by SE Chardou
Pyro hated coming home to an empty home but neither his sister nor Mira were anywhere to be seen. He walked up to his suite, shed his clothes and took a long, hot shower before he decided a few miles on the treadmill might help make him tired enough to go to sleep.
It made no difference to him it was shorty after seven in the morning. The last forty-eight hours, he’d gotten less than six hours sleep, and he was mentally and physically exhausted though wired at the same time. It was an awful combination, and something only exercise would cure. He needed to shut his brain down and get some shuteye before he went stir crazy.
He’d just changed into a pair of track pants and a white tank top when he heard the garage door open below.
Pyro had no idea what those two were up to but he would get down to the bottom of it before he worked out. They were supposed to be each other’s support network, not a damn party and shopping team.
He double-timed it down the stairs at the same moment Estelle and Mira walked through the garage door and closed it. Although his sister was dressed casual, Mira was dressed to the nines though by the look on her face, it had been one rough night. Her makeup was smudged and she looked like she’d been through hell, including a bruise on one arm while the other clutched her stomach like it ached.
“What the fuck is going on?” Pyro asked in a low yet threatening tone. “I come home, and neither of you are here. Then when you do show up, you both look like death warmed over. Estelle, start talking me down or neither of you are gonna want to know what will happen.”
“Maarten,” she said as she held up her hands in protest, “it’s not how it looks, okay? Fernando is dead, and there was no way I would allow Mira to do it alone so I helped out but I didn’t do anything.”
He glared at his old lady who looked like she was going to faint any minute.
Fuck!
This was bad.
Very. Fucking. Bad.
Any sort of leniency he could have bought for Mira was gone because she’d done the job she’d been hired to do. Yet he’d waited too late to let her know the real reason why she’d been brought into the situation.
“Tell me you’re joking,” Pyro whispered.
“Do I look like a joke to you?” Mira spoke out loud as she walked over to him. “He raped me, imprisoned me, and I put three bullets into his fucking skull this morning before your sister picked me up and we got the fuck out of there.”
His heart felt like it stopped beating. “He did what?”
“He raped me,” she said again, those icy blue eyes filled with tears that tumbled down her face and all he wanted to do was take her into his arms and embrace her.
How could he have let her down so horribly?
Eve knew Fernando was a loose cannon; Mira was hardly his first victim but she’d made sure she’d be his last.
Pyro closed the distance between them before he embraced her tightly as she sobbed in his arms. “I didn’t want to kill him but I couldn’t let him get away with it again. He’s done it too many times. He deserved to die. We both know that, don’t we?”
He looked into her red-rimmed eyes and nodded his head. “Yeah, he deserved it, and we’ll figure this whole situation out. Tell me, can this be traced back to you?”
“We have the gun, Maarten.” Estelle dug inside Mira’s purse and handed it to him wrapped in a scarf. “She wore a blonde wig, green contacts and pretended to be another escort hired for his birthday bash.”
“There weren’t any bodyguards around this morning when I left. It was like the place was . . . deserted.” She placed her head on his shoulder again before her arms wrapped around his waist. “Please tell me you forgive me? I . . . couldn’t take it if you didn’t want me because of what he did to me.”
Pyro held her even harder against him as one of his hands stroked her hair. “How is any of this your fault? You did the job you were hired to do, and look how much you’re suffering behind it. You’re not to blame, baby, and I would never ever look at you any different after what that monster put you through. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“So am I. If we were smart, we wouldn’t have attempted to do this without you.” She held on tighter to him. “I was just so tired of it hanging over my head. I did what I had to do, and what I was hired to do but if I’d been smart, I never would have accepted the job in the first place. I don’t want to kill people for a living, Maarten—I’m not cut out for it.”
He kissed the top of her head. “You won’t have to either, not as long as you stay by my side. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Mira looked at him again, and he realized how beautiful she was with her clear olive complexion, gorgeous features and yet how vulnerable she was at the same time. All he wanted to do was protect her at that moment, and he would be damned if she’d end up just another casualty in one of Eve’s notorious RICO cases. He was willing to put his job on the line for her.
For the first time in his life, he was in love, and to be without her was a life not worth living at all.
“I promise you, babe, nothing is going to happen to you. I’ll be here for you, no matter what I have to do. I give you my solemn vow.”
She nodded her head before she whispered, “Thank you. I . . . I . . . love you, Maarten.”
“Baby, don’t you know I love you too?” He kissed the side of her head and continued to hold her close.
Estelle walked by them before she whispered in his ear, “I think you better tell her the truth before you lose her.”
His ice blue eyes glared into his sister’s brown eyes before she walked up the stairs past them.
As much as he resented her statement, she was right.
It was time for Mira to know the truth.
Pyro slept with Mira wrapped in his arms for almost twelve hours before they resurfaced, showered together and made love. At first he felt guilty the moment his hands outlined her breasts but she placed her hands over his.
“Make it all go away. I want to believe last night never happened,” she said as the water cascaded down her face.
