Firefight: The Soul Scorchers MC (The Scorched Souls Serial-series Book 2) (11 page)

I struggled to sit up. Pain stabbed through my side and my leg throbbed in protest. I didn’t care. “Sally!” I yelled.

I could have saved my breath. She was already gone.

“Well now that she’s out of here, why don’t we…”

“Why are you still here? Leave now and don’t ever fucking come near me or my family again.”

“Your family? Geeze, Boone. You’re believing your own lies now. What happened to you? You were the baddest badass around. Now look at you. Some little college coed has you eating from her hand. What a shame.”

I lunged. Hot agony tore through my body, but I didn’t care. I slapped Twila so hard she flew backward and stumbled, just barely maintaining her footing. For her sake, it was a good thing I wasn’t at full strength. I would have snapped her neck. She was the first woman I’d ever hit, and I didn’t regret it.

She glared at me, eyes swimming with tears, her hand covering her cheek. “You fucking bastard! You’ll pay for that.”

Grabbing her shirt from the floor, she escaped out the open door.

Falling back on the bed, I clutched my ribs. Ringo had really done a number on me, but Twila’s little stunt hurt far worse. Because of it, I might have lost the only woman I’d ever truly loved.

I knew one thing for certain. I had to get her back. She would understand. It was a mistake, an accident.
For fuck sakes, I thought it was her.

What if she didn’t forgive me? Worse…what if she didn’t believe me?

No.
She had to believe me. I’d opened myself up to her. Fucking hell, I’d kissed her, too many times to count.

I need her.

There was no way I’d let her get away. Olympia ‘Sally’ Olsen was mine.

Olympia

Seeing Twila between Boone’s legs, making him insane with lust, was my undoing. It couldn’t have hurt more if he’d slammed his fist through my breastbone and crushed my heart in his hand.

I doubled over, gasping for breath.

An unprecedented combination of blazing fury and agonizing pain slammed through me with such tangible force, I staggered, almost crashing down the stairs. I’d already thrown his breakfast plate at the wall and wished I had something else to smash, like his head.

How could I have been so gullible?

He’d lied to me, forcing me to be his wife when I couldn’t remember who I was.
What type of man did that?
And to think I’d been willing to forgive and forget.
Like hell!

“Hey, you okay?”

I hadn’t even heard Crusher approach. He was standing two steps below where I clung to the staircase wall, looking straight at my face with what appeared to be genuine concern, which was a complete surprise, considering his usual animosity towards me.

“No. I’m not okay. If you’d move aside, please; I’m headed back into town.” I didn’t care how I got home. I would hitchhike if I had to.

“Whoa…I’m not the enemy here. Come with me. If you’re dead set on leaving, I’ll drive you.”

I didn’t bother hiding my shock. “You will?”

“As much as I might seem like a fuck up, I can be a nice guy when the mood hits me. Just don’t tell anyone.” A lopsided grin replaced his usual scowl.

Without another word, I followed him down the stairs and into the main room, which was empty, except for a few passed out brothers.
Thank God.

He reached over the bar’s counter and grabbed two longnecks, popping their caps. He jerked his head to the right, indicating I should go out the front entrance ahead of him. 

Following his silent instruction, I stepped into the parking lot and soaked in the scene. At least twenty Harley’s stood like soldiers, backed up to the building in a perfect row. I couldn’t help but admire the parking precision and had an overwhelming urge to push the first bike over, creating a domino effect, but thought better of it. I’d have Bones and every other slumbering biker on my ass in seconds, Boone included, injuries and all.

Besides the motorcycles, there were various cars and trucks parked around the large lot, evidence of the current lockdown status.

From what I could tell, it was around 5:00am. I’d made breakfast at 4:30, too hungry to stay in bed. Now, with all the food I’d consumed, churning around in my stomach like washing machine on the spin cycle, I feared I might throw up. I tilted my head back and took a slow, steady breath, fighting for control over my raging emotions.

Dense grey clouds loomed overhead – a typical day on the Oregon Coast.

Only for me, nothing felt typical.

I kept hoping I’d wake up and learn that Twila and Boone’s delight-before-dawn encounter was nothing more than a silly bad dream. I’d tell Boone all about it and we’d laugh together.

Crusher’s words put a quick end to my denial. “If you really want to leave, we gotta go now. Boone will be after you.”

“Fuck him,” I muttered, eyeing the beers. I’d never wanted a drink more. It didn’t matter how early it was. Anytime someone felt as awful as I did was a good time to drink.

“Let’s take my truck so we can enjoy these brews.”

Crusher, the mind reader…who would have thought?

