Taming Blaze (10 page)

I leaned against the door, grateful at the prospect of having some time to myself.  I was exhausted and pissed off at my father for sending me here and at Billy for being an asshole; and pretty much at the
entire world for everything.  Now Blaze, who I thought might be a good guy somewhere underneath all the biker shit, was just as much of a bad guy as my father.  One of his hired lackeys.

I knew I was acting like a prima
donna, exactly the way I’d never wanted to be.  It probably confirmed every preconceived notion he had about me, ideas he’d gotten from the fancy clothes and expensive car.  He thought I was a spoiled brat who had been given everything her entire life.  But that was true, right?  I had been given everything in life.  I had led a pampered existence in many ways. 

He just sees you for who you really
are, and that makes you upset.

No, that
wasn’t true.  I liked this place here in the middle of nowhere, away from everything.  It felt like him- safe, warm. 
How do you even know what he feels like?
The part of my brain that was always questioning everything jumped on board. 
You obviously misjudged him earlier.  Now you know he’s just like your father.

I couldn’t get the thought of
what my father was going to do to Billy out of my head.  He didn’t deserve to die, but my father would have him killed.  I wondered if it was already done, whether he had contracted Blaze to do it.  No, Blaze was stuck babysitting me.  His club, then.  Or he had hired some other lackey to do it.  Either way, whoever did it was a dead man.  Billy’s family would see to that.  They had the connections to make it happen.  They’d bring down anyone remotely associated with it.  A part of me hoped the Randolphs would come after my father.  I ached to see the look on his face when he was taken down.  I fantasized about being able to smile smugly and say, “See?  I told you so.  There are people in the world who are more powerful than you.  You are not invincible.”

Climbing into
bed, I pulled the covers over my head.  Right now, I just wanted to go to sleep and wake up when this was all over.

I didn’t make an appearance outside the bedroom until the next evening, too exhausted to do much of anything else once I had crawled into bed.  Blaze knocked on the door once, but got the message that I didn’t want to be bothered and never checked on me again.  It wasn’t like I could run away out here, not unless
I wanted to jog twenty miles.

I had to come out sometime, though, and the two of us were going to have to live together for the next- however many days we were going to be stuck together.  I needed to make the best of it.  What were we going to do to pass the time?  The thought of spending the next few days in bed with Blaze immediately flashed through my mind, and I had to actively shove it out of my head. 
No.
  Hooking up with someone who was one of my father’s business associates, a pawn in my father’s game?  No thanks.  I’d rather die.

Following the sound of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen,
I padded down the hall in a tee-shirt and jeans, my feet bare.  Blaze was at the stove, an apron tied around his waist.

“I wondered when you were going to come out,” he said.

“I was tired.”  It was the easiest explanation, easier to explain than existential angst.

“I figured as much.  I’m cooking up dinner if you’re hungry.”

“Okay.”  The answer was a resounding yes.  I was starving.  “Should I do something?”  I asked the question like we were a pair of old friends.  Or a couple cooking dinner together.

“Nope.  There’s wine on the table though, if you want it.  I don’t know much about wine, but I thought you might be more of a wine girl than a beer girl.”  It was another little dig at me and my upbringing. Wine was exactly what I needed right now, having to deal with him.

I poured a glass, grateful for the distraction.  It was awkward having a conversation with your kidnapper.  Correction - my protection detail. 

A little sex might cut the tension, though. 
I pushed the thought out of my mind, irritated with myself for even entertaining the idea.

Walking around the living room with my glass of wine, I perused the bookshelv
es.  “You have a lot of books.”

“Yeah, I read a little bit.”

I peered close to the shelves, reading the spines.  Homer, Faulkner, Buddha, Sun Tzu.  “This isn’t really biker reading.”  As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized how snotty they sounded.

In the kitchen, Blaze laughed. 
“What exactly is biker reading?”

“I don’t know.  ‘
10 Steps to Drug Running’
?” 
Damn it.
  I was trying to be funny, but it fell flat.

“I guess I’m not your stereotypical biker, then.”  Blaze set two plates on the table.  “Now, sit.  Eat.  I’ve seen what you can
pack away when you’re hungry.”

We made c
asual conversation in between lots of silence, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as I expected.  Maybe being confined here with him for a few days wouldn’t be as awkward and horrible as I thought.  I told myself I could get through it.

“So how did you get into doing this anyway?”  I curled up on the sofa, my feet tucked under my legs, watching Blaze from across the room as he cleaned up.  With food and half a bottle of wine in my stomach, I was feeling more relaxed and at ease.

“Your father wanted someone he could trust to watch you.  Someone outside his regular security group.”

