Torch (Great Wolves MC - Ohio Chapter Book 5)

by Jayne Blue

  It was dusk by the time I pulled into the parking lot across the street from Uncle George’s. It was a real estate office, and no one was there either. I parked in the back. Not that Uncle George or anyone else would recognize Shannon’s car, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep myself as hidden as possible.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Uncle George’s office was dark. I ran across the street and around to the back door. My palms sweat as I put my key into the lock one last time. I started breathing again when it opened. He and Mona must have just completely forgotten that I had the thing.

  I used only the flashlight on my cheap phone and headed straight for Uncle George’s office. The day planner was there in the middle drawer, just like always.

  I flipped through the pages. Uncle George wrote in a chicken-scratch scrawl, but over the past few months, I’d managed to learn how to read some of it. Page after page on the first Tuesday of the month, he’d just written a dollar sign. No client name. No location. Whatever this appointment was, he’d given Mona no notes about it. He must have given her some verbal instruction about blocking off the time.

  I shoved the planner back in the drawer and started combing through the hanging files he kept in his other desk drawer. These were the active files that he referenced the most frequently. Now it was all club-related. The charging documents on Colt and the others. The beginnings of discovery. Nothing looked out of the ordinary to my eye.

  I pushed the files back one by one. He had another steno notepad laying face down beneath them. I picked it up. I didn’t quite understand what I was looking at first. Then it became clear. Shipping routes. Delivery dates. All related to the craft beer distribution deal. I flipped to another page. This one had doodles all over it and black underlining.

  August fourteenth. Driver’s name, Edmund. My heart stopped cold. This was the day of the raid on the Wolf Den. Was this a new note? Or something he’d compiled before the raid happened?

  “What were you up to?” I said out loud, not really wanting to let my mind go there. Except I knew the truth. It pulsed through my veins. Uncle George did this. He’d sold this information to whoever Juice was. He’d set the frameup in motion. Now I just needed the documentation. My word for what I’d overheard wouldn’t be enough on its own. Any prosecutor worth his salt would use my relationship with Torch to discredit me.

  But why did Uncle George do it? He’d been loyal to the club for over a decade. They paid him a ridiculous retainer and made him a very rich man. What on earth would have made him risk his own reputation and the club’s freedom?

  Then the back door slammed shut.

  “Shit,” I whispered. I threw the ledger back in the drawer and shut it as quietly as I could.

  I looked frantically for a place to hide. There was only one I could get to fast enough as footsteps neared Uncle George’s office.

  I threw myself behind the couch on the far wall.

  The door opened. I saw my Uncle George in profile. His face was wet with tears. He took a staggering step forward, and I realized he was drunk.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” he murmured to himself. He plopped down behind his desk then started opening the very same drawers I’d been looking through a moment ago.

  He pulled out the same day planner. The same steno pad, and a few of the club’s files. Then he walked over to the shredder he kept in the corner and started feeding pages into it.

  I acted on instinct.

  “Stop!” I yelled, rising from behind the couch. “It’s too late.”

  My Uncle George went rigid as if he’d been struck by lightning. Then his eyes widened, and he looked at me as if he saw a ghost. He rubbed his eyes, maybe to clear them. I realized maybe I wasn’t too far off. “You,” he said. “You’re ... oh God. Sydney?”

  I came around the couch. “What have you done?” I asked.

  He shook his head. His hands fell to his sides. The notebooks and papers dropped to the ground.

  “Are you real?” he asked.

  “What? Yes, I’m real. You’re drunk.”

  “Not drunk enough,” he said. He rubbed his chin. No sooner had he said it than I watched his eyes begin to clear. Whatever shock he’d gotten from seeing me, it appeared to be working to sober him up quickly.

  “We need to get you out of here. I have to think.”

  “What are you talking about? Uncle George, you’ve done something to the club, haven’t you? The drugs in that truck. You know who put them there. You helped them. I heard you. The other day, I was in the office when that man came to see you. You called him Juice.”

  Uncle George shook his head and came to me. “No. You don’t understand. It’s not safe for you here. They’ve already ... I don’t understand what’s happened. They said you were ... You were supposed to be on that plane. Why weren’t you on that plane?”

  “Because I have unfinished business here,” I said. “And I’m done taking orders. You need to tell me what you did. And you need to undo it. You helped them frame the club. Was it the Devil’s Hawks? Do they have something on you? God, please don’t tell me this was just about money.”

  He lunged at me, grabbing me by the shoulders. His fingers cut into me. His eyes were wild.

  “You’re supposed to be dead,” he said. “They told me …”

  I heard a loud crash, like thunder. Someone had busted the front door down, ripping it off its hinges. Uncle George screamed.

  “Take your fucking hands off her!” Torch had murder in his eyes. He pointed his Nine straight at my Uncle George’s head.

  “I ... I ... Torch ... this wasn’t me. You have to believe it wasn’t me,” Uncle George sputtered.

  Torch’s eyes filled with tears as he looked at me. “Baby? Are you real?”

  And he was the second man to ask me that in the span of ten minutes. What the actual hell was going on?

