Torched (22 page)

“Enough about me,” I said, refusing to get into a conversation about the state of my underwear. “What’s going on with you two? How long are you staying?”

“Just ‘til Wednesday,” Lexi piped up. “Neil has a game next Friday. Although I might be tempted to send him home with the little one and stay here for a couple extra days. I’m pooped.”

Neil snickered. “You know, they say a good fucking raises energy levels. Why aren’t we screwing more than once a day?”

Once a day? No wonder Lex looked like the walking dead. And she thought I got laid more than she did? Ha.

“Mooooommy!” Chloe wailed from the living room. “Can I have some juice?”

“Inside voice, baby,” Lex scolded. In her outdoor voice.

“Sorry!” she yelled even louder. “Auntie Livie, will you play with me?”

“
That’s
why once a day’s my limit” Lexi muttered, reaching into the fridge for the fruit punch I always kept on hand in case they came by.

“I’ll get it,” I said, taking the juice box from her and walking out to the living room.

I ground to a halt at seeing what the little rugrat had been up to in there. I knew she’d been too damn quiet to be up to any good. Every couch cushion, decorative pillow, and blanket I had laying around was out, carefully constructed into a huge fort. She must have gotten tired of Sponge Bob or whatever the fuck kids watched these days, on the TV was the completely age-inappropriate Pulp Fiction.

Lexi came up from behind, looking horrified. “Chloe Jane Levine! What are you doing? We haven’t even been here twenty minutes and you’re already trashing your aunt’s house.”

Neil busted out laughing as Chloe ducked under her makeshift mom shelter. It was clear who took on the brunt of parental stress in their house. “Relax babe, I’ll get it straightened out when she’s done. Sorry, Liv.”

“It
is
a cool fort,” I mused, before diving under and attacking Chloe with tickles. She laughed and struggled to break free, but I wasn’t about to let her win. Nope, I wasn’t above beating a kid at her own game. Nobody won when you let them win all the time, which was probably why it was a good thing that I’d gotten myself an IUD.

“Stooooooop!” she pleaded.

“Call mercy!” I would only take surrender.

“Mercy! Mercy!” she giggled.

When we came up for air—both of us with messy hair and big smiles—I saw Lexi sitting in Neil’s lap on a side chair. It couldn’t have been comfortable seeing as how the little monster had pilfered those cushions too, but she had her face buried in his neck and he was rubbing her back with his eyes closed. They looked so in love and peaceful, I almost couldn’t take it.

“Why don’t you guys get a room tonight?” I asked.

“Oh come on, we’re not even making out,” Lexi protested.

“No,” I laughed, “I mean really get a room. Go downtown or something, have a nice meal, and do whatever it is you two freaks do. I’ll watch the kid.”

Neil wasn’t about to let me ask twice. “You sure? That would be fu—… friggin’ amazing.”

“We came to see
you
, honey,” Lexi argued.

“We’ll still have a few days after that. Go, do your thing. You clearly need some adult time to yourselves.”

“Whatchya say, baby?” Neil asked Chloe. “You want some girl time with Auntie Livie tonight? Just you and her?”

She grinned and threw her arms around my neck. “Yeeeaaah!”

God, I could get used to that sugar. For a few days anyway. “I think it’s settled then. Get your shit and get out. We have girl things to do.”

“Can we have a tea party?” Chloe asked.

“Sure, why not?”

“With the pink hats we made?”

I winked at her. “I have them in the closest. A proper tea party it is. How about some spaghetti for dinner?”

“Yay! Pasgetti!”

Lexi reached out and pulled me into a hug. “You’re the fucking best,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Hey, with everything you guys do for me, I owe you at least a year’s worth of babysitting.”

“You don’t owe us anything. You’re my best girl… Neil’s too. Look at him hauling ass to clean up.”

He really was, pulling the fort apart in record speed to Chloe’s horror. She had her hands on her hips looking just like her mother when she couldn’t believe what was happening in front of her.