“Oh, no- I could guess how you were the one roped into watching me,” I said.  “I meant how did you end up being an outlaw biker?  Didn’t you ever want to do anything else?”

Blaze grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat across from me.  “I didn’t have many other options.  After a couple years in juvie, I came out with nothing.  Bikes were my thing.  It was the natural order of the universe.”

“But you’re obviously sm
-” I started to say it, but realized it sounded completely pretentious.

“Smart?” Blaze laughed bitterly.  “Yeah, bikers can’t be smart, right?”

“That’s not what I was saying.”  I was, but the larger question was how he had been so stupid as to get in bed with my father.  That was the one I wanted answered.

“You didn’t have to say it.  I knew what you meant.”

We sat in silence, the room filled with tension.  Then Blaze stood and brought the wine bottle over, refilling my glass.

“Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?” The words came out more accusatory than teasing, and I
regretted saying them as soon as they left my mouth.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said.  “Business and pleasure don’t mix
, no matter how much you want them to.”

“Don’t worry,” I said.  “I wasn’t suggesting anything.  Once was more than enough.”

“It was more than once, if you remember correctly.”

I did.  I remembered it vividly.  It was burned on my brain.  I couldn’t get the thoughts of him out of my head, the way had me rough on top of the car, then tenderly at the hotel.  How could I forget?  I wanted to forget.  It would be easier to hate him.

Blaze spoke after a few minutes, breaking the tension.  “So you’re Guillermo Arias’ daughter.  Seeing you at the house was a real kick in the nuts.”

“You mean you didn’t know?” 
What if he knew who I was the whole time?  How could he not know, working for my father?

“Know what?  That you were his kid?”  He stopped.  “You think I somehow engineered
things so that you would run out of gas on the side of the road?  What, so that I could sleep with you and then bring you here?”  He was angry.  No, not quite angry.  Disappointed?  As soon as he said, I knew it had not happened that way.

“How would you not know, working for
him
?”  I spit the word out like poison.

“I haven’t been working for him,” he said.  “This is our first job.”

“Oh.” I sipped my wine.  “Oh.” 
Holy shit.
  My head was flooded with thoughts, faster and faster as I tried to piece things together.  “This is your club’s first job for my father.”

“Yeah,” he said.  “The fi
rst job and I’m the babysitter.”

I chose to ignore
what he'd just said and instead focus on more important things.  Like the fact that this guy was connected to my father, but not in the way I’d thought he was.  No, he was now connected to him in a way that might be really dangerous for him and his club.  Fear gripped my chest.  “Did my father ask you to kill Billy?”

“What if he did?”

“I’m not kidding around.  I’m asking because it’s important.  Are you going to kill him?”

“Not personally, but yeah, it’s a job.
”

“So
the club is going to kill him.”

Blaze shrug
ged.  “It’s a job, sweetheart.”

Anger boiled
up inside me.  “Stop calling me sweetheart.  It’s patronizing.”

“Well,
I'm just a stupid biker who doesn't have the extensive vocabulary you have, so I guess I just wouldn't know what the word
patronizing
means. 
Sweetheart
.”

Obviously he knew what
patronizing
meant.  I wanted to smack him.  Smack him for bringing me here.  Smack him for being a member of his stupid club.  Smack him for getting involved with my father.  And above all, smack him for not being smart enough to understand when he was being set up.

“Let me spell it
out for you in small words,” I said, my words punctuated with all the rage I’d been building up inside.  “Billy is not just some guy.  He’s not a college freshman from Iowa with a couple of farmers for parents.  Do you know what his last name is?”

Blaze just stared at me,
the muscles in his face flexing as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

“His last name?  It’s Randolph.”  I could hear my voice getting louder now, and I struggled to keep it under control. 
Keep calm,
I told myself.

Blaze’s face paled
.

“Does that ring any bells,
sweetheart
?” I asked.

“Randolph.  Are you sure?”  He was suddenly much less cocky now.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure.  Do you understand what I’m talking about?  
The
Randolphs.  Your club was tagged with killing Billy Randolph.  How do you not know who he is?”

“Mad Dog agreed to it.  W
e didn’t have the details yet.”

“Is your club in the habit of agreeing to shit without having all the facts?”

Blaze sighed.  “It’s probably already done.”

“How would the club do it without knowing who he is?”

“Mad Dog is not exactly up on politics, you know.  Even if they told him Billy’s name, I’m not sure he’d put two and two together.”

“No one in the club watches the news?”

Blaze shrugged.  “They’re not brain surgeons.  I wouldn’t trust them to figure it out.  It was just supposed to be a hit on some college kid.”

“Just a hit, right?  So this is the kind of shit you do all the time?  This is who you are?”  I was angry with him for being exactly who I feared he was.