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The heat from the basement’s raging fire is hot against my feet and I know that the inferno is ready to take out the floor at any moment. “I came to ensure you knew exactly why this is happenin’ to you. I wanted the last face you saw to be mine.”
His brows knit together as confusion hits him.
“I sure as fuck hope that it was a good bang you got there, Carrie. It’ll be the last one you’ll ever have.”
I turn on my heels and close the door behind me, ensuring I put a chair against it so the two fuckers can’t escape.
I take up residence across the street and wait patiently for the fire to do its job. It doesn’t take long until the entire bar is up in flames. There’s no fucking way anyone is getting out of there alive.
“You sure had a grudge, kid,” I hear a deep, gravelly voice say from behind me.
“Dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” I reply without turning.
His deep cackle has my body tensing. Who the fuck is this asshole and what the hell does he want?
“Sure you don’t, but I gotta say, kid, you’ve got some skills. Never seen somethin’ go up so quick. What was it? Gasoline?”
The dude comes to stand in front of me. The fucker’s huge; built and tall. His face is weathered, and he’s got a beard. I notice the cut he’s wearing and spy the Fury Vipers insignia. He’s part of the local motorcycle club chapter. I’ve heard a lot about them. No one has a bad thing to say about them. The brotherhood they have is something people admire.
“Jaws,” he tells me. There’s nothing but genuine acceptance in his smile as he holds out his hand.
I shake it, knowing that if I were to be my normal punk self, I’d be six feet under within minutes. But just because the man in front of me has a president patch, it doesn’t mean he has my respect.
“James,” I reply as I shake his hand.
“You’ve caused me a problem, James,” Jaws tells me. “See, I had a lot of money tied up in that bar. That fucker, Temple, owed me, and now he’s gone.”
I shrug. “Not my problem. I’m sure old man Temple will sort you out. After all, the fucker’s got more money than sense.”
Jaws smiles. “Oh? And why’s that?”
“Had he any sense, he would have blown his load into his woman’s mouth and saved the world the fuckin’ unfortunate event of meetin’ that cunt, Carter.”
Jaws throws his head back and laughs.
“I like you,” he tells me. “That’s rare, kid. Now, as I’ve said, you’ve caused me a problem. But you’re goin’ to fix it. I need my money, and you’re gonna get it for me.”
I raise a brow. “Yeah? What’s in it for me?”
His laughter rings out. “Your life. Besides, if you do it, you’ll get the chance to prospect for the Vipers.” He hands me a card with his number on it. “Call me when it’s done.”
I watch as he walks away, knowing I should do the same and forget that I ever met Jaws, but there’s something about the man and the club that has a pull on me.
I glance down at the business card. I’m going to get his money for him, and while I’m there, I’m going to ensure that Horatio Temple knows what’ll happen to him if he lets anyone else hurt my sister.
CHAPTER ONE
PYRO
Seven years later
“It’s been a while,” Tracey, the bartender, purrs loudly as she serves me a beer.
“Been busy,” I reply, and bring the bottle to my lips. It’s been over a year since I fucked her, and whenever I see her, she makes it clear that she wants to have a repeat, but I don’t want anything serious. That’s not something I’m ready for. However, going by the possessive look in Tracey’s eyes, that’s exactly what she’s after.
“You haven’t called,” she says, and glances down at her hands. This is something I don’t understand. Tracey is extremely comfortable with who she is. She’s a take-charge woman who knows exactly what she wants. Yet she’s acting as though she’s shy.
“No need,” I bite out. I’m a bastard, but I don’t give a fuck. The woman should have taken the hint a year ago. We fucked once, and I made it clear before I even went near her that it was a one-time deal, but she doesn’t seem to be listening to me.
