Torched: Afterburn (Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club Book 2) Page 12

  After buying a drink and tossing it back in five seconds flat, Torch felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out and saw Buddha’s number on the screen.

  He picked up and grumbled, “Hey, man.”

  “Where you at, son?”

  “Sterling. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, I just wanted to… uh…” Buddha stammered. “Listen, I’m gonna give it a couple more weeks.”

  “The meds and chemo?”

  “Yeah,” Buddha muttered. “You were right, brother, we’re fighters. Giving up now and leaving you boys to clean up my mess like a fucking coward isn’t what I want my legacy to be.”

  Wait. What? Torch had to pull the phone away from his ear and double-check the time because this was a first, Buddha had never backed down this quick. On anything. “What’s the catch?” he asked suspiciously.

  Buddha sighed. “Look, I’ll do it for two more weeks so whoever wants to get tested can do that. I know why you keep refusing to give me your vote for retirement and I get it. So, we’ll do it your way. If there’s no match, at least you’ll know you did everything you could. And hey, maybe I’ll get lucky. Either way, I’m willing to suffer through the side effects a little longer to give you some peace of mind if I end up kicking the bucket.”

  “You sure that’s the only reason?” Torch asked. His explanation made sense but there was something Buddha was holding back. The man always slept on big decisions, he didn’t all of a sudden have a change of heart from one hour to the next.

  “Son, what the fuck?” Buddha asked incredulously. “I’m doing what you want and you’re still giving me shit?”

  “Sorry,” Torch muttered, shaking it off. It didn’t matter why he’d changed his mind, just that he had. “I’m really glad to hear all this, man. I’ll call the other chapters and figure out where they can go to get tested.”

  “Only if people want to,” Buddha reiterated. “I’m not expecting or begging for it. And Liv offered to handle the logistics, she’s good with all that.”

  There it was, the missing link. “You told her?”

  “Yeah. She saw you tear out of the clubhouse all pissed off, figured you’d tell her anyway.”

  “So my old lady changed your mind—”

  “I told you, I realized you were right,” Buddha cut him off.

  Yeah, okay, whatever he fucking said. “She didn’t blackmail you, did she?”

  Buddha chuckled. “Did she blackmail me? With what?”

  “I don’t know, she does that computer magic and finds out all kinds of shit.” Why was he so damn paranoid? Christ, he’d be certifiable before the month was up. “Never mind, I’m just fucking happy you reconsidered.”

  “You should get your ass home and catch some sleep, Torch. You’re on edge.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he muttered. “Alright, brother, you get some rest too. We’re gonna help you beat this shit.”

  “I hope you’re right, son. Good night.”

  He hung up and glanced at his reflection in the gas station window. Jesus, the bags under his eyes were starting to take over his face. Yeah, wrapping himself around his woman and sleeping for more than a couple hours sounded real good.

  As he mounted his bike and started it up, it dawned on him that Liv had actually done him two favors. Whatever she’d said to Buddha had obviously worked, but her offer to handle looking for a bone marrow match would also keep her busy. He wasn’t sure whether she’d finished up her hacking gig, but the more shit she had to focus on, the less he’d have to worry about her sleuthing instincts inconveniently kicking in.

  Three days.

  That was how long he had to keep worrying about every little fucking thing that came out of his mouth whenever they were together.

  Gauge and Zed had promised him their votes on the matter of asking Liv for a loan, provided it was obvious they’d come up short on Cora’s two hundred grand at the ten-day mark. They would, he already knew they would. They were out of shit to sell—except guns, but that wasn’t an option—and it would take way too many bodies and extra runs to make another hundred grand in a week without closing up their legit businesses. Also not an option.

  It wasn’t like he wanted to stick out his hand and beg his old lady for cash either, but the cost to his ego would be a lot less than the cost to the club if they failed to pay up. Hell, making their debt a priority had probably already cost them their chance of finding the assholes who’d robbed them in the first place. Biff hadn’t had any luck tracking down the coins or van, and the assholes had now had a week to totally cover their tracks.