  “Torch,” I said. My voice choked out of me. I cleared my throat. I saw the boy in those pictures in Torch’s face. He was cold. Hard. I knew in my heart he’d gone to the place that had sought justice and vengeance for Irene Barrett all those years ago. I also knew he was about to pull that trigger.

  “Torch!” I cried out. “It’s me. Look at me. Not this way. There’s something you need to know.”

  Uncle George carefully pulled his hands away from me and lifted them in the air.

  “Please,” he begged. “I didn’t know they would take it this far. I did what I could.”

  My uncle sank to his knees, keeping his hands in the air as he pleaded for his life.

  “He hurt you,” Torch said.

  “No,” I said. “Torch, no. I’m okay. I’m not hurt.”

  His eyes flickered, but he kept his focus on Uncle George. I went to Torch, taking slow, measured steps. I had to get through to him. I had to make him understand.

  “Tell him,” I said to my uncle. “Right now. Come clean to both of us. What did you do?”

  “It was the Hawks,” Uncle George spat out. “Juice Jenkins. He was going to kill me. He was going to kill you, Sydney. I had no choice.”

  “What did you do?” I asked again.

  “I didn’t know what they were going to do with it. They just wanted shipping schedules. You gotta believe me. I thought he was just planning to undercut you. Scare off the drivers. I didn’t know they were going to plant drugs.”

  “You sold us out,” Torch said. “For what? For money?”

  “He’s been taking payments,” I said. “Torch, I saw deposits going into his bank account. Tens of thousands. I came here two nights ago looking for ... it doesn’t even matter now. But Juice, that’s who was here. That’s who you’ve been meeting with. It’s been going on for the better part of a year.”

  “You son of a bitch,” Torch said.

  “I can make it right,” he said. “You have to understand. These guys. The Hawks. They weren’t playing around. They were going to kill me, and they were going to kill Sydney. If I said anything. If I tried to get out of it; e
verything I did, I did to protect her.”

  “You did it to save your own skin,” Torch said. “Why the fuck didn’t you come to us?”

  “They were watching,” Uncle George said. “They tailed you, Sydney. When you came to Lincolnshire, that’s when they made their move. I never should have let you stay here. I should have sent you straight back to my brother.”

  “You think they would have let you live once the club went down?” Torch asked. “Jesus, George. They’ll kill you anyway. How about I just put you out of your fucking misery now.”

  I moved. I put a hand on Torch’s arm. He flinched. “Not this way. Baby. Not this way. Like it or not, George is probably the only one who can fix this now.”

  “She’s right,” Uncle George said. He started to rise. When Torch stepped forward, my uncle cowered on the ground. “Torch, listen to me. Don’t you think I knew to cover my own ass? I have proof. I have a recording. I have Juice laying it all out. I told him if anything happened to me, I’d take him down. I’ll give it to you. It’s here on a flash drive. Sydney. You’ll find it taped to the underside of my middle drawer. Get it.”

  I looked at Torch. He gestured toward the desk with his gun then trained it back on George.

  I ran to the desk and knelt below it. Feeling around, I finally closed my fingers around something hard. Sure enough, my uncle had a flash drive taped there just like he said. I popped open his laptop and slid the drive into the port.

  Torch came to my side but kept his gun pointed at my uncle. Sure enough, he had two sound files on the drive. I played the first. I recognized my uncle’s voice. It was muffled, then grew louder. Torch and I stood side by side as we listened to my uncle get instructions from a man with a gravelly voice. I recognized it as the man from the other day.

  “That’s Juice,” Uncle George offered.

  They laid it all out. George explained how he was handing over the shipment schedules. Juice confirmed he’d have men in place for August fourteenth. It went on from there. I prayed to God it would be enough and that someone would listen.

  “How high up does this go?” Torch asked. “Is the prosecutor involved?”

  “No,” Uncle George said. “I don’t think so. This was between the Hawks and Tim Davis. I don’t even think the feds are dirty on this one, Torch. I swear it. You can have it all. If you can get me out of town. Guarantee my safety. Give me enough to live off. You’ll never have to hear from me again. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “You think you can shake me down after this? You slimy son of a bitch. Sydney was supposed to be on that fucking plane. I watched it explode. Our pilot is dead! Shannon …”

  The walls started to close in. I couldn’t breathe. “The plane? Torch? What the hell happened to the plane?”

  “They were trying to ensure my cooperation,” my uncle sobbed. “Juice wanted to make sure the club knew no one was untouchable. That’s why you have to swear you can protect me …”

  I saw white. I don’t remember leaving Torch’s side. The next thing I knew I had my hands wrapped around my uncle’s neck.

  “Shannon was pregnant! You asshole! How could you! She was pregnant!”

  I had tried to quell the demon inside of Torch. Now I only wanted to give into my own. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t think. I only wanted my uncle to hurt.

  Strong arms pulled me back. Torch enveloped me, kissed my head. Quieted the demons inside of me as three of the probies came in and surrounded my Uncle George.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Torch

  She wanted to go to the hospital. For me, there was only one place I could take her. She slid her arms around me as we climbed on my bike. It took the rumble of my Harley’s engine, the wind in my face, the strong, sweet scent of the woman I loved to finally convince me that she was real.

