Torched: Afterburn (Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club Book 2) (12 page)

“What color are you thinking?”

He scooted back in his little rolling stool, took a sip of his beer, and wrapped an arm around my hip. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know… Maybe a dark, army green? Something with a little sparkle but still masculine.”

“Yeah, I think that would look really great. Good eye.”

I combed my nails through his hair. “Are you about done? I thought we could watch a movie or something since you said you had a long day.”

“What time is it?”

“Quarter after ten.”

“Shit, the hours kinda got away from me.” He stood up and walked over to the sink. “Let me just clean up and I’ll be in.”

I smiled and went to walk back inside, but thought twice. “Torch?”

He glanced over at me as he rinsed off his soapy hands. “Yeah?”

“You know, I have this habit of isolating myself and staying busy when I’m dealing with something I don’t really wanna deal with. And I’m not saying or assuming that’s what you’re doing, but on the off-chance you are, I get it and I’m here. You can tell me as little or as much as you want, okay?”

When he acknowledged what I’d said with a simple nod, I headed back for the door again.

“Buddha’s got cancer,” I heard him mutter right as I reached for the knob.

I stopped in my tracks as the words hit and turned back around. “Shit.”

He sat back down in the stool and stared at his hands. “That’s the word that’s been going through my head all day too.”

I sighed. “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad, it’s late-stage lymphoma. He’s already doing chemo.”

Leaning back on the door, I closed my eyes momentarily to let everything sink in. “Fuck... Baby, I’m sorry.”

He rubbed his beard and looked up. “Yeah, me too.”

I walked back over and crouched down in front of him. “Hey, look at me,” I said, cupping my hand under his chin. “Buddha’s a strong son of a bitch, I wouldn’t count him out yet. If he’s getting treatment, that means he hasn’t given up. You can’t either.”

“I know,” he replied. “It would just be a hell of a lot easier if this was one of those situations I could fix with fists or a bullet. I’m good with that shit. But cancer? I don’t know anything about fucking cancer. The man saved me from the streets, he’s the reason I’ve got the life I do, and now all I can do is sit back and hope for the best? You’re the smart one, baby, tell me how to fix it.”

My heart broke as I stared into his eyes; those beautiful, dark eyes clouding over with sadness and silently pleading for answers. But what could I possibly say? How could I possibly relate? I didn’t exactly have a basis for comparison when it came to father figures, Buddha was about as close as it got for me too.

I couldn’t even pretend to understand how twisted up this was making him feel inside. Torch was a fixer, he didn’t do well with feeling helpless. Then again, neither did I, so maybe in some sense I could relate on an basic level. I thought back to the gamut of emotions I’d gone through while sitting at his bedside a year earlier, watching the man I loved—the man who’d saved
me—
lying comatose and not being able to do jack shit to help either. Had I done the right thing in that particular situation? It was probably still up for debate from Torch’s standpoint, but I certainly didn’t have a single regret. Either way, it was the only logical angle I knew how to come at this from.

“You really wanna know what I think?” I asked.

He nodded. “Talk to me.”

“I think you have to break it down. The medical professionals are doing their thing on the cancer end, and while they work on that, you need to put your energy into handling what
you
do best.”

“Holding a gun to their heads?” he asked with a smirk.

I smiled and shook my head. “No, babe, I’m talking about the club. You’re the VP, it’s your duty to step up when the president can’t. Whether it’s desperation, fear, anger, or sadness, you need to take all those intense emotions and channel them into keeping the MC running the way it’s meant to, the way Buddha’s groomed you to do. If you wanna help him, take that stress off his shoulders so he can focus every ounce of energy he has into beating this shit. Half the battle is mental, give him the peace of mind of knowing things won’t fall apart while he’s fighting for his life and that his place will be there when he makes it through . Who else can step up to the plate?”

Torch didn’t say anything, he just sat there staring at me like I was talking gibberish.

“What? Wrong answer?” I asked.

“No, it’s exactly the right answer,” he muttered. “I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck I ever did to get so lucky. I don’t know a single old lady who ever encouraged her man to do
more
with the club.”

I grabbed another stool and planted my ass in front of him. “You didn’t get lucky, I fell in love with you for the man you are and your loyalty to the brotherhood is a big part of that. Why
wouldn’t
I encourage you to make it a priority at a time like this? I don’t want you to change, I didn’t marry you to turn you into someone else.”

“What if I get really fucking fat and bald? Maybe get all my teeth knocked out?”

I laughed. “Then we’ll get you a heavy-duty sex swing, dental implants, and a razor for your head. Unless you have a lumpy one under all that hair, then we’ll have to talk about a hair transplant.”

He chuckled and kissed my hand. “You know stepping up to the plate means less time at home, right?”

“I know, babe,” I assured him. “Just remember, you made a promise not to hide important shit from me. And if there’s anything I can do to help Buddha or the club, you let me know, okay? No questions asked.”

“Yeah… Okay.”

There was something about the way he glanced down for a split-second that had me wondering whether there was more to the story. But it was hard to tell whether I was reading too much into it or if he was just drained, so I decided to let it go and transition to a different discussion. “Listen, while we’re on the topic of disclosure, I should probably tell you I got offered a hacking job a couple days ago. I haven’t decided whether to take it yet.”

His face perked up at having something else to talk about. “How does that work? Somebody emailed you?”

“No, Silas approached me in person actually. He’s a repeat client, I’ve done probably thirty or forty jobs for him.”

Torch pursed his lips. “Who is he and how did he find you?”

