Torched: Afterburn (Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club Book 2) (31 page)

Knowing that she was okay, he turned his focus back on the out of control car.

He was only about fifty yards back as it came to a stop. Bullets started flying from inside and he returned fire, aiming at plastic and metal instead of glass. He wanted to chat before blowing the asshole’s brains out. Just as he reached the vehicle and hopped off the ATV, all the shooting stopped. It looked like George was out of ammo.

Not giving him a chance to reload, Torch tucked his gun away and lunged toward the door. Yanking it open, he pulled his father out by the neck and slammed the motherfucker to the ground. He was gripping his empty gun like it would still help him.

With his hair sweaty and falling into his face, Torch kicked it out of his hand and launched an assault on George’s face.

Slam
.

Teeth cracked and blood spurted out of his nose.

“Thought you could pull one over on me,
huh
?!” Torch raged.

With a mouthful of blood, George hissed, “Fuck you, Cam—”

He landed another punch, this time in the jaw. “My name’s
Torch
, you piece of shit!”

Over and over, he swung at his father’s face, getting at least half a dozen blows in before picking him up by the collar, slamming him against the car, and pinning him by the throat.

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.