“Damn it, Neil,” I scolded, “Put that stuff down and get your woman out of here.”

He stood up and gave me a two finger salute. “Yes ma’am. Come on, wench, I have some ideas for tonight.”

: 14 :

The clubhouse on any given Friday night was a degenerate den of depravity. Tonight, they were out in usual force celebrating a successful beatdown on the Serbs. The place smelled like booze, sex, exhaust, and leather, Torch’s favorite combination.

They’d gotten plenty of information and only five of Jovan’s men had met excruciatingly painful ends before the rest started singing like canaries. Torch guessed that they didn’t feel like dying in a bloody heap now that their idiot boss’ plan was unraveling. They should’ve considered that
before
going along with him against the actual boss. Those stupid fucks might’ve gotten out of that warehouse alive, but according to Viktor they were dead either way. Somehow, the Serpents forgot to mention that while the little shits spilled their guts in exchange for their freedom.

Oops.

For all Torch knew, they were being slaughtered at that very moment. He didn’t give a shit, none of the brothers did. You fuck with the Serpents, you better be prepared for a lethal bite.

And Masters? Well, that idiot and his investor were shit out of luck for the time being. According to Jovan’s minions, the whole thing was about drugs, a new concoction named Black Zombie.

Torch had heard of the product, it was a poor man’s heroin. He didn’t know the exact ingredients, but it was allegedly a prescription opiate cooked with gasoline or drain cleaner or some such shit. It had slowly been popping up here and there all around the country, but no one had managed to take it full-scale yet. Thank fuck for that, because along with being as addicting as crank, a common side effect was the drug’s propensity to eat flesh from the inside out. Literally. The name derived from what a junkie ended up looking like—covered in open wounds, scaley skin, and sometimes a lovely shade of gangrene black. He’d heard of people losing limbs to it.

Why anybody wanted to fuck with something like that was beyond him, the best goddamn high in the universe would never be worth those kinds of side-effects. He’d be sticking to weed and booze.

Selling it, on the other hand, was bound to be lucrative. It was cheap, addicting as fuck, and easy to make if you had the startup funds, unlimited access to prescription pills, and a proper space to cook and bag it in. The DEA was keeping a close eye out for the drug, ready to pounce on whoever tried to mass distribute the junk.

Torch could see why Linwood was appealing—a small and lazy police force, trusting community, and central location on the map—but no fucking way would their town would be used as a home base or part of a trade route. Not without their permission. Jovan Maric was a bigger fool than he’d given him credit for, if he honestly thought he’d be able to just move in. That wasn’t how shit worked around these parts.

They’d gotten another name from the Serbs—Peter Brennan, a candidate for Sheriff in next month’s upcoming county elections. He’d allegedly agreed to look the other way in exchange for a small percentage of Serb profits off the top if elected.

Unfortunately for him, Morgan County was small potatoes, but it was Serpents territory. And the incumbent, Sheriff Hiller, was also well-liked in the community.

Hiller was a long-time friend of Buddha’s and, by extension, the club. He’d always taken a hands-off approach, mostly because they kept any illicit traffic moving straight through, and drew a line when it came to certain products and suppliers. They kept out the worst of the worst, protected their own, and it was no secret Hiller didn’t give a shit where anything that would require an official report landed, as long as it wasn’t within his borders. The guy hated paperwork. He’d even jokingly had one of those Adopt-A-Highway signs erected in the club’s name.

He was just too fucking comfortable and lazy in his cushy desk job to aspire to much else, and the MC was effective in keeping things out of the public eye. If they could keep it out of
his
, the Sheriff was even happier.

All in all, it was a symbiotic relationship. One that the Serbs had wanted to usurp.