“No idea honestly, Silas is a mystery even I can’t figure out. He has contacts everywhere, from the mob to Feds to international warlords, but he’s always done right by me. There was a job early on where I had to break into a guarded server room and he set me up with all kinds of training, everything from guns to self-defense to losing a tail. I mean, I was already the fighting kind and had some street smarts from my time being Mitch’s errand bitch, but Silas helped me step up my game. For him it was just an investment, for me it was a lifesaver. Mitch greenlit me right around the same time and I managed to get away from his goons twice when they caught up to me because I knew what to do. And I really can’t complain about the stupid amounts of money he throws my way to be discrete, so I haven’t turned him down too often. There’s only been a few jobs I couldn’t do from behind a screen though.”

“Is this one of those?” Torch asked, looking somewhat concerned. “You’re not a woman on the run with nothing to lose anymore, Liv. I’m not letting you take risky jobs for a paycheck.”

“You wouldn’t be so worried if you could see me shoot. We should go to the range one of these days—”

“Babe, I’m fucking serious,” he huffed.

I rolled my eyes. “I know. No, this isn’t one of those. He’s working with the CEO of a company whose computers were compromised. He wants me to trace the attack back to a hacker, that’s it.”

“You sure?” He didn’t look convinced.

“Yeah, it’s nothing but following bounced IP addresses and looking for holes or malware in their system, I can do it remotely. I’m not the one who has to break in, they want me to find the hacker who did and they’ll take it from there.”

He frowned but nodded. “Okay. I don’t know what any of that means but if you swear you’re not putting yourself in a bad spot, it’s your call. Unless, of course, there’s some…
history…
with you and this Silas guy I should be worried about?”

“Uh,
no
,” I smirked. “I like when he pays me out of those deep pockets, but what’s literally behind them is not something I’d ever be interested in. And trust me, I wouldn’t do anything to put myself or the club in a bad spot.”

Seemingly satisfied with my answers, he nodded. “Alright, wife, do your thing.”

That was it? I’d been expecting a safety lecture at the very least, not an instant go-ahead. He was clearly off balance because of Buddha’s diagnosis, but one would think the fear of losing someone he loved would’ve made Torch
more
controlling.

Huh
.

What the fuck wasn’t he telling me? There had to be more to the story.

No matter, it was blatantly obvious I wouldn’t be getting anything else out of him for the time being. And since I didn’t want to make a hard situation even harder, I decided not to pressure him and stood up to go back inside.

I’d only taken a few steps when he rolled over on his stool and grabbed me by the pants. As I turned to see what he was doing, Torch hooked his fingers inside the hem and pulled me closer. With his face at crotch-level, he wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his head on my belly.

I looked down and combed my fingers through his hair. “Love you, babe,” I whispered.

He pulled away and smiled up at me. “Love you too, beautiful.” Hooking his fingers inside my pants again, he slid them down over my hips and let them fall to the ground. His smile grew wider. “No panties, huh? Good to see you’re following orders.”

I shrugged. “Your house, your rules. When it comes to underwear anyway, the rest we still need to discuss.”

“Not tonight,” he said, running his hand up the inside of my leg.

A moan escaped my lips and a shiver went up my spine as two of his fingers slipped between my folds and slowly burrowed their way inside. They went right for the sweet spot and rubbed slow but firm circles over it, while his thumb did the same on my tingly clit.

“God, Torch…” I moaned. “We should take this into the house.”

“Not yet.” He nudged my thigh to spread it open and brought his mouth to my slit. The tip of his tongue replaced his thumb; flicking, licking, and sucking on my sensitive nub as his determined digits continued to circle and stroke my g-spot.

Fuck me.

For a man whose lifestyle choices included regular fist fights and working on engines, his touch could be unbelievably gentle and fluid. I thought back to the morning we first met, remembering his hands running along my skin for the first time as he looked over my bruises. I didn’t know the huge and scary-looking biker or have any reason to trust him, but something about that feathery touch brought down my defenses.

There was a noticeable difference between who he was with me and the image he projected within the club, Torch’s nefarious side didn’t come home with him. Sure, we were both passionate people who got off on fighting and pushing each other’s buttons, but I’d noticed early on that he maintained a level of control during even the most heated arguments. He never hit below the belt, never called me names, and never said anything downright hurtful, the polar opposite of a lot of couples. After witnessing a down and dirty screaming match between Dana and Gauge, I’d asked him why that was.

He said he looked at fighting a different way, that it was an opportunity to get shit off your chest and solve whatever problem triggered it, not to trample all over another person for the sake of winning and creating a whole new mess to deal with. He explained it was the same way disagreements were hashed out among the brothers—state your case, don’t be a dick, get the aggression out, and move the fuck on. After hearing that, it was even more apparent why Torch was the club’s VP. He was level-headed, consistent, and lived by its doctrine.

And speaking of consistency… Fuck me twice.

He slid his wet fingers from my throbbing cunt and licked his way south, before dipping his tongue into my core. I fisted his hair and held on as another amazing orgasm began to build.

“Don’t stop,” I breathed.

He didn’t. He alternated his attention between my clit and pussy, going deeper and harder with both fingers and tongue. I could feel my juices puddling in his beard as I got closer to climax. Other girls might have been embarrassed, but I knew he loved how insanely wet I got for him. He always said he’d die a happy man if he ever drowned between my legs.

I’d probably feel pretty fucking bad about it, but not bad enough to stop him.

His breath warmed my delicate skin every time he exhaled, soon bringing the temperature to my pussy’s boiling point. As my walls began to spasm and the room started spinning, I moaned loudly and threw my head back. Running my hands down his neck, I reached his shoulders and hung on for balance as the biggest waves of euphoria struck.