He grabbed the body wash and soaped her pussy before cleaning it with a handheld showerhead. His fingers explored her and slid inside her as she gasped and held on to him with both hands.
“Fuck me, Maarten. Make all the pain go away.”
Pyro lifted her up and slid inside her slowly at first. Their first kiss was deep, and animalistic as her tongue claimed his before she lightly bit his bottom lip.
He couldn’t help himself after that. She felt too good for him to stop, and before he knew it, he thrust inside her with long, hard deep strokes. Her walls clung to him and were wet for him the longer and deeper he fucked her. He kissed her and took control of their love making as her nails scratched up and down his back in long, broad strokes.
Mira moaned low and throaty as he worked her clit with his fingers before she came, clenching her pussy around his cock with a tight grip he couldn’t fight, and he climaxed inside of her as he continued to fuck her.
Afterwards, while they dressed casually for dinner, she bowed her damp head. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. I haven’t even gotten tested yet for anything. What if I . . . gave you something? That was so fucking irresponsible of me. I’m so sorry.”
Pyro sat beside her on the bed and kissed her on the mouth. “Listen to me, Fernando didn’t have anything. As big of a manwhore as he was, he knew who to bareback with and who to use protection. You’re safe.”
“From disease but . . . not from pregnancy.” She looked at him with those gorgeous ice blue eyes that matched his own. “I’m not on anything. The night I came here, I flushed my birth control pills down the toilet because I was hoping . . . praying . . . I’d get pregnant by you. I know you’re a good man and you wouldn’t leave me or abandon your child. I knew then you would keep me whether you really wanted me or not. I just never wanted to go back, and I was willing to do anything to see it wouldn’t ever happen.”
“I’m not talking about Fernando,” Mira snapped. “I’m talking about how I was willing to trap you because I knew you found me attractive and would eventually sleep with me—don’t you understand that? That’s not fair to you and it’s awful I’m repeating my mother’s mistakes all over again. A kid can’t trap a guy or make him love you but . . . I knew you were different, and family meant everything to you. No way would you abandon your own child.”
“True but if I was that concerned then I should have worn a condom, babe. Birth control isn’t just up to the woman, you know. I could have taken precautions but to be honest, I didn’t care. I still don’t. If you happen to give me an untreatable disease like herpes or warts or God forbid, HIV, then we are stuck with one another. I knew the risks and yet I behaved just as irresponsibly as you did so don’t you dare put this all on yourself. I am an adult, you know.” Pyro smiled before he kissed her again.
She chuckled before she touched her forehead against his. “Everyone knows men never grow up. You guys are just little boys in adult bodies. It’s always a woman’s responsibility.”
“No. It isn’t, and I knew exactly what I was getting into. I will not let you blame yourself for something that we should both be held responsible for.”
“Where the hell are you from? No way are you a classic, alpha American male. You’re answering all the wrong questions way too right. I don’t believe you,” Mira whispered before she bit his earlobe.
“I swear I’m an alpha American male but that doesn’t mean I have to fall in line and be an asshole, does it?” Pyro stood and pulled her into his arms. “Now put on your top so we can go out to dinner. If you keep walking around in that sexy bra, we’ll never leave this suite because I’ll just eat you out and that’ll be my dinner.”
She smacked his clothed chest. “Nope, never gonna happen. I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon and I’m starving. Feasting on your cock just won’t be enough.”
His iPhone rang in his jeans pocket and he pulled it out, grimacing before answering, “Yeah?”
“Are you and your hillbilly girlfriend planning to turn up any time soon? I’m not exactly the Gordon Biersch restaurant type,” Eve replied crisply.
“We’re on our way now.”
She laughed on the other end. “This is absolutely perfect, Maarten. Just because you and your bros landed a golden goose doesn’t give you a right to waste taxpayer’s money. If you’re not here in a half an hour, I’m gone and there will be no deal for your little precious piece of trailer park trash.”
Pyro’s ears burned as he opened to his mouth to reply before he realized she’d hung up the phone. He shoved the phone back into his pocket.
“Come on, babe—they’re gonna give up our table if we don’t get there soon.”
Mira walked over to him in a bright red lace top, which matched her designer shoe-boots yet complimented the pair of skinny indigo jeans she wore. “Since when do you need reservations for Gordon Biersch?”
“I guess it’s a new policy.” He grabbed her by the waist and kissed her neck. “Or, a policy I made up because if we don’t leave now then we’re not going to leave.”
She shook her head as she grabbed her handbag. “You’re incorrigible, Mr. Reynolds but I love you anyway.”
“Mmm, the way you say that sounds so sexy. Maybe I should think about making you Mrs. Reynolds.”
“Weren’t you the one who reminded me we haven’t been together long enough to tell each other our dirty little secrets yet all the sudden you want to marry me? One step at a time, dearest heart.”
Pyro grabbed her hand nearest to him and held it firmly within his own. “There’s time to change lots of rules before the end of the night, don’t you think?”
“If you say so, baby.” Mira smiled at him, and he was reminded of everything he had to lose if she left him.
