Torque: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Iron Angels MC) (Unbreakable Bad Boys Book 2)

by Sophia Gray

  A shiver of fear ran down my spine as I looked at Rose’s picture, in black and white, accompanying the text. She was beautiful: pale skin, long curly blonde hair, the same piercing green eyes that Torque had. In the photo, she was laughing and saying something to the cameraman. In her eyes, I saw an innocence much like my own had been at that point. That was before I’d started college, before I’d started singing, and definitely before I met Torque.

  With a start, I realiTorque the newspaper offered very little detail regarding how she died. I leaned back on the mattress and stared at Rose’s photograph until the picture was blurry. Tears came to my eyes as I imagined how frightened she must have been in her final moments alive.

  I shuddered and went back to the search results. There were some tribute pages created by her friends—Rose was more popular than I’d ever been, clearly—and some op-eds about how the violence in Detroit was getting out of hand, but nothing too damning. So far, it looked like Torque had been telling me the truth.

  Then I found another article that made my blood run cold. It was on one of those local, small paper sites—the kind that usually makes outrageous claims about local celebrities. I half expected it to be a joke, but when I clicked on the headline Brutal Gang Tied To Death of Local Girl, there was the same picture of Rose, right at the top. The article read:

  Rose McIntyre, 17, was slain last month by an unknown assailant. Today, police have released more information pertaining to her murder in hopes that new leads will be generated. McIntyre’s body was found nude, with a single diagonal slash mark from her left shoulder down to her right pelvis. She had been disemboweled and died from loss of blood.

  I felt myself gagging, but I kept reading.

  While initially it was suspected to be a copycat murder, authorities now think the Iron Angels have something to do with it. For the unaware, the Iron Angels are the most notorious gang in Detroit, with branches in Chicago and St. Louis. They’re known for money laundering, dealing heroin, and now, murder. Furthermore, the trademark of the Iron Angels is to kill with a single slash. They’re a fearsome gang without traditional reliance on guns, and authorities have long believed they enjoy the attention that killing brings them.

  Was Ms. McIntyre simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, or are we dealing with someone who wasn’t as innocent as she looked?

  Anger rose through me; I couldn’t believe how horribly the press had treated Torque’s sister after her murder. She was an innocent seventeen-year-old girl. She hadn’t even graduated from high school yet! My blood boiled as I read the rest of the paragraph, accusing Rose of abusing illegal drugs and hanging out with the wrong crowd.

  I swallowed a hard lump. Torque would never let his sister do those things; chances were he tried harder than ever to protect her. I did the math in my head. Torque was nineteen when Rose was killed, and he went to prison when he was twenty-three. That meant he’d had four years after she died to really spiral off the deep end. But even before she died, he’d still been dealing heroin for that gang.

  Iron Angels.

  The words jumped out at me off the screen, and I blinked twice, rubbing my eyes. There was no mistaking it; the gang that was linked to Rose’s killing was the same gang that Torque had been dealing for. Suddenly, everything made a little bit more sense.

  I had a horrible knotted feeling in my stomach, but I still wanted to read more. Closing out of the newspaper tab, I searched for the Iron Angels and their activity in Detroit. There were tons and tons of articles, but I kept seeing one name, The Manticore, jump out at me. Frowning, I clicked on the first one, titled Manticore Gone Missing.

  The Manticore, one of the Iron Angels’ most ruthless and vile members, has seemingly disappeared from Detroit. How do we know he’s gone? For one thing, there haven’t been as many murders reported lately. For another, those murders have been tame compared to The Manticore. For those of you who were lucky enough not to be in Detroit last summer, The Manticore is thought to have killed over fifty men and women over the span of two months. Detroit clung to fear as The Manticore ruthlessly slayed citizens of all walks of life. Unlike most serial killers, The Manticore would attack anyone. Women, children, and men of all ages were slaughtered mercilessly in the most brutal fashion possible.

  The Manticore often worked with other gang members, but authorities have reason to believe that he did a large amount of killing on his own. In addition to the gruesome hacking and slashing of last summer, The Manticore has branched out and committed many other senseless acts of violence. A gas station owner, Laurie Peters, was reached for comment when his store was robbed last year. Peters was quoted as saying, “This big guy came in with a gun, and just as he was about to rob me, an even bigger guy with a big knife slashed him right across the torso. I’ve never seen anything like it; it was absolutely horrific.” Well, we’ll have to take your word on that, Peters.

  As for those of you who don’t know what a manticore is, it’s a mythological creature from ancient Persia. Manticores are creatures with the body of a lion, the face of a man, and the tail of a scorpion. While it sounds like a fearsome beast for sure, don’t forget how much more fearsome the real Manticore is.

  Police are now actively seeking information on The Manticore and his hideouts. If you can help, please call 1-800-MAN-CORE. If you or anyone else you know has information leading to his whereabouts (or the whereabouts of the Iron Angels), know there is a $5,000 cash reward.

