by Shay Mara
Or not. The van stopped and five men wearing ski masks jumped out—guns blazing—but for some reason, they were shooting at the ground instead of their heads.
What the goddamn fuck was going on?
“Hold your fucking fire or you’re all dead!” one of the assholes yelled out.
They didn’t have much of a choice, they were outnumbered and the fuckers were carrying high-capacity AK’s. Three of the masked men split off, each walking over and holding a brother at gunpoint. Mace and Buddha got pulled off their bikes and ordered to the ground.
The two other assailants sauntered over to Torch’s Harley and tore into his leather saddlebags. He had no idea what the hell they were looking for, all he had in there were a few toiletries and dirty clothes from the day before.
Not finding whatever they were after in his, they moved on to Mace’s saddlebags and did the same thing. Same result. Buddha was last, they had to pry his hard-shell cases open with a screwdriver.
One of the men pulled out a black drawstring bag and looked inside. “Got it,” he told his lackeys.
And just like that, they were done. They walked back towards the van, the three who had held them off moving backwards with their guns still trained on them. They jumped in the back, pulled the doors closed, and immediately took off the way they came.
Torch was fucking dumbstruck as he eyed the van and watched it drive away. There were no identifying marks on it and the plate was missing. The only clue as to who the fuckers were was that they’d gotten back on the highway going north, which meant they were either passing through Colorado or based there.
Little good that knowledge would fucking do them though.
He jumped to his feet and jogged over to his brothers. “What the fuck just happened?” he demanded. Neither seemed to have an answer, so he turned his attention to the one who seemed a little more nervous than the other. “What do you know? You look shifty,” he growled at Buddha.
Buddha rubbed his bald head. “I don’t know who those assholes were—”
“Let’s start with what they took. What the fuck was in that bag, man?”
“Torch, it’s not what you think—”
“I don’t know what the fuck to think!” he roared.
Buddha exhaled and stood up. “Gold coins. 1907 Saint-Gaudens Double Eagles in mint condition.”
Torch glared at him. “Coins? Are you fucking serious? We got ambushed over some goddamn collector shit?!”
“It was more than some low-level collector shit, twenty-five pieces valued at ten grand each. They only minted twelve thousand that year, it’s a haul.”
“Jesus Christ. What the fuck were you thinking trying to sneak something worth a quarter mill without a heads up? If we’d known we could’ve brought more bodies and firepower. Is that why you had to stop in Santa Fe? It was a pick up?
“Yeah,” Buddha murmured.
Torch fisted his hair so hard he could feel strands tearing out of his scalp. “How much fucking cash were you carrying on our way out?”
“A hundred grand. An old friend had to liquidate some assets quick and I lined up a buyer in Denver. He’s a legit collector, the coins weren’t hot or anything. It was just supposed to be a quick flip, pick up in Santa Fe today and drop off in Denver tomorrow.”
“That fucking worked out.”
“Son—”
“Don’t fucking son me,” Torch cut in, clenching his jaw to stop himself from shattering Buddha’s. Mace was watching with a frown but kept his distance.
“So this was supposed to be some under-the-radar shit, huh?” Torch kept pushing. “When did you start going around the table and making your own deals?”
“This was a personal sale to pay off a personal debt that’s got nothing to do with the club. I wasn’t running anything that could bring heat, coin collecting isn’t illegal. I’ve got no idea how anybody found out, never mind some fucking hit squad.”
Illegal or not, the son of a bitch was moving two hundred and fifty grand in product with none of them being the wiser. In his goddamn saddlebags. Jesus, could he have made it any fucking easier to get robbed?
Torch scrubbed his beard and paced around, questions rapidly firing through his head. There was one in particular he was pretty sure he didn’t want the answer to. “If you were using this to pay off debt, where the hell did you get a hundred grand to buy it in the first place, brother?”
Buddha grimaced. “Cora.”
Torch threw his hands up in disgust. “You borrowed money from the goddamn Lucifer of loan sharks? The guy with a fifteen-strong, armed collections department made up of trained mercenaries? That Cora? Jesus Christ, Buddha, I’ve heard of that motherfucker amputating hands over a c-note, a hundred grand buys us at least a car bomb.” Suddenly, an even more sickening realization hit him. “Should I even ask about the interest rate?”
“It was more of a profit-share agreement, half the gross for fronting the buy.”
“Fuuuuck,” Torch groaned, his head a minute away from exploding as he did the math. Mace wasn’t far behind, he whistled and muttered some shit under his breath.
Feeling like somebody had taken their steel-toe boots to his lungs, Torch crouched down and rubbed his forehead. Like that would somehow help him think better; all it did was make his head spin faster. He scowled and looked up. “You’re telling me we owe Cora a hundred and seventy-five grand? Do you realize how fucking fucked we are?!”
“I owe Cora a hundred and seventy-five grand. I’ll figure something out.”
He sneered and shook his head, forced himself to stand back up, and pointed at his bike laying on its side. “Yeah, I see how good you are at figuring shit out. You got some more stupid fucking ideas rolling around in that skull? Good god, man, who the hell do you owe seventy-five grand to on top of Cora? What kind of debt do you have that you couldn’t tell me of all people?”
