Firetrap: The Soul Scorchers MC (The Scorched Souls Serial-series Book 1)

by Riley, C. L.

  I'm gonna reach out to Rowdy; see where the Guardians are with all this. Give ‘em a chance to make things right. I'm with you. I don't believe they would do something so stupid. It's out of character. Maybe they've got some rogue members, or wannabes trying to stir things up.”

  “Good idea. And thanks for having my back with this situation, and Olympia.”

  I'd never been more relieved that my president was my father. I tried not to think that way, or use our family bond to my advantage, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't matter at times like this.

  “I'm not willing to break a four year truce, without being a hundred percent certain the Hells Guardians are responsible. Shit. It could be another club. There are just too many variables that don’t add up.”

  I nodded. Bones was smart. He'd have his hands full with some of the younger guys who wanted blood, though. They’d see the delay and diplomacy as weakness, something they had difficulty tolerating.

  "So, church again later?"

  “I'm scheduling it for six. Right now I’m gonna eat and then make that call. You better take care of your situation. And I meant when I said cover up any evidence of your ...”

  “Understood. I'm on it.”

  “Good, now get the hell out. If you need to spank someone, go to The Dungeon. I'm reopening tonight for VIP members. Just leave Olympia alone.”

  I was already through the door, his ‘leave Olympia alone’ warning echoed in my mind.

  How the hell was I supposed to do that?

  I was a selfish son of a bitch, and I'd never wanted anyone the way I wanted her. This whole thing sucked. Add on the glaring fact that I didn't handle blue balls well at all, especially under stress. Sex was my primary release. Olympia was the female I wanted to fuck. Settling for less than the best held no appeal. Not anymore.

  When I reached my room, I paused outside and swallowed down the last of my coffee, before unlocking the door as quietly as possible.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside, dreading the difficult conversation ahead.

  It appeared the conversation would have to wait.

  Olympia was gone.

  Olympia

  “JV? Joey? How do you want your eggs?” I scurried around the underground compound’s kitchen where the majority of activity was centered, as people prepared food.

  Unable to stay asleep with Boone gone, I’d had a sudden urge to fix him and the kids breakfast. I discovered right away that I wasn’t a very good cook. In fact, it was almost like I’d never cooked a meal in my life.

  To my relief, both boys decided on scrambled eggs with cheese on top. That seemed easy enough. I kept my eyes on the other women also preparing food. The one next to me was making eggs too. When she added salt, I added salt. When she sprinkled pepper, so did I.

  I heard a mechanical pop behind me and turned to find the toast ready, a little browner than I’d hoped for, but it would have to do. I quickly buttered the crisp bread and spun back to finish the eggs, tossing on grated cheese. With the cheese melted, I loaded up plates for the boys and put one aside for Boone. If he felt at all like I did, he had to be starving. We’d expended some serious energy last night.

  My face heated when I considered how he’d played my body like an expert musician played his instrument.

  Reaching for a catsup bottle, I barely avoided bumping into the one person I didn’t want to see now, or ever. I was in too good a mood for her crap.

  Twila leaned against the counter, spooning yogurt from its container. Her hair was a mess and her makeup smeared. She had on an oversized shirt that clearly belonged to one of the men. Ignoring her stare, I handed the catsup to JV and watched as he made his way to a group of younger kids. Joey had already escaped to a table with three attractive girls.

  “So, I see you had fun last night,” Twila goaded, her gaze traveling to my throat. “Where did you sleep?”

  Confused by the question, I stood taller, hoping I appeared more confident than I felt. “With my husband, in our bed. Where else would I sleep?”

  I realized then, the foundation I’d applied to my throat must have sweated off when I’d had my face over the stove, leaving my bruises visible.

  Without thinking, I reached up, brushing my fingers over the tender flesh.

  Twila sneered. “Your husband? Are you sure about that?”

  Noticing my distress, JV approached. “Don’t listen to her mom. She’s just jealous. She likes dad and he hates her.”

  Unfortunately, her words had already found a place in my mind, reigniting the doubts I’d battled with yesterday. Even so, I tried to cling to Harmony’s reassurances and my youngest son’s response.

  Why was I letting some jealous whore ruin my morning?

  “Ask him for pictures. You know, evidence of your love.”

  “Shut up, Twila!” another woman snapped. “You’re always trying to stir up trouble. Just because your dad was a friend of the club, doesn’t mean you can’t be put in the ground.”

  Whoa …that was a serious threat. I glanced at my defender. She was a pretty brunette that I’d pegged as another old lady last night.

  Before I could ponder further, Boone pounded down the stairs, his gaze searching. When he spotted me, a look of relief washed over his face.

  I tingled all over, momentarily forgetting Twila’s accusations. All I wanted was more of Boone; in me, on me, touching me … spanking me.

  “Babe, I was worried. Thought you were going to wait for me.” He tilted his head. “Everything okay?” His gaze traveled to Twila, whose gloating expression had been replaced by uncertainty.

  “I made you breakfast,” I managed, avoiding his question. I was suddenly self-conscious, remembering my throat.

  “Grab what you want and let’s go upstairs. I need to talk to you.” He turned and motioned to Joey and JV.

