Page 25 of Pyro

When I met Chase Montclair in the woods that day and saw the pain in his eyes, I didn’t know what to think of the man. He was handsome, yes, but snarky and kind of rude. I let his attitude slide, because he seemed to be overwhelmed and confused. When he left, I thought that was it. I would never see him again.

Then, a few weeks later, he was there.

When I needed someone badly.

I guess I will have to thank Cameron for that, because I really didn’t know what to do when I got jumped and beaten. I still didn’t know who attacked me, or why Hiller was back in the area, but I was thankful for Chase Montclair and his friends.

Now that Cameron and I were in Virginia with the Sons of Hell MC, my main concern was finding a job so I could provide properly for my brother. While I wanted to work, I was more interested in the man who came to my rescue twice.

There was something about the man I couldn’t shake.

I knew Chase Montclair wanted nothing to do with me, yet he stood up for me when Cameron got lippy. Then he saved me right before the house blew. Even tonight, when I entered their meeting room, I saw how he immediately stood and offered me his seat.

The man was a contradiction.

A puzzle.

However, my gut was telling me that Chase Montclair was much more than that. That deep down, he was like me.

Alone.

Scared.

In pain and I was determined to find out why.

After checking on my brother, I walked across the hall to see Chase enter his room and solidly shut the door, locking it behind him. Entering my room, I changed into something comfortable, mindful that I needed to thank Bailey and Sarah again in the morning for everything they purchased. Those two women went above and beyond for me and my brother. Thanks to them, we had everything we could possibly need, from new clothes to toiletries. Even a new laptop, phone and make-up sat untouched on a desk and dresser, waiting for me to explore.

Donning a comfortable pair of sweats and fuzzy socks, I left my room, not knowing where I was going.

The clubhouse was massive, with several rooms upstairs for all the brothers and guests. The downstairs was open, with the main room taking up much of the space where pool tables, a few card tables and chairs sat. A large bar that ran along the far wall. There were old arcade games likePac-Man,FroggerandGalaga. Of course, the one I was itching to play wasTetris. Dad and I would play all the time, challenging each other for the highest score.

It surprised me to see how clean the clubhouse was. With several men and a few women living here, I thought it would be messier. Then again, they weren’t a six-year-old boy who thrived on finding dirt and rolling around in it. Taking my time looking around, familiarizing myself with the place, I easily found the kitchen and the dining hall. When I stepped into a rec room that had comfortable chairs and a large projection screen, I stopped short when I saw a baby grand piano in the corner. Looking over my shoulder, I made sure no one was around as I entered.

Running my fingers along the beautiful black piano, I pulled out the bench and sat. Lifting the key lid, I smiled.

“You play chopsticks and we’re gonna have a talk,” someone said, making me jump as I turned to find Scribe watching me from one of the comfortable chairs.

“I thought I was alone.”

“Not in this place,” he groaned, sitting up. “Do you play?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Let me hear. I’m the only one in this place that uses the piano. King makes sure all of us have what we need to decompress. Don’t know why he bought that monstrosity. I have my keyboard in my room.”

“Maybe he thought you would play something for everyone.”

Scribe laughed. “The hell I will. These ingrates wouldn’t know fine music if it busted their eardrums.”

“You play classical music?”

“Nope. Hip-hop. I’m breaking into the DJ business. Got a new soundboard and an auto tune.”

I chuckled at that. “Didn’t peg you for hip-hop. Blues, maybe some soft jazz, but not hip-hop.”

Scribe titled his head, his face void of anything. “You see everything, don’t you?”

“More than I should,” I muttered, then added, “Like I know you are trying to get me to open up. You blend. You become what someone needs and if I’m right, you believe I need a friend right now and you are using your knowledge of music to find common ground with me.”