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

  She was all smiles as she dropped her helmet on the seat and walked over. “Hey,” she cooed, wrapping her arm around his waist. “I take it we’re having a barbecue?”

  “Apparently, we should’ve picked up some lobster and champagne instead,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You wanna explain why we just got an envelope stuffed with cash from the councilwoman?”

  “That would be for the damages her dumbass son caused. What’s on the grill? I’m starving.”

  Changing the topic, a classic up-to-no-good response. “Babe, that glass won’t cost more than a couple grand. She sent twenty.”

  “I know. I also billed her for lost revenue and emotional distress.”

  “You’re insane,” he smirked. “Emotional distress?”

  “And she just rolled over?” Buddha asked.

  Liv grimaced. “Weeell…”

  Torch groaned, suddenly remembering who they were dealing with. “Babe, what did you fucking do?”

  “Hey, I didn’t do anything, it’s what Jan used to do. Did I forget to mention that she turned to working for a high-end escort service after her breadwinner husband died five years ago? And there’s video.”

  “Yeah, you kinda forgot to mention that,” he snickered. “Figures though, it’s always the uppity bitches who’ve got shit to hide.”

  “Oh, this is fucking beautiful,” Zed crowed. “Blackmailing the blackmailer… God, I wish you had a fucking sister.”

  “Perfect timing too,” Buddha piped up. “The clubhouse a/c unit went out this morning and the wrecker needs a new tranny.” He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, darlin’, you always come through.”

  Liv smiled. “Glad I could help.”

  Torch draped his arm over her shoulder. “Sounds like you got a lot done today, I guess we should feed you. Let me take a shower real quick.”

  She squeezed his side. “I need to talk to you about something else first.”

  Wondering what could be so important, he gave Buddha and Zed a nod to signal for them to beat it. Once they were out of earshot, he sat down on a bench and pulled out his cigarettes. He lit two and handed her one like he always did. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

  She paused. “I ran into Nadia today.”

  Great, instant fucking mood killer and definitely not important. “What did she want?”

  “She apologized—”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it was fucking sincere,” he sneered.

  Liv sat down next to him and rubbed the back of his neck. “Babe, she didn’t even have anything to apologize for. She took some drugs and didn’t tell you about it, big deal. It wasn’t malicious. I, on the other hand, killed a man whose brother ended up putting you in a coma—”

  “He didn’t put me in a coma,” he set the fucking record straight. “I got hit in the head when that building exploded.”

  “You know what I mean. Look, I get there’s a grudge but I don’t think it’s one worth holding on to, she didn’t do anything to warrant so much hostility. And frankly, I think she’s paid a high enough price. She’s really down and out right now. I mean, she’s living out of a car for fuck’s sake.”

  “There’s the problem right there, she’s always been a goddamn mess.”

  “Torch, she’s trying. She’s off the drugs but apparently it’s impossible to get a job in this town when you’re on the club’s shit list and people pigeonhole you as a junkie stripper. Come on, I think most of us around here have done a lot worse than self-medicating. So she talked some shit too, we’ve all done it. Don’t you think it’s a bit much to let it ruin her life?”

  He studied her face, trying to figure out where the hell she was going with this. “Why are you so worried about a bitch you don’t even know?”

  “Why were you so worried about me when we first met? You knew even less,” she pointed out.

  “That was different.”

  “How? She may not be black and blue, but she’s hurting just the same.”

  It was becoming clearer, Liv somehow saw something in Nadia that reminded her of herself. “Sweetheart, there’s a big difference between you two. I didn’t give a shit what she shot herself up with, I was pissed because she went off the rails over getting her feelings hurt. She’s weak and unstable, people like that can’t be trusted and this club has a lot to lose.”

  “I don’t think she’s as weak as you think she is. I think she just needs somebody to give her an opportunity to prove herself.”

  He blew out a deep breath and stubbed out his cigarette. “What are you asking for here? To let her come back around?”

