Torched: Afterburn (Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club Book 2) Page 23

  His head reflexively swung around as a gunshot rang out. He caught Liv hitting the ground in his peripheral vision. “Liv!”

  He pulled his gun and pointed it at a nearby militia shooter who’d popped out of nowhere and taken her down. But before he got a chance to pull the trigger, a light flashed, another gunshot rang out, and the guy dropped to his knees. As he face-planted, Torch saw Zed flying over on an ATV with his gun drawn.

  “Get to her!” Z yelled out, heading straight for him. Torch bashed George’s head against the car to knock his ass out and ran for his old lady.

  She was on the ground, holding her chest and dry-heaving with her eyes closed, when he slid down next to her.

  “Jesus, baby,” he murmured, tearing her jacket and shirt open to find the wound. Instead, he found Kevlar. A wave of relief came over him when he realized she’d been wearing a vest and had just gotten the wind knocked out of her. He slapped her cheek lightly to get her seeing straight again. “You’re not hit, just try to breathe,” he coaxed.

  She started coughing and rolled over to her side like she was about to throw up, but she didn’t, the strong ass bitch got a hold of herself. She turned back to him and seethed, “That fucking dick. Did you get him?”

  Torch smiled. “Zed took him down. You good?”

  “Yeah,” she croaked out, propping herself up on her elbows. “Fucking Christ, that shit hurts even with a vest. I’m glad I listened to you about wearing one though.”

  “It’s about fucking time you listened to something I say. But damn it, Liv, he could’ve gotten you in the head.”

  “Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve. Whatever, he didn’t.”

  He scoffed at her bullheadedness and dropped his cheek to hers, just needing to nuzzle and smell her scent like it would assure him she was still warm and ticking. They could argue about this shit later too.

  Grimm’s voice came in through his earpiece. “Got Scully to take me to where they buried the coins. I’ve got ‘em. Everybody breathing?”

  One by one, all of his brothers unmuted and replied with an “aye”.

  “Liv?” Grimm asked.

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” she said.

  “I just did an aerial sweep,” Biff spoke up. “Nine bodies.”

  “We’ve got the other two out here,” Torch informed him. Looking back over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed at George, who was tied up and lying face down on the ground with Zed’s boot resting on his head. “One’s dead, the other’s my old man. He’s about to be the same. Everybody start cleaning up while I deal with this.”

  He glanced back down at his woman. “Can you get up?”

  “Of course I can get up,” she huffed, taking his outstretched hand and letting him help anyway.

  With Liv steady on her feet, Torch walked back over to his worthless father and kicked him in the ribs. “Looks like you just lost a lot of lawyering business,” he sneered.

  As George gasped for air, Torch motioned for Zed to get him standing. His best friend nodded and hooked his arms under George’s, pulling the asshole to his feet and shoving him against the hood of the car so he wouldn’t fall forward.

  “Take Liv back, brother,” Torch ordered.

  He felt her hand wrap around his wrist. “I’m staying.”

  “You don’t wanna see this,” he argued, his eyes still trained on his father.

  “You said you wanted me standing next to you, remember? I can handle it.”

  He turned his head and studied her face. Lifting his battered and dirty hand to her cheek, he caressed her soft skin and muttered, “You’re a beacon of light in a dark world, sweetheart. I’m fucking honored to have you standing next to me.”

  She smiled and squeezed his hand. “And I’m honored to call you my husband. Don’t worry about me, do what you need to do.”

  He leaned down and planted his parched lips on hers before stepping away. Zed approached and took his place next to her as Torch again became transfixed on George. He strolled across the grass, his heart pumping so hard he could hear it echoing in his skull.

  He’d had twenty-one years to stew over the shit memories, to hate the man more than anyone except maybe the men who’d hurt Liv. But now that he was staring him down in the flesh, looking into those eyes reflecting nothing but selfishness and greed, Torch realized he hated his father on an even deeper level than he’d thought possible.

