by SE Chardou
They didn’t need world domination, television shows or any sort of publicity what so ever. Not when they were a club officially ran and controlled by two of the biggest international government organizations in the world. It worked in everyone’s favor the club flew underneath the radar, and had never been subject to any of those ridiculous Gangland shows or exposé pieces about American gangs in Time Magazine.
However none of this helped Pyro at the moment.
All he could think about as he slipped the helmet over his head was how he would have to go home, and confess everything to Mira.
The one woman he’d started to fall in love with and found it hard to trust anyone would discover she was right yet again.
No one was trustworthy.
Not even the man she loved.
That, to Pyro, was the most heartbreaking issue of it all.
Chapter Ten
Mira
I awoke to find myself alone in bed but the delicious scent of Pyro was left behind. I grabbed a fistful of sheets and brought them to nose where I sniffed his scent as I closed my eyes and remembered our delicious night of passion.
I still had my reservations about him but when everything was said and done, I tossed them aside for that true feeling of overwhelming happiness and joy. Hadn’t I suffered enough in my life? When would it be my time to feel all the greatness in life there was? Deep down, I knew it couldn’t be all shit, and everyone deserved a small piece of joy, no matter how fleeting. If only to remind ourselves that life was lonely, isolating and completely full of misery, hate and inequality but we could all find our small corner in the universe where we could be content with ourselves.
I’d found it in the arms of Pyro and I didn’t plan to let go very easily. I deserved this if anyone did.
I wasn’t naïve, and I was well aware there were people out there in the world who’d suffered way worse than me. However, I was determined to snatch my moments of peace wherever I could find them and I refused to feel guilty over my thoughts and actions.
Eventually after rolling around in our filth until a smile crept across my face, I stood reluctantly and walked to his bathroom. It was clean, if not completely masculine in color scheme and items.
I ended up using his body wash and shampoo but I still felt refreshed and if anything, every time, I breathed the delicious scent caressing my skin, it reminded me of him.
After drying off and wrapping my hair in a towel turban, I changed the sheets, threw them in the dirty hamper and put on a new set before making up the bed. I left Pyro’s room reluctantly, closing the door behind me, as I tipped down to my own bedroom.
The strong scent of Victoria’s Secret lotion camouflaged most of the scent left on my skin by Pyro’s body wash but I knew he would be home soon, and it wouldn’t matter. I’d rather the man in the flesh over his personal products any day of the week.
I dressed comfortably in a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and an oversized boyfriend sweater in the dark color of maroon. It was great because it had a deep V-neck and almost exposed the black lace bra I wore underneath but not quite.
Tackling my hair, I made it somewhat presentable by throwing it in a ponytail and left my bedroom before I walked downstairs.
The house was quiet but that was only until I discovered Estelle and Chemist on the sofa in the living room. They had the sixty-inch television playing, and seemed to be deeply involved with whatever show they were watching.
“What’s on?” I asked out loud.
They both jumped before relaxing back into their casual position of her wrapped in his arms. “I’m binge-watching Scandal. And my fiancé is the most perfect man in the world because he doesn’t mind watching it with me.”
Chemist snickered. “Only because Olivia Pope is hot. If she was a dog, no way would I watch this show with you.”
I laughed out loud. “Listen, I’m gonna make breakfast for everyone. Just scrambled eggs stir-fried with some veggies and sausages. You two want any?”
“Yes!” they both exclaimed at the same time.
“Do you mind making some toast for us as well? We’re both starving,” Estelle continued in an excited voice.
“Sure. You need me to make another pot of coffee too? I’m feeling some serious caffeine withdrawals.”
“Yes, please,” Chemist said without looking away from the television.
“Do you think Pyro would like some as well?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge.
“He might have eaten with the guys,” Estelle said in an elevated voice. “He had some club business to discuss with the guys this morning so it’s really up to you.”
I removed a dozen large organic eggs and thought about it for a split second. I’d make enough for him too. Even if we didn’t finish the stir-fry, what was left could be refrigerated, and it was just as good the following day nuked in the microwave for about a minute.
Funny, I always enjoyed cooking but it had taken on a whole new meaning since I’d moved in to Pyro’s house, I enjoyed the meals we had together, and how we all ate together like a normal family.
I could freely admit I had no idea what Estelle saw in Chemist since he was a classically gorgeous Irish-American male with lightly tanned skin, ideal facial features, gray eyes and dark brown hair. It must have been his physique, which was stunning but he couldn’t hold a candle to Pyro in my book.
He was a bit of an asshole and a know-it-all but somehow they managed to work, and she seemed genuinely happy to be with him.
I would never admit my jealousy over their serious relationship. Yes, Pyro had taken me under his wing as his old lady but what did that mean exactly? I wasn’t stupid; I knew what it meant in an MC club but maybe I wanted to be more than just a man’s old lady. Perhaps I wasn’t as opposed to marriage as I self-righteously claimed to be all these years because if Pyro asked me to marry him, I would have said “yes” in a heartbeat.
No questions asked.