  “No, I already told her she wouldn’t be welcome at the clubhouse anytime soon. I set her up with a room but she needs a job. I was thinking she could help out at the hardware store, she wouldn’t be close enough to the club to do anything stupid.”

  Maybe not, but she would be close enough to rob the register or steal product for her next fix. He shook his head, dumbfounded that they were even having this conversation. “We could use the help to free up Beanie or Malice, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I just don’t fucking trust her.”

  “What if I give you the money to pay her salary?” she pressed. “Two months, that’s all I’m asking. If she proves me wrong, I’ll run her out of town myself.”

  “You paid for a room and now you’re gonna pay her salary on top of it? Babe, that’s going way above and beyond. I’m not letting her take you for a goddamn ride.”

  “She didn’t ask me for any of it, I offered. And I’m kind of fucking offended that you think I’m naive enough to let myself get played. Torch, you know I can smell bullshit from a mile away, twenty grand says my gut’s right on this.”

  Oh, she was good. Throwing in a thinly veiled reference to how well she’d managed to peg-and-bag Jan Collins? Slick. Making him feel like he owed her a favor without actually saying it? Manipulative as shit but effective. He had no fucking clue how Liv always managed to spin arguments in her favor—or why it always made his dick hard—but he was onto her. He’d figure out how to beat the woman at her own game eventually, but until that happened, they had better things to do than discuss Nadia Roth.

  “Fine, two months,” he caved. “But you’ve done enough, you’re not funding the club’s payroll. Oh, and let’s not make a habit of taking in strays.”

  She grinned and ruffled his hair. “No offense, but you should probably wait to implement that rule. I know you’ve been working hard outside all day and everything, but you look like a mangy mutt yourself.”

  Chuckling, he stood up and held out his hand. “Come on, Animal Control, you can help me wash behind my ears.”

  She squealed as he slung her over his shoulder and carried her sexy ass into the clubhouse.

  : : : :

  Torch gripped his rifle and ducked down behind a pile of refrigerator parts to listen for sounds nearby. With only three flood lights and a full moon illuminating it, the salvage yard provided unlimited nooks and crannies to hide at night.

  He heard rustling coming from his right, about fifty feet away in the back corner of the property. Staying as low to the ground as he could without tripping over his own feet, he inched his way closer down a footpath. It was easier said than done. He didn’t know whose fucking idea it had been to play paintball when most of them were drunk as shit, but at least he’d managed to avoid getting hit so far. There were no rules, whoever ended up looking least like a Picasso after an hour won.

  Across the yard, he could hear popping and Grimm squealing like a fucking live pig on a spit roast. It put a smile on his face. He liked Grimm, he really did, but there was nothing more enjoyable than seeing that twisted little shit get his.

  As he inched closer toward the fence, he heard the rustling again. And then he smelled something familiar. It was barely noticeable, but in an area full of rusted metal and dirt, Liv’s flowery perfume tickled his nostrils.

  He took back that shit about Grimm, it would be a hell of a
lot more enjoyable seeing his old lady gets hers tonight. It seemed like she’d been showing him up non-stop since they’d gotten married. Hell, since they’d met. He had his fucking manhood to reclaim.

  He made a quick right and crouched down behind an old van, peering over the hood to see if he could spot her. And there she went, darting across the path behind a storage shed.

  She was the only woman in the game. Rox was at home with her and Jet’s two-month-old, Dana had some kind of stomach bug, Tamra was working a night shift, and he had no idea what Mo was doing. He preferred it this way, the other old ladies were cool, but not Liv-level cool. She was more of a guy’s girl who could handle her booze and didn’t mind getting dirty. She also didn’t come with the dumb fucking drama he hated.

  He bolted out from behind the van and circled around the shed, hoping to catch her from the other side. But seeing a ladder propped up against the wall, he got a better idea. He kicked off his boots, climbed up, and got on his knees. Trying not to make any noise, he crawled to the other end and looked down over the edge. He spotted her pressed up against the building with her head poking around the corner.

