Firetrap: The Soul Scorchers MC (The Scorched Souls Serial-series Book 1) Read Free

investigation into my mother’s death. Like me, Dad hadn’t believed she’d committed suicide; though, overtime, his opinion had changed to one of begrudging acceptance. I still wasn’t buying suicide. Conner wasn’t convinced either.
    As a fire investigator working for the ATF, Conner had been assigned the case. He was already investigating a string of arson-related fires that had taken place over the past six years, from Seaside all the way to Brookings. He couldn’t tell me much about his work, but he had let it slip that the Soul Scorchers bikers’ club were suspects. A club member’s wife had died in a fire too. That revelation hadn’t surprised me at all.
    Since my mother’s death, I’d seen that one cocky, firefighting biker around town, too many times to count. He’d even come to our house following the fire. What an asshole. My smile didn’t work on him. Every time I caught his attention, I found him glowering at me.
    So why is it him I fantasize about when I touch myself?
    That was one question I couldn’t seem to answer. So rather than suffer the frustration and embarrassment of trying, I turned my thoughts back to my future husband, who I did not fantasize about - ever.
    Originally from Seal’s Cove, Conner was thrilled to be assigned here. He was five years older than me, so we hadn’t really crossed paths until the investigation. From what I’d heard, besides the fact he was a total lady-magnet, was how he’d always been fascinated with fire, volunteering to fight them in high school. His career was his first priority, which, for now, was fine with me. It gave me time to do what I wanted. As long as he didn’t embarrass me with his legendary male whoring, we’d be fine.
    “Sorry about the interruption, just business stuff. Nothing major.” Conner reappeared with my father. “Go on, please, honey. What were you telling your dad?” He had the apologetic boyfriend expression mastered.
    I smiled sweetly at them both. “Well, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted …”
    “Olympia,” my dad scolded. “You have my undivided attention now.”
    “My personal bathroom. It’s not right. I wanted wall-to-ceiling cabinets on the east wall, and I was supposed to have starfish painted around the windows. Remember?”
    Dad glanced at Conner and shrugged. “I don’t know who can paint what you want. I figured we could add the cupboards later.”
    “Find someone! It’s my present from you. You said it would be perfect. It’s not. Fix it.” I refused to give up my vision. I wanted things a certain way. How hard could it be to paint some freaking starfish?
    “I might have an idea,” Conner offered, his voice calm. “Bryce Richards does custom painting on cars and motorcycles. I’m sure he could do your work. He’s also a carpenter. But even better, he’s VP for the Soul Scorchers. It would give me a chance to learn more about him, and the club.”
    I shivered. I didn’t want some greasy biker touching my stuff, and knowing my luck, the sexy, brooding man I couldn’t seem to evict from my thoughts would be the same one painting my bathroom.
    “Daddy…?” I whined, not sold on the idea, even with Conner’s assurances.
    “He’s got a point, sugar,” my father agreed with Conner, ignoring my plea. “I didn’t even think of him. He’s quite talented, and he’s one of the more civilized gang members. College educated even.”
    They both chuckled.
    “Fine, but I don’t want him in here alone. I plan keep an eye on him.”
    There was no way in hell I was letting a strange biker into my private bathroom without supervision. He would have to walk through my bedroom to get there, giving him access to my jewelry, worse yet, my underwear drawer, which just happened to be overflowing with Victoria Secrets’ lingerie.
    “I’ll leave work early on the days he’s here and make sure he knows who he’s dealing with,” Conner said, looking smug.
    “He’s dealing with the