Torch (Great Wolves MC - Ohio Chapter Book 5)

by Jayne Blue

  “The drapes caught fire. It burned out of control so fast. I tried to put it out, but it was too late. He begged for my help. You know, I almost pulled him out. It went through my mind. But then I let him burn and walked away. I didn’t even feel it on me. I didn’t know I was burning too. That’s how far gone I was. I’d made it almost a block before a neighbor came out screaming. He threw me to the ground and put out the fire. He saved my life, I think. He should have stayed inside.”

  “Tell me your name,” she said.

  “Thomas Anthony,” I said. “Google it. I told you. They tried me as an adult. It’s not sealed.”

  “Thomas,” she whispered.

  Irene had been the last person to ever call me that. It hurt to hear it.

  “Thomas,” she said more forcefully. “It wasn’t you. You did what you had to do to survive. You probably saved Irene’s life.”

  I smiled. I tilted my head. “She came back to check on me. I think she knew there was something different about my voice when I told her to leave. They found her body melted to Carl’s.”

  Tears spilled down Sydney’s face. She took a step back and covered her mouth. Now she could only see the monster. She shook her head, no.

  “Walk away,” I said, my voice thick with hate. “Don’t look back. Get on that plane. Run back to your daddy, little girl. That’s all you really are. And it’s time for me to burn it all down again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sydney

  For a week, I stayed in a state of limbo. In shock. It helped that Shannon was pretty much in the same place. Sticks hadn’t reached out to her either. Not directly. He’d only left word with Amy that he didn’t want Shannon to be hurt, but that it was better if she just moved on.

  Torch’s worst fears came to fruition on the local news. All detained members of the Great Wolves M.C. were denied bail. They were bound over and sent to prison in Milan. I knew how this worked. It would take months, maybe years for the RICO case against them to go to trial unless they worked out a plea deal. It meant, for all intents and purposes, the leadership of the Great Wolves M.C. was finished.

  “Can’t you do something?” Shannon said to me one day after she played a recap of the bail hearing on her laptop.

  “What can I do?” I asked. “Believe me. If I could think of something, I would. Torch isn’t talking to me either.”

  Even saying his name hurt. His eyes had gone dead ... no ... worse than that. They’d gone hard that day on the bridge. He wanted to push me away. To hurt me. To make me stop loving him.

  I couldn’t.

  I could only try to keep breathing even though it felt like I’d been asked to do it without my heart.

  “Sticks won’t survive in prison, Sydney,” Shannon said. “And he doesn’t have the full protection of the club. He’s not patched. They’ll try to use that against him. The feds will try to get him to flip on the rest of the guys.”

  “Flip over what?” I said. “You don’t really believe they’ve done anything wrong, do you?”

  “I don’t know what to believe. I just wish I could do something. If I could just see him, even if it’s only for a minute. I think if he knew … maybe it would make it easy for him.”

  She put her hand over her stomach when she said the word “knew.”

  “Shannon,” I said. “Are you pregnant?”

  She bit her bottom lip.

  “Shannon!” I came around her kitchen table and went to her.

  “It just happened,” she said. “I didn’t even know what I was going to do about it yet. I still don’t. No, that’s not true. I’m keeping it. I love Sticks. It’s just ... he might never come back to me. I don’t have a job anymore.”

  I sat down next to her. “That second part you can fix. Don’t wait around for things to get normal at the Den. Maybe they never will. You’re good at what you do. You’re smart. You work hard. Find another job. You have to keep yourself together for Sticks. For this baby. How far along are you?”

  “Just two months. Sydney, you can’t tell anyone. I mean it. It’s like I said, Sticks doesn’t even know yet.”

  “Have you been to a doctor?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Okay, well, that’s the first thing. Do you have a gynecologist?”

  She nodded. I grabbed her phone. It had been sitting on the table next to her.

  “Call and make an appointment. I’ll go with you.”

  She let out a choked sob. Then Shannon flung herself into my arms. It felt good to help someone else. It took my mind off my own broken heart.

  A little while later, Shannon calmed down. We ate takeout Chinese together. As I got up to gather the empty cartons, she put a hand on my arm.

  “Sydney, do you think you could talk to your uncle, at least? I mean, you worked for him. He’s been all over the news defending the club. I just ... I want to know how bad it is. I want to know if they are trying to flip Sticks. I know he wants me to stay out of it, but I think seeing me might help. If he’s falling apart in there, I know I can get through to him.”

  “What did Amy say?” I asked. She’d been very clear. If any of us needed anything, we were to go to her first.

  Shannon looked down. “She told me to sit tight. She said she’d cover my rent for another month and that we’d take it day by day.”

  “Sound advice,” she said.

  “Sydney, she can’t tell you what to do about your own family.”

  She was right. It was the thing that had been nagging at me through all of this. Uncle George wasn’t returning my calls. I hadn’t spoken to my father or mother either, and they didn’t have my new number since Amy gave me the burner phone.

  “I’m not asking you to do anything unethical,” Shannon said. “I just want to know what’s happening. You deserve to know too. Torch is out there. Why won’t he talk to you?”

