Torched Read online

  Anything beyond that was off-limits. I didn’t want to know where or who he really was. Alright, maybe I did, but I’d convinced myself that nothing good could ever come of it, personally or professionally.

  Besides which, I had a lovely memory to look back on, untarnished by any ugly truths that would have eventually surfaced had we kept in touch. It was self-preservation at its finest.

  Right to the last minute at that. I’d considered ways of warning him without actually stepping foot in Linwood. Knowing that the chances of Torch still having the phone I’d kept the number to all these years were slim, I’d tried calling it a couple times nonetheless. No answer.

  Unfortunately, every hour I spent worrying about my own interests was an hour they could be spending protecting their—and their town’s—own. Any innocent blood that ended up being shed would be on me at this point.

  So, here I was, closing in on my destination, with no idea of what I was even walking into by showing up at the Serpents’ clubhouse unannounced. Maybe I should’ve worn a vest.

  Now that I’d done the digging I should have years earlier, it was clear that they weren’t some pansy club. Murder, kidnapping, extortion, smuggling, it was all in the law enforcement files. There was no doubt in my mind that a lot of it was trumped-up bullshit, but I wasn’t delusional. By all accounts, even though they didn’t outwardly advertise being 1%ers by wearing a patch signifying it, they were still outlaws, dangerous by definition. And Cameron “Torch” Larter was no ordinary member, he was now Vice President.

  Shit, would he even be there on a Tuesday night?

  It was entirely too late to start having second thoughts now. Before I knew it, I was tearing down Main Street. It seemed like a nice enough, blue-collar town, from what little of it I could make out make out in my peripheral vision. But I wasn’t here to sightsee. Through the city center, and then the residential suburbs, all I could focus on was my destination, which came into view as I crossed a set of railroad tracks that seemed to divide the inhabitable and the industrial.

  The clubhouse, a two-story concrete building with blacked-out windows and an enormous Iron Serpents logo painted on the front, was right across the tracks. Next to it was the MC’s repair shop, Iron Automotive, and next to that, the entrance to a club-owned salvage yard, which looked like it wrapped behind all the buildings in satellite photos. It was pretty impressive, these guys had to have been doing well for themselves to own an entire fucking block.

  The property was surrounded by a twelve foot tall chain-link fence, but each area had its own individual entrance gate. The shop and salvage yard looked to be closed for the day. Slowing down to a crawl, I approached the only open gate—the one leading to the clubhouse—and immediately saw two guys standing outside smoking with two scantily-clad women. Only bottom rockers adorned the backs of their cuts.

  Prospects. Great. The gatekeepers were men who couldn’t bend any rules if they wanted to be patched in.

  Oh well. Here goes nothing.

  I took a deep breath and pulled in, parking my bike at the end of the row closest to the gate, in case I needed to make a quick break for it or something. I couldn’t tell if there were lights on inside, but counted at least nine Harley’s in that lot, which hopefully meant there were more of them—preferably actual members—inside.

  One of the prospects noticed me and strutted over, while the other stayed back and watched. I pulled off my goggles and beanie, dropped my backpack onto the seat, and shook out my long hair, before walking toward the greeter. His tough-guy swagger relaxed, I assumed because he figured I was nothing more than a nonthreatening woman.

  Over his shoulder, I saw the other staring at me like a hungry wolf. Naturally, the girls were shooting me bitchy looks.

  I held back and let the prospect come to me. “There’s no party tonight, darlin’,” he said.

  “I’m not here to party.”

  He looked me up and down and smiled. “That’s a shame. Never seen you around.”

  I rolled my eyes, hardly in the mood for banter that could throw me off my game. “Listen, I don’t really have time for small talk. Is Torch around? It’s really important.”

  He raised a brow, as if trying to assess whether I actually knew Torch or was just dropping names. Or maybe he was trying to figure out if I was one of his boss’ lays, there to stir up shit. “He’s in church. I’ll take a message.”

