Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Francis

The remainder of my shift went pretty smooth. Once the kids had some grub, which included hot dogs, chips, and cookies—to their immense pleasure—they said their goodbyes and thanks.

Well, that was after lil' Damien walked up to me with a piece of paper in his good hand. Extending it to me, with huge eyes watching me, I could sense he was nervous.

"Francis, this is my phone number, in case you ever want to like...I don't know maybe talk or hang out. I kinda think we have a lot in common ." Then he winks at me. I'm totally at a loss for words. Apparently he isn't as he continues on.

"And my mom won't mind either, and since I don't have a dad, she is super protective because she loves me because of...well, you know?"

He raises and shakes his burned hand so I can see it. He's suffered from some severe third-degree burns. I can tell grafts were done but unfortunately didn't cover all the damage. But I get the feeling this is more than our physical scars. Even if he doesn't get it yet, he is drawn to me because we share something most don't even have a clue exists.

With that, he turns his little self around and walks out with his classmates. Holding the paper, I stare at it. I believe that little kid just kind of adopted me or some shit like that. The feeling is something new to me, and I kind of like it. A lot.

But I don't have time to overthink it as the siren goes off and we have a call to go on, which turns out to be a Class A fire. All this means to us is this is a fire that involves combustibles such as wood, paper, and other natural materials.

As soon as we arrive, the window in my mind opens as I hear the thoughts and concerns of the victims caught in the burning building. I reach out in my unique way, locating victims so our company is able to save them from burning alive. As always, using these power exhausts me, so by the time we have this bitch under control and get back to the house, it is early the next morning.

Exhausted, mentally and physically, I have a hard time getting off the apparatus. After getting my gear stored away, I start heading toward the bunk area when I hear one of the guys call my name.

"Francis, this came for you while you were out on the call, dude. She was a fucking looker; too, so now we know you are holding out on us. That kid, Damien, was with her."

I gaze down to see a large Tupperware container filled with some type of cookies, and a note card taped to the lid. Wiping my blackened hands down my sides, I reach for it carefully. As I tear it open, I see a cute puppy on the front, and when I flip it up, it is a handwritten note addressed to me.

Francis,

Thank you for taking such good care of my boy, Damien. He hasn't stopped talking about you since he got home from his field trip today. He insisted we make you some cookies and told me to make a lot because you are huge. His words not mine. Anyway, once again, I appreciate you taking time and not making my son feel out of place. For once, he enjoyed himself, and for me that is a win/win. Enjoy the cookies. Damien put in extra chocolate chips, too.

Sincerely,

Grace Sinclair

Holding the card in one hand and the container of cookies in my other, clutched to my chest, I realize no one in my entire life has ever made something just for me. As my brothers watch and wait patiently for me to open the Tupperware, my heart flips a little, as it only took a young boy a short period of time to be able to see beyond my walls and comprehend how lonely I am. Like he can read me or something. Which totally freaks the shit out of me, but I still open the lid, take out two cookies, and shove them in my mouth. Damn, they are delicious being full of chocolate morsels.

I'm not sharing these treats with any of these sons of bitches that's for sure.

After my long ass forty-eight-hour shift at the firehouse, I carefully drive home. It has been a bitch of a tour. What is wrong with people today? Multiple careless fires were set throughout the last two days. We even lost an elderly man because his fire alarm's batteries were dead. He suffered from so much smoke inhalation; he passed before we could save him. The police were handling the asshole landlord on that one. Hope they throw the book at him.

Even as tired as I am now, I have to get to the clubhouse. Today is Church, and when I'm not on tour and available, I have to show my ass at the table. There's lots of shit going on in the club right now. I drive down the highway to get home, so I can then just jump right on my custom Harley and get to the club while fighting my spent body, both physically and mentally .

Trying to handle two very different lives for so long is taking a massive toll on me, especially since I used my skills and senses during my tour to help people in their time of need. Switching between the good persona at the firehouse and the socially unacceptable at the club is overwhelming at times, but for some reason I can't choose one or the other. They are both a part of me and in my blood. To top it off, it took a kid and his mom to make me realize I wasn't even living, just goddamn existing. I have allowed my past and fear of the unknown get the upper hand. So many people have survived nightmares in their lives and have scars, physically and emotionally, but continue to move forward and have a pretty good life. I immediately pull to my mind's eye lil' Damien. What a trooper the kid is.

Before I even pull up to my turn, I'm immediately aware something is off. First, my mind goes dark for a split second, and then the tingling in my neck and shoulders alerts me of danger. Finally, I feel something tighten in my gut as a quick view of the front of my house pops into my mind's eye. Right there on the driveway are three bikes waiting for me to arrive, and they are not brothers from my club.

When I make my turn, I'm immediately alerted when I see the gates to my property open already. I've been gone forty-eight hours and know I closed the damn gates when I left for work. Reaching into the glove box, I pull out my automatic and lay it on the seat next to me. Someone is somewhere they don't belong.

My alarm system hasn't gone off at the house, which means they aren't inside, thank Christ. Taking the turn, I already know what I'm gonna see: three bikers. They are not from my club but from the Satan's Flaming Marauders MC. I can see the flames from their kuttes, surrounding the shield with the mask of a marauder and the figure of Satan in the background coming out of the fire.

I ease my cage to the left of them and shut it off. Reaching for my automatic, I get out of the truck; walking around the front of my vehicle, weapon lying on the outside of my thigh. They are waiting for me as soon as I come around. Three of the biggest and ugliest cocksuckers I have ever seen, and that is saying a lot, since I'm one ugly and big motherfucker myself. I stop listening to their thoughts, knowing they are here to warn me about some fuckin' bullshit.

"Stitch, right, or should I call you Stein? This is gonna be your one and only warning, asshole. Stay away from our brother Wrecker's family. Don't want any excuses, ‘cause we've been told to make this a warning only. Shake your dumbass fuckin' head if you understand."

Looking from one to the other, and ignoring his asshole comment, I address the one who gave me the warning with a sarcastic smirk.

"Okay, explain to me why you're trespassing on my property. Who the fuck is Wrecker, and why are ya warning me from his family, you crazy sons of bitches? Are we friends or something? Looking at your kuttes I would say we are definitely not fucking brothers."

The largest dude walks up to me and gives me a shove. Then he reaches in his pocket, pulling out a picture of Damian and a really good-looking woman walking into my firehouse with the Tupperware container in her hands. Fuck, you have to be shitting me. Goddamn it, can't I ever get a break in my life? Just when something starts to feel good, more shit falls on me. Almost fuckin' feels like I'm cursed or something.

"Hey, didn't know the boy was your brother's kid. He was on a field trip and we had a couple of words, that's it. And as for his ol' lady, I haven't seen her or even met her. She dropped some shit at the house when we were out on a call. That's it. So, you wasted your time riding all this way to give me your fucked-up warning. Now that you've done what you were told, get the fuck off my property, assholes."

The ugly one closest to me takes a swing, but I already knew he was going to throw it, so I duck and return one to him, utilizing all of my weight behind the punch. He's knocked out before he hits the ground. Before his brothers can approach me, we hear the roar of bikes and turn. I grin as I see my brothers racing down the dirt road like the crazy jagoffs they are, not even wearing a lid on their heads.

I really don't need their help, as one of the many senses I've been blessed with is having the insight of my opponent's intentions during a fight and then using that knowledge, along with my strength, for maximum damage. The fun is just beginning, and these three assholes are going to be feeling more pain than they ever have before.

Nice way to start my goddamn day off.