Torch (Great Wolves MC - Ohio Chapter Book 5) Read online

  “Oh,” I said. It was an awfully thick pouch. “They pay you in cash? Isn’t that ... I mean.”

  “Sometimes,” he said.

  “I mean, are they ... is everything …”

  “Relax,” Uncle George said. “It’s been a long time since that club was involved in anything illegal. We have Colt Reddick, the current president, to thank for that. Of course, that doesn’t mean those boys don’t know how to play rough.”

  The phrase stuck in my head. Rough. Oh yes, that’s exactly what that guy Torch was. Covered in tats and muscle, he was nothing like any of the guys I usually went for. Or that ... my parents picked out for me. I couldn’t help it. I spent more time than I wanted to admit thinking about him last night. What would it feel like if he pressed his lips to mine? That rough stubble against my flesh. Long fingers. Strong hands. And I fantasized about tracing the lines of every tattoo on him.

  “Sydney?”

  My uncle’s voice snapped me out of my head. I forced a smile and rose from my seat. “The bank,” I said. “Got it. What about after that?”

  He handed me a flash drive. “After that, I want you to start getting up to speed on these distribution contracts. With the new craft beer gig, I need someone who’s got a good eye for detail.”

  “Oh,” I said, taking the drive from him. “But, I mean. I’m not a lawyer. I don’t …”

  “I don’t want a legal opinion,” he said. “I just want you to get familiar with the contracts. I’m going to ask you to be a go-between on some of this stuff. If the club needs anything that requires legal advice, you’ll refer them to me.”

  “But isn’t that what Jason’s supposed to be doing?”

  Uncle George waved me off. “He’s a good kid, but Jason’s just using this place as a stepping stone. He’s waiting to take the bar exam in a few months. After that, he’ll light out of Lincolnshire. This town isn't a place people usually end up, Sydney. They pass through.”

  “Except for you,” I said.

  He smiled. “Well, I had a reason worth staying.”

  That reason was my Aunt Rachel. I hadn’t known her well. But she grew up in Lincolnshire and only met my uncle by chance. There was a story there he didn’t like to tell. Uncle George shocked everyone when he left Connecticut. My grandfather had put him through Yale Law with the hopes of making him into a politician. When he married Aunt Rachel, Grandpa Bailey had disowned him.

  I rested my chin on my palm as I looked up at my uncle. He’d taken on a kind of mythic status within the family. The black sheep. The one who left the church and got away.

  Well, until me.

  “If that’s what you need,” I said. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Thatta girl,” he said. “You were a good writer, if I recollect. Which means you’re a good reader. That’s what I need for now. Now get going before the bank closes.”

  I gave him a salute and picked up the money pouch. Uncle George tossed me his keys before I could remind him I didn’t have a car of my own.

  I didn’t have anything of my own. My whole life, I’d lived on my father’s dime. It hadn’t occurred to me to mind. Until now.

  With a renewed sense of purpose, I took the keys and headed out the back door. A crisp, blue sky awaited me. I stepped off the landing and a stray cat brushed up against my leg, on his way to the dumpster behind the building.

  “Shoo!” I yelled. But he was already long gone. As I started the car, I realized I hadn’t bothered to ask my uncle where the bank actually was. I checked inside the pouch and found the deposit slip.

  My eyes went wide. There was over ten thousand dollars cash inside of this little bag. I quickly zipped it up and punched the address on the slip into my uncle’s dashboard GPS.

  The bank was just two miles away in downtown Lincolnshire. Downtown. I was used to cities with skyscrapers and bumper-to-bumper traffic. Downtown Lincolnshire had only three or four blocks to it. Plus, it was clean. Mostly.

  I parked at a meter, then realized I hadn’t brought any change. I leaned into the car and opened my uncle’s console. Old guys like him always kept quarters hidden in there. Sure enough, I found fifty cents and crawled back out of the car.

  That’s when a shadow fell over me. He was scruffy, smelling of body odor so strong it made my eyes water.