He led me to the blue Ford pickup and helped me up, into the passenger seat.

Once we were on the road, I breathed a sigh of relief and guzzled the beer. For now, I was away from the source of my broken heart, drowning my sorrows the old fashioned way.

“So, wanna talk about it?” Crusher said gently. “I’ve heard talking helps. Not sure why, but, hey, I’m all ears.”

If the situation hadn’t been so painful, I might have laughed. But smiling while my guts were being shredded from the inside out wasn’t an option.

“You like Twila, right?” I made myself ask, assured of his answer.

“Honestly, I like her a whole lot when I’m drinking. When I’m sober, I know better. She’s got it bad for Boone. They’ve been screwing around for two years now. That’s the longest he’s been with anyone besides Rita.”

I realized he hadn’t bothered to pretend I was Sally, Boone’s
loving
wife.

“So I guess you probably know why Boone was playing make believe family with me.”

“Yeah, I didn’t agree with any of that shit. I told him it was fucked up to mess with someone’s mind like that. I guess you remember who you are?” He gave me a look that almost made me think he was impressed with how I’d hidden that detail from everyone.

“I’ve had my memory back since we returned from the cabin. I was just trying to figure out what to do with all the information. I didn’t want to hurt the boys. They’re the real victims in all this.”

He just nodded.

“Why did he do it, Crusher? What was the point?”

“You pissed him off. Hurt his ego every time you rejected him, and he hated your father. He wanted to fuck with your head.”

Seeing my confusion, he finished his thoughts. “Your old man had the authority to request another investigation into Rita’s death, but he refused. Boone never got over that shit. He found you in the woods and took you. He convinced us it was the best way to protect you from the arsonist.”

“How could Bones allow something so stupid?” The Soul Scorchers president was no dummy. I couldn’t imagine why he’d want to get involved in a situation that had such potential for a major backlash against the club.

“Bones will do anything to protect women and children, even stupid things.”

“I need you to pull over,” I whispered, overcome with renewed grief.
Boone hated me and my dad. He’d used me. How could he fake his feelings for me? How could he be with Twila?

Seeming to sense my desperation, Crusher signaled and maneuvered the truck onto the right shoulder.

I scrambled out and rushed toward the ocean’s crashing waves. The familiar smell of sea kelp and salt water provided a hint of comfort that I wanted more of.

Following a well worn path through the high grass, I made it to the beach. Low lying fog hung over the surf like a blanket, and a few lone seagulls circled overhead, their cries sounding as forlorn as I felt. When I reached a nearby log, I almost collapsed, ignoring the damp wood poking my butt.

The tears I’d been holding back flooded my eyes before escaping down my cheeks. I let them fall untouched.

I don’t know how long I sat on that log sobbing and staring at the ocean, but when I was done, my heart felt like granite.

Boone Richards would regret the day he decided to fuck with me.

Ten Weeks Later

Boone

I watched the boys as they made their way up the walkway and into their school with a few other stragglers, only just making it inside before the first bell. The regular school year had started on Monday. JV came back out to wave. I saluted him and forced a smile.

The progress we’d made with Olympia in our lives had all but vanished, right along with her. JV cried every night, begging me to bring her back, while Joey tried to play Mr. Tough Guy, but I could see through his dismal act. He missed her as much as his younger brother, maybe more.

My injuries had healed perfectly, and I was in better shape now than I’d been the night of the fight, thanks to hours at the gym and increased time hiking. Doc took all the credit for my recovery. I let him. He’d done a good job sewing me up.

The bigger news was that since Olympia’s return to her normal life, there had been zero fires. Our lockdown had been lifted, and things around the club had returned to normal, sort of. We continued our search for the illusive arsonist, expecting he would eventually strike again, and I personally persisted with my inquiries about the man I’d met at the mayor’s mansion, with no success.

We had discovered something major, though; actually Spyder had. An individual in our club was feeding intel to the Guardians. Bones thought it might be more than one person. I believed those same individuals had been the ones fucking with Olympia, exposing her to the cheerleading photo.

Twila had made some offhanded comments to one of the old ladies that cast suspicion on her.
Not a real shocker, as far as I was concerned.
Worse, I’d been tasked with monitoring her, which put me in the worst possible position to win back Olympia.

I’d tried to contact her. I’d sent letters, emails, and stopped by the mansion half a dozen times. She’d ignored all my efforts. It didn’t help that she’d seen me out and about with Twila in recent weeks as part of my spy game.

The guys figured I’d have the best chance at getting Twila to reveal any secrets she might be keeping, considering her desire to sink her claws into me. So far, I’d managed to keep our ‘relationship’ purely platonic, citing that I was tired of fucking women and not really knowing them on a deeper level.
What a line of bullshit.
She’d bought my excuse with no argument, and was thrilled at the idea of
knowing
me better.

