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Chapter fifteen

Novo

I woke up to the harsh sound of my phone ringing. Beside me, Matty stirred but didn't wake, his breathing still deep and even. I fumbled for the device, squinting at the screen: Cruise.

"Yeah?" I answered, keeping my voice low as I carefully extracted myself from Matty's warmth.

"Bear, the Glitter Bomb's on fire," Cruise said without preamble, his voice tight with tension. "Started about thirty minutes ago. Fire department's on scene, but it's bad."

I was instantly alert, moving to the closet to grab clothes. "Anyone hurt?"

"Three dancers with smoke inhalation; they're on their way to County General. Place was closed, thank fuck, but the night security guy's got some burns. Nothing life-threatening, but the building is destroyed."

"I'm on my way," I said, pulling on jeans with one hand. "Call Jono if you haven't already."

"Already done. He's heading there now."

I ended the call and turned to find Matty sitting up in bed, his hair tousled from sleep, eyes wide with concern.

"What's happening?" he asked, already reaching for his clothes.

"Stay here," I said firmly, pulling on my shirt. "The Glitter Bomb is on fire. I need to go deal with it."

"I'm coming with you," Matty insisted, already halfway out of bed.

I shook my head. "Not happening. It's not safe."

"But—"

"Matty," I cut him off, my voice leaving no room for argument. "Someone just tried to kill you two days ago. I'm not taking you to a public emergency scene where anyone could be watching."

He froze, conflict clear on his face. "You think this is connected to Harold?"

"I don't know," I admitted, pulling on my boots. "But I'm not taking chances with your safety."

Matty's expression hardened with determination. "I'm not helpless, Novo. I can't just sit here while—"

"You can and you will," I interrupted, softening my tone as I crossed to him. I cupped his face in my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes. "Please. I need to know you're safe while I handle this. Tex will be right outside. No one gets in without my say-so."

I saw the moment Matty's resistance crumbled, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine," he conceded, leaning into my touch despite himself. "But call me. Let me know what's happening."

"I will," I promised, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before stepping back. "Stay inside, doors locked. I'll be back as soon as I can."

I grabbed my cut and keys, pausing at the bedroom door. "And Matty? This isn't about you being helpless. It's about me not being able to focus if I'm worried about you."

Something softened in his expression. "Be careful," he said quietly.

"Always am," I replied, forcing a confidence I didn't entirely feel.

Outside, I briefed Tex on the situation, making it clear that Matty was not to leave under any circumstances. He nodded solemnly, hand resting on his holstered weapon.

The ride to town was tense, my mind racing with possibilities.

I led the way. Gunner, and Brick slid in behind me.

The timing was too convenient to be a coincidence.

First the attempts on Matty's life, then my meeting with Coombes, and now this?

The Glitter Bomb was one of our most profitable businesses—its destruction would hit the club hard financially.

I could see the glow of flames from blocks away, an angry orange haze lighting up the night sky.

As I pulled up across the street, the full devastation became clear.

The three-story building was almost completely engulfed, flames shooting through what remained of the roof.

Fire trucks surrounded the scene, firefighters working to contain the blaze and keep it from spreading to neighboring structures.

On one side there was an empty lot; on the other, our other bar.

I parked my bike and jogged over, the heat from the inferno intense even from this distance.

Jono and Cruise had beaten me by maybe a minute and were standing with Fire Captain Reynolds.

Behind them, Sergeant Hargrove—fresh from the precinct—watched with arms folded, jaw tight.

I groaned. Hargrove hated MC clubs and had made it his mission in life to cause us as much trouble as possible.

“Bear,” Jono nodded. “Captain Reynolds was just briefing us.”

Reynolds, a weathered man in his fifties, gave me a measured look. “Multiple points of origin, witness reports.”

“Arson,” I said flatly.

Reynolds shrugged. “I won’t confirm until lab analysis. But two of the girls said the fire escape was blocked. If it hadn’t been for one of them smelling smoke in the bathroom, the casualties could’ve been catastrophic.”

I exchanged a glance with Jono—this was no random accident. Before I could speak, Sergeant Hargrove stepped forward.

“Hold your horses,” he barked. “Club folk, back to the sidewalk. You’re not here to help—so don’t get in our way.”

Jono bristled. “Sergeant, we’re just asking—”

“Save it.” Hargrove turned on me. “Your sprinklers didn’t go off? Alarm system dead? Seems convenient, doesn’t it?” He raised a clipboard. “I’ll need your club’s entire safety file by tomorrow.”

