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

by Riley, C. L.

  “See how easy that was,” Ringo said, his sarcasm thick with uncontained hatred and promises of violence to come. “Remember how I told you I would teach you to respect men?”

  “You started the fire?” I whispered again. How can someone so attractive be so utterly evil?

  “Did I say you could ask questions, kitten?”

  I shook my head, waiting for another slap.

  “Let me lay out the law, if I may. I ask the questions; you answer. I tell you to do something; you do it. Follow those rules and you just might survive, though I wouldn’t count on it.” He chuckled, sounding deranged.

  “I’m sure you want to know where you are and if my club is involved. As you’ve probably guessed, my brothers have no clue what I’m up to. I told them I needed a week or two to get my head straight. They were happy to honor my request. As for the fire… No. That’s not my style. I don’t make hurting kids a habit. Did I mention your bodyguards were idiots?”

  I shivered at the implication. Were. Meaning they were no more?

  “You cold, little kitten? I could warm you up.”

  I shrank away from him, not bothering to hide my horror.

  “Oh kitty kitty, I will make you purr. You can count on it. I promise you’ll forget Boone Richards and that ATF agent the first time I slam my cock inside your cunt. I’m not going to force you, so go on and take a breath. I’m going to make you beg for it.”

  I struggled to sit on the floor, meeting his gaze. “You sick fuck,” I hissed, no longer able to stay silent.

  This time he hit me so hard, I saw stars.

  “You will respect me. If you have to fear me first, so be it.”

  The world continued to lurch and spin. Eventually, I heard him walk away. Somewhere in the room, a door clicked shut, and a lock engaged.

  Alone at last, I rolled over and vomited. A few seconds later, I passed out, face planted in my puke.

  Boone

  “We have to find Sal…I mean Olympia!” I paced around the table, daring my brothers to say otherwise. “The arsonist has her. He must. The boys watched a masked assailant drag her away. Joey’s pretty sure he covered her mouth with something. I’m guessing chloroform or a related substance knocked her out.”

  Someone pounded on the thick door that separated the room we used for church from the rest the clubhouse. Interrupting a meeting was a dire offence without a life or death reason.

  Eggs got up to see who the unlucky offender was.

  Tweaker hovered outside the room; looking like an actual ‘tweaker’ as he shuffled from foot to foot.

  “What is it?” Eggs demanded, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

  “The mayor and that ATF dude are here. They want to talk to you guys. I told them you were in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed, but they said it was urgent. The Police Chief is with them too, but no other law enforcement.”

  Bones glanced at me. I shrugged, too curious to protest. Maybe they had news about Olympia.

  “Bring em’in,” Bones instructed. “Search them first and take away any weapons. Make sure to unload them.” Tweaker gave a quick chin up signal and jogged away.

  “Is he using again?” Crusher asked. “Seems like he’s tweaking, no pun intended.”

  Bones answered, “He gets like this sometimes. So much meth in his brain when he was younger made him half crazy. He’ll be all right.”

  I struggled to contain my anxiety. The woman I loved was in danger and Crusher was worried about Teaker tweaking, fucking ridiculous. We needed a plan to find her and fast.

  Conner Mills walked in first, the mayor right behind him, with Chief Wells bringing up the rear.

  “You can’t take away my federally issued weapon,” Conner complained.

  Bones raised his hand. “No outsider comes into our meetings armed. Those are the rules. I’m guessing this isn’t an official visit?”

  Mayor Olsen silenced his future son-in-law with a glare. “Just shut up for once,” he added, shocking everyone. “And it is far from official,” he clarified.

  Stepping up to the table, the mayor took a minute to meet our gazes. “You all know about the school fire and Olympia’s abduction.” He nodded at me. “Thanks to your kids, we have a good description of the assailant, minus his face, and a summary of what happened. It’s a miracle no children were killed. I’m here, off the record. I need your help. We need your help.” He glanced at Conner, who nodded somewhat reluctantly.

  “You are not starting these fires. We know that for certain now, not that I ever believed you were. Whoever is setting them has my little girl, my only child. That person has killed my wife and likely yours.” Again he locked eyes with me. “This latest tragedy confirms he has no regard for anyone.”

  My heart rate accelerated. It was the first time anyone in an official capacity had even hinted that Rita’s death might have involved foul play. In the past, I would have felt vindicated, but now, all I wanted was Olympia home safe and the arsonist punished for his heinous crimes. Burning him at the stake seemed like a reasonable solution.

  “This arsonist is after my family and yours, Mr. Richards. We don’t know what the connection is, but we want you to help find it.”

  “Maybe you could start by telling us who that mystery man at your house was,” I suggested somewhat sarcastically.

  “I can’t tell you that. Even coming here is a risk. No one can find out you’re helping us. Just the fact I’m here could endanger my daughter. I’ll pass you information, when it is safe.”

  I almost scoffed. When is it ever safe?

  “Can you give us any specifics?” Bones pressed. “Something for our guys to go on.”

  Once again the mayor glanced my direction. “Your son has more clues than he realizes.”

  What clues? It’s not like I’m Sherlock Holmes.

