Torched: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Paula Cox

  We finally make it to the man on the floor. Anna lets go and dips down to a squat in front of his face while I continue to hold the gun at attention, circling in place. She cries out softly, “Ian! Oh my God! Ian… what the hell did they do to you?” She places a hand on his neck, and she screams out, “He’s alive! I can feel his pulse! Oh thank goodness! Mack, call an ambulance! We need to get him help!”

  “It’s not that easy, Anna,” I explain as I pull out my phone. “He’s gotta be taken in by one of our guys or the police will get involved and then the feds. We can’t let them on to us, not with the tattoo convention tomorrow and Kimmy’s restaurant opening.”

  “What the hell are you saying We just leave him to die while you call in a favor!” She stands to her feet, reaching her arms out towards my phone.

  “No, we’ll get him the help he needs. It’s just going to take longer.”

  Anna’s eyes suddenly go wide. Her mouth opens, letting out a scream like nothing I have ever heard in my entire life. Her face turns white as she swivels downwards, trying to push me out of the way. But it’s too late. There’s a crack, a pound, and a shatter all at once as a bloody baseball bat smacks into my head and pushes me down to the ground at Ian’s motionless feet.

  CHAPTER 10

  “No! Please! No!” I scream out in terror as the man continues to strike Mack with the outside of his boot. Blow after blow lands directly into his ribs, and I can actually see Mack’s body cave in with each hit.

  I don’t know what else to do. In just a handful of seconds, this man is going to realize that I am standing right here waiting for my version of this same punishment. It’s bad enough to see Ian’s body spread out on the ground like this, but to watch helplessly as Mack takes this pounding for me is beyond what I can handle. I can’t just be the damsel in distress, especially when my knight has no way of defending himself. I have to do something if I want any chance of getting out of here alive.

  Slowly, I tiptoe back towards the hallway, my hands sliding against the textured walls. The man doesn’t turn. His long brown, curly hair bobs with his motions while he chuckles to himself over his work. As I grow farther away, I’m able to make out him faintly saying to himself, “This is for what you and your daddy did to my father’s crew all those years ago…”

  It’s revenge, that’s all. All of this is about revenge, full stop. For me, it’s Riley coming after me for the breakup and the incidents with the cops involved. For Mack, it’s being the president of the top club in the city. Poor Ian is the only innocent one involved. I have to get to him before it is too late.

  I examine the man one more time. I make my mind slow down his movements so I can check the outline of his tight black jeans. He’s wearing a sweatshirt, but I don’t see any hints of a weapon on him either. All he has is his fists and size. That’s good enough for me. I make a mad dash towards Ian’s office, opening the door and slipping in. Panicking, I place my hands under the desk to feel the harsh scrape of the plywood along my palms. Then, I feel it—cold metal hooked on by plastic holders.

  Grabbing the small handgun, the one Ian replaced the massive shotgun for so I could protect myself in situations like this, I head back towards the scene still unfolding. Mack is up on his hands now, trying to push off. Drops of blood drip from his pale, pink lips. The man uses his leather cowboy boot to smack him again, this time against the side of his cheek. Mack falls straight down, tumbling towards Ian’s legs. I can’t wait any longer.

  “Leave him the fuck alone!” I scream with the loudest, most forceful voice I can muster. My hands shake violently as I thrust the handgun out to point directly at the man’s chest. I have no idea if I’m even close to aiming it or even holding it correctly, but it doesn’t matter when you have a trigger and a bullet loaded with no safety to hold you back.

  “Oh, c’mon now, princess,” he says, smirking, “put that damn thing down. You’ll just embarrass yourself.” He spits on the ground in the direction of Mack’s hands, and then takes two long, slow steps towards me. With hands raised he smoothly says, “Your boyfriend just wants to talk to you, but you haven’t given him any chance to explain himself.”

  “Explain himself? He sent an assassin to come kill me in my own tattoo shop. Do you think I’m dumb enough to believe that you’re just going to take me to him for a talk?” I bite my lip. It’s a method I used in school to get myself to focus. If I thought too much of Riley or why he was doing this to me, I might give in to this guy’s slick talk or let my guard down enough to let it slip.

  “Just put the gun down, little girl. You know you’re not going to shoot me. And if you do, I may just go easy on you.” No one calls me “little girl.” My blood boils inside my veins and my head feels as it’s about to explode. I can practically watch the seconds that go by with each of his footsteps closer to me. My heels fall back. One step. Two steps.

  No! Not a goddamn chance in hell I am going to let him pin me into a fucking corner. I have to unfreeze myself. I give him one last warning, shouting back, “I mean it! Don’t come any closer to me or I will kill you dead where you stand, right here and now.”

  “You’re too chicken shit to do that, little girl. You’re not even—”

  The gun goes off, and I barely even notice it. A hairpin push on the trigger, or what felt like it, sets it off. The force of the blast ricochets into my arm so that I feel as if I could fly through the air against the bullet. My eyes close. I don’t want to watch myself kill a man or see the blood splatter and stain the room. But I do listen for something, anything, to come next.