I closed my eyes. “Sergeant, right now we need answers, not permits.”

He tapped his pen. “Answers come after paperwork. Now step back.”

I stepped aside, watching as a part of the roof caved in.

“Security footage?” I asked Cruise.

“Don’t know yet,” Cruise said.

“What about nearby businesses?” Jono asked the captain, as despite the sergeant's orders he walked over to us.

“We’ll canvas once we’ve got this contained,” Reynolds replied. “Given the hour, most places are closed. Footage might be scarce.”

My anger buzzed beneath my skin. This was a message—a war declaration. Coombes was escalating, moving from threats to outright attack.

“How’s Trixie?” I asked Cruise.

“En route,” he replied. “She nearly had a heart attack when I called.”

As if on cue, a black SUV screeched to a halt. Trixie emerged, her perfect hair now askew, face ashen. She ran to us, eyes never leaving the blaze.

“My girls,” she whispered, voice tight. “Are they all right?”

“Three with smoke inhalation, but they’ll be fine,” I said. “Mack, the security guy, has burns but nothing critical.”

Trixie’s tears caught in the glare of the fire. “I just finished redoing the VIP rooms,” she said, the mundane detail making it sting harder.

I put an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll rebuild. Better than before.”

“Damn right,” Jono said, voice hard. “This building isn’t the business—our people are.”

Trixie squared her shoulders. “Any idea who did this?”

“We have suspects,” I said, voice low because Hargrove had followed the captain.

Hargrove snorted, crossing his arms. “Suspects or nightclub drama? Want me to file charges against you lot while you’re at it?”

“Back off, Hargrove,” Jono growled.

At that moment, a firefighter jogged up. “Captain, got a minute?”

Reynolds excused himself and he and the sergeant followed the man toward a truck. I watched him go, then turned back to the wreckage. More of the roof caved in, sparks drifting into the night.

“Too coordinated,” Cruise observed. “First Matty, now this.”

“Harold Coombes is sending a message,” I said. “He offered me hush money yesterday to step away from Matty. When I said I'd think about it, he warned things could get… complicated .”

“Burning our top-earner is a hell of a complication,” Jono muttered. “Digger’s been watching Coombes’s burner phones. He tracked a call right when the fire started.”

My phone buzzed—Matty.

Are you okay? What’s happening?

Club’s a total loss. Everyone’s alive. Stay inside.

This is my fault, isn’t it?

I sighed when I read his reply .

No. Harold’s fault. Never yours.

I stared at the phone, wanting to reassure Matty more thoroughly, but this wasn't a conversation for text messages. "I need to get back to him," I told Cruise. "He's blaming himself."

Cruise nodded grimly. "Go. We've got this covered. Digger's already pulling security footage from the gas station across the street."

"This is war," I said quietly, unsurprised he hadn't given me the week. "Coombes just burned down a million-dollar business to send a message." It wasn’t just the girls here; we did a brisk illegal gambling business from downstairs.

"And we'll send one back," Cruise promised, his eyes reflecting the flames. "But smart, not hot-headed."

I glanced at the devastation one more time.

The Glitter Bomb had been more than just a strip club—it was the livelihood for dozens of people, from dancers to bartenders to security.

Rebuilding would take time and money we hadn't planned to spend.

I knew there was no way insurance would pay out for arson.

"I'll meet you at the clubhouse tomorrow morning," I said, already heading for my bike. "And have someone check on the other businesses. If Coombes is targeting club assets..."

"Already on it," Cruise assured me. "Digger's got prospects watching The Last Keg and the auto shop."

The ride back to the compound was tense, my mind racing with implications. Coombes was escalating—moving from direct attacks on Matty to economic warfare against the club. He was trying to make protecting Matty too costly, too dangerous.

It wouldn't work.

When I pulled up to the cabin, I saw Tex standing alert, hand resting on his weapon until he recognized me. "All quiet, Bear," he reported. "He hasn't tried to leave."

I nodded my thanks and headed inside, finding Matty pacing the living room, still in his sleep clothes but clearly wide awake. He spun toward the door as I entered, relief washing over his face before being replaced by concern.

"You smell like smoke," he said, crossing to me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I assured him, locking the door behind me. "The club's destroyed, but everyone got out alive."

Matty's face crumpled. "This is because of me, isn't it? Because you wouldn't take Harold's money?"