Torched: Afterburn (Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club Book 2) (21 page)

“A friend. Right. That’s why one of your boys tried to run down our women today. Are you
trying
to start a fucking war?”

Cora smirked and glanced at Liv with a twinkle in his eye, making Torch want to knock those perfectly-veneered teeth right out of his head. “And who’s this beauty? She looks like she has some Sicilian blood in her. Hope you weren’t hurt, bella.”

Instantly feeling a twinge of regret for bringing her along, Torch scowled and took a step toward him. Two of Cora’s guys stood forward and pulled aside the fronts of their jackets to expose their guns.

Before he could utter another word, Liv strolled straight up to Cora with a smile and sat down next to him. To Torch’s fucking dismay, she draped a leg over his. “I’m just fine. And no, not a drop of Sicilian blood.” From who-knew-where, in the blink of an eye, she had a gun in her hand and shoved it into his crotch. “But I
am
a fan of the Cosa Nostra’s style. Now, I believe my husband asked you a question.”

As his men reached for their guns, Cora waved them down. “I
like
her,” he said, grinning up at Torch. “Look, man, why the fuck would I wanna start a war when you still had three days to pay?”

“Cut the shit, dickhead,” Torch seethed. “Your boy almost ran down five old ladies today, including mine. Was that your idea of a friendly nudge? You’re probably the one who ordered the ambush too, huh?”

Cora furrowed his brow. “I may be a piece of shit, but I’m a
proud
piece of shit. I take credit for everything I do. Whoever tried to run down your bitches wasn’t one of mine, none of my guys were anywhere near Linwood today. And they sure as shit haven’t been to New Mexico lately. Come on, you’ve known me for a long time, you know I don’t operate like that. I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but it wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?” he demanded.

Cora shrugged. “How the hell should I know? I don’t subscribe to Biker Weekly. I couldn’t keep up with your tangled web of enemies even if I tried.”

“Did you tell anybody about the coins?”

“
No.
Again, does that sound like my business model? I make my own deals, my boys don’t find out unless I need them to collect.”

Torch fished out his phone and found a picture of the driver he’d taken before Grimm started interrogating him. He handed it to Cora with one hand and yanked Liv out of the fucker’s lap with the other. “You’re telling me you don’t know this guy?”

Cora inspected it closely. “I’ve never seen him before. He’s the driver?” He passed the phone to one of his guys, who then passed it on. One by one, they all looked and shook their heads.

“Yeah, he says he works for you. He claims his name’s Max Farino but he didn’t have ID on him and the car was stolen.”

“He’s fucking lying,” Cora insisted. “Is he still alive?”

“For now.”

“Gino, Mark, show him your ink,” he ordered the two men standing closest to Torch.

They both pulled down their lapels and showed him identical tattooed crests on the backs of their necks.

“My men all have that,” Cora explained.

Torch thought back. They’d checked him from head to toe, there was nothing like it on him. Well, fuck, maybe Cora was actually telling the truth. If that was the case, who the hell was the asshole they’d beaten the shit out of?

“I take it from your silence he doesn’t have one,” Cora noted. “If you find out who he is before I do, let me know. Whatever games he’s playing need to be cut off at the head. I don’t appreciate my name being used for someone else’s endgame, especially when it could start some shit I want nothing to do with. Are we good?”

Not entirely convinced he wasn’t being lied to, at least about the ambush, Torch gave him a curt nod. “I’ll be in touch.” He put his arm around Liv’s shoulder and started walking off.

“Bella!” Cora called out.

They both turned their heads.

“If you ever get tired of being around exhaust and boneheaded bikers all day, come find me,” Cora told her with a grin. “I could use a woman like you, nobody would see that brand of crazy coming.”

“You haven’t seen shit,” she replied.

Cora raised his glass and winked.

Torch dragged her ass along, but she pulled back before they hit the door.

“I need to use the bathroom real quick,” she told him. “I’ll just be a minute, go get the bike started.”

“Babe…” he growled.

“Oh, chill out.” She pointed to a short hallway just a few feet away. “It’s right there.”

Against his better judgment, he let her go, but waited until the door shut behind her to walk out. He hopped on his bike and started it up, then pulled up in front of the door.

A few minutes later, she strolled out. “Sorry!” she yelled as the door swung closed.

He scowled and handed her his helmet. “What did you do?”

She grinned and jumped on behind him. “Nothing. The toilet overflowed and started flooding the bathroom.”

He shook his head and waited for her to get settled. “Was it just me or did Cora’s guy with the purple tie look kinda squirrelly when he saw that picture?” he asked.

“It wasn’t just you, his nose flared like a bull.” She handed him a credit card over his shoulder.

He looked at the name on it—Andrew R. Mena. “What’s this?”

“His credit card.”

He whipped his head around.

“What?” she crowed. “He’s the dumbass for running a tab in a place where the bartender keeps cards in a glass next to the register. I saw him give it to the waitress. And now”—she snatched it out of his hand and tucked it into her back pocket—“I can find out what the connection is.”

Son of a bitch. She’d flooded the fucking bathroom as a distraction. He busted out laughing. “You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.”

She smiled sweetly. “I know. We should probably go before he realizes it’s gone though.”

“One more thing, darlin’… Keep your hands off other mens’ junk, even with a gun.”

“He was trying to change the subject and there were a ton of people around,” she argued.

“Not the point.”

She laughed. “He totally got a boner, just so you know.”

“Shut up before I go back in and catch a case,” he groaned. “Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t take you anywhere.”

“But you love the shit out of me,” she reminded him, nuzzling into the back of his cut.

“You got that right.” He revved the engine and tore out of that parking lot with a fucking smile on his face.