  “Whatcha got there, chickie?” he said. He was missing his front teeth, and his words whistled past the gap.

  “Just move along,” I said. I clutched the money pouch close to my chest. He honest-to-goodness salivated as he watched me.

  The bank was across the street. I’d parked in front of a dry cleaner, but there was no one inside. There was just me, this guy, and a bagful of money.

  “I just need a twenty,” he said. “Can you spare it?”

  The guy moved closer, backing me up against the car. I saw the raw need in his eyes. He looked malnourished.

  “I just need a twenty,” he said again. He put one hand on Uncle George’s car, caging me in.

  Then a second shadow fell over me. A wall of muscle and rage moved in. He picked up my would-be mugger by the arms and tossed him against the building.

  “No!” I shouted. “Wait!”

  Torch. It was Torch. His eyes lit with fury as he towered over the scruffy guy.

  “You know who I am?” Torch said, his voice full of power and menace.

  The guy put his hands up, bracing for a blow.

  “I didn’t mean nothing,” he said. “I was just looking for a taste.”

  Torch knelt down and jabbed his finger in the guy’s raw-boned chest. “She’s on club business, you hear me? You tell that to your friends. I’m here to send a message.”

  Torch curled his fist.

  “No!” I screamed, lunging forward. “Don’t hurt him. You’ll ... you’ll kill him!”

  Torch looked at me, but it was as if he couldn’t see me, his rage was so great.

  “I understand,” the guy said, his voice squeaking. He scrambled backward in a crab-crawl toward the alley. “I don’t want no trouble. I get the message. She’s yours.”

  It got hard to breathe. What did he mean?

  Torch straightened. The guy took the opening and disappeared into the darkness in a stumbling run.

  I watched a tremor go through Torch. God, he was big. If I hadn’t have stepped in, would he have beaten that guy to a bloody pulp?

  “Did he hurt you?” Torch said.

  “What? No. He didn’t ... he didn’t lay a finger on me. He just scared me. He was just panhandling, that’s all.”

  Torch straightened. “George sent you here?”

  I nodded.

  “Is that club money?” he asked, pointing to the pouch.

  “He said so, yes,” I said.

  Torch snarled. Every inch of him was coiled fury. It scared me. But it also triggered something dark inside of me. Something primal. I couldn’t help myself, I felt my heat rising.

  “George knows better than to send someone like you out without protection. I’ll have a talk with him.”

  “No,” I said. “Please. Don’t. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

  Torch regarded me. Just like last night, he had a way of sizing me up that made it feel like he knew what I looked like without my clothes on. Or ... wanted to. My breath came in quick little pants as I realized that’s exactly what I was wondering about him too.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you inside so you can go about your business.”

  He held his hand out for me. Breathless, I took it. I felt his body heat straight down to my toes.

  Chapter Three

  Torch

  She smelled good. Too good. Her skin was just as soft as I thought it might be as she took my hand.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m okay. You didn’t have to ... go so hard on that guy.”

  That guy. I stopped just before opening the door to the bank.

  “He’s just down on his luck,” she said. “He only asked me for twenty dollars.
”

  Was she for real?

  I let go of her hand and turned to her. “You mean Chuckie?” I asked.

  “You knew him?” she said.

  “He’s bad news,” I told her. “A junkie.”

  She blinked. “That’s so sad. Is he homeless?”

  “Listen, Snow White. How long have you been in Lincolnshire?”

  She swallowed, and I watched a little vein in her neck jump. Her skin was so white. I’d wondered last night whether she was a natural redhead. Now, I’d bet my life on it. She had faint freckles across her cheeks. I hadn’t noticed them in the dim light of the club. But here, out in the sunlight, it made her look like she was dusted with cinnamon. A wicked thought rolled through me. I wondered if she tasted like it too.

  “How did you know I was here on club business?” she asked.

  I smiled. “You’re driving George’s Mercedes. I’m going to assume you didn’t steal it from him.”