  I let out a breath. “The same reason Sticks won’t talk to you. He thinks shutting me out keeps me safer.”

  “It’s bullshit,” she said. “It’s one thing for Amy and Nicole and the wives. They’re talking to the lawyers. We’re out here on our own. Torch loves you. We all know it. So whatever he said to you was a bunch of bullshit. Sydney, I know what he was like before you came to town too. Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it. None of us can afford to have Torch off his game. He is the club now. He needs you. You have to make him let you in.”

  Shannon gave voice to the things I knew in my heart. But did it matter? Torch had peeled off the layers he’d tried to hide from me. He wanted me to think he was a monster. That he was capable of not just murder, but torture. I saw a devil in his eyes. I can’t deny that. But I knew the angel too.

  “Just talk to your uncle,” she said. “That’s all I’m asking. And don’t let Amy try to put you off. He’s your uncle.”

  She was right. I’d been paralyzed in a way since that awful day on the bridge with Torch. The more we talked, the angrier I got at Uncle George. He’d thrown me out. He’d thrown me to the wolves. And he hadn’t once reached out to see if I was okay through all of this.

  I made up my mind. A phone call wasn’t going to cut it. I still had a key to my uncle’s law office. I could go there in the morning.

  I told Shannon my plan, and her shoulders sagged with relief.

  “He can get a message to Sticks. If nothing else, can you promise me you’ll take it to him?”

  “What do you want me to say?” I asked.

  “You know what to say. Tell him to tell Sticks what you know. About the baby.”

  “Shannon ... are you sure that’s such a good idea?” I didn’t say what my real fear was. If Sticks was even remotely flippable, wouldn’t the idea that he had a son or daughter in the mix make him more likely to cut a deal for himself, not less?

  Then I realized maybe it wasn’t my call to make. Shannon may have a point. Sticks had a right to know.

  There was something else niggling in the back of my mind as well. Thomas Anthony. I cou
ldn’t find a thing about him on the internet. I knew Uncle George would have the full story. I just hoped he’d be willing to tell it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next morning, I woke up before Shannon. She slept on the couch because she’d been restless all night. I changed into dress pants and a blouse, the only ones I had left packed in my little overnight bag. I hadn’t been to Uncle George’s office in weeks. I had no idea what he’d told the rest of the staff about my departure. But I would show up ready for work.

  I took the bus. A pang of longing went through me. Torch hated me riding the bus. It was just a two-block walk to George’s office from the bus stop. There were no cars parked in the back, which meant the support staff hadn’t yet come in. But I saw George’s Mercedes out front along with another vehicle I didn’t recognize. Probably a client. Though it was strange that he’d meet someone with no one else here.

  I heard voices. No. I heard one voice. My Uncle George. He sounded furious. I had every intention of calling out and announcing my presence, but something made me stop cold.

  “Do you have any idea what kind of position you’re putting me in by showing up here?” he asked.

  “I don’t give a shit about your position. You should be more worried about mine.”

  “You can’t come here. Not to my office.”

  “I’ll make this clear,” the other man said. I was in the back kitchen. Uncle George’s office was around the corner at the front of the building. I was careful, trying to remember which floorboards creaked as I moved along the wall.

  It got hard to breathe. Every nerve ending in my body went on high alert.

  “You've been paid a lot of money for ironclad results,” the other man said. “Do you need me to explain to you what happens if you don’t deliver? I’m not gonna ask for a refund, George.”

  “And you’ve received exactly what you paid for,” George said. “You got the routes. You got the drivers’ names. Pickup and delivery times. You had everything you needed about those trucks. Right now, seven members of the GWMC are sitting in federal jail. I’m out. There’s nothing more I can do for you.”

  I dropped to my knees on the off chance my uncle or the man he was with would turn their heads and look out toward the lobby.

  My ears had to be playing tricks on me. My fingers shook, but I pulled out my phone. I wasn’t as familiar with this model, but I found the camera and had the presence of mind to switch off the volume.

  I did two things. First, I raised my arm as high as I could. George hadn’t closed his office door all the way. I could see the other man pacing in front of my uncle’s desk. He was older, in his fifties maybe, with long, gray hair he wore tied back. He had a black tee-shirt on, and I could see ink covering both arms. I snapped a burst of pictures as he came into view.

  Then I switched the camera mode to video and prayed it was sensitive enough to pick up their voices.

  “You were planning to ride off into the sunset now,” the other man said. “I came to make sure you know we’re watching.”

  “You paid for that intel. That’s it. I’m done, Juice.”

  Juice. The name sounded familiar but I had no idea from where.

  “You’re done when we say you are. I own you. I own your family. I own that sweet little piece of ass you call a niece. She’s a wildcat, Georgie. She likes it rough. Did you know that?”

  Bile rose in my throat. Juice. This man. He’d seen the pictures taken at my apartment. There were worse ones out there.

  “Enough!” George yelled. “Sydney was not part of the deal.”

  “Whose fault is that? Don’t think I don’t know what you did. She’s in a prime position, George. She’s got that boy by the balls. Literally.” His wicked laugh made me sick.

  “She’s out of it,” George said. “I threw her out. She’ll soon be heading back to my brother. Torch dumped her. It’s over.”