  My nerves started tingling at the confirmation that he was inside. “That’s not gonna work for me. This is an emergency and I can’t get through on his cell. Please, just tell him that Livia needs to talk to him.”

  “Livia, I said I’d take a message.”

  I took a step closer, leaving only inches between us and looking him straight in the eyes to show that I wasn’t backing down. “And I said that this is a fucking emergency. Look, I know you’re not allowed to interrupt when they’re at the table, but this is serious shit that they should probably be discussing anyway. I’m sure they’ll forgive the breach of protocol.”

  He was clearly getting angry and snapped his fingers at the other guy, who jogged over to join us. “We’ll let Torch know you were here. If you don’t wanna do that, you can leave. Right now,” he demanded as they both crossed their arms across their chests. I wondered which one actually had the bigger penis.

  Oh wait, that was me.

  I shook my head at them and turned back to walk toward my bike. But instead of getting on, I discretely pulled my gun.

  I turned around and fired off two rounds into the ground, far enough to my right that they wouldn’t ricochet and hit somebody.

  Both of the girls screamed. As quick as the men drew their own weapons and pointed them at my chest, I casually dropped mine and raised both hands. I wasn’t actually trying to get shot here.

  “This’ll get his attention faster. But thanks.”

  : 11 :

  “Alright, last order of business tonight is May Fair,” Buddha announced from the head of the table.

  They’d been in church for over an hour and Torch was getting restless. And he was out of beer. Most of the meeting had been nothing but fucking around and bullshitting anyway, something they easily could’ve done out in the lounge with cold drinks in their hands and easy women in their laps.

  Usually he didn’t mind when church went long, the club was what he lived for. But he’d gotten back from a week-long run just a few hours earlier and needed to unwind. Alone. As soon as they were done, he was going on a lengthy ride.

  “Everything’s pretty much set,” Buddha continued, “but we need to be there at seven on Saturday to help the women set up. So don’t get all fucked up on Friday and oversleep.”

  Groans erupted around the table.

  “Oh shut the fuck up, it ain’t like we do this every—”

  The sound of gunshots stopped Buddha mid-sentence.

  “Shit!” Mace yelled, as everyone around the table jumped up and rushed out, pulling their guns as they ran.

  Exhaustion must have been fucking with Torch’s reflexes, because he was the last one out. As his brothers sprinted out through the door and toward the gate, he tried to get a look between them to see what the fuck was going on. It had only been a single shot. Christ, had one of the prospects shot somebody?

  They all had their guns drawn and pointing in the same direction.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he heard Grimm bellow.

  “She fucking fired!” That came from Ty, one of the prospects.

  Torch pushed his way through Gauge and Squid, stopping in his tracks as soon as he saw who they were all aiming at.

  Son of a fucking bitch.

  There she was, in all her goddamn beautiful glory, staring right at him.

  Livia Ash.

  Knee-high leather boots, tight ass jeans, low-cut top, and a red leather jacket that hugged every fucking curve he remembered so fucking well. And those pretty greens just baiting him into getting sucked in. He almost did, before noticing tha
t she had her hands up in surrender, a gun on the ground at her feet.

  Shit, had she shot at one of his prospects?

  “Guns down! Now!” Torch ordered, tucking his own away. “Jesus Christ.”

  He didn’t wait to find out who had followed his instructions, instead charging at Liv and grabbing her arm. He pulled her away toward the gate. She didn’t say a thing. He could swear she was trying to hold back a huge grin. What the fuck was wrong with this crazy bitch?

  “Torch, you know her?” Buddha yelled over.

  “Yeah. Give me a minute,” Torch shouted back.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, he spun her around to face him. “What the fuck, Liv? Did you shoot at my guys?” he hissed, his blood turning into a thick mixture of rage and lust.

  “Hello to you too, Torch. No, I didn’t shoot at those pussies. I shot into the ground,” she said, her calm demeanor doing nothing but riling him up even more.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?” he railed, “You could’ve gotten a bullet to the he—”

  “I needed to talk to you,” she shrugged.

