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

I just nodded. For the first time in a long time, I felt like my life was out of my control, and I didn’t like it. I was used to running things. Now I was running from them. It just didn’t feel right. Making it worse, was the unavoidable fact I was holed up, all alone, with a woman I wasn’t supposed to touch.

What the hell would we do all week, sing Kumbaya?

“There are supplies out in the truck. Come load up. We’ll make sure you know what’s going on in town.” Bones glanced at the satellite phone before adding, “Shit, Boone. Take her fishing, hunting, relax. It’s not like you ever take a vacation. Turn this into one.

As your president, I’m telling you to do this. So don’t feel guilty. Keeping her happy and safe is your top priority. Besides, this break will benefit the club. She needs to at least like you by the time she remembers she’s not
your
Sally
.”

I decided to keep my mouth shut. He wouldn’t like what I had to say.

How was I supposed to ever take a vacation when I was always busy with club business or work? And this post, guarding Olympia, might prove to be the most taxing job yet.

I knew one thing. It sure as hell wasn’t a vacation.

Our town was burning under our watch, and I was supposed to hideout in an isolated cabin with the sexiest woman I knew. Anyone else would be thrilled. Not me. I was furious.

Pushing up from my chair, I stomped to the door and headed for the truck, once again questioning my sanity. My ploy to punish Olympia, for her plan to cheat me out of a few bucks, was the worst idea I’d ever had.
Like I needed the money.
And so what if she’d insulted me behind my back. It wasn’t the first time someone had made cheap shots at me when they thought I wasn’t listening; it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

Now, because of my scheming, she’d turned my world upside down and inside out. How one woman could cause such a tornado of turmoil was beyond me. It seemed for now, I’d have to bunker down and survive the storm.

Olympia

I gasped for air and struggled to escape the flames.

Thrashing to free myself, I realized I wasn’t engulfed by flames, but tangled in a silky sheet. Forcing myself to breathe, I opened my eyes.

It was dark, but I could see the dimmest glow beyond the door that separated me from whatever waited just out of sight. Ajar about an inch, the light filtered in. Low voices drifted back to where I remained on the bed, trying to get my bearings.

Boone was the one waiting for me on the other side of the door. That much I remembered.

He had dragged me from our temporary home at the clubhouse, to an isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere. We’d left our kids behind in the care of another biker, the one who resembled a scary serial killer and refused to shave. I cringed at the thought, though my boys seemed to find him far less frightening than I did. For all I knew, he was the Mother Teresa of bikers, but if I had to guess, I’d say more like Jack the Ripper.

Swinging my legs around, my feet found the floor. I noticed then that Boone had removed my jeans and shoes, leaving me wearing a snug T-shirt and a pair of skimpy panties. I glanced around the room, but failed to spot my jeans.
Oh well. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me naked and in every possible position last night.

Speaking of which, my ass was sore from his spanking; my pussy ached like it had been impaled with a baseball bat, and my neck was tender from his grip. I had no doubt if I looked in a mirror, I would see light bruises that matched his fingertips, dotting my throat. They’d been visible this morning, to anyone sharing the kitchen with me.

But despite the lingering pain, I wanted him again. Now.

Like he’d told me, more than once, I used to be a big time slut; it appeared I still was a slut to want more punishment in my current condition. He’d also made sure to point out I’d been pregnant with our oldest son at fifteen, and that I’d gone as far to question his paternity.

How many lovers did a fifteen year old girl have, for goodness sake?

As a couple, we evidently had an open relationship. He’d mentioned that disgusting fact several times too. Again, more evidence of my slut-hood.

Pushing those claims aside, I considered his gentler ministrations.

He’d been so attentive following our rough sex play, massaging me with soothing ointment and even bathing me. Everything had been perfect, and I’d finally started to feel secure, until Twila attempted to stir up shit with her accusations. If that had been the only problem, I could have dealt with it. But adding to my confusion was our sudden flight from what was supposed to be an impenetrable, underground compound.

What made the whole escape to this place even stranger was the fact that we had left behind our family and friends to avoid the ATF. That didn’t make any sense, not to me anyway.

It seemed that a government organization equipped to deal with arsonists would be the ideal agency for us to turn to in light of my recent fire ordeal, but not according to Boone. My husband or ‘old man’ insisted he was the only one able to protect me from harm.

Something didn’t add up. Actually, nothing was adding up right.

I didn’t remember who I was or even a small piece of my life prior to Boone rescuing me in the woods. I’d had one lone memory, so far, showcasing Boone watching me at what had to be our swimming pool – pre-fire. But other than that brief vision, nothing, nada, zip. I was clueless.

That needed to change.

It was time for Boone to spill his secrets. I deserved to know what the hell was happening. My life was at stake. We had our two young sons to think about. His loyalty to his father and his club was borderline fanatical. I was his fucking wife, a wife he wouldn’t fuck until I remembered him.
What if my memory never returned?

The more I thought about that ridiculous new rule the more suspicious I became. Wives and husbands screwed around. Wouldn’t our sex games help me remember our relationship? Why would I be upset about enjoying sex with my husband?

My momentary calm had morphed into a swirling storm inside me. I was ready for a fight.

I flung the door open and marched into what had to be the cabin’s main room. The voices I’d heard were coming from a massive, flat screen TV mounted on the wall. Boone was stretched out on a leather couch, shirt off, his large frame filling the limited space. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing steadily.

My gaze locked onto his body, and I momentarily forgot my anger. I stood quietly, admiring his sleeping form. My husband was male perfection, every muscle defined, tempting me to touch.

