Firetrap: The Soul Scorchers MC (The Scorched Souls Serial-series Book 1) (6 page)

I shook my head, tempted to shoot them both. They were idiots, unprofessional and untrained. Whoever the mysterious Pyro was, he was an amateur when it came to delegating. If he was the one setting the fires, he at least had that particular task mastered. To go this long without being caught, was a testament to his skills.

“Let’s go. She’s not out here. We should have started further south.”

Amazed, I watched as the duo disappeared into the brush, failing to notice the glaring pink fabric.

When I was sure they were out of earshot, I made my way to what I now suspected was Olympia’s body.

I arrived just in time. Two scrawny coyotes were nosing around her feet, preparing to make a meal from her corpse. Dead or not, she didn’t deserve to be torn to shreds.

Reaching for my weapon, I hesitated. If I fired a shot at them, I’d bring ‘Dumb’ and ‘Dumber’ back. Not to mention, I risked alerting the gathering searchers and ATF. Instead, I waved my arms and lunged. Like any sensible adversary faced with someone my size, they backed away, growling. I stomped my foot and they fled, tails between their legs.

Dropping to my knees by Olympia, I brushed a ratted and filthy mass of hair from her soot-covered face. Anger and anguish battled for control inside me. I wanted to kill whoever had done this to her; and at the same time, I was ready to shed tears, something I hadn’t done even when Rita died.
Holy Fuck.

I checked her pulse and stared at her chest, willing her to breathe.

“Come on, Olympia. You’re a fighter,” I urged.

I lifted my hands; ready to start CPR on the off chance she could be revived.

She whimpered. Her chest rattled and she coughed. “Thirsty.”

“Fuck yes. That’s my girl.” Scooping her up, I held her to my chest. Fumbling, I found my water bottle and brought it to her lips. “Easy. Just a little.”

She latched on like a baby to a breast, sucking down the water so fast she choked, sputtered, but resumed drinking until she emptied what was left.

“That’s all there is. You might need an IV.” I had no doubt she needed one, and I knew what I had to do. It was a good thing I was strong. I lifted her into my arms, relieved by how light she felt.

Someone was looking for her. That someone wanted her dead.

I couldn’t take her back to Seal’s Cove, not until we figured out who was behind the fires and murders. Without a doubt, I’d piss my brothers off, but right now, I just didn’t give a fuck. I was bringing Olympia Olsen back to the clubhouse. I’d get Doc over to check her out. She was clearly dehydrated and God only knew what else. How she’d managed to escape the fire was a mystery.

One I intended to solve.

Boone

“She’s asleep. The morphine will keep her resting for awhile. I cleaned up her scrapes and cuts, and got an IV running. She somehow made it out of there without any burns and she only needed a few stitches. She inhaled a lot of smoke, though. I’m guessing she was already awake and escaped before the second explosion.

The main issue now is the head injury. I’m surprised you didn’t notice the lump, Boone.” Doc glanced in my direction. “One final thing; Miss Olsen doesn’t appear to know who she is, or what happened. She’s suffering from amnesia. I have no idea how long it will last.” The doc looked frustrated for the first time. “She really should be hospitalized.”

“Thanks, but no hospitals. Not unless you think her life is in danger,” Bones countered. He paused, mulling something over. “We’d have to take her out of state. Someone here wants her dead. We need to weigh the risks.”

“Considering the circumstances, let’s wait,” Doc concluded, agreeing with my dad. “I’ll see her again tomorrow and we can make a better determination, but she passed all my tests. I believe she will recover just fine. In all honesty, I don’t foresee any problems.”

Bones extended his hand. Doc accepted, and they shook. “I don’t have to tell you this, but I will. No one can know she is here. I’m expecting the ATF will find a reason to raid us soon enough. Chief Wells will let me know when. We might need to move her before that happens.”

Doc nodded. “As long as she’s not required to do anything physically strenuous and isn’t jostled around, she can be transported. I’d highly recommend a vehicle with four wheels and not on the back of a Harley.”

“We can handle that,” I answered for my dad. “She’s under my protection. I’m taking responsibility for her.”

“Speaking of the police chief, I almost forgot. He gave me something to pass on. He found it in Olympia’s car with a bunch of other paperwork. He beat Conner and his ATF buddies to her vehicle.” Doc reached in his jacket and pulled out an envelope with my name scrawled on the front. “You might want to read this before you offer your protection.”

Bones lifted his brow, waiting for my response.