  “Kinda hard to talk if you’re dead, babe. Fuck!” Torch ran a hand through his hair in frustration. This was it, she was coming back to finish him off. He’d called it years ago.

  “What was I supposed to do? Your prospects aren’t very hospitable,” she dared to argue.

  “I don’t know, announce yourself like a normal fucking person?”

  She threw up her hands. “Oh! Why didn’t I think of ringing the fucking doorbell? I’m sure there’s one around, right?”

  Torch stood there in stunned silence. No, there wasn’t a fucking doorbell. Goddamn it, he couldn’t help but laugh.

  This fucking woman.

  She smiled back at him, all sweet and innocent like this whole situation was nothing out of the ordinary. “Look, I did try to do it like a normal person. I called the number you gave me but didn’t get an answer. It couldn’t wait. You guys are about to be knee-deep in shit and I just came here to give you a head’s up.

  Torch pulled a burner from his pocket, one of two that he carried around. It was the phone that she had the number to, he hadn’t been able to get himself to disconnect it on the off-chance that she ever needed to use it. Sure as shit, he’d missed two calls from the same number. “We had church. What the hell are you talking about? What shit?”

  “Can we go somewhere private?”

  “Babe, what’s going on?” he asked again.

  She sighed. “Something’s supposed to go down at the fair—”

  “May Fair?”

  “Yeah. Really original name by the way.”

  “Where are you getting this information?”

  “Hold on.” She stepped over to the last bike and picked up a backpack that was laying on the seat.

  He hadn’t even noticed the foreign monstrosity that was completely out of place in their lot. That was her bike? “You ride?” he asked, temporarily distracted by the thought of bending her over the seat. Naked.

  She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Yeah. Some dick made me promise not to ride on another man’s bike, so I got my own.”

  Torch raised a brow and smirked. “Oh yeah?”

  She walked back over with the bag, not coming to a stop until her body was mere inches from his. All of Torch’s blood instantly went to his cock and it strained against his jeans.

  Liv touched his Vice President patch. “Moving on up, huh?”

  “Been moved up for a while,” he mumbled, trying like hell to think of something—anything—unsexy to make his raging hard-on go limp. No fucking luck.

  “Ahem.” Buddha’s sudden appearance partially did it.

  Liv hastily pulled away and stepped around him to shake Buddha’s hand. “Hey, I’m Liv. Sorry about the scene, it’s just that this really couldn’t wait and your guys weren’t willing to interrupt the meeting.”

  “Buddha. I’m the President.” He shook her hand. His eyes narrowed in on something and he turned her wrist around. She was wearing Em’s bracelet.

  Torch didn’t know whether to be ecstatic that she was still wearing it, or worried about how much shit he’d catch for this.

  Buddha, still gripping her hand, looked over at him. “Huh.”

  Yeah, the bastard knew. Torch gave him one of those don’t-go-there looks.

  Thankfully, Buddha decided against pushing his luck. He turned his attention back to Liv. “So, toots… You wanna tell me why you’re asking to get killed right outside my clubhouse?”

  “She says we’ve got a problem on our hands,” Torch spoke up. He had no idea why he was trying to talk to her. She was a big girl, apparently determined to prove she had balls of steel or something.

  “What kind of problem?” Buddha asked her.

  “Can we go inside?” she asked. “I need to show you two a few things, then I’ll be out of your hair and you can decide what to do about it among yourselves.”

  Buddha’s glanced back and forth between Torch, Liv, and the rest of the puzzled-looking fools who were staring them down. “Fine. But you better not be selling magazines or some shit.”

  “Trust me, you’ll wish I was in a minute.”

  “Let’s go,” Torch said, reaching around to touch the small of her back and guiding her into the clubhouse. All eyes were on the three of them as they made their way across the lot. “Stay put,” he ordered his brothers, “we might have a situation.”

  As soon as they were inside, Liv looked around and led to way to a pool table, where she threw down the bag and started pulling out files. The two men stood back as she emptied its contents.