  They rushed over.

  “Because of lockdown, you’ll be doing schoolwork here. Tinker is bringing back what you need. I want you to focus. Your mom will be back down to help you when I go to work.”

  JV hurried to give me one of his hugs and Joey just nodded, his attention on the three giggling girls waiting for his return.

  Following Boone up the stairs to our room, I had an awful feeling things were about crash down around me before they could even be built up again.

  We brought our plates to the small couch by the window. No longer hungry, I set mine next to me. Boone took a couple of bites and put his aside too.

  This was worse than I thought. Unless, of course, my cooking was just that bad.

  “Babe, I had some time to think, and I believe I made an error in judgment.”’

  “Go on.”

  Boone glanced up. He stared at the ceiling before running his fingers through his hair, a habit he succumbed to when worried, I’d noticed.

  “Sally, last night was fucking amazing.”

  “But …?” My defenses were rising like a protective wall, ready to defend my heart.

  He sighed. “Fuck. You are amazing. Just being this close to you makes me hard. But, you don’t remember me. Which means you can’t consent to sex. Not really.”

  It was my turn to sigh. What he said made sense, sort of, but I did want him. Sex with him was the one thing that felt certain. The me-of-the-moment, memories or not, wanted Boone Richards and his brand of punishing pleasure, and I wanted it often.

  Perhaps there was a way to relieve his guilt. An idea was already forming.

  “Boone, I’m your wife. What happened last night felt right. Maybe we could create a contract, or something that releases you from any responsibility …”

  He interrupted me. “That doesn’t solve the problem. The same rule of logic applies. It wouldn’t really be you signing the contract.”

  “I am me, Sally, your wife, the mother of …” I stopped mid sentence, Twila’s accusations were back, bringing with them a barrage of fresh doubts.

  What if she was right? What if Boone was using me, lying to me? But
how? For what purpose?

  His gaze narrowed. “Something wrong?”

  For some reason his ridiculous question triggered my anger. “Of course something is freaking wrong! I’m hiding from a killer that uses fire as a weapon. I don’t remember who the hell I am. You’ve fucked God knows how many women, apparently with my approval; something, by the way, I no longer approve of. And now, one of those former flames, whatever the hell she was to you, tells me I should watch my back around you, and demand evidence of our love. So, yes … something is wrong.”

  “What can I do to convince you?”

  “You were doing a good job of convincing me last night. Now I want proof, real proof. Photos, a Facebook account, our wedding license …”

  “We lost everything in the fire,” he asserted.

  “You don’t have any family photos in your wallet? You don’t have any social media accounts? I get that you’re kind of a caveman, but seriously? You’re a business owner.”

  The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced he was hiding things. There had to be some evidence somewhere of our relationship. “What about Bones, your dad? He doesn’t have any pictures of us?”

  Boone shook his head. “Do I seem like the type that chronicles my life like that? I’m a fucking biker. We had some stuff. It burned. I’ll see what I can dig up, but right now your safety is more important.”

  “What if I want to leave?” I hadn’t really considered leaving until now. Getting away might be best, all things considered.

  Before Boone could answer, an image of JV’s smile, and his look of pride from last night, intruded. That little boy needed me, though if leaving better insured his and Joey’s safety, I’d do it.

  Moving my plate to the floor, Boone scooted closer. “Babe, you’re not going anywhere. This is the safest place. I need you here. The boys need you. I promise. I’ll find something to prove who you are and who you belong to. Okay? Can you give me a day or two?”

  His gaze bore into mine, tugging at my heartstrings. This man, whoever he was, did indeed own a piece of me. Nothing anyone said or did could change that.

  Without warning, a sudden vision of Boone standing shirtless on a balcony flashed in my mind, crashing my thoughts like an uninvited guest crashing a party. In the vision, he gripped the rails with both hands, his expression intense, hungry, like he was observing someone, or something he desired desperately. In the next instance, I saw myself, bending over by a pool, my backside fully visible with what had to be a skimpy, thong bikini.

  I gasped. It was a memory. My first one since the fire, and Boone was there, playing a starring role.

  “What’s wrong?” He grasped my shoulders. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

  A loud pounding that shook the whole building and sirens shrilling, invaded our conversation.

  “What is it?” Terror sliced through me like a knife.

  “Fucking ATF raid! I need you to follow me, now!” Boone was already on his feet, reaching for my hand.

  I was struck by a moment of indecision. The ATF were a branch of law enforcement, federal, if my memory was correct. They could help me, right?

  Seeming to read my thoughts, Boone shook his head. “Don’t even go there. They can’t protect you the way I can.”

  For some reason, I believed him. I took his hand and we dashed down the stairs, and through the main room. I’d never been so glad for the glittery Keds I had slipped on this morning. They’d been the only pair of flats in my closet.

  Bones shouted at Boone, as we ran past him and the handful of men I’d served drinks to yesterday. “You know where to go. Take her. I’ll bring the boys when it’s safe.”

  I could hear more yelling outside, and the slamming at the front entrance had intensified. They were breaking down the door, or trying to. The club entrance was somehow resisting the battering, though I suspected it would break under the pressure sooner rather than later.

