Fire and Gasoline
1042 Words
Sometimes the person who promised to shield you from the storm turns out to be the thunder that strikes you down.
I stared at the glossy photos spread across my workbench, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. My eyes darted from the red skull emblem to Jax’s cold face. The dim light filtering through the garage windows made his dark features look like carved stone.
"Is this supposed to scare me into running back to your little kingdom, Jax?" I asked, shoving the photos straight back into his chest. "Because if you think dropping fake pictures on my counter will make me pack my bags, you have lost your damn mind."
Jax slapped the papers down onto the wood, his knuckles white. "Look at them, Maya! These are not fake! The Iron Vultures have been watching Anchor Bay Auto for three days! They know your opening shifts! They know what time you turn off your lights at night!"
"And whose fault is that?" I snapped, stepping right into his face. "I was invisible for five years! Nobody knew where I was until you dragged your leather vest into my town! You led them right to my front door!"
"I came here to keep you breathing!" Jax barked, his eyes blazing as he towered over me. "Do you have any idea what the Vultures do to people they grab? They do not care that you abandoned your father. They do not care that you ripped off your patch. To them, you are still the daughter of Big Tom, and that makes you the biggest target on the map!"
"I am not a target, and I am not your property!" I shouted, slamming both hands into his broad chest. He barely budged, standing like an iron pillar in front of me. "I am a mechanic who wants you out of her building! I do not belong to the Rust Hounds! I do not belong to my father! And I sure as hell do not belong to you!"
"You think I wanted to ride three hundred miles for this?" Jax growled, grabbing my wrists with a grip that was cold and tight. "You think I wanted to look at the girl who spat in my face, stole five grand out of our safe, and snuck out like a thief in the night?"
"I did not take your damn money!" I yelled, yanking against his grip, refusing to let a single tear fall. "How many times do I have to say it? I left with fifty dollars that I earned fixing bikes! Chloe cleared out that safe and handed you a lie because she knew you were stupid enough to swallow it!"
"Watch your mouth!" Jax shouted back, his jaw working violently as his grip tightened. "Chloe stayed! Chloe helped your father keep the club from falling apart while you ran away like a coward! She was the one holding him up while he drank himself to sleep every night!"
His words were meant to cut me down, but they only poured gasoline on my rage. I did not flinch. I glared straight into his steel-grey eyes, letting him see every ounce of hatred I had stored up for five long years.
"You turned your back on me first, Jax," I said, my voice dropping into a harsh, steady blade. "You were supposed to be my brother. My protector. And you stood on those stairs on my birthday and threw me to the dogs for a girl you barely knew. You told me to get out."
Jax's chest heaved heavily. He did not soften. He did not back down. His fingers dug deeper into my skin as he glared down at me, his face twisted in pure, bitter resentment.
"You walked out that door and you never came back!" Jax roared, his voice rattling the metal tool racks behind us. "You left me to clean up your mess! I spent months searching every ditch and highway in this state thinking you were dead in a ditch, and you were here building yourself a nice little life while the rest of us burned!"
"Then go back to your fire!" I yelled back, wrenching my hands out of his grip with everything I had. "You had Chloe! You had the club! You did not need me then, and you do not need me now!"
Jax took a slow, menacing step forward, crowding me against the edge of the heavy wooden workbench. "I do not care what you want, Maya. I am not letting the Iron Vultures use you to destroy Big Tom. You are coming back to the clubhouse where we can watch you."
"I would rather take a bullet from the Vultures than step one foot inside that clubhouse again," I said coldly, reaching behind me to grip a sharp flathead screwdriver off the magnetic rack. "Unlock the door, Jax. Leave the photos, but get out. Now."
"You are not making the calls here," Jax said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying growl as he reached for my arm again. "You are coming with me even if I have to throw you over my shoulder and zip you into a body bag."
"Touch me again and I will put this screwdriver through your hand," I warned, raising the steel tool between us.
"Try it," Jax challenged, his face inches from mine, completely unbothered by the threat.
Before either of us could move, the sharp, violent screech of heavy rubber tires tore through the quiet street outside Anchor Bay Auto.
We both went dead silent.
Jax shifted his body instantly, shoving me behind his broad back in a single smooth motion as his right hand dropped under his leather vest, locking onto the grip of his heavy pistol.
Outside the high glass windows of the garage bay, a blacked-out SUV slammed onto the wet gravel lot, spinning its tires before sliding to a complete stop right in front of the building.
The heavy engine roared loudly in the morning air. Then, with a slow, mechanical hum, the dark tinted side windows rolled down.
Three long, dark gun barrels slid out through the open windows, pointing straight through the glass bay doors at Jax and me.
- Writer