Chapter Sixteen
Mira
On the way to the restaurant, Pyro and I joked and laughed more than we ever had. I didn’t know what had gotten into him but he made me feel that much better about my situation.
It was Estelle who’d convinced me to tell her brother Fernando had raped me instead of being truthful and admitting although it wasn’t a hundred percent consensual, I wasn’t exactly fighting him off at the moment we’d closed escrow. Of course it was tomato/tomahto—what difference did it make? I would have never slept with him willingly under any circumstances if I’d been sober. I had a job to do and I justified my little white lie in the easiest way I could to myself.
Besides, what would telling the love of my life the truth do to help my situation except hurt him? It was the right decision to do and in the end, I wasn’t sorry at all. I’d even stopped feeling bad about killing the bastard too. He deserved it after all. If anyone deserved to die and had cheated death way too many times, it was Fernando. I’d done the world a favor and should have been given a medal of honor for ridding the world of trash like him. He’d brought more misery and mayhem on more people than I could possibly fathom, and the world was a better place without him.
“Come on, space cadet, we’re here.”
I looked over at Pyro as he turned off his truck and opened the door.
“Sorry, I guess I zoned out there for a moment,” I replied before I smiled at him and opened my door.
“No worries. I told you we had to get here in a half an hour and we have exactly five minutes before I kidnap you and throw you back into the car. Your pussy tastes better than the finest pilsner Gordon Biersch serves.”
I smacked his hands away from around my waist. “Nice try, Romeo, but I’m starving and I don’t believe anything you say right now because you’re just trying to make up for lost time.”
“I am.” He stared into my eyes sincerely and I felt like they mirrored my own. I kissed his lips quickly before I wiped my lip-gloss off them.
“You’re amazing.” I reached for his hand as he reached for mine and we walked inside Gordon Biersch together.
The server approached us with a big smile on her face but he flashed something at her quickly. “Sorry, we’re joining a party that is already seated. I know where she is.”
“Yes, sir,” she said as her eyes grew large and stepped out of our way.
“What was that about?” I tugged Pyro’s hand. “What you got there? Some kind of VIP card for Gordon Biersch?”
“It’s best you sit down before I show you anything, Mira.” His voice changed and seemed more professional and less intimate. It was almost as if he were trying to create distance between us though we continued to hold one another’s hand.
Something didn’t feel right and it was confirmed the moment we walked to a table where a polished woman of indeterminate age sat down, one elegant finger tracing the rim of her dirty martini glass.
“Good God, Maarten, you’re really testing my patience. What the hell are you on? CPT or what? I don’t have all the time in the world even if you want to act like you do.”
“CPT is Colored People’s Time . . . isn’t that a bit racist?” I questioned as I raised an eyebrow at this gorgeous, olive skinned beauty with the most beautiful hazel-green eyes I’d seen in my life.
“Oh, look at you, Ms. Mira Clarkson—aren’t you just so politically correct despite the white supremacist background you were brought up in? I know what CPT stands for, and my ethnic background is French Creole so I can use slang from some of my ancestors—or shall I say our ancestors—since it seems like your mother had more than the touch of the tar brush though you waltz in here looking like Jessica Biel’s younger sister.”
“Mmm, and here I was thinking maybe Nancy Pelosi was your mother,” I muttered underneath my breath.
“I’d cut out the insults if I were you. Especially since your life is in my hands from here on out.” She pointed at us both. “Sit down. Maarten, you are so on my bad side right now, you don’t want to try me so I would do what I tell you to do.”
It clicked right then and there for me.
They were Feds. Both of them. I was guessing maybe ATF or U.S. Marshals but they definitely belonged to a government agency.
All this time, the rumors about the Lucifer’s Saints had been true.
It had become an urban legend amongst one percent clubs but many thought the Saints were actually informants for the Feds, slowly bringing down all their enemies until they and a few chosen clubs who also cooperated with the government from time to time were left standing. Then the Feds would sit back and watch them tear each other to shreds.
It made no difference to them. Eventually, the one percenters would be wiped out or only have such a small modicum of power they would be nothing but an afterthought in the history of outlaw organizations.
The Feds had decided to do to outlaws what they’d done to the Cosa Nostra—also known as the most powerful Sicilian Mafia families in the United States—and if they could bring whole families down then it would be much easier for brother to turn against brother. After all, most one percent outlaws didn’t believe in the Code any longer. It was no longer about brotherhood but how much money could be made. That all went by the wayside the moment the MCs discovered illegal ways to make money involving drugs, gunrunning, prostitution and human trafficking. There wasn’t much some or all outlaw clubs wouldn’t do as long as it kept the money rolling in, and the top guys—founding members and old time club members—in the dough.
The MCs had basically become a pyramid scheme with the prospects on the bottom, promised money, women and power if they could just make it into the club. Once they became patched in members, they were still grunts but they worked for the patched titled members—the President, the VP, Sergeant at Arms, Road Captain, Treasurer and Secretary.
