Torched: Afterburn (Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club Book 2) Page 15

  What he actually needed to do was go find his woman. He stood up and shook the dirt off his jeans. “How’d you get to be such a wise motherfucker?”

  Zed followed him to his feet and slapped him on the back. “Oprah.”

  Torch chuckled. “Love you, brother.”

  “Love you too, asshole. Now go get the one who loves you and has a pussy to park your dick in. She’s at the safe house, I had Biff track her phone. I’m gonna go check on Grimm and make sure he hasn’t killed our hostage by accident.”

  : 17 :

  | TORCH |

  He heard a succession of gunshots all the way from the gate. If he hadn’t already figured out that she was letting off steam with a pile of ammo, he might have been worried. Then again, he really had no idea what was going through that head of her, she was probably practicing blowing his dick off. He grimaced at the thought but punched in the gate code and rode through anyway. Fuck it, they had some shit to set straight.

  As he pulled up in front of the safe house, he saw her out in the clearing, setting up empty beer bottles on a wooden ledge next to a silhouette target. This was where they all came to keep from getting rusty

  Their eyes met as she walked back to her spot, but she averted hers and got to work loading what looked like a 9mm. He knew the misery on her face was mostly his doing, she wasn’t the one who couldn’t keep up her end of their bargain. But his word didn’t mean fucking dick right now and that ate at him more than anything. His woman brought out all the good in him, maybe the only good to be found, and she deserved better.

  He cautiously approached her from behind. “You picturing my face on those bottles?”

  She took aim and fired off eight rounds in a row, hitting every bottle from left to right. “I probably should be,” she answered flatly, her back still to him.

  Well, at least she wasn’t practicing her kill shot. Considering how precise that fucking aim was, he’d take it. He reached out and touched her back. “Babe, you gotta talk to me eventually.”

  Blatantly ignoring him, she loaded another magazine and held out a bottle. “Throw it.”

  He did what he was told, only because this he had to see. She aimed up and followed the arch of the bottle, firing as it reached its peak. And, wouldn’t you know… she hit the goddamn thing, blowing it right out of the air. The shot would’ve been impressive enough with a rifle, but a handgun?

  She always carried and told him she’d been trained, but this was the first time he was seeing it for himself. He really didn’t want to fucking admit it, but she was a better shot than a lot of his brothers. Shit, she was probably better than him judging by her accuracy with that last round. It was starting to make sense why she got so frustrated with his attempts to shield her from his reality.

  Why was he so determined to hold her back? A lot of organizations had females near the front lines—hell, he knew of at least three cartels with downright scary bitches at the top—and the MC had never used that as a reason to refuse working with any of them if it benefited the club. Frankly, he should’ve been thanking his lucky stars one of those groups hadn’t pulled her in during the eight years he’d been pining away for her. Liv wasn’t asking for power within the club, to make decisions, or to tell them how to handle their business, she just wanted to help the cause. A cause she loved—not just tolerated—because she loved her man.

  Seriously, what more could he fucking ask for? Here was a one of a kind woman who was unquestionably loyal and beyond capable of taking care of herself, but his dumbass brain kept falling back on old habits and insisting she needed to be dealt with like the others. Why?

  Never mind Zed’s points, everything Liv had said to him was right on the money. There was no denying it, if he’d told her about the ambush from the get-go, things wouldn’t have turned into such a shitfest. And the vote was a stupid idea too. If his old lady couldn’t have an opinion on club business, who the fuck was the club to have an opinion on their marital business? He didn’t have to explain their goddamn finances to the table. Christ, he really was a jackass.

  And why was he worried about her getting physically hurt, when the chances of her just getting sick of being left in the dark and walking away were even bigger? What would he do then? He couldn’t protect her at all if she bailed. And when it came to women like Liv, it was a real possibility. She wanted him, but she didn’t actually need him, not to survive anyway. She had her own money, knew how to handle her own shit, and would be just fine if anything happened to him.

