Wild Fire: A Chaos Novella Read online

  “Fuck you, Georgiana,” he bit.

  Her head jerked.

  And then…

  “No, Dutch, fuck…” She took in a huge breath and screeched, “YOU!”

  After that, she started marching toward his back door.

  Oh no.

  She was not going to go and fuck his mission to get Carlyle some justice.

  He began walking toward her, stating, “We are not done.”

  She whirled on him and declared, “We so are.”

  He stopped two paces away and he didn’t even attempt to disguise the disgust in his tone when he asked, “You think you got moral ground to stand on here?”

  “Yeah, Dutch,” she said sharply, taking a long stride to him, and he braced because she was noticeably so pissed, it was sparking the air, zapping his skin, and he thought she was going to shove him.

  She didn’t.

  She halted so fast, she swayed and kept talking.

  “Because I cannot fucking believe that you thought…because I was temporarily a bitch. Because I thought I was in a career crisis. And granted, me taking that out on you was totally not okay. Even if you have no freaking clue any of the other shit that’s going on in my life, not just with my job, but with my sister, and…and…whatever. I cannot believe that you would believe that I would do something so low and scummy as what you’re accusing me of doing.”

  “So what were you doing there?” he asked.

  “Carlyle is investigating his father’s murder.”

  “No shit?”

  “And my guess is, I was there for the same reason you were there. I was trying to find the guy Carlyle was talking to so I could figure out what connection he had to what happened that night so I could tell the cops and then they’ll have a lead. And that might mean finding Carlyle’s father’s murderer.”

  He didn’t believe her, which was why he drawled, “Right.”

  But then…

  Shit.

  She stared at him a beat, still pissed as shit, before that slid out of her face, and fuck…

  The hurt shone clear. Hurt she could not be faking because it shimmered in the wet gathering in her eyes.

  “You know, Carolyn is using Jagger,” she whispered.

  He wasn’t expecting that, and both her words and tone made his chest get tight.

  “What?” he whispered back.

  “He gives her money. She’s got, I don’t know, four, five guys on the hook that come and go depending on who’s up next to give her a loan and who needs a break from her asking. She says she’ll pay it back. Ask your brother. But I’ll bet she hasn’t paid back a dime.”

  Dutch could not believe his ears.

  But champagne tastes, he knew Carolyn had those, she didn’t hide it, tricked out the way she always was.

  What he couldn’t believe was that Jag was falling for that shit.

  “And I’m worried,” she went on, “because the other guys are just guys. But he’s a biker. And pardon me for thinking it, but I’ll bet, woman or not, good guy biker or not, you don’t fuck over a biker. And for years, she’s been fucking over your brother. I don’t think he’s too dumb to get it. I think he likes her and thinks he’s helping her out. But it’s gonna get old and then he’s gonna wonder where his money is going. Which is to designer shoes, handbags, Dior makeup palettes and a nasty little relationship she’s got going with cocaine. And depending on how much he’s given her, who knows what his reaction will be.”

  Cocaine?

  He didn’t get into that.

  He got into something else.

  “Jagger would never hurt a woman,” Dutch said through his teeth.

  “There are different ways to hurt people and the vast majority of them do not involve physical pain,” she fired back. “Of all the guys she’s taking for a ride, I think the only one she genuinely likes is your brother. So yes, when Carolyn hooked up with Jagger, I did a deep dive into MC culture and Chaos. She’s my sister, and she’s messed up, but I love her, so excuse me, because you might be you, and Chaos might be Chaos, but even you can’t stand there and deny hardcore MCs are what I think they are. Yours might be a different kind of hardcore, but Chaos is hardcore, and you know it. But I didn’t, until I met you. So I got worried. And maybe I developed an attitude about bikers. She’s my sister and she’s screwing up her life in a number of ways. Sue me.”

  “Georgi—”

  “And,” she cut him off, “you’re right. I’m off the kids beat. I talked to my editor and she agreed it was time I explored new horizons. She said I have talent, and she wants to see me stretch myself. So thank you for that, because that was a load off. We’re going to try a few things, see where I land in the New Evolution of Georgiana Traylor, Ace Reporter. And the crime beat was discussed and it’s an option. But I am not using a seventeen-year-old’s heartbreak to further my career. And just you thinking that, Dutch, says it all about what you think of me.”

  On that, she whirled again and headed to the back door.

  He was faster, and taller, so even though she got it partly open, he reached over her shoulder, palm flat to the door, and he slammed it shut.

  “I’m leaving, Dutch,” she told the door.

  He felt pressure on it against his palm and knew she was trying to open it, so he leaned into it.

  And her.

  She smelled like cherries and almonds.

  Christ.

  “I fucked up,” he said softly to the back of her head.

  “Agreed.”

  “Babe, let go of the door. We’ll go back inside and talk this out.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Okay, let go of the door, let’s go back inside so I can apologize for being such a colossal dick.”

  “You know, I thought you were mad at me because you were being protective.”

  Again, not what he expected to hear.

  “What?” he asked.

