Torched: Afterburn (Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club Book 2) Read online

  “Monk, another round!” Rox yelled out. She shimmied up to me. “Is this some weird, kinky shit? I’ve seen porn where the girl shoots milk out of her—”

  “Oh, come on,” I said, giving her a friendly shove. “No, I don’t literally shit it. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Hey, I don’t judge.” Rox shrugged. “It looks kinda hot.”

  “Jesus, what freaky shit do you and Jet do that you think shooting stuff out of your ass is hot?” Mo asked.

  Rox raised a brow. “You really wanna know?”

  “No!” Tamra, Dana, and Mo snapped in unison. I couldn’t blame them, Roxy’s stories tended to get pretty detailed and… colorful. I attributed my refusal to even think about having kids anytime soon to her prison visits, when she’d filled me in on all the weird ass shit pregnancy was doing to her body. Maybe she’d exaggerated some of it, but I still had the occasional nightmare.

  “Alright, well, what the hell were you talking about then?” she asked, noticeably disappointed.

  More shots appeared—red ones this time—and we slammed those back too. I had no idea what disgustingly sweet concoction I was being plied with now, but the cinnamon-tasting shit didn’t go down easy.

  I shook it off and explained, “I just meant that if I feed my man something spicy, I give him something else to neutralize the burn. You know, push his buttons but give him an ego boost right before he goes over the edge.”

  Having gone from nothing but uncommitted flings to marrying Torch the day after he proposed, I was hardly a relationship expert. But experience with the opposite sex had served me well, Torch was a powerful man and I’d learned that powerful men often had opposing personalities when it came to what they wanted. They liked being on top and pandered to, but eventually that shit got old and they started craving a challenge. The problem was they couldn’t stomach actually losing one because defeat was viewed as weakness.

  So, what was a wife to do? She went full-force, naturally, but always knew when to pull back just enough to make her man feel like he still had an edge even in a losing battle. Sometimes it took sex, sometimes nothing more than affirming words, but it almost always worked. Whenever I successfully distracted Torch from an argument, I won by default… in my mind anyway.

  “So you’re telling me to bash Gauge’s head in and give him some ice,” Dana said. “Got it.”

  “Are you guys having problems?” I asked. “I’m a little worried about the glee in your voice when you say that.”

  “I have no idea,” she sighed. “Everything he does lately annoys the shit out of me for no real reason. Maybe it’s that seven-year itch people are always talking about. Or maybe I’m just getting bitchier with age.”

  “You’re only thirty-two,” Tamra pointed out.

  Dana smirked. “Exactly. Can you imagine me at fifty?”

  “Good thing the club has so many chapters,” Mo chimed in. “By that point, Liv’s man should be the president and she can get you and Gauge transferred.”

  “Oh, fuck off,” Dana huffed. Obviously trying to change the subject, she grabbed my arm and inspected it. “Mack did an awesome job on this ink.”

  At Torch’s request, Mack—an amazing tattoo artist and one of two recently patched-in club members—had set up shop at the wedding reception and marked our skin as quickly as we’d marked the marriage certificate. I loved tattoos, my back was mostly covered in black and gray ink, but my husband had demanded visible placement, which only left my neck, chest, or arms. I wasn’t a fan of the first two options because they could be easily spotted and identified on surveillance video—a habitual concern stemming from hiding out for years—so I’d ended up with his name over abstract wings on the inside of my forearm.

  I couldn’t be as opinionated about where Torch put his, he was working with a busier canvas. His torso, arms, and neck were already crowded with various art, his back was strictly for club ink, and he’d scoffed at my suggestion to stamp his ass. In the end, he’d opted to put my name over a fading black-and-white lion on his collarbone and had Mack cover-up the mane by making it look like flames. It was the only colored tattoo on his body and I absolutely loved the symbolism.

  “That is pretty sweet,” Rox added. “One of these days I’ll get a job where they don’t care about showing tatts. I’ll be the scary-looking mom at PTA meetings who makes the uppity bitches nervous just by staring at them. You know, like Stinger’s ex does. I’m convinced the only reason his kid hasn’t failed a grade is because Margo terrifies the piss out of his teachers.”

