Firetrap: The Soul Scorchers MC (The Scorched Souls Serial-series Book 1) by C.L. Riley
Authors: C.L. Riley
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night was about to get a whole lot better.
My cell buzzed; one, two, three times, in rapid succession, signaling a fire-call.
“Fuck!” Not tonight.
Yanking the phone from my pocket, I read the text.
No. Fucking. Way.
Olympia Olsen’s mansion was on fire, and there were fatalities.
Without hesitation, I shoved through an embracing couple, ignoring their complaints, and exited the same way I’d just entered. I was pretty sure I heard Jasmine yell my name over the music. Not bothering to slow down, I barreled through a side door for employees only, and dashed up a private corridor only a few select people were aware of.
By the time I’d fired up my bike, my heart was in my throat, pounding so hard I could feel it in my temples.
Just the thought of Olympia gone, burned to death like her mom and Rita, made me want to heave. My phone buzzed again. Ignoring it, I roared through the parking lot and onto the highway, daring any cop stupid enough to stop me.
Someone was going to pay for tonight’s fire. I had no doubt arson was involved. There’d been too many fires and fatalities to ignore; it was time for full-scale investigation, using all the club’s resources.
When I found out who’d started it, that person would wish they’d never played with matches.
Olympia
I rubbed my head, disoriented. A few birds chirped overhead, calling me back to consciousness. I opened my eyes enough to peek. It was dark, but I could tell dawn wasn’t too far off.
Forcing my eyes all the way open, I stared up at the canopy of trees above me, their leaf-lined-limbs swayed in the breeze.
Holy crap, I was in the forest, on my back, stiff and cold.
A sudden wave of nausea flooded my stomach, as I struggled to sit up. My head throbbed like someone was hammering from the inside, trying to get out. Every movement, no matter how small, caused my lungs to burn. I coughed so violently, I had to lean over and vomit. Gross. I used the back of my hand to wipe my mouth.
What the…?
I looked down shocked to see I was wearing a pair of tattered yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt that appeared just as mangled. Covered in soot, I looked like I’d climbed out of a chimney.
I shook my head, fighting to clear the cobwebs. I had no clue where I was. In fact, I had no idea who I was or what had happened to me.
My brain was empty. Blank. Hollow.
Terror gripped my chest and I gasped, desperate for air. Breathing was difficult. I coughed again. Shivering, I finally scrambled to my feet, only to collapse, my left calf cramping with the worst charlie-horse ever.
I gritted my teeth and tried again, gripping the closest tree trunk. I somehow managed to stay upright. Panting, I clung to the tree. The effort it took to stand had winded me. I coughed harder and doubled over while my body convulsed.
With no idea what had happened, who I was, or where I was going, things were pretty freaking bleak. From my ragged, soot-covered appearance and the discomfort in my lungs, I assumed I’d somehow escaped a fire, and not by much. I scanned my surroundings, but there was no evidence of any recent blaze. The sky was turning grey, giving me a better view. Nothing looked familiar.
Too cold to sit again, I limped forward, headed nowhere. My situation’s harsh reality was becoming clearer with every shaky step.
I was going to die out here without knowing who I was.
When the tears started to fall, I let them. Anyone in my predicament deserved to cry.
Boone
Church twice in twenty-four hours was unusual, but these were unusual times. The latest fire had been ruled arson. Several explosive devices had been discovered onsite. Olympia’s bodyguard and her housekeeper’s remains had been found inside the home.
Olympia Olsen had vanished. Her body was not amongst the ruins. The mayor was missing from his house too. No one seemed to know his whereabouts, which was unheard of.
After Bones’ prompting, I’d provided a detailed account of the situation for
My cell buzzed; one, two, three times, in rapid succession, signaling a fire-call.
“Fuck!” Not tonight.
Yanking the phone from my pocket, I read the text.
No. Fucking. Way.
Olympia Olsen’s mansion was on fire, and there were fatalities.
Without hesitation, I shoved through an embracing couple, ignoring their complaints, and exited the same way I’d just entered. I was pretty sure I heard Jasmine yell my name over the music. Not bothering to slow down, I barreled through a side door for employees only, and dashed up a private corridor only a few select people were aware of.
By the time I’d fired up my bike, my heart was in my throat, pounding so hard I could feel it in my temples.
Just the thought of Olympia gone, burned to death like her mom and Rita, made me want to heave. My phone buzzed again. Ignoring it, I roared through the parking lot and onto the highway, daring any cop stupid enough to stop me.
Someone was going to pay for tonight’s fire. I had no doubt arson was involved. There’d been too many fires and fatalities to ignore; it was time for full-scale investigation, using all the club’s resources.
When I found out who’d started it, that person would wish they’d never played with matches.
Olympia
I rubbed my head, disoriented. A few birds chirped overhead, calling me back to consciousness. I opened my eyes enough to peek. It was dark, but I could tell dawn wasn’t too far off.
Forcing my eyes all the way open, I stared up at the canopy of trees above me, their leaf-lined-limbs swayed in the breeze.
Holy crap, I was in the forest, on my back, stiff and cold.
A sudden wave of nausea flooded my stomach, as I struggled to sit up. My head throbbed like someone was hammering from the inside, trying to get out. Every movement, no matter how small, caused my lungs to burn. I coughed so violently, I had to lean over and vomit. Gross. I used the back of my hand to wipe my mouth.
What the…?
I looked down shocked to see I was wearing a pair of tattered yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt that appeared just as mangled. Covered in soot, I looked like I’d climbed out of a chimney.
I shook my head, fighting to clear the cobwebs. I had no clue where I was. In fact, I had no idea who I was or what had happened to me.
My brain was empty. Blank. Hollow.
Terror gripped my chest and I gasped, desperate for air. Breathing was difficult. I coughed again. Shivering, I finally scrambled to my feet, only to collapse, my left calf cramping with the worst charlie-horse ever.
I gritted my teeth and tried again, gripping the closest tree trunk. I somehow managed to stay upright. Panting, I clung to the tree. The effort it took to stand had winded me. I coughed harder and doubled over while my body convulsed.
With no idea what had happened, who I was, or where I was going, things were pretty freaking bleak. From my ragged, soot-covered appearance and the discomfort in my lungs, I assumed I’d somehow escaped a fire, and not by much. I scanned my surroundings, but there was no evidence of any recent blaze. The sky was turning grey, giving me a better view. Nothing looked familiar.
Too cold to sit again, I limped forward, headed nowhere. My situation’s harsh reality was becoming clearer with every shaky step.
I was going to die out here without knowing who I was.
When the tears started to fall, I let them. Anyone in my predicament deserved to cry.
Boone
Church twice in twenty-four hours was unusual, but these were unusual times. The latest fire had been ruled arson. Several explosive devices had been discovered onsite. Olympia’s bodyguard and her housekeeper’s remains had been found inside the home.
Olympia Olsen had vanished. Her body was not amongst the ruins. The mayor was missing from his house too. No one seemed to know his whereabouts, which was unheard of.
After Bones’ prompting, I’d provided a detailed account of the situation for
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