  I rode to the riverbank, at the base of the Liberty Bridge. There was a park bench waiting for us and a clear night sky.

  “Torch,” she said, as I cut the engine.

  “Come here,” I said. I had to get my hands on her. I had to breathe her in.

  Sydney came to me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so damn sorry.”

  “No,” she said, crying. “No. I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it.”

  “Let me look at you,” I said. I held her a little away from me. Her eyes shone, wet with tears. Her hair flew around her face like tongues of flame. My cinnamon girl. My wild thing.

  “I thought you were dead,” I said. “The fire. I tried to run straight into it. It took five men to hold me back.”

  “Shannon, though,” she said.

  “They pulled her out alive. She’s busted up pretty bad. But Amy’s with her. She’s going to be okay.”

  “Her baby,” Sydney said. “She hadn’t even told Sticks about it yet.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. It was a wonder anyone survived that crash. I could never tell Sydney what it did to me to see fire like that again. Then, as soon as I thought it, I knew that wasn’t true. She was the only person I could share that with.

  But not today. Today I just wanted to be with her. I wanted her to help me chase the dark parts and the fire away.

  “I love you,” I said. “I should have said it a damn long time ago. I was afraid. Afraid once you knew …”

  “No,” she said, still crying. “Torch, I only love you more. What you’ve survived. You would have killed for me today. What happened when you were a kid wasn’t your fault. You were driven to it by something evil. But you’re not. It doesn’t touch you. Not the way you think it does. And you’ve paid your price. It’s over. Now it’s just ... it’s just us.”

  “I want you forever,” I said.

  She smiled and stepped into my arms. Then I knew I had to finish what I started all those weeks ago.

  “You’re mine,” she whispered.

  I led her to the bench. The lights from one of the big freighters twinkled in the distance. The drawbridge was just starting to rise. There were people out there, but we were too far away for them to see.

  I brought Sydney into my lap. She straddled me. She threw her head back and gasped as I slid my hands up under her shirt and found her nipples. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

  My Sydney went to another place. She writhed on my lap. I could feel her heat through her damn jeans. We had so little time. My brothers were depending on me. But for now, this moment, I would draw on Sydney’s strength to quiet the monster one last time.

  She unzipped my jeans. My cock sprang free, and she was on it. She slid to her knees and took me in her mouth. It was my turn to throw my head back.

  God. She was good. Built for me. She planted her hands on either side of me. I threaded my fingers through her hair and spurred her on. She sucked and swirled and made the damn stars spin for me.

  When I couldn’t take it another second, I brought her up by her elbows. I pushed her shirt all the way up over her tits so I could see them.

  She pulled her jeans down past her knees and got on top of me. Sydney sank down, rooting me deep. God. I filled her. She was so hot. So wet. So ready. Before I knew it, we tumbled off the bench and into the grass.

  I had to be quick. But I had to make her mine that night all over again.

  Sydney clawed at the grass. She was a wild thing. I was so wrong. The monster was still inside of me, but she took it all in. Made me better than I was before. She took my pain. She took my dark parts, the animal inside of me, and claimed it for herself.

  To prove her point, Sydney rolled, going up on all fours in the grass. God. How did she know it was exactly what I needed?

  I mounted her, and she came almost instantly. I stroked her as I pumped into her. Every drop. Every thrust. She took it all.

  Then I folded her into my arms and smoothed her hair back. We were a tangle of limbs and a jumble of clothes. The freighter began to clear the bridge, growing closer. It blared its horn, shattering the night.

  “I love you,” she said. “And yes, I wan
t to be yours forever.”

  I clasped my fingers with hers and brought them to my lips. “That’s a promise,” I said. “And I always keep my promises.”

  “Good,” she said. “So do I.”

  She kissed me and made me whole.

  Later, we climbed up the embankment together. As we mounted the bike, the freighter finally passed, and the drawbridge closed. It was time to go back to the other side.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed Glover. He answered before it even rang.

  “Hey, Torch,” he said. “It’s all arranged. I was just about to call you. It’ll come through in about a minute.”

  “Good,” I said, clicking off.

  “Torch,” Sydney said. “We have to go. I want to be there when Shannon wakes up. She’s going to need me. And somebody needs to get word to Sticks.”

  “It’s going to be taken care of,” I said. “Can you wait here for me for just a minute, though?”

  She opened her mouth to ask but must have seen something in my eyes. I left her sitting on the bike and walked back down to the bench.

  I took a seat just as my phone rang. I answered. “You have a collect call from an inmate, do you accept the charges?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Torch?” Colt said, breathless. “What the hell’s going on?”

  I smiled. “Prez, I’m gonna need you to keep it together until morning, but then, we’re gonna get you out of there.”

  He went deadly silent for a moment, then, “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “Not over the phone,” I said. “But I’ll see you by tomorrow afternoon. That’s a promise.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Sydney

  One Week Later …

  “Just hold up your end,” I said to Brittany. She was a new hire. Young. Pretty. But she had a long way to go to fill Shannon’s shoes. For now though, she stood on her tiptoes on a chair, struggling to keep one end of the welcome banner from falling down.