  I closed my laptop and flopped onto the bed with disgust. Through the tiny, dirty window, I could see that the sun was setting. I yawned; I was really tired from not having slept very well the night before. Every time I’d heard a noise, I’d woken up, expecting to be in my own room. Every time it had taken me a few minutes to realize that the sounds were coming from the outside and that I was miles away from home.

  The bed smelled mildewy and old, and I wrinkled my nose, trying to find a comfortable position. My allergy irritation hadn’t gone away either; it was so bad that I felt like there was still a dog in the room with me. I didn’t really want Peyton to come back, but being left alone there had made me so incredibly nervous. Through the wall, I could hear the cooks at the Chinese restaurant screaming at each other in bastardiTorque English.

  Closing my eyes, I thought about being back at home. I decided that as soon as Torque brought me back, I would take a long bath, then make some popcorn and watch movies all night. Or invite Jackie over for pizza and wine. Anything. I had to do something to cheer myself up; the silence was agonizing and depressing.

  Suddenly, there was a rapid banging on the door. My eyes shot open, and I shrank myself down into the smallest possible lump on the bed that I could. The pounding increased, and I pulled a musty blanket over my head, screwing my eyes shut and hoping for the best. It occurred to me too late that I could have easily reached the weird knife or the gun in the bathroom.

  I heard the slam of the door banging against the wall and realiTorque that my safe place had been breached. Slowly, I counted to five and pulled the blanket away from my head.

  Torque was standing on the other side of the room. “Lily?” He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing under the covers?”

  It was all too much. I burst into tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Torque!” I cried out, forgetting that I’d ever been so angry with him. “You’re here! You came back!”

  He frowned at me. “Where’s Peyton?”

  I jumped out of bed and ran across the room, throwing my arms around him. After thirty-six hours in a gross bunker, his smell of cigarettes was more appealing than ever. I buried my nose in his leather jacket and inhaled deeply. Torque had stiffened when I’d first thrown my arms around him, but he seemed to relax. I felt his weight shift as he moved an arm up and rested it on my shoulders.

  Forcing myself to pull my face out of his jacket, I looked up into his scowling face. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “He left yesterday and never came back.”
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  Torque looked around and licked his lips. “I’m starving. I bet you are, too.”

  I nodded, feeling miserable. “I haven’t eaten. He’s been gone the whole time, and I didn’t want to leave.”

  Torque nodded. “Good girl,” he praised me. More of my anger towards him faded when I saw how concerned he was. “Grab your things. come on, we’re leaving.”

  When I didn’t move fast enough, Torque grabbed my suitcase and carried it outside. Even though the parking lot still reeked of grease, it was delightfully fresh compared to the air that I’d been breathing. Greedily, I sucked in several mouthfuls. Torque made a clicking sound with his tongue and nodded at the passenger door.

  I grinned. “Sorry,” I said, blushing. “It just feels good to be outside.”

  Torque shook his head. “You’d last about ten seconds in jail,” he said ruefully. “It’s not a place for a cupcake like you.”

  I rolled my eyes. He was so irritating, but it felt good to have the old Torque back. Together, we carried my things out to his car, and he loaded up the trunk. I bundled myself into the passenger seat.

  “What do you feel like eating?”

  We passed a McDonald’s. The last time we’d gotten McDonald’s, Torque had eaten the whole bag. We’d ordered a pizza and started wrestling before it arrived. Then I’d wanted to kill the delivery guy for interrupting us. Remembering that had me tingling between the legs and blushing madly. I looked out the window so Torque wouldn’t see my face.

  “I dunno,” I replied, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Whatever you want. I’m sure anything would be good.”

  Two minutes later, we were pulling into a parking lot. I read the sign.

  “Applebee’s?” I wrinkled my nose. “Really?”

  Torque shrugged. “I want a steak. This is a safe area. We’ll be okay.”

  I remembered everything that I’d read online that afternoon. “I have some stuff to tell you, too,” I added.

  Torque looked at me with a funny expression on his face. “What?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you after dinner.”

  A perky teenaged hostess showed us to a back booth. She gaTorque appreciatively at Torque and then gave me a weird look, as if to say, “What’s he doing with you?”

  I rolled my eyes at her once she’d walked away. “Did you find anything out?”

  Torque shook his head. “Don’t bring that up here,” he warned me. “Just order some food, and we’ll be home soon. You haven’t changed.”

  I felt myself blushing again. “Yeah,” I admitted. “The bathroom there was pretty gnarly.”

  Torque raised his eyebrows, and the light caught flecks in his light green eyes. Now that he was in front of me again, the resemblance between him and Rose was astonishing. Even though she had been slender and petite, I guessed that she’d been tall. They had the same straight, elfin nose, and slightly squared chin. Despite how over the top masculine Torque looked, his features could almost be called androgynous.