  Busted.

  Rising to his feet, he wondered just how bad his next move was going to hurt before doing it anyway. He jumped off the roof and landed a few yards behind her. Pain shot through his knees, but he managed to stay upright. Christ, either the booze was screwing with his senses or eight feet was a hell of a lot higher than he remembered.

  “Better get those hands up, darlin’,” he ordered, pointing his rifle at her back. “And don’t make any quick moves or I’ll have you covered in paint and we both know how much you hate losing.”

  She tossed her gun to the ground, raised her hands, and looked back over her shoulder. “You know I heard you coming, right? Hope you didn’t sprain a hip or something.”

  “You didn’t hear shit, I’m onto your head tricks,” he snapped. “Turn around.”

  She did as she was told and turned around with a big ass grin on her face. “Whatever makes you feel better… So, what’s your plan? A hostage situation?

  What the fuck was his plan again? He couldn’t remember, which probably had something to do with the fact that her shirt was unzipped down to her belly button. And she wasn’t wearing a bra. Shit, she’d totally fucking heard him.

  But goddamn, those tits. If the fabric would just spread open another inch on each side, her perky little nipples would be his tongue’s for the taking.

  Nope. He wasn’t getting distracted. He’d win this fucking round.

  “You tell me, baby,” he drawled. “Should I have mercy on you?”

  She laughed. “You don’t have a plan, do you?”

  “Fuck you, I know exactly what I’m doing,” he insisted, his eyes involuntarily drifting back down to her chest.

  Target fixation, that’s what this was. In motorcycle terms, it meant running into shit you were trying to avoid by staring at it. Look at where you wanna go, not at what’s in your way, Buddha would drill into his skull every day when Torch got his first bike.

  But it wasn’t a curb or a tree he was fixated on in this scenario.

  “You know what I love about playing paintball?” Liv asked.

  Did he? Probably not, the woman obviously had something up her sleeve. “What’s that?”

  Still grinning like she already had him by the nuts, she reached into her pocket for something he couldn’t see. She then spread her shirt open all the way and held a balled-up hand under her chin. “The paintballs. When you keep them close to your body, they get warm and easy to”—she squeezed—“pop.” Purple paint seeped out from between her fingers and oozed down over her tits.

  “Jesus Christ,” he groaned. He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe. He just stood there like a horny fucking deer in headlights and watched.

  Slowly strolling toward him, she pulled out another handful and did it again. Talk about fixating, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from what looked like a cascade of colorful cum dripping down her soft skin.

  His dick was hard, his willpower… not so much.

  Every time.

  Every. Fucking. Time.

  What was it about bitches pouring shit all over themselves? It didn’t matter whether it was water, baby oil, or apparently paint, there was something mesmerizing about any kind of liquid trickling down the peaks and valleys of a great pair of tits. And Christ, hers were spectacular.

  He grabbed her around the waist and growled. “You had this planned, didn’t you?”

  She cozied up to his chest and reached into his pocket this time. “Are you complaining?”

  No. No he was not.

  He leaned in to go for her mouth, but she pulled her head back. Before he realized what was happening, she’d flicked open his switchblade and pressed the tip to his cheek.

  If it had been anyone else he probably would’ve lost his shit, but this was just Liv pushing another crazy fucking boundary to see if she could make him flinch. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Why would he? Walking that fine line between sexy and dangerous was a turn-on like no other.

  But he wasn’t about to lose a chunk of his beloved beard to foreplay either. He stood motionless as she lightly dragged the blade down the side of his face and neck, before pulling it and his long-sleeve shirt away from his chest. The thing was sharp as shit, and with one swipe, she sliced through the collar and halfway down. Biting her lip seductively, she tossed the knife aside, grabbed a piece of fabric in each hand, and tore his shirt open the rest of the way.

  Two could play this fucking game.