  There is a small thud. It’s so insignificant that I could probably be imagining it, but a snarl comes next. A man’s growl grows louder, building in his gut and then rising. I force myself to look at the crumpled body on the floor. He’s alive, wriggling in pain as he clutches his arm and shoulder. Red stains grow against the fabric of the sweatshirt. A part of me is relieved to see him still alive, but I know this is still dangerous.

  I place the gun back up, pointing it at his head this time. “I am going to count to ten, and if you don’t get the fuck out of this shop, I swear to God that I will shoot you again.” I pause, watching him sputter. His eyes grow large with fear as he thinks over his options. “One! Two! THREE!” Before I can even get to four, he forces himself up and walks backwards towards the door, stepping over Ian’s shoes. I march out with him, making sure he gets on his bike and actually drives away.

  The man doesn’t look back at me. I’m sure it isn’t just the gun in my hands or the fact that I actually shot him. He knows that there is no good option now. Coming back to his headquarters without me must mean he’s got a lot of pain in store besides that shattered arm and the loss of blood. I can’t imagine what Riley has in mind for a punishment. I hate myself for feeling any pity towards him, especially after what he did to Mack and Ian.

  Mack and Ian! My thoughts collect themselves like a dam powering on. I drop the gun at the doorstep, letting it fall with a hard bang on the tile. On my hands and knees, I crawl gently towards Ian first. Like Mack said, he’s breathing, but it’s so faint that it’s only a slight whisper of air on my cheek. His pulse is equally weak. He doesn’t have much time. While I have zero clue what the man did to him, I can tell from his bruises and how his neck is curved down towards his chest that moving him, even touching him, could be deadly. He’s going to need help, but I can’t provide this kind of care.

  “Anna?” Mack’s curled up body begins to move a bit. He rolls over tenderly, his bloody hand reaching for the plump purple and red bruises along his cheeks. “What the fuck just happened?” He tries to sit up, but the pain pushes him back down. I scoot over to him so that I am just hovering slightly over his forehead. He watches me with squinted eyes as I remove my sweatshirt to form a makeshift pillow.

  “Don’t move. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to call an ambulance to come get you and Ian.” I reach for the phone beside him. There’s a small drip of red blood on the black
plastic case, but it managed to survive. I flip it over to see the screen all lit up. He never hung up from the phone call.

  I place the glass to my face as I say, “Hello? Is there anyone there? I need help. Mack needs help.”

  There’s a pause before a man with a slightly southern accent answers, “Who the hell is this? Where’s Mack?”

  “My name is Anna. I was with Mack when he called you for help, but he was attacked by a member of the Knights of the Dead. He’s gone now, but we need medical help now for him and my boss. Please, please come.”

  There’s another long, agonizing moment of silence. I’m guessing he doesn’t believe me. If this isn’t a member of Mack’s club, he may still be under the impression that the Knights are no longer operating. I look down desperately at Mack who is watching me with parted, crusted lips. He reaches up for the phone, and I let him take it.

  His voice seems to grow stronger as he takes over as Mack the motorcycle club God. “Joey? This is Mack. The girl is right. I was jumped by some thug from the Knights. We need help. Send the guys from Ladder 15 and have them set up a private room in Mercy General under my tab… No, we don’t need the five-oh for this. We know who did it, and we’ll take care of it on our own.”

  Mack hangs up the phone by dropping it to his side. I place my hand firmly on his wrist, massaging the muscle gently as if he were made out of the good China my mother never let us use. “Are you alright?” I choke out, wanting to break through the maddening silence of waiting. “Can I get you anything? I think there’s some ice in the office freezer. Ian always kept some there for wusses who couldn’t stand getting their tattoo…”

  My voice trails off as I look at my old boss still lying helpless on the ground. There’s nothing I can do but to be sorry I ever brought this on him. He has nothing to do with Riley or with Mack, yet he’s the one worse off than all of us. Sure, I was in hiding, but I haven’t taken hits like he has. I would do anything to trade places with him, to take away his pain.

  “Anna?” Mack interrupts my thoughts. I don’t know how long he’s been trying to get my attention or how much time has passed since I last spoke. I feel completely frozen still in time. “Anna? I’ll take that ice while we wait. Can you…” He reaches up his arm and I follow his lead. With a hard tug, he’s back to his feet, wobbling a bit from dizziness.

  I take his arm as I lead him back to the office, my head resting slightly on the top of his arm as I look back at Ian. He sits down in Ian’s office chair, his head slumped in his hands. “He got you pretty good,” I say, trying to make small talk. I glance over at the office clock. Only about a minute has passed since he made that phone call. How long would it take to get secret, undercover cops and medics over here?

  “Yeah. Not my finest moment. I should have known better than to let my guard down like that. It was a rookie mistake, and I’m sure going to pay for it in the morning when I wake up with a raging headache and a broken rib or two.” He tries to smile at me, but his face is a mess with knots and bulges. I grab the ice from the mini-fridges freezer compartment and hand it to him. His hand shakes slightly as he tries to lift the pack to his face.

  “Let me take over,” I say as press my hands on the leather armrests of the chair. The wheels glide it backwards towards the desk until it’s locked into place. Mack stares up at me and then down towards my chest. Even in times like this, he has to be such a… man. Still, I don’t mind. It’s not like I haven’t been in this position before. Gently, I sit myself down in his lap, careful to watch where he was hit at.