  “When you dragged me here. I thought you were mad because you thought I was putting myself in danger and you’re an alpha biker guy who’d get ticked because some woman was somewhere she shouldn’t be, even though he was at the same place for the same reason. And I thought…insanely…that wasn’t annoying. It was cute and kind of sweet.”

  At the end of that, she let out a little huh puff of air that stated plain she felt all kinds of fool he turned out not to be cute or sweet.

  Fucking fuck.

  “Georg—”

  “Let me go.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “I did it for you.”

  She turned her head, tipped it back, giving him big, brown, wounded eyes, and goddamn it.

  He barely knew this woman.

  And she was unraveling him.

  “I was such a bitch to you it made you be mean to me and I’m not sure that’s you so I wanted to do something that would make you think I wasn’t a bitch and—”

  “Baby, come inside with me so we can talk.”

  “—you thought I was there to get a story and—”

  “Please, Georgie.”

  “—I’ve got some stuff. I talked to my source at the DPD and he’s getting me more and I’ll deal with that and—”

  “Christ, Georgie, please.”

  “—I’ll give it to Carolyn when I get it and she can give it to you and then I’m out and you never have to see me again.”

  He told her what she needed to know. “I’m not holding this door shut, darlin’, because I don’t ever wanna see you again.”

  She just stared up at him.

  “Come on, take off that hat, your jacket, I’ll get us a beer and we’ll work this out.”

  “Insult to injury, I’ve been reduced to saying words like ‘made you be mean to me,’ like I’m seven years old.”

  Dutch engaged his other hand to put gentle pressure on her hip to try to turn her from the door, urging again, “Come on.”

  “And just so we’re clear, I wasn’t only doing it so you wouldn’t think I was a bitch, bec
ause that makes it about me. I was also doing it because I want Carlyle to go to MIT.”

  Words weren’t working. His hands on the door and her hip weren’t working.

  It was time to take a different tack.

  And the one he chose was bending his head and kissing her.

  She jerked away, shifting fast, and slammed a shoulder into the door.

  “Sorry, baby, but you wouldn’t shut up and you wouldn’t come into my hou—”

  He didn’t finish that.

  Because she was on him.

  Clutching the sides of his head in both hands, she pulled his mouth to hers, curved her back so her soft body was pressed to his, and that was all Dutch needed.

  He moved into her. One hand up under her hair then buried in that soft mane, his other arm curled tight around her waist pulling her closer, he pinned her against the door just as she parted her lips to invite him inside.

  He accepted the invitation.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoved her body further into his.

  She smelled of cherries and almonds, her mouth was hot and sweet and greedy, and when she quit trying to duel with his tongue to take over the kiss, her capitulation was sucking it deeper into her mouth.

  The result, his cock, already stiffening, got rock-hard.

  Fact: Georgiana Traylor could kiss.

  And she had the sweetest draw he’d ever felt.

  He wanted that on his tongue, and elsewhere.

  Which meant this had to stop, immediately, or he’d fuck her on his mudroom floor.

  He pulled slightly away to get them both under control.

  But when her mouth went after his again, her hand curling tight around the back of his neck, he adjusted so his left eyebrow was to hers, his mouth was out of shot, and he sucked in a ragged breath.

  “Why’d you stop?” she said, her breathy voice doing a number on him.

  As an answer, he tightened his arm around her waist, and since there already was zero room between them, she couldn’t miss what she was doing to him since the indisputable evidence of it was pressing into her belly.

  She didn’t miss it.

  “The question bears repeating, Dutch, why did you stop?” she asked.

  That made him smile.

  And also answer.

  “Georgie, you’re the kind of girl I need to take on a date. Buy you dinner. Tell you how pretty your hair is. Your mouth. Your voice. How much I like your ass. All that before I fuck you.”

  She made a noise that was half soft gasp, half gentle whimper, and his dick actually started to hurt, straining against his jeans.

  “Not to mention, we might need to sort through a few issues before we rip each other’s clothes off and get busy,” he finished.

  “Am I in danger of you ripping off my clothes?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Her eyes got bigger, then they got sultry in that hot way a woman who knows she’s got control of your cock gets, before she suggested, “Okay, just a suggestion, but maybe if you want to cool things down, you should let me go.”

  He got on that, but he did it shifting them so his back was to the door and his body was barring it.

  Only then did he let her go.

  She stepped away, now appearing amused.

  “After that kiss, I’m hardly going to run into the night,” she told him.

  “I’m not taking any chances.”

  “Whatever,” she mumbled, turned, started to sashay back into his house, and did it saying, “You promised me a beer?”

  He watched her move, which did nothing to help him contain his raging hard-on.

  But when she was out of sight in his living room, he sucked in another breath, got some damned control, turned, locked the door, shrugged off his cut and hung it on a hook by the door, and then followed her.

  Dutch went to the kitchen that was open plan.

  By the time he pulled two brews from the fridge, she’d followed him and was standing opposite the bar, living room side, hat gone, jacket thrown over the arm of his couch.

  He knew she was wearing black jeans, now he saw she had on a tight black turtleneck.

  And even covered from chin down, she looked great in it, and her tits looked fucking amazing.

  “How many books do you have?” she asked.

  He looked beyond her into the living room that was decorated in nothing but books.