  His blood boiled as images of George standing over him with belts, branches, plywood, anything he could get his hands on, flashed before his eyes like a stop-motion movie. Images of his mother with black eyes and broken bones faded in, as did his sister’s beautiful ten-year-old face the last time he’d seen it, then pictures of what she might have looked like now if she hadn’t had such a poor excuse for an example. As far as he was concerned, even if neither of his parents had been willing to get past their shortcomings and called him when the trouble first started, it was George’s job as a fucking father to protect her from the psycho who’d ended up taking Emily’s life. Their daddy dearest was a failure on all levels, and all the little things had added up to one, big clusterfuck of a broken family. A family of which Torch would soon be the last one standing.

  But a funny thing happened the longer he stared. The painful shit fell away and all that was left was standing right in front of him—a sixty-some-year-old, gray-haired, potbellied, washout. That was the entirety of George Larter’s footprint on the world, the only place he’d be thought of as a legend would be his own rotting brain.

  But Torch? He had everything a man could want—family, love, and health—and even if it was just thrown into bar or clubhouse conversation, his name would fucking live on.

  “I guess a Harley really does bring in the pussy,” George spouted. “Tell me, son—”

  With an uppercut to the jaw, Torch answered whatever the fuck he was going to ask. “Don’t you fucking say a goddamn word about my old lady or I’ll cut you up piece by piece.”

  George spit out a bloody tooth and started spewing his familiar venom. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” he hissed. “You and your whore of a mother.”

  Torch grabbed him by the throat. “Those are some big words for such a big fucking pussy,” he spat. “You’re welcome to try now.” George tried to look away but Torch squeezed his jaw and forced it back. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, you’re not such a man when you’re up against somebody bigger than you. I know the fucking feeling.”

  “If you hadn’t been a total screw-up of a kid, I wouldn’t have had to beat your ass,” George hissed. “And look how you turned out after running away like a punk. You’re a goddamn grease monkey who parties and dicks around with motorcycles.”

  Torch laughed maniacally and let go of his father’s neck. “And you’re just a mediocre lawyer with no family who gets the screw-ups he looks down on out of jail. Wow, you really fucking made something of yourself, pops, congratulations. Listen, I know your time’s valuable and all, but since we’re both here, maybe you can answer just this one question I’ve always had. Am I even your kid? I mean, I could say ‘whore’ before ‘mom’ and you never laid a hand on Em, it would make sense why you fucking hate me so much.”

  George smirked and shook his head. “Oh, you are my kid. Unfortunately. You’re the damn kid who trapped me in a marriage I didn’t even want. I was already stuck when Emily came along, none of it was her fault.”

  What the fuck? Was this guy even clinically sane?

  “And how the hell was it my fault?” Torch demanded. “A bitch tried to trap me with a kid and you know what I did? I got a fucking divorce. Jesus Christ, you beat the shit out of me every day because I was the product of your bad decisions?” He took a step back and shook his head. “Never mind, I don’t even wanna hear your bullshit. I bet you were the one who came up with the plan to fuck with my club in the first place. You wanted to prove something and Scully was just a means to an end.”

  “Don’t flatter
yourself, Cameron,” George groaned. “Your little gang was just the most logical target to get what we needed. I wouldn’t waste my energy on you just for the hell of it, that’s why I had Scully do the legwork.”

  “Which included running down a pregnant woman and almost my wife,” Torch snarled. He grabbed the fucker by the throat again. “Apologize to her,” he demanded.

  George just rolled his eyes like the condescending asshole he was. “Fuck you.”

  Torch slammed his head into the car again, then slapped his old man across the face and grabbed his chin to force his eyes on Liv. “One last chance. Apologize now.”

  George’s time was about up whether he did or not, he’d confessed his part in the militia’s scheme and that was all Torch really needed to hear. There was nothing else worth discussing, no memories worth bringing up; heart-to-hearts were reserved for family and friends, this guy was neither. He was just a stranger who Torch knew all too well. Nothing had changed, George obviously didn’t feel an ounce of fucking remorse for the shit he’d done and it was just as well. The smarmy motherfucker would make for an easy kill with that attitude.