  But if she left? He’d lose his goddamn mind. The deep-seated truth was he needed her more than she needed him, and that scared the shit out of him. Maybe the real reason he kept falling back on old habits was a subconscious thing, you know, to force her into depending on him. After all, that’s what men like him were conditioned to see as “normal”, right? But why the fuck would he actually want a woman who demanded constant attention and hand-holding? Why would he intentionally put himself through the stress of living two separate lives? Wasn’t that exactly why he’d sworn off another marriage until she’d come along?

  He was a moron for trying to fuck with perfection. Because even though she was manipulative as hell, knew how to push all of his buttons, and that feminist shit got on his nerves like nothing else, fucking perfect was exactly what she was.

  Liv held out another bottle for him to throw, but he’d had enough of her frostiness. He tossed it to the ground and spun her around, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her in place.

  “Torch, leave me alone,” she grumbled. She tried to push away and refused to look up. He buried his fingers in her hair and fisted it at the back—not in a gentle sort of way either—and the sudden, rough stinging forced her eyes upward.

  To his surprise, they were bloodshot, more pained than pissed. The only other time he’d seen them like this was when he’d browbeaten her into revealing her fucked up past in front of an audience, something he still regretted. Liv didn’t do emotions, she shut them out to the point of sometimes coming off as apathetic, so when one managed to creep past her defenses, he knew shit was getting to be too much.

  And when shit got to be too much, he knew her way of coping was by focusing on something else. Hopefully, she’d find a healthier way of dealing with her demons one of these days, but he wouldn’t be forcing it to happen this particular night. Tonight was about reining in what he’d let spin out.

  “You wanna talk about it?” he asked, just in case.

  “Not really.”

  He kissed her lips gently and let her go. “Okay.”

  She took a step back and frowned. “Okay?”

  “Yeah. Did you get the money?”

  Her face scrunched in confusion, she pointed to a backpack on the ground a few feet away.

  He strapped it to his back, walked over to his bike, and hopped on. After hitting the power button and bringing it to life, he glanced back over at her. “You coming or what?”

  “Where?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Denver. We’re gonna go pay off Cora.”

  She cocked her head like she still didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. “I don’t understand what’s happening right now.”

  He sighed and turned his bike back off so she’d hear him loud and clear. “Baby, if I wanted a weak bitch to rescue all the time, I would’ve found myself a princess. I picked a queen, and a proper queen stands next to her fucking king. So, are you gonna be one of those bitches who waits in a tower or are you getting that sexy ass on this horse and coming with me?”

  Her lip curled. “Biker poetry at its finest.”

  He grinned and tossed her his helmet. “Your crown, my lady. Grab your gun and jacket, it’s cooling off. I already called Malice to come get your bike.”

  The biggest smile he’d seen in a while spread across her face. She picked up her stuff, jogged inside the house to leave the unused boxes of ammo, and came out with the brain bucket already strapped to her head.

  A
s she settled in behind him, he squeezed her thigh. “If we do this shit, I’m letting you in too deep to go back,” he warned over his shoulder. “You know what outlaw life is, once you’re in there’s usually only two ways out.”

  She wrapped her arms around his stomach and pulled in tight. “The only life worth living is the one I have with you. For better or worse, right? It doesn’t matter how, if we go out, we go out together. Lead the way, Your Majesty, I’m with you to the bitter end.”

  : : : :

  Hand in hand, Torch and his newly-appointed sidekick walked through the front door of Pink Diamond, a titty bar in southeast Denver. It wasn’t exactly the classy joint he’d envisioned Cora hanging out in, but that was probably the point. Immediately spotting their target and his small entourage in the VIP area, they made a beeline for the son of a bitch.