  But there wasn’t a point in dwelling or getting himself worked up now, was there? The majority had spoken and he’d had no choice but to go along with it.

  He just hoped they hadn’t made an even bigger mess to clean up.

  : : : :

  Except for the light coming from their muted TV in the living room, the house was completely dark when he got there. Eyeing his gorgeous wife passed out on the couch, he quietly pulled off his boots and hung up his cut. She looked so peaceful, so opposite of how he felt inside, that his eyes couldn’t tear themselves away. He moved in, mesmerized by her soft lips and the flickering, colorful light bouncing off her silky skin.

  He knew the divide had been all his doing, but fuck, he missed the shit out of her.

  She was propped up on the armrest wearing a slinky, white tank top and gray sweats, unknowingly making his dick twitch with lust for those perfect curves. The woman could rock denim, lace, and leather, but with those outfits came the tough vixen act. It was her downtime style he loved the best. Be it baggy pants with a tight top, or one of his over-sized shirts with a thong, her outside matched the inside whenever it was just the two of them relaxing. She was unpretentious, easygoing, and—bonus—sexy as fuck. He’d said it before and he’d say it again, there wasn’t a luckier motherfucker on the goddamn planet. Livia Larter was a gift from the gods and he’d fight to the death if any of them ever tried to take her back.

  He leaned down and slowly pulled an open notebook and tablet out from under her hand. Studying her jottings, he recognized them as a list of their twenty chapter locations. Each had multiple clinic names and contact numbers written next to them.

  How did she do this shit? It had only been a couple hours since he’d stormed out of the clubhouse and she’d talked to Buddha.

  And why did he suddenly feel the need to prove something? Prove what, he had no idea, just… something.

  Liv’s brain was just as big of a turn-on as her body, but in that moment, the weirdest fucking wave of insecurity hit him. Clever broads like his old lady were blessings in disguise, they could breathe life into a broken man but could also be downright deadly to the lovesick idiot who thought he could tie one down. And pity the fool like himself who knew he couldn’t, but would die fucking trying anyway.

  Truth be told, Torch was still—probably more so now—struggling with how to balance his controlling nature and her independent one. By MC standards he was being a total bitch just admitting it, because men were supposed to be, you know, fucking men. But outside of foreplay, that macho shit didn’t work on women like the one he was staring at, it just reminded them of all the headaches they could save themselves by leaving. Their power was in self-awareness, in the confidence of knowing they could survive anything and do it alone. Demanding subservience was like trying to stick reins on a wild horse, you were just asking to get kicked in the damn face. Intimidation, threats, they didn’t cower to any of it, they saw it as a goddamn challenge to be won.

  Fuck that. Exhausted or not, he’d always find the energy to battle his woman on any level to remind her of where— and to who—she belonged.

  Pulling on Liv’s legs, he slid her down to her back on the couch and knelt over her. He preemptively grabbed her wrists as her eyes flew open and she bolted upright, but she was quick to regain her wits and smiled instead of swinging.

  “Hey, babe,” she cooed. “What time is it?�
�

  “Doesn’t matter,” he growled. “No talking, okay?”

  “Torch—”

  He pressed two fingers to her lips then replaced them with his own, inhaling her sweet breath as their tongues met. Was that chocolate and whiskey he tasted? Jesus, whatever it was, he wanted more. He buried his fingers in her hair and savored her soft and warm mouth.

  Fuck, so goddamn soft.

  He had no idea how long that went on for, only feeling the need to reposition himself when his dick’s accommodations got to be too cramped. His eyes glued to hers the whole time, he pulled back onto his knees and yanked his shirt off, then stood up and dropped his jeans. As requested, she didn’t say anything, she just bit down on that pillowy fucking bottom lip and stared.

