Read Online Firefight: The Soul Scorchers MC (The Scorched Souls Serial-series Book 2) by C.L. Riley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: C.L. Riley
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an expert lover. Not that I had anyone to compare him to, but I had no doubt he would come out the winner in any competition involving sex.
I giggled at the image of a Who Can Make Her Come the Most Contest.
Not funny. I mentally scolded. Not funny at all.
Considering I planned to destroy him for his manipulative ruse and list of lies, I needed to get my head on straight. No easy task when just thinking about him curled my toes.
I let out a long sigh, replacing my sex-driven thoughts with more practical concerns.
For now I intended to take things slow, adapting a watch and wait approach. Besides, I wasn’t real keen on venturing out in public, where our local arsonist would once again have access to me.
All things considered, calling my father and Conner seemed advisable, but I just couldn’t bring myself to open that door. Once I let them in, my time with Boone would be over, and I couldn’t deny that Boone’s mistrust of the ATF had put me on edge. He wasn’t the paranoid type, and he’d been around the fire fighting scene long enough to know the ropes. I’d be wise to at least pay attention to his warnings.
With my memory restored, I remembered how his real wife, Rita, had died in a house fire. Supposedly she’d caused it by her drug-fueled behavior, but knowing what I did about my mom’s death, I suspected Rita might have been a victim of foul play as well. She had died about a year before my mom. In between her death and my mom’s, and then again after, there had been a string of unsolved fire incidents along the coast, the same incidents Conner and his team were investigating in conjunction with the current tragedies.
My mansion’s blaze, which I still couldn’t remember details about, the strip club fire, and the most recent disaster at the youth center had all resulted in deaths. If our existing arsonist was the one behind those other, non deadly fires, his need for violence had escalated again after four years of lesser crimes.
I’d watched enough police dramas to know some tragedy or trigger must have prompted his latest fire frenzy. My family, for some reason, was in the middle of his rampage. Had my father pissed off the wrong person?
As a politician, he was pretty popular. I’d never seen any evidence that his aspirations had created such a formidable enemy. That angle made no sense, but I couldn’t deny the obvious – first my mom and now me? There was no getting around it.
The Olsen family was a primary target.
At least Conner was good at his job. I knew he’d do whatever he could to solve the cases, though why he was wasting time focused on the Soul Scorchers MC was beyond me; unless, of course, I’d bought the ultimate lie.
Though from what I’d seen, starting fires and killing folks wasn’t what this club was about. They cared about their women and children and were seriously worried about everyone’s safety, so much so, they’d instigated the lockdown. I’d seen how the youth center’s fire had affected Boone. He’d been devastated. Maybe the other club was involved, because, regardless of Boone’s dishonesty with me, I in no way considered him or his friends the culprits.
If only I could recall my own fire escape.
For some reason, the essential information, like who I’d seen in the mansion that night, remained blurry, hidden behind a smoky screen in my mind; sadly, my two employees had perished, that much I was aware of. Yet I still felt detached from the ordeal, which made me feel even worse.
I sighed again, before rolling onto my side.
A tall glass of orange juice, a blueberry muffin, and a banana awaited me on the bedside table, putting a stop to my inner dialogue. The nearby alarm clock boasted 10:01 AM in glowing red digits.
Reaching for the juice, I spotted a napkin with a note scrawled across it.
Good morning, babe. Feeling sore? In a meeting till about noon. Miss you already.
Flopping back on the bed, I glared up at the ceiling. I could hear
I giggled at the image of a Who Can Make Her Come the Most Contest.
Not funny. I mentally scolded. Not funny at all.
Considering I planned to destroy him for his manipulative ruse and list of lies, I needed to get my head on straight. No easy task when just thinking about him curled my toes.
I let out a long sigh, replacing my sex-driven thoughts with more practical concerns.
For now I intended to take things slow, adapting a watch and wait approach. Besides, I wasn’t real keen on venturing out in public, where our local arsonist would once again have access to me.
All things considered, calling my father and Conner seemed advisable, but I just couldn’t bring myself to open that door. Once I let them in, my time with Boone would be over, and I couldn’t deny that Boone’s mistrust of the ATF had put me on edge. He wasn’t the paranoid type, and he’d been around the fire fighting scene long enough to know the ropes. I’d be wise to at least pay attention to his warnings.
With my memory restored, I remembered how his real wife, Rita, had died in a house fire. Supposedly she’d caused it by her drug-fueled behavior, but knowing what I did about my mom’s death, I suspected Rita might have been a victim of foul play as well. She had died about a year before my mom. In between her death and my mom’s, and then again after, there had been a string of unsolved fire incidents along the coast, the same incidents Conner and his team were investigating in conjunction with the current tragedies.
My mansion’s blaze, which I still couldn’t remember details about, the strip club fire, and the most recent disaster at the youth center had all resulted in deaths. If our existing arsonist was the one behind those other, non deadly fires, his need for violence had escalated again after four years of lesser crimes.
I’d watched enough police dramas to know some tragedy or trigger must have prompted his latest fire frenzy. My family, for some reason, was in the middle of his rampage. Had my father pissed off the wrong person?
As a politician, he was pretty popular. I’d never seen any evidence that his aspirations had created such a formidable enemy. That angle made no sense, but I couldn’t deny the obvious – first my mom and now me? There was no getting around it.
The Olsen family was a primary target.
At least Conner was good at his job. I knew he’d do whatever he could to solve the cases, though why he was wasting time focused on the Soul Scorchers MC was beyond me; unless, of course, I’d bought the ultimate lie.
Though from what I’d seen, starting fires and killing folks wasn’t what this club was about. They cared about their women and children and were seriously worried about everyone’s safety, so much so, they’d instigated the lockdown. I’d seen how the youth center’s fire had affected Boone. He’d been devastated. Maybe the other club was involved, because, regardless of Boone’s dishonesty with me, I in no way considered him or his friends the culprits.
If only I could recall my own fire escape.
For some reason, the essential information, like who I’d seen in the mansion that night, remained blurry, hidden behind a smoky screen in my mind; sadly, my two employees had perished, that much I was aware of. Yet I still felt detached from the ordeal, which made me feel even worse.
I sighed again, before rolling onto my side.
A tall glass of orange juice, a blueberry muffin, and a banana awaited me on the bedside table, putting a stop to my inner dialogue. The nearby alarm clock boasted 10:01 AM in glowing red digits.
Reaching for the juice, I spotted a napkin with a note scrawled across it.
Good morning, babe. Feeling sore? In a meeting till about noon. Miss you already.
Flopping back on the bed, I glared up at the ceiling. I could hear
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