by Sophia Gray
“I’m sorry for that,” Jagger said, and he realized that it was true. He hadn’t known how important nursing was to Abby until this morning, or why she had chosen to follow that career path. It was a way for her to feel strong, to feel like she was helping sick people, confronting her past without getting absorbed by it. It wasn’t like he felt sorry for trying to protect her, but he knew now how crucial it was to allow her to look after her patients. No wonder she was so pissed at him. He’d tried to prevent her from doing the one thing that made her feel useful.
“Really?” Abby asked, a little dubious. “You’re sorry?”
“I am,” Jagger replied. “It was fucked-up. I shouldn’t have done that. You… You were right.”
Abby was silent, sitting quietly in the seat next to Jagger as he sped on down the road toward the compound. “Will you take me to see them?” she whispered. “I don’t have a car.”
“Tony will,” Jagger said. “I’ve got to go to work.” By ‘work,’ he meant the investigation, but he hoped Abby would interpret it as another fire station shift. That way he wasn’t technically lying, but he could still avoid telling her the truth.
“Does Tony have a life?” Abby asked with a little laugh causing Jagger to smile brightly despite himself. It was nice to hear that sound coming from her. He wished he could hear it more often, among other things— but Jagger stopped that train of thought before he started imagining having sex with Abby again. There were no guarantees that that would ever happen again, so he couldn’t afford to obsess over it.
“Tony’s life is the club. He’s a Blaze, through and through. He’s the only one I trust,” Jagger said, shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat as he considered the truth of that statement. He’d grown so distant from so many people over the last year, and Tony was the last one left, the only one he hadn’t managed to push away with his obsession over the arsonist. “You can rely on him to protect you,” he finally said.
“Thank you,” Abby said softly, her voice coming out so light and fragile that it almost alarmed Jagger. “I—I really appreciate that. You, trusting me, I mean.”
The words stung because it wasn’t the truth. Jagger knew it, even if Abby didn’t. He didn’t trust her, not really. He needed her to stay put, away from the investigation, but at the same time, he needed her to be close, close enough that he could watch over her. He felt a little sick to his stomach that he’d lied to her so effectively. After everything, she was still able to trust him. Despite all the fires, despite Robert’s death, that was the thing that made Jagger the saddest. Somehow Abby still had the strength to believe in him, and he was abusing that belief, even if it was for a good reason.
Day by day, little by little, Jagger just hated himself more and more. He supposed that was the price he was willing to pay if it meant the people close to him were safe.
# # #
Abby
Abby finished up her appointment with her sickest patient, Mr. Benson. He was doing all right, but more likely than not he was going to die within the next six months. Abby resolved to make them as comfortable as possible for him. He deserved that, at the very least.
“Back to the club?” Tony asked, and she nodded before going up into his truck with him, leaning her head against the window as she sighed in exhaustion. It had been so long since she’d just relaxed. Abby wondered how the hell Jagger was functioning when she was so worn-out just from the past few days. She couldn’t imagine how he was handling the arsons on top of his regular job, in addition to participating with the MC’s business whenever he got the chance.
“How’s Jagger holding up?” She found herself asking Tony as he headed back toward the compound. Her curiosity had just gotten the better of her.
“You know, same as always,” Tony replied, coughing a little before clearing his throat. “He’s a tough dude.”
“Yeah, that’s for sure,” Abby said, thinking back on the sex they’d had the night before. Her body was still sore, aching in that pleasant way that filled her body with endorphins. She shivered a little, thinking about his hands on her body, the way he could throw her around and lift her up and hold her down, completely dominating her in every way. She never thought she would be into sex like that, the kind where she handed over control and let somebody else take the reins. But she was. Dear God, she was into it, and she was hungry for more.
Stop it, she said to herself. You’re not allowed to have more. One and done. No strings attached, that’s the only way sex works for you, okay? She’d been screwed over too many times by men. They weren’t worth the sweat off her body, let alone the mental energy she’d expended worrying if they were going to hurt her. She already knew the answer to that question. They would hurt her, always, every single time. Her exes, the male doctors she dealt with, her dad—they were all the same. She couldn’t afford to trust anyone, especially not a guy who acted as if he owned her even though they still barely knew each other.
“Still, though,” she said to Tony. “I don’t know how he does it. He’s doing another shift at the fire station even after doing a 24-hour one just the day before?” Her hours were hectic, too, torn between the hospital and her at-home visits, but she had two separate jobs to compensate for Mark stealing all her money. Was the fire department severely understaffed or something?
Abby turned in her seat to see Tony’s face screwed up in confusion. “What do you mean? He’s not at work today.”
“Yeah, he is,” Abby replied. “He told me he was going into work.”
Tony didn’t answer right away, focusing on traffic as he merged onto the highway. “Well, that’s weird,” he said a moment later. “He told me he had three days off from the department.”