  He swung his knee around to the back of the couch and flipped her over below him. Sliding his hands between her stomach and the cushion, he reached for the drawstring to her sweats and untied it. The pants slid down her fantastic ass with a tug. She bent her legs up so he could get them off the rest of the way, while his mouth made a beeline for her round cheeks and bit down. She moaned and dropped her head, her shoulders tensing up.

  He wanted to be inside her, needed to be inside her. They couldn’t connect through words out of club code, but nothing could stop his body from doing the talking for him.

  He climbed over her slowly, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles from ass to neck. Then, slipping his hand under her chin, he turned her head and leaned down to get another taste of those lips.

  His hand slid back down, caressing every inch of skin to her hip before dipping between her thighs. He spread her leg off the couch, before reaching under her stomach again and nudging her hips upward. Looking back over her shoulder, she lifted her ass in the air and arched her back.

  Fuck mountains and oceans, this stunning view was all he craved. And he could take it anywhere he went.

  A guttural moan escaped his throat as he spread her ass open. His desperate cock positioned at her slit, he ran his hand between her cheeks and down to that decadent fucking pussy.

  With a thrust and a groan, her tight core swallowed him whole and sent shivers running up his spine. He draped his body over hers and hooked his forearm under her hips to keep them nice and high.

  But he wasn’t there to give her slow and sweet, he was out to prove a point he hadn’t figured out yet. With every thrust, he went deeper and harder and faster, reveling in the sweat beginning to coat their skin. He clung to her lower belly, so tight he swore he could feel the head of his dick pressing up against his palm.

  Liv’s moans soon matched his in intensity and volume. She was putting in the work, riding his dick and rolling her hips like a fucking porn star. But nothing in the way her body responded suggested she was faking anything like one. Her back glistened, from her mouth came grunts of pleasure, and the walls of her dripping cunt started closing in even tighter around his throbbing shaft. He could tell she was biting her tongue to keep from screaming out, but his woman seemed to be down for following orders and didn’t say a word.

  It felt good, so fucking mind-blowingly good, but he didn’t want her doing any of the work; he wanted her pinned down and immobile, taking whatever he gave.

  He uncurled his arm and forced her hips down flat without pulling out, then bunched up the back of her tank top and gripped it as tight as he could to constrict her even more.

  Brushing her hair away from her neck and wrapping it around his other hand, he tugged her head back so he could see those jade, green eyes looking back at him. She smiled through pursed lips.

  “That a girl,” he rasped in her ear. “You like being trapped under me, huh? Impaled on my fucking cock?”

  “Mmhmm,” she moaned.

  He pulled back and slammed into her over and over, fisting her hair even harder and sinking his teeth into her shoulder. Her moans turned to soft cries, which turned into muffled screams, and he loosened his grip just enough to let her bury her face in a pillow.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, feeling both of them getting close to exploding.

  After a few more deep and brutal thrusts, her walls rippled and clenched, sending him over the edge with their vise-like grip. His breath hitched and his head fell next to hers as waves of release overtook him.

  Once he’d caught his breath, she turned her face and asked, “Can I talk now?”

  “Not if it’s to tell me to get off you,” he muttered. “I’m pretty sure my legs don’t work right now.”

  She laughed. “Okay, just scoot over then. I can’t breathe.”

  He rolled to his side so she could get some air in her lungs and her dangling leg up on the couch. When she got comfortable in his arms, he tucked her head under his chin and pulled her to his chest as tight as he could.

  “You wanna go to bed?” she asked.

  “No.” He reached around the top of the backrest for a blanket and spread it over them one-handed. “I don’t wanna let you go long enough to get there. You mind?”

  She pulled away from him with a smile and slipped off the tank top she was still wearing. After lying back down and wiggling around a little, she settled in with a happy sigh. “Nope, I’m good right here. Get some rest, babe, you need it. Good night.”

  No questions? No complaints? Finally, a good end to a shitty fucking day. No skirting around the truth or making excuses, just her naked in his arms.

