Page 42 of Bolt's Flame
“Here we go,” Chain muttered, standing and nodding to me. “The big lizards are slithering into our secret party.”
I stood up, my hand instinctively going to my sidearm as the roar of motorcycles grew louder. The mood shifted in an instant, the laid-back banter giving way to the cold, focused intensity that came with club business.
It didn’t matter how many times we did this, the fear of dying crept into the back of your mind, wondering if this was your night.
“Let’s see what these assholes are up to,” I growled, my mind still buzzing with thoughts of Fiona, but now the adrenaline was kicking in, making me focus on the here and now. Whatever was going to happen next, I had to be ready.
As we mounted up, the night was thick with anticipation. The distant growl of the Dragon Fire MC’s engines sounded like thunder rolling in, each rumble a promise of the storm to come. Chain was first to take off, his bike kicking up a spray of dirt that scattered across the road like a warning shot. I followed suit, keeping my bike steady as we trailed the distant lights. We all fell into formation, riding as one, a shadow moving through the night.
Every sense sharpened as we closed in on them. The lights of their bikes flickered in and out, like the red eyes of a beast waiting to strike, while Chain’s gaze never wavered, locked on the targets ahead. He glanced over his shoulder, signaling with a quick jerk of his head. I knew what it meant—no turning back.
Chain’s eyes were fixed on the road as he spoke into the comms we all had in our helmets for times like this. “Keep close, but keep your distance. We’re not here to make noise unless we have to.”
We nodded, and I could feel the adrenaline tightening my grip on the handlebars as we moved down the highway, our lights off. The shadows of the road crept over us, giving just enough cover as we followed the trail of the Fire Dragon MC, their lights bobbing ahead like specters, leading us into the unknown.
“Stay sharp, brothers,” Thunder’s voice crackled through the comms, rough and ready. I kept my gaze glued to the shapes ahead, counting bikes. Four...six...eight...damn, they were running a full convoy tonight.
“Looks like they’ve brought the whole circus,” Mystic muttered. “Guess they’re expectin’ trouble.”
Chain shot back, “Not tonight, but soon.”
The convoy of bikes suddenly veered left, off the main road and down a back path surrounded by towering trees and dense brush. We pulled back, parked our bikes and staying just close enough to keep them in sight. My heart hammered against my chest as my mind cycled between strategy and survival. One wrong move, one stray sound, and we’d be in the middle of a firefight without an ounce of cover.
Ahead, the Fire Dragons slowed, their bikes coming to a halt near a small clearing. I could make out a few of them dismounting by two vans, their low voices blending with the sound of night insects. I shifted my weight, watching their every move, assessing.
“Looks like they’re loading somethin’,” I murmured, as Mystic filmed the group of men.
Just then, a loud crash snapped the silence.
One of the Fire Dragons cursed, dropping what looked like a metal crate, spilling its contents onto the ground. Not weapons or ammo, but fucking cocaine and other shit. These bastards weren’t just cruising through our territory—they were running hardcore candy.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here and take this info back to Devil,” Chain whispered as we backtracked to our bikes, leaving the snakes to finish their business.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE HOURS DRAGGEDby and the noise of theclubhouse settled into an eerie stillness as the night wore on. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, waiting for Bolt. He’d said he’d come by after he got back, but now the clock ticked past three, and still no sign of him.
My mind spun with thoughts of our dance together, of the way his arms had felt around me, of the promise in his eyes when he’d looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. I was surprised at how much I wanted to be with him, how good sex felt, the way he made my body come to life. But the more time passed, the more doubt started to creep in.
Where was he? I could have sworn I heard the roar of bikes roll in hours ago.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I slipped out of my room, padding quietly down the hallway, the clubhouse nearly silent except for the distant sound of muffled laughter and the occasional clink of bottles. My stomach twisted as I made my way toward Bolt’s room. Maybe he’d just fallen asleep. Maybe he was drunk. There had to be an explanation.
But when I reached his door and opened it slowly, what I saw knocked the air out of my lungs.
Jenny was draped over him, her naked body half on top of his as he lay on the bed, naked, his eyes barely open, his expression sleepy—groggy—hungover? Something about it didn’t feel right. None of it did, but then what was cheating supposed to look like? The sick feeling in my gut tightened, my pulse thundering in my ears as I stood frozen in the doorway, unable to believe what I was seeing.
Then my eyes went to the used condom on the floor by the bed and I let out a little cry of pain. That was a confirmation he had sex with her.
Bolt blinked up at me, his eyes heavy, his movements sluggish. “Fiona...?”
I felt the ground shift beneath me, my chest tightening with a pain so sharp I thought I might have been stabbed. “Why... why would you do this?”
Jenny stared at me, a smug smile playing on her lips as she adjusted herself on the bed, rubbing up against Bolt like a cat in heat, like she had every right to be there, and I guess she did. My heart pounded in my chest, anger and hurt crashing through me until I thought I would drown.
Bolt seemed to be struggling to sit up, his movements slow, like he couldn’t quite get his bearings. The only answer was he was drunk.