Ignoring the gesture and questions he was sure to ask, I nodded my thanks and stalked from the room, eager to be alone. As long as Olympia was safe and asleep, I needed to take care of a few things.

The first order of business; seeing what the fuck she’d written that was so terrible Doc thought I’d withdraw my protection.

“Boone, baby. Are you all right?” Twila called from behind, her voice sugary sweet. “Hold up, please. I want to apologize.”

Shit. Not now.
I didn’t have time for Twila and her games.

“Baby … please,” she pleaded.

Knowing how persistent she could be, I turned to face her. “What? It’s been a long day and I’m tired.” I realized then it was nearing 4.00pm. I hadn’t slept more than three hours in the last forty-eight.

She smiled up at me, batting her eyes with practiced perfection. I wasn’t impressed. Not this time.

“I could give you a massage. You look tense, baby.” She ran her hand down my chest and over my abs.

Before she could slide her hand into my jeans, I gripped her wrist. “Twila, you said you had something to say. Say it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “We’ve been sleeping together for two years. I know I acted bitchy when I left your room the other night, and I’m sorry. It’s just I’m tired of being treated like one of your other whores. We’re good together. I want to …”

“Twila, get this,” I cut her off. “We haven’t been ‘sleeping together.’ We fuck. You suck my dick. I don’t want you like you want me. I don’t even fucking like you. You give a great blowjob, but you know what? No cock sucking is worth the drama you bring. You will never be my old lady. Anything else?”

I knew I was being a dick, but that’s what I was when it came to women. I’d been more than clear up front what I was about. My reputation preceded me. Granted, I’d screwed around with Twila more than anyone else these past couple of years, but we’d had this same conversation at least ten times. As far as I was concerned, this was our last conversation about anything.

Her bottom lip trembled, and a lone tear spiraled down her cheek. “Nope. Nothing else, Boone. Don’t expect me to get on my knees for you again. We’re finished.”

“Didn’t know we’d ever begun. Goodbye, Twila.” I glared down at her.

Her jaw tightened and a few more tears made an appearance, but to her credit, she didn’t beg, or argue. For the first time I could remember, she showed some class. She gave me a little nod and pivoted away. I watched her retreat until she turned the corner at the end of the hall. I could hear her heels clacking down the stairs.

The chorus from ‘Queen’s’ classic song,
‘Another One Bites The Dust’
, filtered through my mind. It was the perfect anthem for what happened to any woman stupid enough to get involved with me.

Speaking of women, my thoughts made a rapid u-turn back to Olympia Olsen and the envelope’s mysterious contents.

Unlocking the door to my room, I entered quietly, unsure where my boys were. I’d been so wrapped up in my own business I’d failed to check in. ‘The Worst Father of the Year Award’ wouldn’t look at all out of place mounted on my wall.

It took but a second for me to realize that neither boy was in the room. There was no evidence they’d even entered recently. I hated to admit I was relieved.

Since their mother’s death, we’d only grown further apart. They wanted a mom, the one thing I couldn’t give them. To make matters worse, we’d had a very unproductive meeting at their school last week; living at the clubhouse was effecting their sleep time. They’d been falling asleep in class. I’d handled the news poorly, blaming them for their inability to stay focused.

We needed to get back to our own house. I’d rebuilt it after Rita’s death, but just couldn’t stomach being there alone with the boys. They didn’t seem to like it either.

We had another option.

In addition to our former home, I had a fully furnished, modernized cabin up in the woods that only Bones, Leg, and Grinch knew about. We could start staying there, at least part time; but now, with the whole fire situation, I hated to be so far from the action. Not to mention, I’d have to reorganize my upcoming work projects so I could drive them into school every morning, a sixty minute commute from the cabin on a good day. I just couldn’t win.

Pushing my guilt aside, I sent a quick text to Leg and learned they were fishing with Grinch and planning to bunk down with him for the night. As negative as Grinch could be, he was awesome with the boys. They were the only two things that could make the man smile. Even Amber’s tits in his face didn’t inspire Grinch’s surprisingly white teeth to make an appearance.

I shook my head. I needed to talk to the stripper, convince her that Grinch was more than met the eye. Maybe I’d tell him to shave too. It couldn’t hurt.

Plopping on the bed, I opened the envelope. Inside was a copy of the estimate I’d prepared for the mayor, listing my expected costs for Olympia’s bathroom project. I’d gone out of my way to be reasonable, despite their wealth.