I moved closer, walking as lightly as I could, finally reaching his side. The silver bars through his nipples begged to tugged, and I knew his tongue was home to a piercing that had tortured my pussy last night. I leaned over, prepared to kiss his strong jaw.

His hand shot up, and he squeezed my wrist so hard, I feared he’d crush the bone. A gun appeared in his other hand; he pointed it at my face.

“Boone!” I managed to cry.

He released my arm and bolted to his feet. “Fuck, Olympia! Don’t sneak up on me like that. I could have killed you.”

“What did you just call me?” I sputtered.
Who the hell was Olympia?
Probably one of the women he’d fucked.

Before he could answer, a video played across my mind.
I stood near the pool tables in a dark bar. Boone was across the room, next to a jukebox. Bent over the table was a blond woman. She clutched the table’s edge as Boone rammed into her from behind, fucking her like a pile driver. He slapped her ass hard, and she groaned so loud I could hear her over the blaring music. He held my gaze while continuing his onslaught.

Fury boiled up inside me. “You fucked that woman at the bar right in front of me. Her name was Olympia, wasn’t it? Don’t lie to me.” I jabbed my finger into his chest. “You were staring at me the whole time.”

He slid the gun into the back of his jeans. “What are you talking about? What bar? What woman?”

I had to admit, he looked genuinely baffled.

“How am I supposed to know? I can’t remember. I’m guessing you were fucking her for my entertainment, right?”

Instead of answering, he noticed what I was wearing, or wasn’t wearing. His gaze traveled over me, stopping at the juncture between my thighs. What sounded like an appreciative growl rumbled from his chest, sending a flood of heat to my core.

As hot as he made me, I wasn’t done. I needed answers. “Uh, hello…my face is up here. I have some questions. Let’s sit down and pretend that whole gun-in-my-face thing didn’t just happen.”

He shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts and then nodded. “Fine, ask away. I can’t guarantee I’ll answer, but I’ll do my best.”

I followed him to the kitchen. He poured a glass of Jack Daniels and added a few ice cubes from the freezer. I couldn’t help but notice we were well-stocked with food and other supplies. More questions invaded my mind, demanding answers.

I slipped into a chair at the nearby table, hoping to keep our conversation more formal, which was ridiculous, considering I was in my underwear and he was stalking around without a shirt. Thankfully, he followed my example, pulling out a chair across from me.

“Want a drink, babe?”

“Oh, I’m ‘babe’ now. A minute ago, I was Olympia Somebody. Before that, you were ready to put a bullet in my brain. Care to fill me in?”

“First, tell me about your memory. You had another flash, didn’t you?” He tilted the glass back, emptying the liquor.

Without thinking, I grabbed the glass and got up, pouring him another.

“Ice, babe. Just a few cubes,” he said softly.

I added the ice and sat back down, sliding the glass across the table.

“We were at a bar. You were over by the juke box, screwing some skanky older woman. She had nice tits. I was watching you from across the bar.”

Recognition altered his expression. He knew what I was talking about. I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t deny it either.

“You’re right. We were in the middle of a sex game. You wanted me fuck the bartender while I watched your reaction. You joined us later. It was one of our better nights.” He gave me a wolfish grin.

For some reason, I couldn’t imagine myself having a three-way with that strange woman. “I don’t believe it,” I contradicted. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“That’s my point, Sally. You, the new you, without her memory, wouldn’t do that. Which is why we’re holding off on sex of any type. You can’t remember what you enjoy.”

Slamming my palm on the table, I glared at him. “Being with you alone isn’t the same as screwing around with a stranger.”
God, he was so frustrating! Why couldn’t he see the difference?
“You know damn well what I enjoy! I enjoyed last night.”

A strange ringing interrupted our argument. He practically flew from his chair and was back in the living room, digging in the couch cushions. Yanking out a phone, he put it to his ear.

I could tell he was listening. He grunted a few times, once glancing my direction.

More secrets; he was getting information that effected my life, information he needed to share.

When he hung up a few minutes later, I was ready. I would remain calm and cool. “
Honey
, who was that?”

His brow rose. “New tactic, huh?” he joked, but I could tell he was worried about something.

“Please, tell me what is going on. Why can’t we talk to the ATF? They can help us,” I pleaded. “I need to know what’s happening. Was there another fire? When can we go back?” I realized too late that I was escalating again, firing questions at Boone before he could even answer.

“Whoa. Hold on. That was Bones. Just checking in. He brought us supplies earlier, when you were sleeping. Yes, there was a fire. A youth center burned down. As for the ATF, they can’t be trusted. They have their own agenda in all this. You’re safer with me. If anyone outside the club learns of your whereabouts, you will be in danger. I need you to trust me.”

“How can I trust you when you won’t tell me anything? I’m not even sure you’re my husband.” There, I’d finally said it.

I wanted concrete evidence of our ‘love’ as Twila had suggested. Two memories, and some casual assurances from people I didn’t even remember, were no longer enough. I deserved proof. If he could show me something official that confirmed our relationship, I would trust him with the rest of this mess.

Until then, I’d consider him a potential threat.

I thought about my kids. JV’s arms wrapped around me almost qualified as the proof I craved –
almost
, but not quite. Even kids, especially ones with a father like Boone, could be convinced to lie. As unlikely as that scenario was, I couldn’t be sure. I needed to be more aware, wary even, of Boone’s intentions.

His current intentions were no secret, as his gaze rested on my breasts, where it lingered. He was warring within himself about his stupid little ‘no touch’ rule.

If he wanted a war, I planned to fight dirty.

I rose up slowly, giving him a full view of my taut tummy. Making a show of it, I stretched and let out a little moan. “Hum-m-m, so what do we do now?”