Page 43 of Ignite

His eyes grew moist, and he closed them to keep any tears from falling. They still trickled down from the corners. “You’re not just a piece of my world, Jazz. You’re all of it.”

24

Jazz put awaythe freshly washed mugs and wiped down the counter. Her sleep pattern had always been irregular, but the hours were taking a real toll on her now. Bill’s recovery was slower than expected, but at least it was moving forward. Madge was running herself to death trying to keep up with the bakery and take care of him. Jazz worked all the hours she could, but it just wasn’t enough. Wolf came when he could, but with all the shit going down with the club, his time was also strained.

Jazz yawned and glanced at the time. Three thirty. Two and a half more hours to go. Madge was at home with Bill for the afternoon. Two regular patrons were in their usual chairs clicking away at computers. It was the kind of day she liked. Calm and easy. She had to check on her inventory program, but so far there weren’t any glitch alerts, so a quick look-see for maintenance was all that was needed. Wolf was at the Attic all night, so perhaps she could sleep for a change.

A smile spread across her face as she thought about Wolf. His appetites were voracious, and she found herself opening to him on a daily basis. Of course, she didn’t mind in the least, as she enjoyed the variety of pleasures he gave her and the ones she gave back. He was more experienced than she was, and that bothered her a bit, but she decided she was reaping the benefits of his developed talents. Afternoon, morning, evening, night, it didn’t matter—he took her whenever they were together. Sometimes it was fast and furious, hurtling her into rapid-fire orgasms as many times as he could before he came. Other times, he drew it out, making her wait for slow, deep pleasure that lasted a long time.

She smiled at his creativity. The shower, the bistro table, her computer desk, the deck, the sofa—everywhere in the house was a potential area for play.

It wasn’t just sex either. They discussed their favorite books and movies, discovering how many they had in common. Conversations ranged from light to heavy, everything from food to politics. They occasionally cooked together. He took care of a bunch of house repairs and made plans for more. She cleaned and did the laundry. Work for both of them was on the extreme side, but somehow they carved out time to just be together.

The front bell rang, and she turned to see Hugo enter.

“What’s up, sis?” He grinned and waved. “Got any whoopie pies?”

“Just for you, bro. Want a coffee with that?”

“Yup. Can you make a heart on top?”

“Absolutely.” She turned to the counter to make his favorite caramel latte. “Have you talked to Mom and Dad lately?”

“Mom calls me every day,” he groused. “Asks me if I’m eating okay. I tell her yes all the time, but I guess she doesn’t believe me.”

Jazz poured milk into the frothing pitcher. “It’s nice to know she cares, right?”

Hugo huffed as he sat at a nearby table. “I guess it is. It’s just that I have to tell her the same thing over and over and over and over again.”

“Take it at face value, bro. There are some parents who don’t give their children the time of day, let alone worry if they’re eating and sleeping. Hold on while I finish this.” The steamer hissed, drowning out any other noise.

As she poured the hot milk and drew a heart in the middle of the cup, the bell rang again. Jazz looked up, and her stomach dropped to the floor.

Four bikers entered the bakery. She didn’t recognize them, but the logo on their cuts sent her into a tense panic. A fiery skull vomiting a stream of molten metal. They were part of the Slaggers. Two of them carried baseball bats, and one had a tire iron. They fanned out in the store, and the two other patrons quickly packed up their computers and coffee and skedaddled, leaving Jazz and Hugo alone.

Welcome. What can I get you? We have fresh donuts.“Welcome, you donuts.”Oh shit!

Thankfully, they ignored her. “Where’s that motherfucker?”

Hugo’s eyes rounded, and he licked his lips nervously. “What’s going on, sis?”

Jazz shushed her brother. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

The one closest to the counter fingered the row of white china cups on top. “We know you’re the girl he’s been fucking.” He clicked his tongue. “Weird that someone like him would be into stick figures, but different strokes for different folks, right?”

Jazz swallowed. Every muscle in her body was at the ready to grab her brother and run, but the other Slaggers hemmed them in. She could dart through the kitchen door and out the back, but how would she get to Hugo? Obviously, they’d found out that she and Wolf were an item and he worked here from time to time. How much more had they learned about him?

“Jazzy?” Hugo’s voice sounded scared.

She put a strained smile on her face and formed her words as carefully as she could. “He’s not here, and I don’t know when he’ll be back. If you want some coffee and Danishes to go, I can get that for you. My treat.”

“No, thanks. I just need to leave a message for him.” He placed his arm on the counter and, with one hard swipe, sent the stacked cups crashing to the floor.

This must have been the signal the other three bikers were waiting for. They started swinging and systematically destroyed the glass display counters, the coffee machines, the furniture—anything and everything that could be broken.

Hugo screamed as he dropped to the floor and covered his ears. Jazz crouched and hurried to his side, covering her brother with her body and shuffling him as close to the wall as possible. Shards of china and glass flew through the air. Broken pastries followed. One man pitched a table through the front window. Another one pounded on the register until it popped open. He stuffed all the cash into his pockets before yanking it from the counter and throwing it to the ground to beat it to pieces.

It seemed to go on forever. Hugo screamed and screamed, curled into Jazz as she held him for dear life.

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