  Fuck the pity, all Torch felt as he stared at his father’s face was contempt.

  “I bet your parents are really proud of their little biker whore,” George spewed at Liv.

  And there went the last of his shits, no fucking way would this asshole get away with disrespecting his woman a second time. Torch angrily pried George’s jaw open and yanked out his tongue, then pulled his bayonet knife from its pouch and cut right through it. He took a step back and watched as his old man started gagging on the blood pouring out of his mouth.

  He didn’t feel a fucking thing.

  He stood there for another minute… but still didn’t feel a fucking thing.

  Just end it, he told himself.

  Wiping his sweaty palm, he got a grip on the knife and lunged forward. Without a word, he shoved the blade in George’s neck and angled it upward. As his father started convulsing and choking, Torch grabbed him by the shirt and threw him down.

  Zed approached and wrapped an arm around his shoulder from one side, while Liv came around and wrapped hers around his waist from the other. Together, they silently watched the last of his biological family bleed out in seconds.

  As George Larter let out his last breath, Torch inhaled the warm, summer air and let it infiltrate his lungs. It felt… cleansing.

  He heard voices coming their way and looked back to see Grimm, Gauge, Squid and a couple of the Kansas City guys.

  Grimm walked around George’s head and handed Torch a drawstring bag. “You feel better, brother?” he asked, looking over the bloody mess.

  “Yeah, actually I do.” Torch opened the bag and scooped out the coins to count them, all twenty-five were accounted for. He tossed it to Squid for safe keeping since he was their money man. He turned to his old lady and pulled her to his chest. “You good?”

  “Just peachy.”

  He grunted and kissed her neck. “Fuck, you’re the baddest and sexiest bitch alive. I’m gonna make you come all night long.”

  She pulled her head back. “Don’t you have some cleaning up to do?”

  Zed slapped his back. “Take her ass home, we’ve got plenty of hands to take care of it. What do you want us to do with the compound?”

  Torch looked over at the fence line. The property was at least five miles from civilization and there was plenty of darkness left to work under. They could easily get the cars and bodies out, pick up most of the shell casings with the help of metal detectors, and destroy bullet holes in walls, but their fucking DNA was probably all over the goddamn place. Would the spared militia members get the law involved if they left it standing?

  In case they did, there was only one solution.

  “Burn it down,” Torch ordered. “And make it look like an accident on the off-chance they have insurance.”

  : 27 :

  | TORCH |

  Sucking up his pride and apologizing—to anyone—had never been much of a strong suit. Women? Fucking forget it. If a crawler didn’t like something, she could show herself the door and send the next one in.

  But times were changing, especially for Torch. It had been a week since they’d crippled the militia and Buddha would be getting his transplant that day. The doctors had warned a month-long hospital stay could be in the cards, depending on how quickly his immune system rebooted itself. Even if shit went without a hitch, their president wouldn’t physically be up for the daily club grind for at least another three months post-release, maybe six. Hell, maybe a year, it was too soon to know. That was assuming his body didn’t fight Nadia’s marrow, a real possibility nobody wanted to think about.

  Simply put, there were just too many variables at play to comfortably predict how long Torch would be filling in, which meant he’d need to adjust on more than a few fronts. He wouldn’t be going back to just giving his vote and following orders anytime soon, he’d be leading and answering for the table’s decisions indefinitely. And with those responsibilities also came politics.

  The club as a chapter, and a national organization as a whole, was running like a well-oiled machine at the moment, a credit to Buddha and the other presidents around the country. But it hadn’t come easy. The Serpents knew how quickly one bad call could spiral into a whole series of them, and that it generally took a lot more work to clean up a mess than it had to make it. They also knew it wasn’t usually outside forces like Scully and the militia who started most of their problems, nine times out of ten, internal beefs were what got them in trouble.

