Fan the Flames (30 page)

“Good.” She shrugged. “I do better with a few customers than a big crowd, though. I tend to get…cranky.”

With a laugh, he brushed back a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “It's part of your charm.”

When she just rolled her eyes at that, he laughed again. “Better get back to work.” Before she realized what he was doing, he leaned in and kissed her. She immediately worried that she must taste like the barbecue she'd just eaten, and then all rational thought dissolved. By the time he pulled away, her brain was fuzzy.

Judging by his heavy-lidded eyes, he was in a similar state, although he had the presence of mind to back away from her. If it had been up to Rory, they would've spent the entire afternoon kissing, while the other firemen finished up the back room.

“See you later,” she said, giving an embarrassingly goofy wave as he pulled open the door.

“Later.” Ian imbued the single word with so much suggestive promise that she blushed. With a grin and wink, he was gone.

After watching the closed door for much too long, she shook off her silly giddiness and went to work cleaning up the remains of lunch. As she separated the burnable trash from the plastic, she tried to think of something other than Ian. It didn't work. Her crush had swollen to elephant size, and she was fully in its grip.

When the front door opened, she looked up with relief. She'd rather deal with customers than her own soppy thoughts. Once she recognized the two men who'd just entered, however, she changed her mind.

“Anderson,” she greeted the first man, hoping her poker face was hiding how much she disliked him and his brother, Wilson King. They were obviously related, with the same pale skin and receding hairlines. Anderson was the older of the two, and slightly…
more
than his sibling—a little taller, broader, more outgoing, smarter. Wilson seemed content to trail behind in his brother's shadow.

“Rory.” Anderson's eyes swept the shop with a covetous intensity that made her uncomfortable. “Heard you had some excitement here a few days ago.”

She made a noncommittal sound before asking, “Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah.” King's pale blue eyes met hers. “We were hoping to take a look at that back room of yours.”

“Not sure why you'd want to see that.” Leaning on the newly cleaned counter, she feigned a casual stance. “Besides, it's out of commission today. I'm getting some remodeling done.”

The lines on his face sharpened with irritation. “Everyone knows you keep your ‘special' inventory back there.”

“Not sure what ‘everyone' is talking about.” She kept her voice even, her words slow. “That's just where I do my cleaning and repair work.”

His jaw tensed and then relaxed as he forced a smile. “I heard you're not going to be doing business with the Riders anymore. I thought we could come to an…arrangement. Maybe we could help to fill that gap.”

“There's no gap.” That came out with more of a snap than she'd planned, so she took a breath and mimicked his fake smile. “Were you looking for something in particular? If you don't see it here”—she gestured around the shop—“I can probably order it.” Since there was no way either King brother would pass the background check required to purchase a firearm, she was safe from having one of her guns end up in Anderson or Wilson's meth-dealing paws.

Anderson didn't even glance around at the displays. “I was thinking about something a little more…ghostly.”

Keeping a blank expression locked in place, she shook her head. “What you see out here is what you get.”

“I see,” he said, biting off the end of each word. He wasn't even trying to hide his fury now. “You'll deal with MC trash but not with us.”

Rory hid her flinch. It seemed like she hadn't even dealt with one threat before another came crawling out of the woodwork. The King brothers were bad news. With them as an enemy, there'd be nowhere safe left in Simpson. “Like I said, what I have available is out here.”

“Dumb bitch. You're picking the wrong side. From what I hear, Billy's losing it, the Riders are a fucking mess, and the members are turning on each other like a pack of starving dogs. We're picking up all the pieces they're dropping. Soon, we're going to be the most powerful men in Field County. You really don't want to piss us off.” With a menacing look, he stormed to the door. After Wilson stared at her for a few seconds too long, he followed his brother. When the door banged shut behind Wilson, she let out a breath and flicked on her computer screen so she could watch the camera footage of the parking lot. The two men got into a Jeep and left abruptly, the tires flinging melting snow and gravel behind them as they roared through the open gates. Long after they'd disappeared, Rory sat and watched the empty parking lot, her stomach churning. With an abrupt motion, she pushed the power button on the monitor, darkening the screen.