I’d fallen too fucking hard and the worst part of the situation was I might end up flat on my face, without a parachute to break my fall, but I wouldn’t give up the time we spent together for anything in the world. He’d become my world and I was in too deep to turn back now. I couldn’t walk away even if I tried.
The feelings drove me mad with my lack of control but still, I whisked the eggs before I began chopping up onions, bell peppers and tomatoes. They joined chopped slices of bacon and sausages, which were beginning to brown nicely. I added a scoop of crushed garlic to the eggs and added them to the sizzling vegetables in the pan. I used just enough sea salt and pepper for flavor and finished up the stir fry to perfection as the door to the garage opened and closed.
I looked over my shoulder in anticipation, and met Pyro’s ice blue eyes. They seemed to stare right through mine before he walked over and embraced me from behind.
“Something sure smells good.” He kissed my neck as I smiled and wrapped my own hands around his for the briefest of moments.
“I’m making breakfast. I hope the club meeting didn’t spoil your appetite,” I responded in a voice quiet enough only for us to hear.
“No, of course not.” He backed away from me and grabbed a loaf of sourdough bread. “You gonna toast some bread so we can make sandwiches if we want?”
“Sure. Estelle and Chemist wanted toast too.” I grabbed a couple of slices and slid them into the toaster as my mind thought about how Pyro had supposedly come from a club meeting.
Everyone was expected at church or chapel—depending upon the club, the name of the meeting differed but it was all the same—so why was Chemist here with Estelle? He should have been with Pyro.
“How did church go?” I questioned, keeping the sudden panic out of voice.
“I didn’t go to church, honey. It was more of a private meeting between Hardy, Ronan and me. It had to do with the club’s activities but nothing major.”
I looked back at Pyro, and knew he was telling a lie but no way would I c
all up the President or the VP of his club. Even if he was lying, they would cover for him.
Where the hell had he been?
Did this involve Angie or an old girlfriend? Furthermore, why was he lying to me when he knew whatever he told me I’d take it to the grave? I was beyond the point of turning against him under any circumstances so why didn’t he trust me?
I turned the stove off and slid the hot egg stir-fry to the side. “Why don’t you trust me, Maarten? I can tell when you’re lying and when you’re telling the truth.”
“What are you talking about—”
“No more excuses,” I interrupted as I whipped around to face him. “Where did you really go this morning?”
The toast popped up, and he was saved by the question as he took them out of the toaster and buttered them.
“Thanks, big bro. Are those for me?” Estelle questioned as she grabbed the two slices of toast, scooped up a helping of egg stir-fry, and disappeared into the living room.
“Do you want any toast?” Pyro questioned in a soft voice.
“No. Too many carbs. Besides, I like to eat the stir-fry on its own.” I bit my lower lip. “Chemist wanted toast though.”
He turned away from me as he put a couple more slices in the toaster. “I would love to answer every question you ask of me but sometimes, it’s just not possible. I know you think I don’t trust you but trust has nothin’ to do with this—”
“Trust has everything to do with this!” I exclaimed in a low voice. “You know your sister and Chemist are never going to tell me where you were even if they knew.” I was quiet for a moment as I picked at a hangnail. “You’re the only person who has ever meant something to me in my life, Pyro—certain family excluded. I want you to believe I’m done with them and I would never ever betray you.”
“Why?” He cleared his voice. “I mean, why should I believe that?”
“Because you’re all I have—all I’ve got. Without you, I’m alone and adrift in this cold, cruel world. Perhaps I’m being a tad melodramatic but let me say in plain words I’m tired of being alone. I want to build a life and a family. God knows I want it to be with you. For a brief moment—especially how we were together last night—I thought you wanted that too. Maybe I was wrong. I guess I’m just another conquest, a notch on your belt.”
“You know that isn’t true.” Pyro buttered the toast, fixed Chemist a plate and walked out of the kitchen.
I wouldn’t allow myself to have an emotional breakdown or cry. Instead, I slid two slices of toast into the toaster, and waited in silence. I stared at that stupid machine like it was the Holy fucking Grail, and would give me desperately needed answers Pyro had no intention of sharing with me.
My mind went back to when we met again in his room at the clubhouse and how he’d looked at me then. What was I missing? The clues were all there but unfortunately, I couldn’t clearly see them. Not at this moment, not right now when my mind kept wandering back to our insatiable night together.
Why did I assume he was trying to deceive me or hurt me in any way? Perhaps he was trying to protect me but not many people had ever gone out on a limb for me. If that’s what he was doing then I was behaving like a selfish, jealous girlfriend.
Yes, we were in a relationship but that didn’t all the sudden make me privy to every secret he had. I didn’t have a right to know what he was doing that morning; as long as it didn’t involve him sleeping with someone else then what was the big deal?
I could smell the subtle aftershave and daytime cologne Pyro wore before I felt his arms wrap around my waist. “I’m not hiding anything from you. I wish you would believe me. If it wasn’t club business, I would tell you. Me not telling you isn’t about trusting or not trusting you. There are just some things about this life you’re better off not knowin’. You feel me?”
I closed my eyes and placed my hands on his. “Yes, I do. I promise to stop behaving like such a crazy jealous bitch if you promise me one thing.”