  “And the chief has additional details about the school fire to share. Conner and I will be leaving. I don’t think I need to express how important it is to find my daughter and keep our collaboration confidential.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing this if my future wife’s life wasn’t at stake,” Conner added, his tone reflecting his displeasure.

  Coming to us for help probably chapped his hide raw.

  He caught me glaring and returned the sentiment.

  I didn’t trust him or the agency he worked for, or his proclamation about “his future wife.” What a load of shit. He was one smooth motherfucker. I suspected he had a ton of useful information that he was unwilling to part with, regardless if that information might help us find Olympia.

  Because of this mistrust, I intended to have Spyder dig up everything he could find about Seal’s Cove’s uncontested hero. I should have done it sooner, but I’d been distracted with everything Olympia.

  My mind flashed to how she’d looked outside the school this morning, so beautiful, elegant in her designer suit.

  My gaze followed Mills and the mayor on their way out. The wall clock above the door gave me pause. It was already 7:00pm.

  How did Olympia look now, hours after her abduction?

  I couldn’t stand to even think about what she might be enduring.

  For certain I’d find the fucking arsonist and kill him. If he harmed her in any way, I’d make sure he begged me to end his existence. Ringo and his team weren’t the only fuckers who knew how to torture and kill. The only difference between us: I didn’t enjoy taking lives. Though, in this case, I’d relish my role.

  Speaking of Ringo and the Guardians…

  “Bones, you gonna connect with Rowdy about the school fire?” I already knew the answer.

  “I’m meeting with him tomorrow. Despite your beef with his Road Captain, they want to help. Ringo’s on a run, anyway. Let’s talk about my plans for that meeting now. It’s item two on our agenda. Then Chief Wells can update us.”

  While he rambled on about partnering with our former enemy in order to catch the killer, I envisioned Olympia and all we’d been through in suc
h a short time. If I’d told her the truth from the beginning, could we have avoided this nightmare? Or would it have just happened sooner without my interference?

  Obsessing on what might have been wouldn’t get my girl back. So in response to the mayor’s cryptic ‘Boone has clues’ message, I grabbed a notebook and nearby pencil. Putting my natural artistic talents to use, I started a sketch of the mystery man.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling he was a key player, and that we’d met before ever crossing paths at the mayor’s home.

  Mayor Olsen needed to spill his secrets, and I intended to make that happen. We didn’t have extra time to play who’s who. We needed answers fast.

  Olympia’s life depended on it.

  Pyro

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I paced to my window, staring down at the beach.

  People strolled by, a dog chased a Frisbee, and a group of teenagers were body surfing, all enjoying a late September afternoon. If only my life could be so simple.

  My mission didn’t allow for beach strolls and body surfing. I accepted that. I had a purpose that surpassed any lingering desires for trivial pursuits. It was imperative I stay alert and focused on my goals.

  I’d almost lost control of Mayor Olsen the day Olympia had appeared out of nowhere. It had taken some serious persuading and threats to regain my hold, with yesterday’s school blasts serving as the ultimate reminder for who was in charge of Seal’s Cove’s fate.

  Fifty-seven kids had been injured, many seriously, and four teachers had perished in my little reminder. The ATF, FBI, as well as, state and local police forces had converged on the quiet beach town. I’d need to lay low for awhile and focus on finding who had actually taken Olympia from right under my nose.

  I’d been so close to reaching her when the masked stranger had slipped in and accomplished what I’d been attempting for months.

  At least this time, everyone was convinced ‘The Arsonist’ had snatched her, ensuring the mayor would stay quiet about anything he thought he might know, in order to keep her safe and stop future fires. He still had no clue to my true identity. The disguises I’d acquired were top notch, created by one of Hollywood’s premiere costume designers.

  My main concern was Boone Richards, the Soul Scorchers Vice President. I wasn’t certain, but I could almost swear there had been a flash of recognition when he’d first noticed me at the mayor’s mansion. Even so, I doubted he would ever guess my real identity. The only person who could was too caught up in his own drama to put the pieces together. He’d always been slow to make connections.

  The big question was Olympia’s whereabouts. She was one unlucky bitch. Or maybe she could be considered lucky…depending how you looked at things. She kept escaping my fiery traps, something no other target had managed, which would make her capture all the more satisfying.

  What if she ends up dead before I can get to her?

  “She won’t,” I said to the empty room.

  An image of the burning school caught my attention on TV. The victim’s photos were being displayed. I waited to see if my two targets were on the injured list. The bombs had been set near their classrooms, but I hadn’t had as much time to prepare as I would have liked.

  I grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

  The news anchor was sharing information about a special memorial planned for the wounded and hospitalized students, and for the teachers who had died. I’d make sure to attend and enjoy the collective grief I’d caused. Then I’d find a whore to handle my other urges.

  The Richard boys’ pictures were not featured, indicating they’d escaped unscathed. I didn’t consider their survival a failure, not really.

  Toying with them would be far more enjoyable.

  With that in mind, I headed to the bathroom to alter the handsome face I’d been born with. Too bad I couldn’t just be me for the world to see.

  Someday I would take credit for my hard work.