  “Who do you think would win in a fight between Margo and Liv?” Dana asked out of nowhere.

  “Margo,” Tamra replied. “Liv’s got the prison cred, but Margo’s got a lot of weight on her.”

  “Weight slows you down,” I pointed out.

  “Oh, shit,” Dana crowed, “I think somebody’s itching to prove herself.”

  Mo laughed. “Stinger would probably fucking pay her to do it, Margo’s bleeding him dry in child support. Should we set it up, Liv? It’s been a while since we’ve seen a good bitch fight, I’m sure the guys would clamor for front row seats.”

  Yeah, I had no doubt they would until Torch caught wind of it. “You girls need to quit trying to start shit where there is none,” I groaned.

  “But it’s so fun to watch when it’s not your shit,” Dana argued.

  I snickered. “I bet it is. Maybe you can take on one of the crawlers you’re always bitching about.”

  “Nope, fuck that,” she snapped. “I’d never live it down if I lost.”

  We all shook our heads at the instigator who didn’t like getting her own hands dirty. More booze appeared on the counter and we decided to grab a table before the place filled up and things started getting hazy.

  There were at least a dozen Serpents mingling with town regulars, but aside from Mo, the rest of our husbands were in church. They’d be joining us later, but for now we could enjoy a little sisterly bonding. We’d talked about hitting up a non-club bar, but Linwood was such a small town that everybody knew everybody else. It wasn’t like we could go crazy at a different establishment without one of the brothers finding out about it.

  For the next three hours, we had an absolute blast drinking, laughing, and shit-talking. The ladies had also commandeered the jukebox and were sporadically taking turns working out their frustrations on the dance floor. Most of the other patrons knew the drill and left us alone, minus a preppy kid who looked like he was killing time after getting locked out of a frat house. None of the girls had ever seen him before and he appeared fairly innocuous, but he’d raised some eyebrows and earned himself a stern warning from Elf after trying to worm his way into a dance with an uninterested Roxy. Yet, he was still sitting there at the bar, eyeing her for all to see like a moron. Hopefully he could handle an ass-whooping, Jet would be showing up any minute.

  Drunk but sober enough not to make an ass of myself, I left the ladies to their bumping and grinding and made my way outside for some fresh air.

  With the exception of the club’s president, Buddha, the rest of the guys who’d been at church—Torch, Zed, Grimm, Gauge, Squid, Mace, and Biff—had just pulled up. I spotted Torch still sitting on his bike and strolled over.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, reaching out to take my hand and pull me closer.

  Beyond happy to see him after only a few hours apart, I lifted my leg over the gas tank and slid down to straddle him. “Hey, stud,” I greeted, going in for a kiss.

  He smiled and licked his lips. “Careful, babe, I haven’t put the kickstand down yet. I’ve got half a mind to just drive off.”

  “Ride your dick while riding your Harley? Don’t tempt me, it sounds fun.”

  He chuckled. “Only you would risk getting road rash on that beautiful ass just for kicks.”

  “A little road rash never killed anyone.” I went for his belt and started undoing the buckle just to fuck with him. Torch could barely keep his bike upright when I ro
de bitch and my hands wandered, I had no intention of eating a fucking curb for the few seconds of pleasure leading up to it. “Let’s try.”

  He gripped my wrist and pulled it away. “I like you in one piece, but maybe I’ll build us a trike just for that purpose.”

  “An old man’s bike isn’t exactly a turn-on, babe.”

  “Woman, you fucked me behind a goddamn rest stop. You’d spread that pussy for me on the ugliest trike around in a heartbeat.” He cocked his head. “Or maybe you were just talking out your ass, maybe you’re too scared to follow through.”

  “You think so?”

  “You tell me.”

  I leaned my mouth to his ear. “Build the trike. If you can go five miles without busting a nut, I’ll flip around and let you bury your cock in my ass for another five.”