He nuzzled my neck, the roughness of his face after having not shaved in several days comforted my soft skin in a way that made me feel safe, and loved for the first time in my life. “What’s that?”
I turned around to face him and stared into those never-ending pools of blue. “If you ever do find out something about me . . . I mean, that pertains to me . . . would you tell me? I could help you a lot better if I knew what we were up against as opposed to you leaving me in the dark.”
Pyro embraced me, and there it was again. That feeling of my thunderous heart doing somersaults over this gorgeous alpha man who would always keep me safe, and never use me.
“Course I would, babe.”
As we separated, he grabbed his toast and buttered them before he handed me a plate.
“So, we’re good? I mean, everything’s okay between the two of us?”
He smiled as he replied, “It couldn’t be better. Now let’s eat.”
Estelle and I walked along with the ginormous crowd through the Fashion Outlets of Las Vegas. Though the crowds were awful and the tourists even worse, we still enjoyed our outing together.
Pyro obviously hadn’t spent the morning with his bros because he and Chemist left shortly after breakfast for a meeting at the clubhouse.
I knew it should have bothered me I still didn’t know what he’d done but the adrenaline-fueled haze of finding bargains won me over in the end.
I’d separated from Estelle in the Michael Kors store. She’d gone straight to their newest offerings while I explored the back of the store near the cash registers. A gorgeous black and white hound’s-tooth leather bag caught my eye and I picked up one of the last ones. It was beautiful and such a classic. I wouldn’t have dare worn name brand in Black Oak unless it was Harley Davidson or Biker or Not. It just wasn’t done, and although the old ladies spent loads of money on clothes, shoes and handbags, they preferred the biker owned shops in Pine Bluff or Birch Tree.
I grabbed the purse and held it in my arms, dipping my head to smell the textured leather. I liked it and it wasn’t like I was broke. Mags had given me a down payment. I had two hundred and fifty thousand dollars although my bank balance was never over six or seven thousand. The rest was in a safety deposit box to get around the laws passed after 9/11 due to large cash deposits.
It would hardly break the bank though I’d already splurged on several pairs of trendy high heels, a couple of sexy dresses I would love to model for Pyro, and five pairs of Guess Jeans I couldn’t resist.
Estelle, being a seasoned shopper, had us make a trip to the car to deposit our bags before we further explored any more stores. The bag in my arms felt so right, I knew I’d buy it.
“There you are!” a female voice exclaimed.
I turned around to spot Estelle as she walked my way, several men’s eyes following the sway of her ass in a pair of black skinny jeans and a skimpy off-white cashmere sweater that barely came to her waist.
“What do you think?” I displayed the handbag proudly to her, so pleased with my find.
She grabbed it out of my hands, unzipped it, moved a few tissues to the side and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh! It’s an Outlet bag. Try to look for the ones that have come from the department stores.”
“What difference does it make? It’s still a Michael Kors handbag.”
“Yeah but everyone knows that if his name is spelled out in the bag, you got it from the outlet. You wanna look for the bags that have MK with a round circle around them. Those are bags that didn’t sell well in the department stores and got shipped here. Come on, I’ll show you how to spot the difference.”
Estelle grabbed my hand and we navigated through the store before we came to a display and she picked up a gorgeous, oversized purple leather handbag. “Now, this, my dear, is a find. Not only did it come from the department stores but is this rocker chic or what? I mean, what are the chances of you finding a bag like this in aubergine?”
“Auber-what?”
She rolled her eyes. �
�It’s just a chic way of saying eggplant. It’s gorgeous though, isn’t it? Anyway, the department store bags come with the dust bag so you can protect your investment. Remember, leather is an organic material. You don’t want it to dry out.” Estelle pulled out a white silk flattened sack from the purse. “You see? You put the handbag in here when it’s not in use so it stays beautifully flawless for years.”
I nodded my head as she stuffed it back in the handbag and loaded it on her arm.
“I’m surprised you’re not looking for larger handbags. It’s not easy to carry a gun in a mid-sized handbag you know.”
I looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to us but most women were trying to snap up as many bags as possible and our conversation had gone completely ignored to the numerous bypass shoppers.
“I didn’t realize you carried a gun in your handbag,” I murmured as I picked up a Kelly green hobo leather bag that snapped instead of zipped closed.
She grabbed it from me. “Good choice. You see, it has a zippered middle compartment. You can carry your gun and wallet in there. Plus, it’s a department store reject.”
“Wait a minute. I asked you a question. Do you carry a gun?”
Estelle’s brown eyes glared at me for a second before she replied, “Of course I do. A micro Desert Eagle. It’s semi-automatic and only holds six rounds but it’s got enough stopping power to do its job.”
“I didn’t think Pyro would allow—”
“Mira, for God’s sake, both my brother and my father are retired military. I’ve known how to shoot since I was ten. I used to go to the firing range with them. My dad isn’t a survivalist or anything but he’s all about home protection. I have a permit for it but . . . it doesn’t extend to carrying it on my person. Most of the time, I leave it in my vehicle unless I’m walking alone to my car on campus at night.”
“Yeah but what if you shot someone?”