Abby’s stomach turned over, burning up until bile painfully filled her throat. So, Jagger had lied to her. She didn’t know why she felt so surprised. He screwed her over, manipulating her just like she knew he would. But too bad for him, she had another trick up her sleeve.
She hadn’t only read his notes. She’d memorized them, word for word, letter for letter. She knew where the suspects were, reciting the addresses in her head over breakfast. She didn’t know why she had wasted time arguing with Jagger when she could have just gone to interview them herself. There was just something about him that was so infuriating, something that tugged her into these arguments without her brain’s permission. It was something about how protective he was. Jagger was the quintessential firefighter, busting into places he didn’t belong just to save a life. It was heroic, really, in the right context. However, in Abby’s life, it made her uncomfortable, as if someone was trying to force her to fit into clothing that was too small for her body.
I’m not used to being looked after, Abby realized. She supposed it was another way in which she was broken, some parts of her irretrievably lost, but it was just the way things were. She wasn’t going to let someone take care of her. The years for that had passed. Now she was an adult, and no matter how badly she wanted it, she wasn’t going to let herself have it. She was tough now. She wasn’t some weak little girl, dying of cancer in a hospital bed, all alone. That little girl had disappeared with her illness, and she’d come out of it stronger than ever. At least, that was what she told herself.
Maybe that was why she fought with Jagger so much. He reminded her that she wasn’t invincible. But today, at least, she was one step ahead of him, and she was going to exploit it.
“Hey, Tony,” she said after a long pause. “I just realized I have one more patient to check in with. Would you hate me if we turned around and headed toward Timber Drive?”
Tony sighed deeply. “How long is it going to take?” he muttered, clearly exhausted.
Well, he could toughen the fuck up, Abby thought, because this was going to take a while if everything turned out well. “Just a few minutes,” she lied. “This guy is just really old, you know, and he doesn’t have anybody anymore.” At least she assumed that was the case. Jacob Gartner was his name, one of the las
t suspects on Jagger’s list. Abby would figure out if he were responsible. She would prove it to Jagger, prove that she wasn’t just some sick little girl that needed to be taken care of. She would prove all of them wrong, all the men who had ever hurt her.
# # #
Jagger
Jagger pulled up to the driveway of Old Man Bruce’s shack, shutting off his engine but staying inside his vehicle for a moment to gather his thoughts. He felt a little sick, feeling a little bit like he was going to throw up. Am I nervous? He’s an old man by now. I can take him, Jagger thought, but he realized soon after that that wasn’t the problem. It was guilt. He felt guilty, for lying to Abby. No matter how hard he tried to justify it, he knew that’s what he did. He deceived her, letting her think that he trusted her when it was the opposite. Still, the deed was done, and there was nothing he could do to fix it now. Jagger sighed deeply and wiped the sweat from his forehead, trying to calm his thoughts so that they didn’t distract him from the matter at hand. He could beat himself up for this shit later. Right now, he had an arsonist to catch.
Jagger got out of his car and walked up to the front door, trying to seem as casual and relaxed as possible. He just needed the guy to talk to him. He wouldn’t open the discussion talking about the fires. He’d go the nostalgic route, talking about the good old days of Satan’s Blazes to get the guy to open up and let his guard down. Jagger knocked lightly on the front door, keeping his weight balanced in the heels of his feet in case he needed to make a break for it. He heard some rustling inside the house, not far from the other side of the door, but Jagger kept his face blank, calm, in case Bruce was looking at him through a window.
“Hello?” He called out. “Bruce? You in there, man? You remember me? Jagger, from Satan’s Blazes. Wanted to see if you could get lunch.”
A loud, hard banging noise erupted right next to Jagger’s ear, causing him to jump roughly a foot into the air. “Jesus,” he muttered, looking around to see if a car backfired. When he turned back around, he saw a small, symmetrical hole in the front door. Jesus, fuck, Jagger thought to himself, swallowing hard as he backed away from the door. Bruce had shot a hole through his front door.
“Bruce!” he called out, dropping the polite routine. “Bruce, everything’s okay. Just calm down. I just want to talk.”
Another shot rang out, this time through the top of the door, barely missing Jagger’s head. His heart sprang to life in his chest, painfully pounding as adrenaline flooded his veins. Every cell in his body was telling him to run, but he clenched his jaw and flexed his fists, staying put. “Bruce, just talk to me.”
“Get the fuck away from my property,” a rough, gravelly voice said on the other side of the door.
“Okay, okay,” Jagger said, backing away slowly with his hands raised in the air. He had no power here. Bruce held all the cards, or at the very least he was holding the gun. Jagger quickly went through his options in his mind. Bruce didn’t want to kill him, at least not like this, or he would have done it already. But he obviously knew something was up. He had to be involved somehow. Should Jagger go to the cops now? He was afraid that they’d take over the investigation without listening to him, and Jagger wouldn’t be able to make sure that the issue wasn’t dropped. He needed more information before turning the investigation over to the authorities. “Bruce, things will go a lot smoother for you if you just talk to me. Nobody’s got to get hurt here. We can just talk.”