The most mind-blowing part of the scheme? How exactly Jovan expected this all to play out. It was only after his goons had ratted him out—and Gauge’s drill bit reached about a half inch into his kneecap—that he finally confessed he’d only been in it for the cash and cred. He thought that eventually overthrowing his grandfather required both. The fucking asswipe didn’t even know who he was working for. Masters was paying, but he never revealed who was paying
him.
For all he knew, the investor could have been an enemy—the Maric’s had plenty of those—and he was making Jovan his bitch. Or worse, it could have been a competitor to Viktor’s well-established midwest drug trade, which would’ve ended poorly when the truth came out as it always did.

The whole plan was fucking juvenile and embarrassing for
anybody
in organized crime, never mind an heir to the family business who thought he could run his own show.

The boys still had to deal with Pierce Masters and find out who his friends were, but the immediate threat had been extinguished and Linwood was safe for the time being. They owed Livia Ash their lives. The entire fucking county owed her.

Maybe they could invite her to the clubhouse and have the old ladies make her a cake or something. Chocolate, bitches loved them some chocolate. But come to think of it, that would entail her coming around his filthy brothers, so maybe not.

Definitely not.

He’d cut off all their dicks before letting them touch her. Which they would, because every single one of the neanderthals that had been there when she showed up was still talking about her. Now that her information had panned out, they were convinced she was some kind of fucking biker goddess.

He agreed, but they needed to shut the fuck up.

Then again, they could take a cake back to Torch’s room and he could rub the frosting all over her tits. Or, he could ice his dick with it and let her soft tongue lick him clean. Now
that
was a good idea.

No.

It was a fucking terrible idea. She was trouble with a capital ‘T’. If he didn’t get his mind right when it came to her, she’d get her goddamn hooks into his balls and he’d never be able to break away. He’d seen it plenty of times among his brothers.

Problem was, men like him enjoyed pressing their luck even more than bitches enjoyed sugar.

There were a million things he didn’t know about Liv, including why the fuck she was so comfortable around guns and criminals. And there had to be more of explanation to why she’d showed up after all this time without so much as a call.

He’d figured time and unlimited pussy would get her out of his head. Neither had. Day after day, lay after lay, he couldn’t get that fucking woman to fade.

Torch skimmed the room, assessing all the debauchery. Squid and Zed were playing strip pool with Lizzie and Tess. Mooch and Malice were smoking blunts in the corner, looking hungry and paranoid. Mace and Digger were taking body shots off Lulu, while her twin sister, Coco, danced on a stripper pole. Gauge was involuntarily pinned to a wall by some blonde, Amazon-looking bitch Torch had never seen before.

His old lady, Dana, was probably blowing up his phone at that exact minute. She was the head of the May Fair Planning Committee and always freaked out the night before. The fucker was tempting fate, Torch wouldn’t put it past Dana to show up tonight. And if she did, Gauge would probably end up dickless. That woman was no wallflower.

Lump was in his usual position—a lump on the couch—getting sucked off by another new chick, while bullshitting with Hench, who was standing in front of him and also getting his cock sucked. Stinger had Missy laying spread-eagle on the pinball machine, eating her out. Toto, Jet, and Beanie were playing drunk darts, where you got points for trying if you at least hit the same wall as the board. Prospect Mack was walking around with some fruity vodka and pouring shots directly in open, begging mouths.

Ty was manning the bar. Seeing that Torch’s beer was empty, he slid him another along with a shot of bourbon. He was a good kid. Pissed him off to no end that he’d stayed at Liv’s house, but he trusted that the little shit had kept his hands to himself. He’d done four years in the army, became disillusioned, and was desperate to join the Serpent brotherhood. He was well on his way.

The air was getting stuffy, so Torch stepped outside to see what the rest of the boys were up to. Obviously, nobody gave a shit that they were supposed to be up early the next day to help the women set up at May Fair. Buddha had again warned them to take it easy, but with everything that had happened, their memories were short. Hell, even Pres was tanked and fucking his favorite crawler, Mirna, over the desk in his office. Torch made a mental note to install some blinds in there, he was tired of seeing that wrinkly old ass jiggling as he came.