It was probably hypocritical of her, but she'd had no problem selling to the Riders before the burglary. Although she'd known they weren't saints, their criminal actions had been vague and unconfirmed. The King brothers, on the other hand, would never leave her shop with one of her guns in their hands if she could help it. Meth was a dirty business, and she didn't want to be responsible for arming the brothers. She just needed to figure out a way to remain neutral.

Jumpy from the Kings' visit, she started when Phil barreled through the front door, his face glowing from the still-brisk temperature and the joy of shooting.

“The Springfield is awesome, Rory.”

“Obviously.” She glanced at the clock. “You've been out there for almost two hours.”

“I came in when you were picking up food and grabbed some different ammo,” he said, putting some empty boxes by the register. “I wanted to see if I could get it to jam.”

“Did you?”

“Nope. I put five hundred rounds though it, and it just kept firing.”

“What'd you think?”

“It's great. I like the trigger even better than my Glock.”

“You going to make the switch, then?”

“Nope.”

“No?” She eyed him with slight surprise. “I thought you were in love.”

“It's a nice gun.” Pushing the Springfield's case toward her with some reluctance, he shrugged. “My Glock's a nice gun, too. I trust it. I know I could drop it in a mud puddle, and it'd still fire. We have a relationship. I like how comfortable and familiar it feels in my hand. If I replaced it with the Springfield, I feel like I'd be leaving a faithful, reliable wife of many years. How would I know that the new woman—as great as she seems—would stand behind me like my wife would? No.” He gave the case a final, slightly mournful pat. “I'll stick with my Glock.”

Sliding the Springfield's case out from under Phil's possessive hand, she set it behind the counter to clean later, once her back room was hers again. “I think you've made the right choice for you, Phil. I commend you on seeing past the seductive new gun and sticking with your faithful partner.”

“Thanks.” He gave her a quick grin. “By the way, I took your advice and asked Donna out.”

Rory blinked, pausing in the middle of ringing up the ammo he'd used. “I advised you to ask out Donna?” It had been a rough few weeks, but she didn't remember giving any relationship advice to anyone. That would be like a turtle giving tips on how to high-jump.

“Not Donna specifically,” he clarified. “You said to quit trying to turn the women I date into something they're not. Donna moved here from Connor Springs a few months ago. She's hot,
and
she can outshoot me.”

“Sounds like the perfect woman,” Rory said, a little thrown by the conversation. Was he expecting more relationship advice? She hoped not. She hadn't even known she'd given the first batch.

“She really is.” Phil's grin grew dreamy around the edges. “Thanks for giving me that push.”

“You're welcome?” Clearing her throat, she gave him his total.

Phil paid and left, thanking her another several times. When the door closed behind him, her breath left her lungs in a relieved rush. The silence of the empty front of the shop was wonderful.

For a while, she cleaned the displays and counters. The quiet was occasionally broken by thuds, swearing, and laughter coming from the back room, making her curiosity grow until she was itching to sneak a peek through the door. Rory managed to resist the urge, and she redoubled her cleaning efforts.

The front door swung open, and, for the second time that afternoon, her smile died when she saw who entered. This time, it was Billy, Zup, and another Rider she didn't know by name. His ruddy, broad face looked familiar, though.

“Billy,” she greeted flatly, resuming the faux-casual stance she'd taken when the King brothers were in the shop. It seemed to be the day for visits from dangerous men.

“Rory.” Billy strode toward her, his face impassive. The other two silently spread out to other parts of the shop, checking out the displayed guns with exaggerated interest. Rory didn't like that. It was impossible to keep watching all three at once. This wasn't like when they used to come in to check out the back-room merchandise. They, even clueless Zup, were moving with a sense of purpose that scared her silly. Her heart beat too quickly, and she barely managed to keep her fear from showing on her face.

