

1-VINCENT

I needed her to put her name in, and I needed her to win. But she didn’t. And now I was about to chase a complete fucking stranger through the woods.

A year ago, Jori expressed how “hot” she thought this was. I told her I would do it for her. A few weeks later, she left me. A girlfriend of four years, gone without a word. I had even started ring shopping because after that long, that’s what you do, right?

Time heals all wounds, because now I couldn’t care less about her. Fuck, I’m glad my runner isn’t Jori.

Rumors said she left me for someone else, but social media never confirmed it. I had a string of one-night stands to try and get over her, but God, I was never going to find the answers I was looking for buried deep in some drunk, messy thing.

I’ve hardened. I couldn’t care less about the bitch who couldn’t give me the decency to tell me why. Why wasn’t I good enough to be with? Good enough for an explanation? Good enough for closure? She made it easy to get over her.

For the event, I didn’t know what I was doing, but Heather was pretty straightforward with instructions. Girls would be released. We would file out into the common area a minute after them and be sent off in specific directions.

Gage was also experienced; he seemed to be her right hand and ran last year. So he knew a thing or two.

I stood with the other runners in the kitchen, hidden away from the girls as they lined up, nerves buzzing wildly under one single roof. The balaclava was snug over my face, the hood from my jacket was up, and some greasy makeup shit around my eyes to complete the look of a smoldering gaze.

Surrounded by stainless steel kitchenware and over-fragranced men, my mind wandered back to Jori. She would have fucking loved this. I shouldn’t have needed to sign up for this to try and get her back. It didn’t work in my favor anyway.

The pay was going to be nice; I didn’t need it, though. I just wrapped up my seventh season with the Interagency Hotshot Crew. Figured I’d go through with this before staying in one place during the off-season.

That’s when I spent time on my family’s ranch as a farrier.

My uncle, Mark, ran the family ranch. Grandpa handed Mark the reins not long after I was born.

I followed Grandpa, Mark, and my pops around for as long as I could remember.

At seventeen, I broke off and went through a rebellious streak, but it was short-lived.

If the smoke in the summer and the busted knees and frozen knuckles in the winter weren’t enough, acting like a goddamn lunatic could send me to an early grave, just like my father. Good thing this was all staged.

The other masked men shifted and began to file out of the kitchen.

I snapped back into Fang’s personality and mental preparation for this run.

I was given a crash course and plenty of examples of what Heather expected of me.

Honestly, it wasn’t hard to play Fang because I was Fang in a way.

Intense and a little caring for the girls who needed it.

I weaved with the others through the corridor. The blood in my veins rushed with a purpose under my black clothes. My fingers curled tight, trying to relieve some of the pressure. The information about my runner came to the forefront of my mind.

Piper. Redhead. Short. In it for the thrill.

After sending Solace out, Heather locked onto me. Without a word, her attention rotates between me, her clipboard, and finding my runner’s assistant. Heather pointed to the woods with her two fingers, giving me the direction I needed, in hopes that Piper was still on a straight path.

My knees picked up, and I jogged between the female staff members.

Boots kicking up the dirt, stones grinding and twigs snapping under my weight.

Up ahead, Piper was weaving in and out of the trees, trying her hardest to pretend she didn’t want to get caught.

Didn’t want me to treat her like I owned her. Even just for the night.

My feet moved faster and faster. The cool air nipped at my eyes, while my breath warmed my face under the thick fabric.

Piper looked over her shoulder. Her hair was radiant in the sliver of sunlight left from setting behind us.

And three… two… one. Easy as that, she was in my hands.

Showtime.