  Someday soon.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read the second installment in Boone and Olympia’s story. If you enjoyed their adventure, would you consider leaving a review on both Amazon and Goodreads? Your comments can really make a difference in helping readers choose what books to read.

  There is much more to come with Boone and Olympia’s journey. The next book in the series is Firestorm. Following Firestorm, the series concludes with s Fireworks . I promise Olympia and Boone will get their Happily Ever After! You can watch for release details on my blog or Facebook pages. I’d love for you to visit me on my social media sites. Drop by. Say hello! I make every effort to respond to all inquiries.

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  You can email me at AuthorRiley77@aol.com

  And don’t forget to check out my dark fantasy romance: More alpha males! Just $.99 or FREE for Kindle Unlimited.

  Bottle Banished: Dreaming of Genie:

  Prologue

  San Francisco, CA 1977

  Genie

  “No! Please!” Genie pleaded, her panic rising.

  She’d been so careful, cautious to the point of paranoia. “Don’t do this. I will serve you well. I will grant you a wish, any wish.” She struggled to find her tormentor’s one hidden desire. A desire she alone could fulfill.

  Until this moment, where others had failed, she had managed to avoid bottle banishment.

  Genie prided herself on her ability to stay at least one step, preferably more, ahead of the hunters. She’d survived to 1977 without losing her freedom. It seemed after centuries, her luck had at last run out.

  How could I have been so blind?

  Trapped inside the dreaded ring of chalk-drawn runes and magical sigils, she was defenseless. Her own magic rendered useless by an ancient spell, cast with assurance, by the smirking hunter gripping her future glass prison in his hand. This hunter, she guessed, was not government sanctioned. His methods appeared less refined, though just as effective. She hated to imagine what he had in store before imprisoning her.

  “I sense your fear,” he chuckled, sounding crazed. “See this bottle? You, my beauty, are going inside, where you will stay. I hope you have a strong stomach. I’ve heard ocean waves…”

  “Just do it! You offend me!” Her voice wavered despite the brave words.

  As a creature of fire, she despised water. To be water bound for eternity was a genie’s worst nightmare. The hunter wanted her to suffer.

  His jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed. “I’m tempted to tear that ridiculous harem outfit off and ruin you like your kind ruined my family.”

  Genie gasped, stunned by his revelation. She forgot her precarious position long enough to ponder his words. One of her brethren had clearly harmed this hunter’s family, driving his desire for revenge. Never had she hurt a human or used her powers for evil.

  Why must I be punished for another’s crime?

  “Don’t like that idea, do you? Be glad I’m not into whores, even pretty ones.” Extending the bottle, his gaze hardened. With conviction, he chanted the words every genie feared and hoped to never hear, confirming what she suspected.

  Nothing she could offer would stop him.

  A sudden explosion knocked her back. She hit hard against the circle’s border, the impact ripping the air from her lungs; still, the hunter’s wards held strong. The resulting flash stole her vision just before another blast created a whirlwind, erasing her human body and turning her to smoke. Sucked into the glass prison, she landed with a thud, her rump hitting the bottle’s floor, firing a spike of pain up her spine. She had morphed into a three inch version of herself.

  Forcing her eyes open, she was met with a harsh reality. Unlike a certain popular television show, featuring a genie and astronaut, her bottle wasn’t furnished with plush sofas and colorful cushions. It was barren, boring, and lacked any comforts. The sole thing keeping Genie from complete panic was the awareness that once sleep fo
und her, she wouldn’t awaken again unless the bottle was uncorked.

  That might be a long time coming, if ever.

  “Ouch!” she cried, hating how squeaky her voice sounded as she bounced from one side to the other, slamming against the glass. Her captor intended to make her final journey an unpleasant one.

  When at last her purple prison splashed into the water, she was too banged up to worry about his wave-warning. She scanned her surroundings a final time, noticing the gleam of gold lettering etched around the bottle’s exterior. Unable to make sense of the writing, she hung her head, giving into despair.

  To her relief, the rocking motion soon lulled her closer to sleep rather than causing the promised sea sickness.

  Closing her eyes for the last time, she accepted her fate.

  Chapter One

  Portland, OR 2014

  Reid Romans

  The quarter tossed in his old Dodgers cap was accompanied by a kick in the shin and a half-demand half-question, “Get a job, why don’t you?” Laced with disapproval, the words were a variation on the same ones he’d heard at least a thousand times since starting his street begging business.

  He didn’t bother replying. They didn’t care. No one did, not really.

  Well, maybe the local street preachers. At the very least, they were concerned about his soul’s salvation. And Bob down at The Mission; he’d been known to utter a kind word or two during mealtimes. But Reid Romans wasn’t looking for the type of help Bob and his ilk offered. He’d been there and tried that route, more than once.

  When it came to the step where he was supposed to confess all his wrongdoings to a trusted confidant, he’d inevitably find himself hunched over a bar complaining at the man behind the counter rather than spilling his sordid secrets to some reformed drunk at a meeting or priest in a box. He’d yet to find a better confessional than a spot on a stool at a well-stocked bar. The right bartender listened without judgment and understood when a refill rather than a reply was best. Skills Reid admired.