“Hey, guys!” she yelled, trying to keep her voice casual despite the volume. “Billy's here to visit!”

It wasn't even a full three seconds before Ian was charging through the door, followed by the other firemen. Zup and the unnamed Rider dropped their pretense of looking at the display cases and faced the six men. There were a few moments of stillness so tense that Rory half-expected a tumbleweed to roll through the shop.

“Billy.” Ian was the first to break the silence. “What do you want?”

“Just came to talk to one of my suppliers, Ian,” he said smoothly, holding his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Wanted to make sure there weren't any hard feelings because of all the recent…unpleasantness between us.”

It was strange hearing words better suited to a politician coming out of Billy's mouth.

“There are,” Ian said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Lots of hard feelings.”

Zup shifted, drawing Rory's attention. “What are you doing?” she asked, making him turn in her direction.

“What?” he asked defensively, and her eyes narrowed.

“Did you just steal something?” She pushed away from the counter and started to circle around to the other side. Anger rushed through her, pushing aside the fear. What right did they have to invade her shop and try to take her guns, leaving her feeling scared and helpless?

“No!” He moved toward the door, holding his hands open to show they were both empty. “See? I didn't take anything. We'll just leave.”

Backing toward the door as well, Billy shook his head, feigning regret. “Guess we'll just have to find a new supplier.”

“You do that,” Rory said flatly, stopping her forward charge when Ian put his hand on her arm.

The third MC member was also heading for the door, and the Riders exited under seven pairs of watchful eyes. As soon as the door closed behind them, Rory leaned over the counter to turn on her monitor, twisting the screen so she and the firemen could watch the three figures hurry toward an SUV.

“They're in a rush,” the chief muttered.

“What's he doing?” Soup asked, leaning closer to the screen, watching as Billy pulled something out of his pocket. “Is that a cell phone?”

“Isn't Billy the head honcho?” Al asked, also getting closer to the monitor. “I wonder who he's calling?”

The nameless Rider got into the driver's seat, reversing the SUV out of its parking spot within seconds.

“Everyone's flying out of here today,” Rory muttered. Her stomach twisted with unease. The Riders' visit seemed strange and pointless, but Billy wouldn't have risked coming to her shop without a reason. She moved toward the area where Zup had been acting squirrelly. There was a Taser display there, but it didn't look disturbed.

Although…there was something off about it. Cocking her head, she took another couple of steps closer. The corner of a small box stuck out from behind the display. It hadn't been there before. “Why would he leave something…?”

Suddenly, everything clicked. The answer flashed in her brain, lit up with bright warning lights, but she couldn't get the words out fast enough.

“Out!” she yelled, whipping around to start shoving the guys toward the back, and closer, door. “Go! Billy's cell phone—move! Bomb!” She finally shouted the important word, but they weren't responding right. Unlike a normal group of people, the guys didn't panic and rush for the nearest exit. Instead, they all concentrated on getting everyone
else
out of danger first, and she found herself propelled forward until she was at the front of the pack and closest to the door.

Ian!
her brain screamed.
Get Ian out!

“Ian!” The terror in her voice echoed through the room, mixing with the shouts and commands from the guys. Hands and bodies pushed her toward the exit, and she fought them, trying to turn, unable to leave Ian behind. He'd just yanked her, kicking and screaming, from her self-imposed hermit shell. How could she return to life without him? “Ian!”

“I'm right behind you!” His voice, though tight with tension, eased the panic rushing through her. “Go, Rory! Now!”

Her zombie-drill training kicked in, and she automatically reached for the door. Just as she yanked it open, she remembered.

“Wait! We forgot Jack!” she yelled, twisting around to see him. Jack lifted his head from the dog bed where he'd returned after lunch, his belly full from all the bits of food the guys had slipped to him.