  Society had labeled them as outcasts, men who valued code and honor over anything else, but despite the public’s perception of outlaw bikers as violent and cold, they were human. Even the most brutal and fucked up among them were susceptible to jealousy, insecurity, and anger over their voices not being heard. And as petty as some of the problems got, they had to be dealt with. The concept of brotherhood was nice and all, but shit happened, and it only took one pissed off member making a stupid decision in the heat of the moment to open them all up to the consequences. The law, rival clubs, business associates, they would all exploit a weakness in a heartbeat.

  The Serpents were careful with who they patched in—they didn’t have a set prospect period and ran extensive background checks—but it was better to be safe than sorry, and the best way to prevent testosterone-fueled squabbles was to maintain a peaceful democracy. So, while it hadn’t really come up yet, Torch’s diplomacy skills would need some work.

  Buddha hadn’t managed to keep his club in check for two decades by flying off the handle, holding useless grudges, or letting shit fester until it boiled over. He was a master of getting to the bottom of any conflict and nipping it in the bud to the satisfaction of both sides. As a result, loyalty within the Linwood chapter was legendary, not once had one of their own turned, patched over to another club, or been ousted. Torch had every intention of maintaining their track record.

  But anyway, he wasn’t standing outside Nadia’s pre-op room at ten o’clock in the morning to ponder all the shit he’d have to deal with. He was there to—fuck him—apologize.

  Diplomacy, he kept repeating in his head. Diplomacy, diplomacy, diplomacy.

  She wasn’t a crawler anymore, right? She was technically a club employee, so…

  Yeah, employee was an easier pill to swallow. He’d go with that and get it over with.

  Unfortunately, it looked like he had another problem. As soon as he knocked on the open door and stepped inside, he realized there would be someone there to see it and give him at least a week’s worth of shit. Sitting in a chair opposite Nadia’s bed was Zed.

  Great.

  “Hey, man,” Zed greeted, his goddamn mouth curling up like he knew he was about to witness something he’d never let Torch live down.

  “Morning, brother,” Torch grumbled. He just couldn’t work up the same enthusiasm. Glancing over at Nadia, he asked, “Everything on
schedule?”

  “Yeah, I’m going up in an hour,” she replied. “It’s out-patient so I don’t have to stay the night or anything.”

  “You scared?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “It’s just a big needle and they give you anesthesia. If it helps Buddha, I don’t mind a bit. How is he?”

  Torch smirked. “Already begging the nurses for a sponge bath even though his legs are just fucking fine.”

  “I’m sure the crawlers wouldn’t mind doing it once he can have visitors,” she suggested

  “Dude, that would be fucking hilarious,” Zed said with a chuckle. “We could bring in buckets and hoses and decorate his room like a car wash.”

  “I’m sure that would go over well with the staff,” Torch groaned. Turning his attention back to the reason he was there, he took a few steps towards Nadia. “Listen, I owe you an apology.”

  “Torch, you don’t—”

  “Yeah, I do,” he cut her off. “I was too hard on you when I kicked you out and I held a grudge that could’ve ended up costing Buddha his one shot. I thought my old lady was crazy to take up your cause and assumed you’d fuck up the first chance you got. Sorry, Nad.”

  “You thought I was a threat to the woman you love, I understand,” she assured him. “I just hope you know I’d never fuck Liv over or take her kindness for granted. And I’m not pining away for you either, just so we’re clear.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He scratched his beard and tried not to grimace. “You’re also welcome back at the clubhouse.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Yeah. You’re saving our president’s life by giving him your bone marrow, I’m pretty sure that makes you some kind of extended family.”

  She beamed up at him. “Thank you.”

  He gave her a nod and turned back to Zed. “Have you seen my woman around here? She said she had some errands to run, but she’s not picking up her phone.”

  “No, brother, haven’t seen her.”