  My chest leans into his while I press the clear plastic bag full of ice cubes to his face. He winces and adjusts, but I hold him in place. “Don’t be such a baby,” I tease. “It’s only a little bit of ice.” I can feel his breath on my lips. His eyes dart back and forth at mine, searching for something. I find myself squirming from how his eyes have locked into mine. I laugh awkwardly as I add, “Plus, the ice will help you get back that dark and handsome thing you got going for you.”

  “Dark and handsome?” His bushy eyebrow arches up. “I’m guessing that’s a compliment.” There’s a large hand pressing into my back, sneaking just up under my shirt. The space between us gets a little tighter.

  “I don’t know,” I quickly let out. “You’re not really my type. I don’t go for the muscular… tattooed… road worn look.” My breath has escaped me. The ice pack floats down from his face to past his lap. All that’s between us is a few gasps of air. I remember that kiss, that first kiss between us. It was so powerful that it knocked me out with one brush of his lips to mine. Could I do that again? Here? Now?

  I didn’t have to answer my own question. “Mack! Fuck! Mack!” There’s a bang of a foot to the metal exit door. Both of us jump with me sliding quickly out of his lap. I readjust his shirt before running back towards where Ian still lays. Two EMTs stand in the light just above Ian. They take his pulse and place stethoscopes and machines to his body like well-trained machines. One of them records his stats into a walkie-talkie strapped to his shoulder.

  Mack pushes past me, his arm extended towards the group. He shouts out orders, giving them details of what he knows about Ian. A few times I jump in with details about his age and background—just little tidbits about his life I’ve picked up. I should be focusing more on what they are doing, how they are calling into the hospital urgently and asking for the contacts for his wife and kids.

  Still, I can taste Mack on me. His warm hand has left an impression on my skin. I watch him come together, to lose all signs of vulnerability, and all I can think about is just how much I want this man—blood, bruises, and all.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Tell me the truth, man. Is he going to survive?” I look back towards Anna who is slumped against the wall about twenty feet from the action. She looks exhausted, but there’s something else there. She licks her lips as she stares a hole straight at me with those piercing sapphire eyes.

  “He’s breathing and his heart is pumping. We’re not going to know the extent of the damages until we can run a brain scan and check what’s going on inside for internal bleeding, but I don’t see anything externally that indicates he won’t be up and walking around in a few days.” My old detective friend grabs my arm as he pushes me towards the small lounge area, away from the others’ earshots. “Tell me the truth. Is what the girl said true? Are the Knights of the Dead riding again?”

  I’m always cautious about getting the police involved. Detective Joey Chrissum knows his shit. He prides himself on walking the streets and shaking hands of the guys like me. He has more connections to the gangs and clubs than anyone else I know. And over the years, we’ve worked together on making sure it’s safe to ride and do business, as long as it lined his pocket a bit. Still, this relationship has its own walls, and I have to be careful with how much I let a guy like him in on issues like this. If I was going to take a man’s life or if there was going to be bloodshed, his position on the force was only going to do me so much good.

  I jut out my jaw as I give him my controlled, subdued answer. “That’s the rumor, and the guy was wearing the patches.” This much was true. Between the punches and the kicks, I managed to make a pretty good mental image of him. I rattle it off quickly to Detective Joey in hopes he may be able to give me a lead. “Dark, slick hair with a scar in the shape of a giant arch under his left cheekbone. He was tall too, probably about my height and about fifty pounds heavier than me. Real beast of a guy. He wore a ring too—silver with a black skull on it. I think it made an imprint on my shoulder. Does that ring a bell to you?”

  He slumps in the leather chair, grabbing a cigarette out of the box hidden in his breast pocket. Behind us, Ian’s stretcher is waiting to take him away. Anna leans over her old boss, or what’s left of him, and whispers softly, “It’s going to be okay, Ian. We’re going to get this taken care of, and I am going to find the guy who did this to you. I am so sorry this happened to you.”

  “Who is she?” Detective
Joey asks as I reel my head back towards him. “What does she and this shop owner have anything to do with the Knights?” More questions. I hate when he goes into detective mode. I am the one in charge here, not him. I called in a favor which meant that he owed me, not the other way around.

  “She’s none of your business,” I fire. She may be the entire reason we are here, but Anna’s not getting linked to me.

  “I’m only saying it because I recognize her. Domestic violence dispute some months ago. It’s hard to forget a woman like that. I don’t remember much of it. I see so many similar cases that they all run together. But if I remember correctly, the guy she was with was into some motorcycle stuff as well. When we read out his background, he was certainly getting a sheet on him for petty shit like stealing, a few bar fights, and reckless driving. He a Knight member?”

  There it was—her and Riley’s history laid out for me. She had mentioned it a few times in the past on how he got involved with cycling, but we had brushed over the breakup. It explains why she’s been so hesitant with me, why she’s had to put up some distance. You wouldn’t blame a woman like her for being skittish to repeat her mistakes, especially when they just kept coming back to haunt you.