  Keeping my eyes on the stairs, I followed Boone down into our underground shelter. I heard the secret entrance slam shut behind us.

  “The boys!” I yelled. “We can’t leave them.”

  “We can! They’re in a secure place. But we need to get you out of here, just in case.”

  I didn’t like the “just in case” sentiment. It told me there was a chance, even if it was a slim one, that this stronghold might be uncovered.

  Urging me on, Boone guided me down one of the side corridors. We passed a handful of doors until we reached a dead end; a circular, steel door our sole way out.

  He lifted a panel that revealed an electronic keypad. After punching in a series of numbers, he placed his thumb on a scanner.

  I didn’t have time to be shocked by the technology, or to ask questions.

  The door groaned open, revealing a dark, earthy smelling tunnel. I couldn’t see a thing.

  “In you go,” he instructed. “You’ll have to crawl for a while. Can you manage?”

  What choice did I have?

  He felt around the soft earth beneath us, and a minute later a bright beam pierced the darkness, revealing our escape route. As sore as my body was from last night, crawling through a dank tunnel wasn’t my idea of a good time. I struggled to keep moving, and to keep my breathing steady.

  “You can do it, Sally. We’ll be able to walk upright soon. You’re doing great.”

  Basking in Boone’s encouragement, I forced myself to keep moving. He was right. twenty feet later, the tunnel expanded both horizontally and vertically, allowing us to stand. With Boone’s height and size, he had to stay hunched over.

  I had so many questions about this underground maze and the ATF’s interest in the club, but the questions could wait. Right now, I was focused on keeping my footing and getting out of here, without hurting myself.

  “Not much further, babe. How are you holding up?”

  I giggled, a hint of hysteria creeping into my head. “I’m still walking.”

  “That you are. You’re a strong woman. Stronger than you know.”

  “I feel more crazy than strong. What the hell are you guys hiding?”

  “When we get to safety, I’ll answer your questions. At least the ones I can.”

  I wanted to argue that partial answers weren’t good enough, and I needed to know everything, but pushing Boone here, now, wouldn’t help my case.

  “Almost there,” he assured me.

  He was right. We traveled another thirty or so yards, and a ladder attached to the concrete tunnel, led to an exit above our heads.

  “You first. I’ll be right behind you, making sure you don’t fall.”

  Again grateful for my choice in footwear, I reached for the first rung. He lifted me up, allowing me to get a good grip. Once I reached the top, he maneuvered up around me, his big body pressing against mine, his arms stretching above and pushing at the circular opening.

  The sight of daylight had never been more welcome. I clamored out of the hole, inhaling deeply, before taking in our surroundings. We’d emerged somewhere in the forest. The place reminded me of where I’d almost died, after the murder attempt. I shook off the comparison and turned back to Boone.

  He replaced the covering, locking it into place. “It can only be opened from the inside,” he explained. “No one can get in this way.”

  “You guys are really prepared.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “You have no idea.” He patted my butt. “Come on, we need to keep moving.”

  Too tired to talk, I clung to Boone’s arm. We walked about a mile and a half, I guessed, before hitting a gravel road. Several vehicles were parked in a small field, covered by branches and other debris. I doubted they ran.

  “Your chariot waits,” Boone chuckled. “Don’t let appearances fool you. They all start.”

  He was right. A few minutes later we were driving up a gravel road. I guessed it was an old logging road.

  Without memories of my past and unsure of my future, I watched as the trees passed by. I had
no clue where we were headed, but I wasn’t afraid. The man next to me would keep me safe. For now I was just along for the ride.

  I turned my head to look at Boone. He looked so determined; his jaw tensing as he drove, and his knuckles turning white as he clenched the steering wheel; a sign of his own stress.

  “You know something,” I said, breaking the silence. “I still haven’t been on the back of your Harley. I’m a biker’s old lady and don’t remember ever riding.”

  He glanced at me, brow raised. “We’ll fix that real soon, babe. I promise.”

  “All right. Just wanted to put that out there.”

  “Fuck. Sally, you make my life interesting,” he laughed.

  “You make it exciting,” I whispered, resting my hand on his leg.

  I was ready for part two of our adventure.

  Until I remembered my past, Boone and this crazy life was my present. I hoped when everything finally came out of the dark and into the light, he’d be my future.

  Pyro

  Watching the scene unfold from the gathering crowd gave me an overwhelming sense of pride. I always felt that way when I admired the results of my planning and preparation.

  One little match could ignite such profound destruction.

  In this case, the destruction was paramount.

  Despite my success, I couldn’t celebrate. Olympia Olsen remained at large. Someone was hiding her. They had to be. Though there was a chance that she had indeed died.

  The Oregon Coast was home to miles of thick forest. Getting lost wouldn’t be difficult.

  My two idiot “helpers” hadn’t found any sign of her, and the organized search parties had come up empty handed as well. With the mayor out of commission, and so many crime scenes to investigate, law enforcement wasn’t spending much time on finding Olympia.

  That worked in my favor.

  If she was alive, I would find her. I had to.