  “Night,” he whispered. “I love you.”

  “Love you more,” she murmured.

  “Not possible.” He kissed her cheek and listened to her breathing, waiting for it to slow down. When it did and he knew she was asleep, he let himself drift into oblivion too.

  : 14 :

  | LIVIA |

  Three days after making a deal with the fucking devil—also known as Buddha in this particular scenario—I sat at a table inside Crow’s Nest with a cup of coffee, contemplatively watching people stopping by to have their cheeks swabbed. Across the country that morning, twenty other chapters were hosting their own donor drives.

  With all of the friends Buddha and the club had in Linwood, I’d arranged for ours to be held at the bar. The hospital didn’t need a massive influx in foot traffic and we didn’t want civilians roaming the clubhouse either, so I’d found a lab tech to set up at the Nest where people could filter through. I figured since we were dealing with swabs instead of needles, the health department wouldn’t make an issue of it.

  It had taken a ton of coordination, but based on my calculations, we’d have a pool of five hundred to two thousand possible matches by the end of the day. Five hundred to two thousand slim chances that could add up to a real one for Buddha.

  Torch hadn’t slowed down at all since the night he fucked the shit out of me on the couch. He was still spending the majority of his time working and my suspicions over the seriousness of whatever was going on were growing deeper. And while I was grateful for the opportunity to help the club in some way, being kept in the dark about everything else was starting to grate on my psyche.

  I may have spent most of my adult life being hunted from one state to the next, but every move still had to be calculated to stay ahead. I dealt in analysis, not ambiguity; keeping my senses strong, my information constant, and my guard up on every level was a necessity. But then Torch’s sexy ass had ridden into the picture, swept me off my feet, and plopped me down in the middle of his kingdom. I had no idea what the fuck to do with myself because I didn’t know what the fuck was happening around me.

  I was doing my best not to dwell on the cloud of mystery hanging overhead, but it was hard not to feel a little out of place and confused. I didn’t do well with confused, every problem was supposed to have a solution if you just thought hard enough.

  “Hey you,” Zed greeted, snapping me out of my daze as he sat down across from me. “What’s churning in that brain?”

  “I was just thinking how awesome it is that so many people showed up today,” I replied.

  He nodded and to
ok a sip of my coffee. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucking awesome. How’d you do it?”

  “How did I set it up?”

  “No, how did you talk Buddha into not giving up?”

  “I think you’re giving me too much credit.” What was I supposed to say? That I’d agreed to maybe kill his boss? “Torch talked to him too.”

  “Oh, come on,” he groaned. “Your old man refused to entertain Buddha and the only other person he told that night was you. I was there and didn’t find out about it ‘til I talked to both of them the next day.”

  I stared at him with a straight face, wondering what the hell was going on here. Did he know? “He probably just realized what a big decision it was,” I said with a shrug.

  “Buddha wouldn’t have told either of you if he hadn’t already made one,” Zed pressed. “And once his mind’s set, it’s set.”

  I smiled and took back my mug before he drank it all, I needed all the caffeine I could get. “How about you tell me what’s really going on with the club instead? Why’s everybody working around the clock?”

  “You’ll have to ask your husband, you know the rules.”

  “Yeah,” I smirked. “I also know the rule about a private conversation with the president staying that way, so I guess we’re both shit out of luck. Unless, of course, you already know what was said and this whole conversation is a pointless exercise in testing me.”

  Chuckling, he reached into his cut, pulled out a flask, and held it out to me. “Have a drink, darlin’. You look like you need it.”

  “It’s like eight o’clock in the morning,” I pointed out.

  “So?”

  So nothing. I snatched the flask and took a nice, long gulp of the whiskey inside. It burned, but it was a good burn, the kind that took the edge off. “Thanks.”

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Anytime. So why the long face? What’s bothering you?”

  “I’m good, Z, don’t worry about me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re a shit liar, babe. I know you.”