Chapter 2 – Hellfire
I shouldn't find her attractive. She's trouble wrapped in curves that her conservative outfit does nothing to hide, and I've got enough problems without adding a journalist to the mix.
But there's something about the way she holds my gaze, fear mixing with defiance in those big green eyes, that gets under my skin.
"Dad," Angel says from her position by the door. My daughter's always been the voice of reason in the club. "The Outlaws could be watching the bar. We need to decide what to do with her quickly."
She's right, of course. Every minute this girl – Chloe – stays here is a risk. Not just because of what she heard but because the Outlaws might have already marked this place for retaliation. Having a civilian here could complicate things.
"Leave us," I tell Angel and Butcher.
My daughter gives me a knowing look that I choose to ignore before closing the door behind them.
Chloe shifts in her chair, and I catch a whiff of something floral – jasmine maybe. It's been a long time since I've been this close to something that doesn't smell like leather, gun oil, or blood.
"You have two choices," I tell her, moving back behind my desk to put some distance between us. "One, we make sure you can never write another story again." I watch her pale at the implied threat. "Or two, you work with us."
"Work with you?" She blinks those big eyes at me, confusion clear on her face. "What do you mean?"
I light another cigarette, using the moment to choose my words carefully.
"The Outlaws are going to hit back hard. When they do, we might need someone with access to local information. Someone who can keep their ear to the ground without raising suspicion."
"You want me to spy for you?" She sounds incredulous. "That's... that's completely unethical! I'm a journalist!"
I can't help but laugh. "Sweetheart, you were just caught trespassing and eavesdropping. Let's not pretend you're above bending ethics."
A blush spreads across her cheeks, and damn if it doesn't make her even more attractive. "That's different. I was investigating a story."
"And now you'll be investigating several stories. Just not the ones you were writing about." I lean forward, holding her gaze. "Think of it as exclusive access to the club. Isn't that what you wanted?"
She bites her lower lip, and my eyes track the movement before I can stop myself. "And if I refuse?"
"Then I hope you enjoy living in Ohio with your mother." I watch the words hit home. "Because you won't be welcome in Cedar Falls anymore."
She stands suddenly, her chair scraping against the floor.
"You can't just force me to work for you! This is blackmail!"
I rise too, my height advantage allowing me to tower over her.
"This is survival, little girl. Your choice is simple – be useful or be gone."
She takes a step toward me, anger making her eyes flash. "I am not a little girl."
The tension in the room shifts, becoming something else entirely. She's close enough now that I can see the pulse hammering in her throat, count the freckles dusting her nose. Close enough to...
A rapid knock on the door breaks the moment.
"Boss!" Butcher's voice carries through. "We've got company coming. Outlaws, at least six bikes."
"Shit," I mutter, grabbing Chloe's arm. "Time's up, sweetheart. What's it going to be?"
Their eyes widen as the sound of approaching motorcycles fills the air.
"I... I'll do it," she stammers out. "I'll help you."
Smart girl. I pull her toward a concealed door behind a bookshelf.
"Angel!" I call out, and my daughter appears instantly. "Get her out through the tunnels. Take her home. Make sure she's not followed."
"What tunnels?" Chloe asks, but I'm already pushing her toward Angel.
"Don't leave her side until I call," I tell my daughter, then turn to Chloe. "You don't exist for the next few hours. No phone calls, no social media, nothing. Understand?"
She nods, fear finally overtaking the defiance in her eyes. Before I can stop myself, I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me.
"You're under my protection now. Remember that."
Something flashes across her face – confusion, maybe attraction – and for a split second, I'm tempted to... but the sound of motorcycles gets louder.
"Go!" I push them toward the tunnel entrance.
Angel knows the drill. She pulls Chloe into the narrow passage, and I hear their footsteps fade as I draw my gun. The hidden door closes just as I step back into the bar area.