  “We’ll get you home,” he repeated. The waitress came back with her eyes sticking to Torque like glue. He ordered the biggest steak they had with a side of mozzarella sticks, fried ravioli, and French fries.

  “And for you?” She turned her perky, teenaged body to me with a demeanor that couldn’t have been less interested.

  “I’ll have the same. I’m starving.”

  Torque burst out laughing, and the waitress rolled her eyes, walking away.

  “You’re hysterical,” he said once he’d calmed down.

  I smiled; I couldn’t help it, but something about the moment felt so carefree. It was a polar opposite from the last time I’d seen Torque. Now, I felt embarrassed at how clingy and sad I’d been when he left. Peyton and Torque both must have thought I was acting like a total idiot.

  “Glad I amuse you,” I said with a grumble.

  “I’ll be impressed if you can eat a quarter of that,” he added with a grin.

  When the food came, we both tucked in heartily. I was dying to get back home so I could tell Torque about what I’d learned. Even though it was old news, I felt like it somehow might be important to him. I thought it might help with his search. Even though Torque wasn’t stupid, I could tell he wasn’t the guy who would sit around reading a lot of old newspapers.

  I ate almost half of my steak and a few mozzarella sticks before I had to call it quits. Torque nodded in approval, then reached across the table and pulled the rest of my food towards him. I watched as he devoured every morsel, like a starving man who hadn’t eaten in days. When he’d eaten the last crumb, he slapped a couple of twenty-dollar bills on the table and stood up, belching. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

  “You’re so gross,” I commented, playfully slapping him on the arm. I’d put a little force behind my slap, but it did nothing. Torque glared down at me.

  “You appreciated my energy once,” he replied, looking straight ahead. I blushed deeply, remembering just how much I had appreciated his energy—and his body.

  We walked to the car in silence. I climbed in my side and turned to look at Torque.

  “What would you say if I told you that I had news for you?”

  Torque narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve been putting that nose where it doesn’t belong,” he said in a warning tone. “I thought you knew better than that.”

  I shook my head. “No, I haven’t, I promise. I just Googled some stuff, that’s all. Should I tell you here, or at my apartment?”

  Torque looked at me before turning the key in the ignition and focusing on the road.

  “It’s about The Manticore,” I continued nervously, twining my fingers in my lap. Torque didn’t look up. “I think he’s somehow connected to Rose’s murder.”

  Torque didn’t say anything. He grunted at me without turning his head.

  “Torque, it sounds like he disappeared a few years ago, right around the time Rose was killed.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Lily, it’s a coincidence, okay? Trust me, I’ve looked into it.”

  I frowned. “Why aren’t you listening? I spent the whole day doing research, and something just seems really fishy!”

  Torque shook his head at me. “You didn’t have to do that,” he finally said.

  “I want to help you though,” I persisted. “And I think I really could, but you’re not listening to me.”

  “Drop it, Lily,” Torque said with a growl. I felt a touch of the old fear coming back, but I didn’t look away. “This isn’t any of your fuckin’ business, you got that?”

  “Fine,” I said in exasperation. “I knew you wouldn’t listen to me anyway. I don’t even know why I bothered.”

  Torque let my remark hang in silence. He accelerated and the car shot forward into the darkening night. As I felt my frustration grow and grow, I looked out the window and sighed. It was just like him to brush me off like this. And it was so typical of our interactions to be friendly one minute and snarky the next. The emotional rollercoaster that Torque had put me on was wearing me out, and I closed my eyes and lay with my head on the cold window glass.

  The next thing I knew, Torque was shaking me roughly by the shoulders.

  “You’re home, Lily,” he grunted out softly. The car was still running, and when I didn’t move, he reached across me and opened the passenger door. Arctic air filled the car, and I began to shiver.

  “Aren’t you coming in?”

  Torque shook his head. “I have some things to take care of,” he muttered. “I’ll be around later.”

  I realiTorque he wasn’t going to help me with my bags, so I got out of the car and left the passenger door open until the last minute. Torque glared at me but showed no signs of being cold; I wondered if he even felt the winter chill through all of those muscles. He didn’t say goodbye, and as soon as I’d hefted my suitcase out of the trunk, he drove off.

  For the first time in what felt like years, I was alone outside. Fear prickled
the back of my neck as I quickly carried my suitcase up the stairs. On the inside, everything was thankfully just as I’d left it. If someone had been there while I was gone, at least I wouldn’t be able to tell.

  I dropped my suitcase on the floor and flopped down on the couch. It felt like no time had passed since I’d been home, and already memories of the creepy apartment were fading from my mind. I smelt cigarette smoke emanating from my clothes and with a disgusted groan, I headed into the bathroom and turned on the tap.