  With his black hair slicked back and wearing a suit that probably cost more than a new car, Rob Cora looked every ounce the true Italian mobster, despite the fact that he wasn’t actually in the mob. Cora was a third-generation American whose “organization” was a simple two-level hierarchy, consisting of him at the top and a crew of loyal peons reporting from below. Five of his little fucking pissants surrounded him tonight, each with their own silicone and botox-enhanced trophies working for their tips by making them feel a hell of a lot more important than they really were.

  Torch angrily dropped the bag of cash on the table in front of Cora, causing him to look up from the blonde bitch sucking on his neck.

  “You ever fuck with my club like that again, I’ll burn you alive, you piece of shit,” Torch thundered. “Going after women? Really?”

  Cora swatted his topless companion on the ass and snapped his fingers at the others. “Ladies, give us a minute.” As soon as they’d all shimmied away, he picked up the bag and looked inside before turning his attention back to Torch. “Appreciate the early payment, but I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. I’ve been nothing but generous by giving Buddha more time, I consider him a friend.”

  “A friend. Right. That’s why one of your boys tried to run down our women today. Are you trying to start a fucking war?”

  Cora smirked and glanced at Liv with a twinkle in his eye, making Torch want to knock those perfectly-veneered teeth right out of his head. “And who’s this beauty? She looks like she has some Sicilian blood in her. Hope you weren’t hurt, bella.”

  Instantly feeling a twinge of regret for bringing her along, Torch scowled and took a step toward him. Two of Cora’s guys stood forward and pulled aside the fronts of their jackets to expose their guns.

  Before he could utter another word, Liv strolled straight up to Cora with a smile and sat down next to him. To Torch’s fucking dismay, she draped a leg over his. “I’m just fine. And no, not a drop of Sicilian blood.” From who-knew-where, in the blink of an eye, she had a gun in her hand and shoved it into his crotch. “But I am a fan of the Cosa Nostra’s style. Now, I believe my husband asked you a question.”

  As his men reached for their guns, Cora waved them down. “I like her,” he said, grinning up at Torch. “Look, man, why the fuck would I wanna start a war when you still had three days to pay?”

  “Cut the shit, dickhead,” Torch seethed. “Your boy almost ran down five old ladies today, including mine. Was that your idea of a friendly nudge? You’re probably the one who ordered the ambush too, huh?”

  Cora furrowed his brow. “I may be a piece of shit, but I’m a proud piece of shit. I take credit for everything I do. Whoever tried to run down your bitches wasn’t one of mine, none of my guys were anywhere near Linwood today. And they sure as shit haven’t been to New Mexico lately. Come on, you’ve known me for a long time, you know I don’t operate like that. I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but it wasn’t me.”

  “Then who was it?” he demanded.

  Cora shrugged. “How the hell should I know? I don’t subscribe to Biker Weekly. I couldn’t keep up with your tangled web of enemies even if I tried.”

  “Did you tell anybody about the coins?”

  “No. Again, does that sound like my business model? I make my own deals, my boys don’t find out unless I need them to collect.”

  Torch fished out his phone and found a picture of the driver he’d taken before Grimm started interrogating him. He handed it to Cora with one hand and yanked Liv out of the fucker’s lap with the other. “You’re telling me you don’t know this guy?”

  Cora inspected it closely. “I’ve never seen him before. He’s the driver?” He passed the phone to one of his guys, who then passed it on. One by one, they all looked and shook their heads.

  “Yeah, he says he works for you. He claims his name’s Max Farino but he didn’t have ID on him and the car was stolen.”

  “He’s fucking lying,” Cora insisted. “Is he still alive?”

  “For now.”

  “Gino, Mark, show him your ink,” he ordered the two men standing closest to Torch.

  They both pulled down their lapels and showed him identical tattooed crests on the backs of their necks.

  “My men all have that,” Cora explained.

  Torch thought back. They’d checked him from head to toe, there was nothing like it on him. Well, fuck, maybe Cora was actually telling the truth. If that was the case, who the hell was the asshole they’d beaten the shit out of?