  He, Jag, Hound, Snap and Boz had built them after he bought the place.

  Now, every single wall, except, obviously, where the kitchen was, was floor-to-ceiling bookcases that were, for the most part, filled with books.

  There were some framed pictures his mom had given him. One of him, Jag, his mom and Hound on Hound and Ma’s wedding day. One of him and Jagger with their arms slung around each other, both of them wearing their cuts, the night Jag was patched in. Another one of him in his mother’s hospital room holding his newborn brother the day Wilder came into the world.

  And one of his dad, the dad that was no longer breathing, leaning forearm to the bar in the Chaos Compound, smiling big at a camera that was in front of the face of the woman of his dreams, the mother of his children, his wife, Dutch’s mom, Keely Black Ironside.

  The shelves were also punctuated by things like lamps and a candle one of his ex-girlfriends gave him and he liked the scent of it, so after they were over, he’d bought another one.

  But mostly, yeah, it was books or space where more books would go when he bought them.

  Though, there were three shelves that were all albums because he liked the sound of music from vinyl, which was, as far as he knew, the only millennial thing he could get on board with.

  He grabbed his bottle opener, popped the caps on both of the Fat Tires, came to stand across from Georgiana, slid hers to her and waited until she took a sip, something he did not do, before he spoke.

  “First, before we get into inane things like my book collection, I was a dick. It was out of line. You did not deserve it. And I’m sorry that shit came out of my mouth.”

  “Okay,” she said quietly.

  “I was a dick two days ago when I dropped you off too. You didn’t deserve it then either.”

  “Okay, Dutch. Though, I’m not sure that’s correct.”

  “It’s correct,” he said firmly.

  She pressed her lips together then let them go and whispered, “Right. Okay.”

  “Second, that kiss was hot. So I’m takin’ you out to dinner tomorrow night, somewhere nice, good food, maybe even fancy, then plan to spend the night here.”

  Her brows went way up, she sucked her lips in so far between her teeth they disappeared, it was cute as all fuck, something he felt in his dick, throat, and the fact his mouth got dry with the need to take hers again, before she rearranged her face and asked, “Is that a biker’s way of asking a girl on a date?”

  “No fuckin’ clue. It’s just what’s happening tomorrow night.”

  “Righty ho.” She was whispering again and now looking like she was about to crack up laughing.

  “So, we on the same page with all of that?”

  “Well, um…yes, of a sort.”

  “What’s the ‘of a sort’ part?”

  “I can’t tomorrow night.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, you see, my source in the DPD chose this unfortunate time to realize I was using his fascination with my breasts to semi-kinda-but-mostly-definitely score information from him and he pressed the issue. So, in order to learn what the cops know about Carlyle’s dad’s case, I have to go out to dinner with him tomorrow.”

  Dutch took a beat.

  Then he took two.

  Then he said gently, “Right, baby, you know that biker research you did?”

  She nodded.

  “And that hardcore stuff you learned?” he continued.

  She nodded again.

  “Well, there is a definite Chaos version of that,” he told her.

  “Do I want to know?” she asked.


  “Maybe not, but after that kiss, and what’s gonna come next, you need to anyway.”

  She took her own beat before she invited, “Right then, sock it to me.”

  “You are not going out on a date with a guy who has a fascination with your breasts when you’re in my bed.”

  “I’m not in your bed yet, Dutch, and pointing out, it was you who put a stop to that.”

  “I’ll amend. You are not going out on a date with a guy who has a fascination with your breasts when it’s a certainty you’re gonna be in my bed.”

  “Dutch—”

  He asked a question he did not want to ask.

  “You into this guy?”

  She scrunched her nose.

  She was not into this guy.

  He straightened, and he’d never heard it come from his own throat, but he could not deny it was an actual growl when he started, “Georgie—”

  “He’s not a cop, but he has electronic access, and he can give me good stuff, Dutch.”

  “Yeah, and I know actual cops, a number of them, who also have access, who not only won’t mind sharing, I’ve already got a sitdown planned with two of them tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” she mumbled.

  “Cancel your plans.”

  She tipped her head to the side. “I kinda can’t.”

  “You absolutely can.”

  “Well, see, now, if I screw this up, he’s gonna be mad, and I’ll lose my source in the DPD. I know someone else who’s got loose lips, but they don’t have his kind of access. And, as previously mentioned, I’m soon to be assigned articles on the crime beat, so I need a good source. So I have to go, regardless.”

  Dutch looked to the ceiling.

  “I was right,” Georgiana said.

  He looked back to her and saw her grinning.

  “It’s totally cute, the protective, and in this case, possessive thing,” she explained.

  “I’m not feelin’ cute,” he informed her.

  “Well, you are,” she muttered to the neck of her beer bottle before she took another sip.

  “You go, you’re done, you come here to me,” he demanded.

  “There’s a problem with that too,” she admitted.

  Jesus.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I have a cat, that’s not really my cat, but I’m claiming him. He was not a big fan of substitute momma leaving him overnight to go meet a douchebag, deadbeat attorney in DC. So, in order to assist him in getting over his trauma of spending the night alone, I really shouldn’t make him spend the night alone again so soon.”