Attached to the estimate there was a letter on Olympia’s personal letterhead. Clipped to the letter was a check for one dollar. Confused, I read the handwritten note:

Dear Mr. Richards,

I am unsatisfied with your work. You left my bathroom in disarray the first day you were here. You took an extended lunch break and even chose to swim in your underwear. This behavior is most unprofessional. I was inconvenienced and had to use the guest bathroom to complete my personal hygiene routine, something that was utterly unacceptable.

When I pay for something, I expect it to be completed in such a manner it meets my high standards. You did not meet my standards or expectations; and as you will recall, my father, the mayor of our city, made it very clear how important it was to satisfy me. You ensured him you would do just that.

Because of your substandard work ethics and lack of regard for my residence, I am forced to pay you what I believe you are worth. Your check is attached. I will also notify the Better Business…

I’d read enough. I crumpled the note and tossed it on the floor.
Fucking crazy woman!

The job hadn’t even been finished yet. I’d just started. And when did she even find time to write the damn letter between swimming with me, badmouthing bikers with Conner, performing her personal hygiene routine, and escaping a deadly fire?

I should have left her in the woods, or maybe I should have pointed out her hot pink yoga pants to the two assailants searching for her, and let them deal with her attitude. Even better, I could have given two hungry coyotes an opportunity to munch on the mayor’s sole heir. From what I’d observed, they had looked in need of a good meal.

Now she was here and couldn’t remember any of it. How convenient.

How Convenient.

I felt my lip twitch. Yep. Just like my boys had Grinch grinning, Olympia’s amnesia had me smiling to myself.

I got up and retrieved her letter, smoothing it out on my lap, under the original estimate. I grabbed my cell phone and pulled up the calculator app.

Paybacks could be such a bitch, especially for a bitch.

Olympia

The men finally left me alone, believing I was asleep.

They were mistaken.

I was more drugged than drowsy, though I understood the two were closely related. Apparently, I’d hit my head pretty hard, making things that much more jumbled in my mind. Yet, in spite of my injuries and resulting grogginess, I had still managed to piece together a few key points about my situation.

First off, as I’d guessed in the woods, I had escaped a fire, and not just any fire. Someone had tried to use the blaze to end my life, a life I couldn’t remember anything about. Whoever the evil arsonists were, they remained at large and were looking for me.

I’d heard one man say he’d protect me. I was fairly certain he’d been the one to rescue me.

Did I know him? Who was he to me?

A feeling of familiarity surrounded him. That had to mean something good.

Another positive; my injuries were serious, but not critical.
Thank God.
Because of the would-be-killers, the doctor was treating me here, wherever here was. At least I was cleaned up and resting on a comfortable bed.

Unfortunately, my eyelids were too heavy to open, so I accepted that sleep was indeed the best solution. Taking a deep breath, I tried to let go of all my questions and worries, and let dreamland find me.

Rustling and floorboards squeaking outside my room interrupted my efforts.

“She has a head injury. We need to check on her every hour,” the familiar male voice said.

“Fine, but it hasn’t been an hour, Boone. Not that it matters to you. Go on in. Nothing I say is going to keep you out of there,” another masculine voice replied, chuckling softly. “You sure you want to go through with this plan?”

“Never been surer. She owes me. It’ll be good for her.”

The door opened. Footsteps approached. It was obvious my visitor was trying to walk softly, but failing. I strained to open my eyes.

“You,” I whispered. Though blurry around the edges, I still recognized my savior, the one who had rescued me from death and dehydration, and a world of bad men eager to torch me.

“Yep, it’s me, Sally.”

“Sally?”
Did he just call me Sally?
Was that my name?
It sounded all wrong. I didn’t feel like a Sally.

“Of course, honey. You’re my Sally.”

I shook my head struggling to comprehend. Everything felt off. “Who are you?” I whispered, desperate for more information.

“Oh, baby. Damn that hurts. I’m your old man, your husband.”

I sucked in a shaky breath.
The man who’d saved me was my husband?
I guess that made sense. “Where were you during the fire?’

If we were married, shouldn’t he have been at home with me?

He chuckled. “It was my night out. We have an open relationship, remember?”

Seeing what had to be my confused expression, he continued, “No, that’s right. You don’t remember. You were getting drunk with your girlfriends while I dipped the love-stick in some tasty new sugar. I’ll tell you all about it when you’re feeling better. You love my sex stories
and
my love-stick.” He grabbed his crotch, a sinful smile spreading across his face.