  “I take it from your silence he doesn’t have one,” Cora noted. “If you find out who he is before I do, let me know. Whatever games he’s playing need to be cut off at the head. I don’t appreciate my name being used for someone else’s endgame, especially when it could start some shit I want nothing to do with. Are we good?”

  Not entirely convinced he wasn’t being lied to, at least about the ambush, Torch gave him a curt nod. “I’ll be in touch.” He put his arm around Liv’s shoulder and started walking off.

  “Bella!” Cora called out.

  They both turned their heads.

  “If you ever get tired of being around exhaust and boneheaded bikers all day, come find me,” Cora told her with a grin. “I could use a woman like you, nobody would see that brand of crazy coming.”

  “You haven’t seen shit,” she replied.

  Cora raised his glass and winked.

  Torch dragged her ass along, but she pulled back before they hit the door.

  “I need to use the bathroom real quick,” she told him. “I’ll just be a minute, go get the bike started.”

  “Babe…” he growled.

  “Oh, chill out.” She pointed to a short hallway just a few feet away. “It’s right there.”

  Against his better judgment, he let her go, but waited until the door shut behind her to walk out. He hopped on his bike and started it up, then pulled up in front of the door.

  A few minutes later, she strolled out. “Sorry!” she yelled as the door swung closed.

  He scowled and handed her his helmet. “What did you do?”

  She grinned and jumped on behind him. “Nothing. The toilet overflowed and started flooding the bathroom.”

  He shook his head and waited for her to get settled. “Was it just me or did Cora’s guy with the purple tie look kinda squirrelly when he saw that picture?” he asked.

  “It wasn’t just you, his nose flared like a bull.” She handed him a credit card over his shoulder.

  He looked at the name on it—Andrew R. Mena. “What’s this?”

  “His credit card.”

  He whipped his head around.

  “What?” she crowed. “He’s the dumbass for running a tab in a place where the bartender keeps cards in a glass next to the register. I saw him give it to the waitress. And now”—she snatched it out of his hand and tucked it into her back pocket—“I can find out what the connection is.”

  Son of a bitch. She’d flooded the fucking bathroom as a distraction. He busted out laughing. “You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  She smiled sweet
ly. “I know. We should probably go before he realizes it’s gone though.”

  “One more thing, darlin’… Keep your hands off other mens’ junk, even with a gun.”

  “He was trying to change the subject and there were a ton of people around,” she argued.

  “Not the point.”

  She laughed. “He totally got a boner, just so you know.”

  “Shut up before I go back in and catch a case,” he groaned. “Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t take you anywhere.”

  “But you love the shit out of me,” she reminded him, nuzzling into the back of his cut.

  “You got that right.” He revved the engine and tore out of that parking lot with a fucking smile on his face.

  : 18 :

  | LIVIA |

  As we rode down a narrow dirt road, accessible only from a private driveway, a steel building illuminated by nothing but a single sconce mounted to the front came into view. Torch had dubbed it the “Eagle” property when we’d stopped by the house to grab some of my gear. We were about twenty miles south of Linwood, surrounded by nothing but wheat fields and—judging by the strong aroma of Eau de Cow Shit permeating the air—livestock.

  This was apparently where they not only interrogated enemies, but also stored a lot of their automatic guns and ammo in case the law showed up to the clubhouse with a warrant. Good to know.

  I spotted Grimm, Zed, and Biff sitting in lawn chairs and passing around a bottle and a blunt.

  “Did you guys get anything out of him?” Torch asked as he cut the engine.

  “No, the asshole clammed up when I told him we know he doesn’t work for Cora,” Grimm fumed. When he spotted me, his face turned sheepish. “Oh hey, Liv.”

  “She’s fine,” Torch told him. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing. All of a sudden he’s a fucking soldier. He’s gotta be protecting an even bigger bastard than Cora—”

  “Or family,” Torch pointed out.