“Get off my property right now, or I’ll pump your body full of lead,” Bruce growled, cocking his gun and sticking the tip out through one of the holes in the door. “Get in the car. Now.”
Jagger obeyed, sighing deeply as he walked back to his car. He seriously considered driving into the rickety shack, but he might kill Bruce that way. He’d have to come back later with back-up, maybe bring Tony along and break the door down, tie the guy up and interrogate him. It had been stupid of Jagger to come alone. Now he’d tipped off Bruce that he was onto him without getting any additional information. He didn’t even know if Bruce was involved, exactly. He was defensive, to be sure, but that could just be because of the bad blood between him and Satan’s Blazes. Jagger needed more proof before he called the cops. Hopefully, the second suspect, Jacob, would be open to conversation.
Jagger got into his car and quickly pulled out of the driveway, swallowing hard at the sound of another warning gunshot being sent over his car as he drove away. Jesus, that guy wasn’t messing around. Jagger sped off down the road in the direction of the second suspect’s house, only a few miles away.
On the ride over, Jagger couldn’t help but berate himself inwardly. He’d fucked up. He should have thought about things instead of just running in head first like he always did. Why am I so stupid? Jagger thought as he slammed his fists against the steering wheel. Why don’t I ever think before running into a goddamn burning building? There was something wrong with him, something defective. He was all heart, and no brain. Oh, well, at least Abby was safe. He’d managed to at least do one thing successfully, he figured.
By the time he rolled up to Jacob’s house, there was a car there already, one he recognized in the driveway. Tony’s.
What’s Tony doing here? Jagger wondered. He was supposed to be babysitting Abby, right? Oh. Realization dawned on Jagger like a sudden burst of frigid air. Abby was here. Abby was in danger. Oh, fuck no.
# # #
Abby
Abby saw Jagger before he saw her, she could tell by looking at his face as he put two and two together. Oh, shit, she thought silently, biting down on her lip. Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit. “Tony, do you mind doing me a huge favor?” she asked in a rush, clambering over to the backseat to try to avoid Jagger’s gaze as he zeroed in on Tony’s car. “Can you not tell Jagger that I’m here?”
“What? What do you mean?” Tony said, confused.
“I don’t have time to explain, just, please, let me hang out in the car and don’t say that you came with me, please,” Abby said quickly, ducking her head as Jagger started to stalk over.
“I don’t get it,” Tony said slowly, five steps behind.
“Oh, forget it,” Abby sighed, realizing that the battle was lost before it had even begun. She opened the back door of the car and stepped out, walking out to meet Jagger. “Hey,” she said, trying not to sound like she was a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar. She had done nothing wrong, right? It was Jagger’s fault for restricting her when it wasn’t his goddamn business to interfere in what she did.
“What the fuck?” Jagger spat, putting his hands on his hips. He looked so disappointed in her. To her horror, it hurt her feelings, seeing him frown at her. I shouldn’t care, she said to herself. I shouldn’t give a fuck. I don’t. I don’t give a single fuck.
“You said I was a part of the organization,” Abby said, jumping right into the middle of the argument. “I’m here to help. You said you needed me. Well, here I am.”
“Your mind. I need your fucking mind. I don’t need you to get blown up,” Jagger said, his voice rising in volume. Tony was still in the car trying to avoid the awkwardness of this situation, even though Abby was sure Jagger would give him an earful for this transgression later.
“Stop being so fucking dramatic,” Abby said, feeling herself scowl, screwing up her features in an ugly, twisted expression. She didn’t care, though. It wasn’t her job to look pretty, especially when she was pissed off. “They’re petty arsonists. They’re not criminal masterminds.”
“Doesn’t matter, Abby!” Jagger shouted, right in her face. “You know what just happened to me? I was just shot at by a goddamned lunatic. You think this is going to be any different? You think these former Blazes are nice little old men like your patients? They’re not. They’re hardened fucking criminals who like to hurt women. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
“Well, it’s clear that neither do you,” Abby shot back. “Or you would have fucking solved this shit by now. You’re doing such an exce
llent job of handling things on your own.” She knew that her sarcasm was harsh, but she couldn’t help herself. She was tired of being treated like a baby. She was at her wits’ fucking end. Abby was projecting a decade’s worth of frustration at Jagger, but as far as she was concerned, he deserved every bit of it.
“I know you have no fucking respect for me,” Jagger said between clenched teeth. “But do you have any fucking regard for your own life, like at all? You’re so fucking stupid, Abby!”
“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you,” Abby said, chuckling cruelly. She felt hot flashes of shame hit her right in the stomach, but there was no turning back now. She glared up at Jagger, waiting for him to say something else to set her off. Before he could, Tony stepped out of the car behind them.
“Um, guys?” Tony said tentatively, a little afraid to approach them in their angry state.
“What?!” Jagger and Abby said in unison, turning to stare at Tony expectantly, who just pointed at the house behind them.