Truth was, I couldn’t bring myself to touch anyone besides Olympia.

I wasn’t sure how long I could last, though, without at least a blowjob to tide me over. It was pretty fucking amazing how I was doing my damndest stay true to someone who refused to even acknowledge me, let alone fuck me.

Maybe Twila had been right when she’d pointed out my current lack of bad-ass-ery.

At least there was one place where I was still the reigning badass – in the ring at our fight club.

If I was giving up sex, I sure as hell needed violence. Most nights I defended my title and increased my savings with every victory. Of course, the boys were suffering again in my absence. Twila tried to step in and help, but they were having none of that. I couldn’t blame them. I didn’t want a damn thing to do with the bitch either. I’d just as soon bury her and be done with it.

With most everything going wrong, one thing had turned out better than we could have ever anticipated.

Olympia had done right by the club. She’d told authorities that she had lost her memory –
the truth
– during the fire and had no recollection of where she’d spent the weeks following –
a lie
.

I’d been smart to have her hair color switched from bright burgundy to a more subtle blonde. Because of that dramatic switch, I was confident no one outside the club had recognized Olympia during her stay with us. I was pretty sure if they had, we’d know by now.

Her engagement to Conner Mills was big news for the town, especially as the wedding day approached. Seal’s Cove residents needed something positive to focus on after so many fires. A large-scale wedding was just the thing to keep folks gossiping and speculating.

According to the local gossip blog, the pair was planning a Christmas wedding, and everyone wanted an invite. Now that it was September, the time until the Big Day would accelerate, flying by in no time. I wasn’t sure I could survive the actual nuptials.

Maybe I’d crash the wedding and be the one person who protested when they asked if anyone disputed their holy fucking matrimony.
I’d dispute, all right.
Their relationship was a farce.
She didn’t love him. Her eyes spoke volumes about her lack of feeling for the groom-to-be. I’d be doing them both a favor.

Like I had room to talk about phony relationships.

As for the top spot on my to-kill list, it was a tossup between Conner and Ringo. Some days, Ringo held the title, and other days it was the ATF schmuck all the way. Considering he had my woman and had taken away my fire fighter status, he spent more time as enemy numero uno.

Bottom line, they were both gonna be food for the sharks. It was just a matter of time and planning.

“You okay, man?” a voice interrupted my thoughts. “You’ve been standing out here staring at the school for awhile now. I’m head of security. Just checking in, making sure everything is okay.”

In other words, he suspected I was casing the property for some less than chivalrous reasons.

“My boys go here. Just dropping them off. Got lost in my thoughts. Worried about their school year. You know how it is.”

He scanned my much larger frame and forced a smile. “Boys can be difficult, so I hear. I have a girl. She’s still in diapers.”

I chuckled, hating how fake I sounded. “Enjoy the diaper phase while you can.”

Strolling across the street to the club’s new Jeep, I nearly tripped when Olympia pulled into an empty space in the school’s parking lot. She got out, clicking the car alarm’s remote and causing her BMW to beep. After adjusting her skirt, she strode toward the school, dressed to kill.

She was wearing a beige suit jacket and skirt that hit about an inch above her knees, showcasing her shapely calves. She’d completed the professional look with a sheer green blouse and matching pumps. Her hair was pulled up in some sophisticated twisty thing.

I’d never been one to analyze any woman’s attire, but I sure as hell was doing it now.

Memories of her wearing nothing but my cum intruded, making my cock stiffen. I smirked, remembering how she’d screamed my name. There was no way she’d forgotten how I could work her body. I was her first, after all. No other man could take that from me.

Starting to feel like a stalker, I forced my feet to move.

I had no idea what made her turn back, but she did, spotting me right away. Her jaw dropped, but she quickly composed herself, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

Fuck. I can taste her…feel her body pressed against mine.

My fists clenched and released. I needed to kill someone. Preferably Ringo or the ATF scum who’d claimed my girl as his. Instead, I started toward her. Before I could cross the street, Conner’s silver Volvo zipped up to the curb next to her. I heard him holler, “You forgot your lunch, honey.”

She leaned in and accepted a bag, lingering for a kiss.

A second later, he beeped his horn and pulled away. She never looked back at either of us.

It was obvious. She’d moved on. It was time I did the same.

I’d find a new sub and reinvent myself as a full-fledged Dom, contract and all. I’d given up my control with Olympia, and I’d lost everything that made me who I was.

Never again.