  She held a money pouch close to her chest as if she thought I was the one about to steal it. Damn George. He shouldn’t have sent her here without muscle. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen again.

  “Yes,” she said. “George is ... well ... he’s my uncle.”

  I did a double take. Who knew old George Bailey had DNA like hers in his bloodline.

  “My father’s brother,” she explained, though I hadn’t asked. “I’m Sydney.”

  She extended a hand. Sydney. I liked the sound of it. It suited her. Prim. Proper. She had one of those hoity-toity accents. New England, somewhere.

  “Come on,” I said. “It’s not a good idea for you to be standing out here in the open like that with all that cash. George should know better. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “No!” she shouted. “No. Please. I don’t want to make trouble for my uncle. He didn’t do anything wrong. And neither did I.”

  “Listen,” I said, leaning in close. “I don’t know what country club you came from, but this is downtown Lincolnshire. Chuckie? The homeless junkie your heart is bleeding for? He’s a thief on a good day. The guy’s been arrested for assault like six times. He’s an animal. He saw you as easy pickings with your expensive clothes, expensive shoes. You didn’t even see him coming. He probably made you three blocks ago.”

  She took a step back, breathless.

  “You’re making a lot of assumptions about me. And there’s nothing wrong with having a little compassion for people less fortunate than you.”

  “Yeah?” I said. “Tell that to the last girl he cornered in a dark alley.”

  She searched my face, trying to figure out if I was bullshitting her. I wasn’t.

  “Then what is he doing out here?” she asked. “Why isn’t he in jail?”

  She had me thunderstruck. Was she really asking? I took a step back. “Things aren’t always black and white, sweetie. Let’s just say Chuckie has nine lives. He’s also got friends. I don’t want to see you rolling up in that car alone in this part of town again. You got something to do on behalf of your uncle or the club, then you have him call the club.”

  Her mouth formed that sexy little ‘o.’ But she was speechless. I waited a beat, then opened the door to the bank. As I did, a young couple came out. They gave me a wide berth, the woman looked scared. She saw my cut. She was from here and knew what it meant.

  “Why don’t you head on inside,” I told Sydney as the couple edged around us and continued down the street.

  “I’ll do just that,” she said. “Thank you for your ... um ... services. You can go now.”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t think I will. Just in case Chuckie comes back.”

  “Would he do that?” she asked, her hand flying to her throat.

  “He might if he sees me take off,” I said. It was a lie. Chuckie was every bit the dangerous dirtbag I’d told her, but he wasn’t dumb. No doubt he got the message this girl was under my protection. Damn, I found myself wanting her to be under more than that.

  “I’ll wait here,” I said. “And I’ll follow you back to George’s office.”

  She hesitated. “I really don’t want to cause any trouble.”

  “You aren’t,” I said. “I’m heading that way anyhow. When you go in there, ask for Dale. He’s a friend.”

  Sydney had one hand on the door. She gave me a smile. “Um, thank you,” she said, then turned and went inside.

  I could see her from the window. She didn’t have to ask for Dale. Either he or someone else had seen me standing outside talking to Sydney. They fell over themselves to take care of her after that.

  Good. My cut came with certain perks. Maybe things I didn’t deserve. But today, I’d use it to keep some darkness away from Sydney Bailey. The thought of letting it touch her heated my blood in a way I hadn’t felt in years. The last time ... I’d nearly let it burn my world to the ground.

  Chapter Four

  When Sydney came out, she slid behind the wheel of George’s Mercedes and waited for me. She was nervous, her eyes flitting back and forth to her rearview mirror. I stayed back but hugged the road behind her. More dark thoughts crept into my brain. I wanted to feel her behind me, her arms wrapped around my waist, her thighs pressed against my ass as my Harley’s powerful engine roared between her legs.

  She’d have to hike that tight skirt up. There’d be nothing between her and my leather seat but her thin cotton panties. Dammit. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to ruin that perfect makeup.