  Torch couldn’t put a finger on it, but there was something commanding about her mere presence, and it had nothing to do with size. Or the fact that she was crazy as a fucking fox. No, it was something about the way she moved. Fluid but determined, rushed but not frantic, familiar yet detached. She had an overwhelmingly calm and confident aura now. It was sexy as fuck.

  Her stash unloaded, she turned to face them. “Okay, I’m just going to lay this out. I realize you’ll probably have questions, but let me tell you everything I know first.” Her jaw tensed. “You have a problem with the Serbs. Some rogue members of the Kraja syndicate, to be more specific. You’ve heard of them?”

  Torch looked over at Buddha, who had the same confused look he was sure was on his own face. The Kraja? Sure. They’d operated out of Denver almost as long as the club had been around, but there wasn’t any bad blood between them as far as he knew. Hell, he’d only met Viktor Maric—the long-standing leader—once in passing. The Kraja were big city boys, what fucking interest could they have in podunk Linwood?

  Alright, she had their undivided attention. Torch nodded. “We’ve heard of them.”

  “May Fair,” she continued. “They’re planning on attacking your club during the set-up. It’s supposed to go down at nine, early enough so there won’t be many civilians, but late enough that you’ll all be there—”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Buddha cut in. “You’re gonna have to back up a little here, sweetheart. What the hell are you talking about? Attack how? ”

  “Jovan Maric’s been making deals and recruiting from within the organization, behind grandpa Viktor’s back. I don’t know what the end game is, or why your MC’s such a threat, but their plan is to gun down as many of you as they can. And for whatever reason, Jovan doesn’t just want to hurt the Serpents, he wants to turn the town against you. The psycho’s hoping for collateral damage to make that happen.” Her tone was so matter-of-fact that a sickening thought crossed Torch’s mind.

  “Babe,” he growled, “tell me you’re not a cop now.”

  Liv frowned and looked at him like he’d grown a second nose. “Would a cop be telling you all this? Come on, Torch. I realize it’s been a few years, but let’s just say that we both play on the same side of that fence. I have no respect for hypocrites whose loyalty’s for sale.”

  He wasn’t convinced—c
ops weren’t exactly known to be pillars of honesty—but she was looking him straight in the face, unfazed, and something about that calm aura placated him.

  “Here.” She reached for a tablet on the pool table, turned it on, and handed it to him. What looked like a surveillance feed filled the screen. Buddha sidled up to him so they could both watch. Three men entered the frame.

  “Where the fuck are the AK’s and ammo?” the one who led the way demanded. “We’re a week out and only have half the fire we need.”

  “The shipment got held up, they’re coming today,” the second man replied. “Gor and Drago are on their way to the Springs right now to pick up the ammo.”

  “Good. I want it all stored in the Stapleton warehouse ‘til next Friday. Keep somebody there at all times.”

  “Got it,” the third agreed. “But you sure this is the way to do it, Jov?”

  Jov… Jovan… The rat bastard himself. “You have a better idea?”

  “No, I just… The civilian casualties will bring heat we don’t need.”

  “There’s no way this can be linked to us unless somebody talks. Do we have a problem here, Serg?” Jovan sneered.

  Serg shook his head emphatically. “No, boss, we’re good. I just wanna make sure this doesn’t create more blowback. Especially with Viktor. If this touches your grandfather, we’re all dead.”

  “I don’t give a shit about Viktor,” Jovan huffed. “He’s too stuck in the old ways for this business. The authorities will assume it’s one of their enemies. The heat’ll die down. The point is to turn the people on them. We kill them, they’ll rebuild with the whole fucking town’s support. We need casualties or this whole thing’s pointless. Agreed, Marko?”

  The man identified as Marko nodded. “Agreed. But I think we should change the time. The fair starts at eleven and the Serpents are always there early to set up. If we go in at nine, there won’t be as many civilians or law enforcement running around. No point in making more work for ourselves either.”