  He groaned and weaved his fingers through my hair. “I’m never giving this shit up,” he promised.

  “You better not, I’ll cut off your dick and take it with me.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “You scare the shit out of me, darlin’, but I love it.”

  “Crazy loves company.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and brought my lips to his again.

  His hand made its way between my legs and cupped my needy pussy through the black pants I was sporting. He pulled his head back and grinned. “Crazy loves her man… You’re fucking soaked.”

  “Yup. Backroom quickie?”

  He practically tossed me off his lap and dismounted with lightening speed. Leaning down to nuzzle my neck, he slipped his keys into my hand and murmured, “Naked and spread-eagle on the desk. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

  “Yes, sir.” I winked at him and sauntered off.

  I only made it a few steps before hearing a loud commotion coming from the other side of the glass bar front. It was heavily tinted so I couldn’t see what was happening inside, but next thing I knew, the entire pane exploded. Torch yanked me back and pivoted, tucking me into his chest so I wouldn’t get sprayed with glass. I couldn’t see what the hell was happening but heard men yelling and shit breaking.

  “Fuck,” Torch grumbled, releasing me from his grasp. “Stay here.”

  Looking towards the melee, I saw Jet on top of the idiot frat boy, slamming one fist after another into his face.

  Yup, I’d called that shit.

  Torch and Grimm both grabbed their brother and pulled him away as people started pouring out onto the sidewalk and police sirens pierced the air. They had to have been at the twenty-four hour donut joint around the corner to get here this fucking fast, Linwood cops weren’t exactly known for being hustlers. And since nobody inside the bar was a snitch, it was probably safe to assume a straggler walking the street had seen it and called in. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  A few minutes after Linwood’s finest pulled up with their lights flashing, Torch broke away from the crowd with a freshly lit cigarette and approached me.

  “Think I’ll have to take a rain check on the quickie,” he muttered.

  “Is everybody okay?”

  “Yeah, some kid grabbed Roxy’s ass and Jet lost his shit. I don’t know how the fuck they ended up smashing through the window, Jet says he pulled him away from it and didn’t shove him outside until after glass started flying.”

  “Was it cracked or something?”

  “Don’t think so, Monk would’ve noticed when he opened.”

  “Weird.” Not entirely familiar with procedure when it came to these sorts of things, I asked, “What now?”

  “We gotta do the usual statements and shit, it shouldn’t take long. Except for the bozo who got his ass beat, we know all the civilians inside. They’ll say they didn’t see anything or that Jet was defending his woman, nobody’s going to jail tonight.”

  I snatched his cigarette and took a drag. “Good, that means the night’s salvageable and you can finish what you started.”

  “Are you ever not thinking about my dick?”

  “You ask that like it’s a bad thing.”

  He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me. “Oh, it’s a very, very good thing. Feel free to share your thoughts.”

  “I think I’ll show you instead.”

  “Even better.” He sat down on his bike and pulled me into his lap.

  As long as they weren’t making arrests, the cops could take their time. I didn’t mind a damn bit.

  : 3 :

  | TORCH |

  The next morning, Torch sauntered out of the clubhouse for a smoke while Liv finished getting dressed. After a mind-blowing suck-and-fuck in the shower, he figured he should peel himself away before being tempted into spending the entire day getting lost in her pussy. Christ, he still couldn’t believe that shit was all his, all the time.

  It was a beautiful, balmy morning, the previous night’s clusterfuck seemingly left behind in the darkness. He lit up and walked over to a picnic table where Buddha was soaking in the sun with a cup of coffee. It didn’t look like the man had gotten much sleep; the dark bags under his eyes gave it away. Come to think of it, he looked like he was dragging ass the day before too, but maybe it was just the lack of a beard throwing Torch off.

  Buddha wasn’t much into the barber shop experience, he preferred to shave his head once a year and then let it do its thing. This time around, he’d also taken a razor to his face and kept it up. There was a strong jawline under all that hair so it didn’t look bad, it just looked… different.