  But I had no right. I shouldn’t even be thinking about her like that. I already knew what Colt and Kellan would say if they saw me looking at her. Sydney Bailey was off limits. George was too crucial to the club. We’d had some drama last year and relied on George to navigate the legal end of everything. Messing around with his tight-assed, hot little niece would be bad for business.

  Except I couldn’t keep that tight little ass of hers out of my mind.

  Sydney pulled into the lot behind George’s office building. George liked to pretend he was just some country lawyer out here on the edge of Lincolnshire, where it turned rural. Hell, he had dense woods behind the parking lot and an old run-down barn hidden in the brush. Rumor was that place was haunted. When we were kids, before George converted the farmhouse to his own purposes, kids in town used to run back there and touch the barn on a dare. It was a rite of passage for a bunch of hick kids.

  I parked beside Sydney but kept my engine running. She stepped out of the car and shielded her eyes from the sun.

  “Thanks again, um ... Torch,” she said. “Though it really wasn’t necessary.”

  I jerked my chin at her. “Yeah. It was. And I meant what I said. No more trips into town with that kind of cash. Not unless me or one of the guys from the club comes along. You tell George that, or I will.”

  “Okay,” she said, looking nervously over her shoulder. “I have to get back inside. I’ve got work to do.”

  There were lights on upstairs. I could tell she wasn’t keen on George knowing I’d seen fit to babysit her. I had half a mind to throttle him for putting her at risk like that. But something made me stop. It was the way Sydney looked at me. Scared. Hopeful. I don’t know why it mattered so much, but at that moment, I wanted her good opinion of me.

  “See you around,” I said, then. “Snow White.”

  She smiled. Yeah. I liked that. I had the urge to flatten anyone who ever made her frown.

  As she turned, I revved my engine. Even from here, I could see gooseflesh rise on her arms. Oh yeah. It would be something to get her on the back of my bike.

  For now, I caught her watching me leave and could have sworn she was thinking it too.

  When I made it back to the Den, Colt, Kellan, Joker, and Brax were waiting in the back room. We weren’t open for business yet, and Colt’s expression told me something was up.

  “Where you been?” Brax asked.

  I debated whether I should tell them about Sydney’s drama. I knew it might make waves for her with George. B
ut business was business and George needed to do better. “Running an errand in town,” I said. “I, uh ... I ran into George’s new intern or something. Making a deposit at the bank.”

  “Trouble?” Kellan asked. There must have been something he read on my face.

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I said.

  “Intern?” Brax asked.

  “Yeah,” Colt said. “She was at the party last night. Redhead. Hard to miss. She showed up dressed for a board meeting, not a club party.”

  “Oh, her,” Brax said. “Perky tits, nice ass.”

  Rage shot through me. I didn’t like the idea of anyone looking at Sydney like that except for me.

  “Easy,” I said. “Your old lady will wear your nuts for a necklace if she heard you were checking that girl out.”

  Brax smiled. “I was just making an observation.”

  “You sure it’s a good idea for George to be taking on new help?” Joker asked. “I don’t know if I like him having someone we haven’t vetted in and around our shit.”

  Colt put a hand up. “It’s okay. She’s vetted.”

  “By who?” I asked.

  “By me,” Colt answered, his eyes flashing. “She’s his niece.”

  I don’t know why, but I feigned ignorance on that point.

  “What’s her story?” Joker asked.

  “She dropped out of college. Had some falling out with her rich daddy, George’s older brother. He’s some kind of bible thumper in Connecticut. Runs one of those holy roller churches fleecing the flock. Made a name for himself with online videos or some shit. George offered to look out for her for the summer. I think maybe he’s trying to show her how the real world works.”

  “She some kind of trust fund princess?” I asked.

  “Something like that,” Colt said. “But George ran it all by me. It was on my list of shit to tell you all about. We’ll probably be seeing her around the club. George wants her to learn what she can about our businesses.”