  He ran his palm up her sternum and curled his fingers around her throat. “You’re starting to push your luck sweetheart.”

  “Trust me,” she murmured, “this is just the tip of the demented iceberg. Didn’t you read the fine print before you married me?”

  “Didn’t realize I needed legal counsel, my mistake.” He gripped her neck and crushed his lips to hers.

  There was a chain link fence behind him; but as hot as it was to know they could be seen by passing cars, he wasn’t about to share his woman with anyone. He picked her up and kept exploring that sweet mouth, slowly moving towards a blue Camaro he’d parked next to the shed earlier that day.

  He set her down and spun her sexy ass around. Reaching around from both sides, he clasped her unzipped top and tore it completely open, then pulled it down off her shoulders and cinched it behind her back to hold her arms together with one hand.

  With the other, he slid off her black pants and roughly pushed down on her back to bend her over the hood.

  As he frantically tugged at his belt to get it undone as quick as fucking possible, she glanced back over her shoulder and licked those pillowy lips, sending him into overdrive. “You need a hand back there? I have two if you give this shirt some slack.”

  He slapped her ass and growled. “Not a fucking chance, you’re right where you need to be.” After finally freeing his desperate cock from its prison, he slid his hand down between her cheeks and around to her soaking wet pussy. He dipped two fingers inside her swollen passage and smiled. His woman… Always fucking ready.

  She grunted in disapproval when he withdrew, but she’d already stolen victory right out from under him and he was done playing by her fucking rules.

  He brought his wet fingers to her mouth. “Lick yourself off,” he ordered.

  As she clamped her lips around his fingers, he thrust his cock deep inside of her. She let out a raspy moan and sank her teeth into his skin. Between her sharp bite and the glorious fucking feeling of her warmth enveloping every inch of his shaft, his head started spinning and he almost lost it on the spot.

  He yanked his fingers out of her mouth to keep himself from erupting. Instead, he bent over her and grabbed her hair, then turned her head to the side so he could bite her neck and return the favor.

  Moaning and breathing hard, she pushed back against every elongated stroke. “God, I love your cock,” sh
e whimpered. “Almost there, baby. Harder.”

  He wasn’t about to deny her and slammed into her core hard and deep. Once, twice, thr—

  “Fuck!” she cried out, her walls bearing down and squeezing so tight, he came as soon as she did.

  As the best kind of pleasure washed over him, he released his hold on her shirt and planted both hands on the hood to steady himself. It had only been hours since they’d gone at it in the shower, but his throbbing balls felt like they were releasing years of tension.

  God fucking almighty, if she didn’t accidentally stab him during sex, he’d probably end up dead from sexual exhaustion. He’d always thought his libido was through the roof, but trying to keep up with her voracious appetite was no fucking joke. His body felt like a gelatinous blob.

  With all the endorphins running through him, it took a few seconds between hearing the popping sound and feeling his ass light on fucking fire.

  He bolted upright and grabbed it. “Fuck! What the...”

  Grimm’s cackling reverberated through the air but quickly faded as he ran off. Torch looked at his hand and seethed at the sight of blue paint.

  Liv peeled herself off the hood and turned around. “Did you just get shot in the ass?” she asked, her jaw twitching from trying to stifle a laugh.

  “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker,” he snarled.

  She patronizingly rubbed his arm. “You want me to kiss your boo-boo and make it better?”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  At least the asshole had waited for him to get off, but make no mistake, Grimm was back at the top of his shit list.

  : 7 :

  | LIVIA |

  Dressed and ready for the day, I plopped down with my tablet on our bed at the clubhouse. After a long night of drinking and paintball, which had capped off an even longer day of working in the salvage yard for Torch, we’d decided to crash there instead of trekking home. He’d had to be up at the ass crack of dawn anyway; along with Buddha, Mace, and Gauge, he was currently on his way to Albuquerque with a load of scrap metal. At over five hundred miles each way, riding behind a heavy-duty flatbed, it would end up being a two-day run.