Two Outlaws burst through the front door, guns raised. Amateurs. I don't hesitate, putting a bullet in each one's shoulder before they can even aim properly. They drop to the ground, howling in pain.
"Prospects!" I bark at the two kids ducking behind the bar counter. "Secure these idiots!"
"Four more outside, Boss!" Crow shouts from his position by the window.
Next to him, Wrath and Ruthless are already in position, guns trained on the entrance.
Butcher appears at my side as Maverick covers the back door.
"Want us to take them alive?"
"Yeah," I say, watching our prospects zip-tie the wounded Outlaws. "Time to send their president a message."
The firefight is quick and brutal. My men know what they're doing – we've been at this game longer than these Outlaw punks. Crow and Ruthless take down two more while Maverick and Butcher flank the last pair trying to sneak around back.
Within minutes, we have all six Outlaws subdued. None are dead, but they won't be riding those bikes home tonight.
As I watch my brothers secure our unwanted guests, my phone vibrates. A text from Angel: "Package delivered safely. No tails."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Chloe's safe. The thought brings more relief than it should, considering I've known her for less than an hour.
"Want me to call a cleanup crew?" Butcher asks, gesturing to the mess of broken glass and bullet holes.
I nod, already pulling up a new message on my phone. Time to make sure our new asset understands exactly what she's gotten herself into.
"First day on the job, sweetheart," I type. "Don't make me regret letting you live."
I hit send, imagining her reaction when she reads it. This is a bad idea. She's a liability, a complication I don't need. But as I pocket my phone and turn to deal with our prisoners, I can't shake the feeling that Chloe Matthews is going to be more than just a useful source of information.
She's going to be trouble. My kind of trouble.
"Crow, Wrath," I call out. "Get these pieces of shit ready for transport. Time to remind the Outlaws why they shouldn't fuck with Iron then we hit their weapon stash..." He shakes his head. "Now they're bold enough to attack our bar?"
"They crossed a line tonight," I agree, watching as our prospects help secure the prisoners. "Coming to our territory, our home? They’re asking for war."
"Are we sure they knew Mark was one of us?" Maverick asks.
"The prospect was wearing our colors," I growl. "They knew what targeting him meant. Everything after that is on them."
My phone buzzes.
A text from my daughter: "She's asking questions. Lots of them. Smart girl."
Of course she is. Journalists don't know when to shut up – it's what makes them good at their job and dangerous to people like us. But those questions of hers might come in handy in the coming war.
"Crow," I call out. "Get me everything you can on the Outlaws' businesses in town. If they want to escalate, we'll hit them where it hurts most – their wallet."
"On it, Boss," he nods, already moving to pick up his laptop.
"Wrath," I continue, "take the prospects and dump these bikes somewhere far. Butcher, get our guests comfortable in the basement. I want them scared but coherent when the Outlaws come looking."
As my men move around me, carrying out their tasks with practiced efficiency, I find myself thinking about those green eyes again. The way they flashed with defiance even when she was scared. The curve of her lip when she talked back to me.
"Fuck," I mutter.
"Something on your mind?" Butcher asks, pausing on his way to the basement.
"Just thinking this war isn't our only complication," I admit.
Ten years as brothers mean he knows me better than anyone except Angel and Ruthless.
He studies me for a moment, then grins. "The reporter?"
"Don't start," I growl, not appreciating his amusement.
"Hey, we could use someone with her connections," he shrugs. "The fact that she's easy on the eyes is just a bonus."
I shoot him a look that would make most men piss themselves, but he just laughs and heads downstairs. Asshole knows me too well.
I pull out my phone again, staring at the message screen. I should leave her alone until tomorrow, let her process everything that happened. That would be the smart play.
Instead, I find myself typing: "Sleep well, sweetheart. Tomorrow your real education begins."
The war with the Outlaws might have just become inevitable. But as I pocket my phone and turn to handle the aftermath of tonight's attack, I can't help but think that Chloe Matthews might end up being the most dangerous part of all this.