  He probably had the right idea though. With the blistering fucking heat wave they were experiencing, Torch had considered cutting off his own mop to help make the worst of it more bearable. But his woman loved getting her hands all up in that shit when they were going at it, and he loved it when she did, so why ruin a good thing just to avoid a little sweat? After all, more sweat meant more showers, and he really loved what went on in those when she joined him.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Buddha greeted with a mocking grin. “I see you still got those twinkly eyes and pretty glow about you.”

  Torch smirked and leaned on the table. “Make all the jokes you want, man, you’d be lit up like a fucking Christmas tree too. You alright? You look kinda beat.”

  “You’re a lucky bastard, I’ll give you that. I’m fine, son, just haven’t been sleeping much.”

  Torch wasn’t entirely convinced, something in his tone sounded off. “Is something worrying you?”

  “Nah, just getting fucking old.”

  Before he could keep prying, Mace came tearing into the parking lot.

  He jumped off his bike and headed straight for them. “We’ve got a problem.” Handing Buddha a folded-up piece of paper, he explained, “Just came from the Nest, our liquor license got revoked.”

  “What the… Let me see that shit.” Buddha snatched the paper and read it over, then handed it to Torch and fished out his phone. “Mr. Gellar, you and I need to have a discussion. Call me back,” he said into it. He immediately dialed another number and walked off.

  Torch scanned the official notice, which specified that the bar’s license was being suspended pending an investigation over the incident the night before, the violation being public endangerment. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He looked up at Mace. “Did somebody come by with this or was it posted when you got there?”

  “A process server brought it by about twenty minutes ago.”

  Torch checked his phone. It was barely ten in the morning. “When the fuck has city hall ever worked this fast?” he wondered out loud.

  Just then, Liv walked out and joined them. “Hey. What’s going on?”

  He handed her the notice. “We lost our liquor license.”

  She frowned. “Over a bar fight? That’s a little extreme.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll drag up all the past ones too. We’ve had one or two.”

  “How many is that in biker math?”

  Smart ass. “Alright, it’s a regular occurrence,” he conceded. “But this is the first one that’s spilled out in
to the street.”

  “Huh.” She raised a brow. “Somebody jumped on it pretty quick this morning, don’t you think?”

  “Nobody knows shit,” Buddha huffed as he walked back over. “The asshat who started it wants to press charges on Jet, but the PD doesn’t know we have hidden cameras in there and nobody’s talking so they don’t have a case. This just doesn’t make sense, Gellar’s on payroll. Why the hell would he do this? Business is already down, we can’t afford to close for who knows how long it takes them to investigate. Fuck.”

  “Who’s Gellar?” Liv asked.

  “The City Manager,” Torch explained. “He would’ve had to sign off.”

  She pursed her lips and took another look at the notice. “Is the guy who started it a local?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Buddha replied. “The chief said his name’s Alex Mitchell, he works at the bowling alley.”

  She nodded, the wheels in her head clearly spinning. “So he should’ve known the risks of walking into your bar and pestering the wrong woman, even before Elf warned him. I don’t know guys, between that and how quick this suspension was issued, I think there’s a lot more to it.”

  “Oh, what fresh fuckery is this?” Buddha groaned.

  Torch followed his line of sight to a red Cadillac pulling in through the gates. “Great.”

  “I get the feeling this day’s on a downhill slide,” Mace grumbled.

  Liv touched his arm. “You go deal with whatever that’s about, I’ll pull the video from last night and see what I can find out about this license bullshit.”

  “You don’t have to do that, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I need something to do, I don’t have any hacking jobs lined up and boredom breeds trouble. I think this is more of a diplomatic mission than the knee-breaking kind anyway. Let me see what I can find out and maybe we can fix it quietly.”

  Boredom bred trouble? Coming from the woman who liked to fuck with cops for kicks, he didn’t even want to know. But what would be the harm? This was club business, but not business business, it couldn’t hurt to let her loose. Maybe she’d save them some time with that computer magic she was so good at.