: 18 :

| LIVIA |

As we rode down a narrow dirt road, accessible only from a private driveway, a steel building illuminated by nothing but a single sconce mounted to the front came into view. Torch had dubbed it the “Eagle” property when we’d stopped by the house to grab some of my gear. We were about twenty miles south of Linwood, surrounded by nothing but wheat fields and—judging by the strong aroma of Eau de Cow Shit permeating the air—livestock.

This was apparently where they not only interrogated enemies, but also stored a lot of their automatic guns and ammo in case the law showed up to the clubhouse with a warrant. Good to know.

I spotted Grimm, Zed, and Biff sitting in lawn chairs and passing around a bottle and a blunt.

“Did you guys get anything out of him?” Torch asked as he cut the engine.

“No, the asshole clammed up when I told him we know he doesn’t work for Cora,” Grimm fumed. When he spotted me, his face turned sheepish. “Oh hey, Liv.”

“She’s fine,” Torch told him. “What did he say?”

“Nothing. All of a sudden he’s a fucking soldier. He’s gotta be protecting an even bigger bastard than Cora—”

“Or family,” Torch pointed out.

“Could be. I put him through the ringer, man, he passed out three times. You told me not to kill him so we’re letting him rest up before trying again.”

My husband eyed him. “You been drinking all day?”

“Man, do you
smell
it out here?” Grimm whined. “I’ve been in the thick of it for like twelve fucking hours, you’d be drinking too. Seriously, where
are
those goddamn cows? It’s not even windy.”

“I don’t smell it, does anybody else?” Biff asked, obviously just trying to fuck with the guy.

“Nope,” Zed choked out, exhaling a big plume of smoke. “Grimm, dude, you sure you didn’t just shit yourself?”

Grimm scowled and looked up at me.

“I don’t smell it either,” I told him with a shrug. “Do you usually have a problem holding it in?”

I could barely keep a straight face as he frowned and stuck his hand down the back of his jeans. When he pulled it out and angled it under the light, and then—
oh my fucking god
—took a sniff, I completely lost it.

“Dude! What the fuck’s
wrong
with you?” Biff howled. “We’re in the middle of farm country, of course it smells like ass.”

Torch cracked up to the point that his eyes started watering. “Jesus Christ, you’re fucking disgusting, man.”

And Zed started laughing so hard he bowled over and fell out of his chair.

“Fuck you, dickheads!” Grimm seethed. “And you too, Liv. You’re supposed to be the nice one.”

Torch slapped him upside the head. “Watch it.”

Finally catching my breath a little, I reached into my backpack and tossed him a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer. “Here, I’ll be nice.”

“You got a bowl in there too?” Zed asked. “He should probably soak.”

“Get under those nails, numbnuts,” Biff sneered as he watched Grimm lather his hands.

I turned toward Torch before the sight triggered another laughing fit. “Good god, remind me never to eat anything he brings to a potluck.”

“Oh, he’s not allowed anywhere near communal food,” Torch assured me. “What do you need, baby? A table? Extension cord? We’ve got all that inside.”

I took a few steps to his bike and pulled out a case containing a compact satellite hotspot. “That’s all I really need. And his phone.”

“Biff’s got the phone, I’ll get the rest,” Zed offered, before ducking into the building. They obviously didn’t want me going in there, leaving me to wonder just how badly Grimm had fucked the driver up.

Biff tossed me the phone. “It’s a basic burner. I retrieved his history, but there was only one number on it and it’s been disconnected. No texts or web data, just calls.”

“That might be all I need to connect him to Andrew Mena.”

“Who’s Mena?” Grimm asked.

“One of Cora’s guys,” Torch explained. “He looked spooked when I showed them the picture of our little POW.”

Biff raised a brow. “He formally introduced himself?”

Torch smirked. “No need for introductions with my old lady on the case. She swiped his credit card.”

Zed came back out empty-handed. “Uh, we have a problem, guys.”

“You can’t find a cord?” Torch asked.

“No… we have juice. Our friend, not so much. He’s dead.”

Torch, Biff, and Grimm ran inside. I tried to follow, but Zed blocked me. “You don’t wanna see him, darlin’, it’s not pretty.”

“Zed, I’ve slit a man’s throat. I’m not squeamish.”

“You fucking moron!” I heard Torch roar over Z’s shoulder. A loud crash followed. “I told you to save him for Gauge!”

“Shit.” Zed rushed back inside.

I stepped through the door and saw Torch pinning Grimm to a wall. A few feet away was a body slumped down in a chair, his head hanging back and mouth wide open. If he had any teeth left, I couldn’t tell, they were probably coated in blood and blending in with the rest of his face. Luckily, they’d gotten a picture of it before the biker makeover, the guy was unrecognizable now. Figuring it was best to stay out of it, I kept my distance.

“He was alive twenty minutes ago!” Grimm insisted.

Zed and Biff grabbed Torch from behind and pulled him off Grimm before things got even more bloody.

“Calm down, bud,” Zed hissed. “He was still breathing and had a pulse, I made sure.”

Torch shook them off and took a few steps back, running both hands through his hair. “Goddamn it,” he seethed. “How the fuck are we gonna get him to confirm anything now?” As he started pacing around, he looked over and spotted me. “Babe, go back outside,” he ordered.

“Why? This is what spousal privilege laws are for.”

Torch smirked and turned his attention back to the dead body. “Gauge is gonna be fucking pissed that he didn’t get the honors,” he fumed to no one in particular.

I cautiously approached and touched his arm. “Gauge can take out whoever ordered it, this guy’s probably just an underling. Is there some clear tape around here?”

“Like packaging tape?” he asked. “Yeah, we’ve got plenty. Why, you gonna put him back together?”

I laughed. “No, I was just thinking it might be helpful to get his prints. I have a scanner back at the house and access to a few databases, it could speed things up. Even dead men can talk with the right tools.”