Women. They were meant for fucking. Nothing more; nothing less.

I wouldn’t forget that simple truth. Golden pussy or not, it was just pussy.

Olympia

I managed to get through the school’s front door without reversing course and dashing across the street and into Boone’s arms. The image of his towering frame, standing so tall and sure, would haunt me right along with the memories of our time together.

In reality, it was Conner who stopped me from taking that first step toward the one man I couldn’t evict from my mind and making a fatal mistake.

Conner’s constant quest for order had brought him to the school. First day on the job without a lunch was something my fiancé evidently found unacceptable; he’d made sure to remedy that.

Gripping the bag in question, I leaned against the wall and practiced my breathing exercises.

Boone had never looked better. I’d never wanted him more.

Breathe…just breathe.

I’d been seeing a therapist in Portland to deal with my ‘missing’ memories and grief over my mom’s death. Considering half the things I shared with my counselor were lies, I wasn’t sure how much the sessions were helping. The breathing techniques had at least proven useful. Since leaving the Soul Scorchers clubhouse, and more specifically, Boone, I’d been prone to anxiety attacks. I felt on edge, like someone was watching me, waiting for an opportune time to attack. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see them; I believed they were there.

The arsonist was still at large, though Conner insisted that without one single fire in the past two months, he’d likely moved on. The ATF believed their presence had finally pushed him toward different hunting grounds. But according to the hushed conversations, I’d overheard between Conner and his men, the danger remained very real. Their private questions and doubts fueled my paranoia. I had no problem imagining the worst possible scenarios.

Unfortunately, my father was just as paranoid, assigning body guards to protect me. I’d ditched them this morning, which hadn’t been easy, but I had no doubt they’d be here watching me work, anytime now, if they weren’t already inside.

The school liked the idea of additional onsite security, even if I was the one providing it. The fact it wouldn’t cost the school district anything extra, only sweetened the deal. Thankfully, with my dad’s influence and my perfect grades at the university, along with my traveling security squad, I’d been hired on as a floating teacher’s aide. I could hardly contain my excitement at being close to Boone’s boys again, even in a classroom setting.

I missed them more than I’d ever believed possible. I hated the idea that they might be suffering because of my absence in their lives.  Though it seemed as if Twila had moved up from club whore status to official girlfriend, but I hadn’t seen her wearing a cut or property patch, which still gave me a sick sense of satisfaction.

Shortly after my leaving, Boone had sent me the promised leather vest, with ‘Property of Boone’ patched in big arced letters across the back. I kept the gift hidden away, but had tried it on several times, crying each time I looked in the mirror.

In the first few weeks, following my return home, he’d dropped by with a variety of excuses for visiting. He’d sent emails and texts, somehow managing to obtain my account information even after I changed it. As tempting as it was, I refused to read or acknowledge any of his lies, forcing myself to ignore his messages.

I’d already seen ‘the truth’ slobbering all over his dick, with my own eyes.

Even now, I cringed at the memory of Twila’s bobbing head.

Pushing aside the unholy vision, I finished another round of breathing exercises and glanced at my schedule. I’d be assisting Mrs. Flanagan, the third grade teacher, who just happened to be JV’s homeroom instructor.

I arrived at room number five to find my two bodyguards waiting for me by the door. I nodded but didn’t bother explaining my actions. Conner hadn’t even noticed they were missing, which was odd. 

“You will not enter the classroom with me,” I snipped. “You’ll scare the children.”

“We’ll be right here. One of us at all times.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, opening the door.

Just like Boone, JV seemed to have some magnetic attraction to my presence. He saw me first and sprang from his seat and raced to my side. Throwing his arms around me, he hung on for dear life.

Before I could speak, a deafening bang, erupted from somewhere in the school. A few seconds later, the fire alarm blared.

I’d been briefed on fire drill procedures during orientation and hurried to help the teacher get students lined up and ready to exit the building. Most hadn’t even taken their seats yet and were storing away supplies in wall cubbies, making the task more difficult.

Another loud boom rocked the building, knocking pictures from the walls.

Those are bombs, and my arsonist is back. Told you so, Conner. See! I’m not paranoid.

The classroom door flew open, and Joey charged in, his eyes wild and searching. He surveyed the scene and located JV who was gripping my hand.

“Bombs are going off everywhere!” he shouted. “There’s so much blood…we have to get out of here. The regular exit plan won’t work.”

Mrs. Flanagan snapped back. “Young man, we will stick to our emergency plan, and stop scaring the children.”

“But…” he started, looking to me for help.

“Maybe we should listen to him. He’s been out in the halls; we haven’t.”

A third and fourth explosion shook our room.