Page 3 of Property of Fire

Even the stuff we make out of steel is mine and Pyro’s designs. Together he and I make some wicked ass shit. Some of it we sell at the gun range. Other things that you can’t acquire legally, we make those too. It all depends on what you’re looking for. We handle everything from your typical knife to specialty made ones. Including those that are coated in deadly poisons. Same with our ammo. Our guns, however, they can be custom designed, but we do a lot of 3D printing of them nowadays. Granted, it doesn’t stop us from forging them as well.

All of this we manage to do without anyone being the wiser, mostly because of where our clubhouse is. That and the fact we handle all this work at the backside of the property in an old barn. On the outside, it looks run down, but you step in, and it’s a totally different environment. We don’t play around with making sure all is running accordingly. The club is constantly getting orders from all over. Some from other KOAMC clubs. Others from all over the world. Humans. Demons. Vampires. Shifters. Werewolves. Doesn’t matter if they got a pulse or not, or even supernatural or not, they put the order in, and they get it delivered.

The only stipulation we have is that they know they turn those weapons on us, they’ll have an enemy unlike any they’ve encountered. We don’t fuck around. You fuck with one of us, you fuck us all, and none of us are down with that.

I shove my thoughts away and nod to Heat. “She’ll come around, Prez. Don’t worry. Just give her time,” I tell him, straddling my own.

“You know how your sister is,” Pyro adds with a grunt.

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.” Heat shakes his head. “Let’s get back to the clubhouse. I’m feeling the need to work some tension off with one of thehoras, maybe two of them.”

Smirking at Heat, I shake my head. Sex with one of thehorasis definitely his way of handling shit when he’s pissed. Those girls at the clubhouse, they love it. Mostly because it’s their chance to be fucked by the President of the club.

“Think I’ll head to my place then,” I tell him, not wanting to have to hear those bitches’ screams through the damn clubhouse, which usually I don’t mind. For the most part, it’s hilarious. I’ll even sometimes join in on the act. Heat isn’t one to give a shit so long as he gets what he wants from thehoras.

I wasn’t feelin’ it. I had some things at the house I needed to take care of, and if he didn’t need me at the clubhouse, then I was gonna take care of that.

“Working on the floors still?” Pyro asks.

“Yeah,” I call out after starting my bike. “Finished ripping up the other shit all throughout the place. Gotta lay the new down so I can finally finish the damn place.”

I’d been working on my house for the past year. I could’ve had it done by now, but other things have taken precedence.

“Want some help?” Heat asks, surprising me.

“You want to work on floors rather than fuckin’horas?” I ask cocking a brow.

Heat shrugs, and Pyro lets out a booming laugh.

“Both take work, and who’s to say I can’t help for a while then go find ahorato help finish the job? Just gotta swing by the clubhouse first and drop the applications off for Evelin.”

Instead of responding with words, I give him a curt nod. He wants to help, then he can help. The house is damn big, and I don’t mind the help. Out of the whole damn house, there’s only one room that’s been mostly completed, and that’s my room. I finished the floors in there first, so I had somewhere to sleep when I wasn’t at the clubhouse. I got the walls painted some light gray color that Evelin had picked out for me. Why I let her do it, I’ve no clue, but she’d been home from school at the time and was in town. I told her to pick me up three gallons of the stuff. Didn’t care what color as long as it wasn’t some girly-ass color that was going to burn my eyes upon seeing it.

“I’ll help too,” Pyro shouts.

This would be good. This meant I might get it done even faster. That is unless Pyro ended up losing his mind laying boards. If that happened, I’d end up with more work on my hands, considering when he loses his mind, he turns into a fucking dragon. Thankfully, for the most part, he knows to control his temper, but still, it was a crap shoot even those times that he didn’t end up flipping his shit.

Regardless, work will get done, and I can move on to working on another part of the reno.

Together, the three of us pull out of the parking lot of the bar and onto the road. Thankfully, the traffic hasn’t gotten out of hand for the day. Most days, unless it’s late at night, there were constantly cars flowing down this road. The bar’s location was great for customers but sucked getting in and out of it at times. It’s rare we’ve got space like we have now to get out without fighting through traffic.

The ride to the clubhouse is easy enough, riding down 460 until we hit our turn, taking us to Fire Tower Road. The roads are curvy, and in some places damn narrow, you can barely fit two vehicles down. Plus, you got people out who don’t know how to navigate a back road worth shit. One of our brothers, Torrid, had been clipped while on his bike. If not for his quick reflexes, then his ass would have been killed that day.

Getting to the lane for our clubhouse, we take the turn. Halfway down the lane, the gates open, letting us pass. I give the prospect manning the gates a chin lift and follow Heat the rest of the way down to the lane, going through a tree line that opens up to where the clubhouse is located. Off behind it, there was nothing but fields.

Secluded.

No way for anyone to see what the club was doing from the road. No one could even get a drone near the clubhouse without it being spotted. Even if it were missed, there were protective runes placed scarcely throughout the woods protecting the land from any intrusions such as drones or whatnot. If you don’t have the invite onto the land, you won’t get on it without a fight on hand.

Off to the far left of the fields, you can see the barn where I spend most of my time working on the guns along with my brothers.

I park my bike next to Heat’s. I don’t bother turning her off or putting the kickstand down. I’ll just wait for him, just as Pyro’s doing. It won’t take him long to drop the papers off with Boot. Then we’ll head five minutes down the road to my place and get to work.

While waiting, though, my mind drifts off to thoughts of Evelin, and again, I find myself thinking about what the fuck is up with her. Someone needs to get her to talk.

THREE

EVELIN

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