  “Yeah?” Juice said. “You gonna stop me if I decide to use her myself? He’s hidden her somewhere. Did you know that? She isn’t back in Connecticut. She hasn’t left Lincolnshire. Which means she’s under the club’s protection still. You’re gonna find out where and how. Then, we’ll see if there’s anything I can do to help you retire.”

  “Get out,” George said. “I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

  I retreated. The stairway to the upstairs library and conference room was to my left. I slipped into the shadows and held my breath.

  From this far away, I couldn't hear what George and Juice said. My uncle yelled an obscenity I’d never heard him use. Juice just laughed. Then he burst out of my uncle’s office and went out the front door.

  Uncle George slammed the door behind him. He was fuming. Pacing. I was trying to remember how to breathe.

  Then a miracle happened. George came out of his office wearing his suit jacket. He did a quick check out the window, then left out the same door Juice did. I heard his Mercedes start, and he pulled out of the driveway.

  They were gone. And I was completely alone in his office.

  I checked my phone to make sure it recorded. It had. I would have to wait until I was somewhere private to see how much of their conversation was audible.

  I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. It was my uncle this whole time. What possible reason did he have for letting that asshole take private pictures of me?

  I backed up the stairs and went into the library. I had one other mission. I went to my uncle’s file cabinets. He kept the older cases up here. He was old-fashioned enough to prefer paper files. One of my jobs this summer would have been to digitize everything. I realized the answers I wanted had probably been under my nose the whole time. I just didn’t know Torch’s real name.

  I found his file within five minutes. Thomas Anthony. Age 15. Just as Torch said, he’d been tried as an adult. There was no time to copy the whole file. I took a risk. George rarely came up here anymore, and as far as I knew, nobody else would have cause to rummage through these files.

  I took the whole thing. I tucked it under my arms and raced downstairs. The lights were off. George had closed up shop for the day. Only I had no idea how soon he might return. I went into his office.

  Juice had said something about paying him handsomely to do a job. What job exactly? The trucking routes. The delivery schedules. God. I fired up my uncle’s laptop. It took forever for his browser to load. When it did, I went into his bookmarks.

  Would he have been dumb enough to take a payment directly into one of his business accounts? Well, he was apparently dumb enough to leave his passwords on auto-fill. I pulled up his main business checking account.

  Sweat rolled down my back. I printed out his statements for the last six months. That’s as far back as it would let me. Then I switched over to his lawyer’s trust account. It was the place where Uncle George was legally required to hold client money, retainers, and such until he’d billed enough hours to pay himself. Settlement checks would go in there too at first. I printed out six months of statements for that too.

  It took eons as my uncle’s printer flared to life. I stood there, catching sheet after sheet so they wouldn’t fall. Finally, I had them all. I could worry about sorting them out later.

  I tucked Torch’s file and the statements in my bag and ran for the back door. My steps faltered at first. I was in sheer panic. But as soon as I’d covered three blocks, my heart began to settle. The bus pulled up just as I arrived at the stop. A kind smile from the driver put my mind further at ease.

  I climbed inside and paid my fare. Then I settled into a seat and prayed.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Torch

  I left my wallet, my keys, my phone in a bin. The cop searched me up and down, frisked me, and used a metal detector wand. The place smelled like mold and piss covered up with bleach. Gray. Desperate. Hell.

  If I closed my eyes, I could be right back here. If I opened them, I could almost see the spider webs weaving through the rusted springs of the bunk above me. I could
feel the walls closing in. I could feel the fresh bruises on my arms and legs from the beatings I’d taken. I’d been a marked man from the second I walked in all those years ago. Retribution for the killing of Carl Barrett, one of their own.

  I could walk out of here this time. The man I came to see couldn't.

  Colt was waiting for me at the metal table. He wore prison blues with orange striping down the side of his leg. He sat up straighter when he saw me, but I caught him just a moment before that, his face lined with despair. He would put on a show for me. That would make two of us.

  I jerked my chin at him and sat down. There were only three other tables of inmates and visitors. The guards kept a close eye, standing with hands folded in every corner of the room.

  I put my hands on the table and clasped them together.

  “Give me some good news,” Colt said. I had just been ready to ask the same thing.

  “Can’t open the Den,” I said. “The feds are still crawling through there. Even when they’re done, we’ve had our liquor license pulled pending the outcome.”

  Colt lifted his mouth in a smirk. “I said good news, Torch.”

  “Sorry, man,” I said. “How are you holding up?”

  Colt shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I need to know you’ve got things handled.”

  We had to be careful, talk in code. The guards were listening.

  “I’m taking care of what needs to be taken care of,” I said.

  Colt leaned back. “Well, you look like hell. I’m having a hard time believing it.”

  “You know you can count on me, boss. What’s George saying?”

  Colt worked his thumb into the palm of the opposite hand. “We’re not getting out of here anytime soon. George is working on an appeal of the bail hearing. If he wins, some of us can get bonded out. But it might be a compromise.”

  I knew what he meant. “Shit,” I said. “You don’t mean you. You’re the king. They’re gonna let you rot in here for the duration.”