Buddha looked away and rubbed his temples. “Like I said, it’s… personal.”
Personal? He could go suck a fucking dick right now. Payday loans, credit card debt, that shit was personal. A sitting MC president getting himself on the hook for almost two hundred grand to a son of a bitch who made the notorious “Mad Sam” DeStefano look like a pussy, that crossed a fucking line. Actually, it crossed a thousand lines. What the hell had he been thinking? Buddha was all about club code, he’d lived and breathed the Serpents his entire adult life. It just didn’t make a shred of fucking sense.
If Buddha couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about protocol, neither could he. Torch grabbed him by his cut and yanked him so close he was probably spitting on the man. “It quit being personal about five minutes ago,” he hissed. “You don’t think that psycho’s gonna come after the entire club over that kind of money?” He gripped the leather tighter and shook the shit out of Buddha. “Why?”
Buddha turned his head away but didn’t try to fight back.
Torch shook him again. “Answer me!”
“Cancer,” he muttered.
“What?” he croaked, pretty sure he’d just misheard the old man say something that sounded a hell of a lot like—
No way. His hearing was just fucked up from the gunfire.
Pres took a deep breath and looked back at him. “Cancer, son. Lymphoma. My insurance is shit and the bills are starting to stack up. The money from the coins was supposed to help pay for treatment so the club didn’t have to.”
Stunned, Torch reflexively released his hold and took a step back. He sized up a down-and-out Buddha standing there, all the signs and symptoms finally coming together and staring him right in the fucking face. Always tired, a shaved head and face, dark rings under his eyes, weight loss, spending less time with the boys… Jesus, it had all been right in front of him. “How… When did you find out?”
“A couple months ago. I did a round of chemo about a week before we went and picked up Liv from the pen.”
Two months? He’d been dealing with this shit alone for two damn months? And how
the hell had he managed the ride to West Virginia and back after a round of chemo? He was either the strongest or the stupidest motherfucker alive. “How bad is it?”
“Late stage,” Buddha muttered. “I faked a trip and had my lymph nodes taken out while you were off on your honeymoon, but it’s in my bones too.”
Torch couldn’t find any words, his brain was under attack from all different directions.
Mace broke their tense silence. “Boss, why the hell didn’t you tell us?”
“It’s nobody else’s problem, this club’s got enough money issues to deal with,” Buddha calmly replied.
“It’s not our problem?” Mace fumed. “That’s the dumbest shit I ever heard. The whole point of this club is loyalty and brotherhood, you don’t just freeze out your family and you sure as shit don’t go making back-alley deals on your own. Fuck, you of all people should know that.”
Buddha sighed. “If I’d thought this whole thing was even a little risky, I never would’ve done it. I’m sorry, brothers, I really am. Not sure what else I can say right now except I’ll find a way to fix it.”
Part irate over the betrayal, part scared shitless over the possibility of Buddha dying, Torch struggled to get his vocal cords to work. “I just don’t… Shit… Goddamn it, man.” That was as much as he could choke out. Anger quickly faded into hurt.
Why the hell was this happening? The man was only fifty-one. Granted, the life expectancy of your average outlaw wasn’t much longer than that, but fuck, Buddha had narrowly escaped death more times than a cat. It was wishful thinking, but he’d always just seemed invincible. Torch couldn’t even remember him having the damn flu.
“You should’ve been upfront, brother,” Mace said. “There’s easier ways to get money.”
“Easier than picking up a bag and dropping it off the next day?” Buddha challenged. “Where else would I get it?”
“The club—”
“The club’s profits are down, there’s nothing to borrow against. And I already took out a second mortgage on my house last year to fix the electric and plumbing, so there’s no equity there. I know you boys think I’ve lost my mind, but I considered all the options. This opportunity came along right as I was about to give up, it just seemed like a sign or some shit.”
“And none of us would’ve argued, man,” Mace himself argued. “All I’m saying is we could’ve taken precautions. We need a leader, not a fucking martyr.”
Buddha rubbed his bald head. “I know. I fucked up.”
Fucked up was an understatement, but Torch knew there was no point in beating a dead horse. “It’s done,” he grumbled. “You think the seller set you up?”
“No, I’ve known him since grade school. The man builds furniture, he doesn’t have any criminal connections. He needed the money to get his daughter and grandkids out of foreclosure.”
Torch closed his eyes and thought hard about what to do. “Alright,” he finally spoke up, “you’re gonna focus on your chemo while we find the pieces of shit who stole from us and try to get those coins back. In the meantime, we need to pay off Cora or we’ll have an even bigger problem on our hands. I’ll talk to Liv about the cash. I don’t know if it’ll be enough, but she’s got money spread out.”
“Over my goddamn dead body,” Buddha snapped. “Livia’s done more than fucking enough for this club. She may be different, but she’s still a woman and can’t be a member. I know you two have an arrangement, but this is my health and my mess to clean up. You’re not telling her about Cora or the money. That’s an order.”
“How the fuck do you figure you can give orders after the shit you just pulled?” Torch seethed.
“I’m still your president. You wanna call a vote and strip my patch when we get back? Fine. But until then, I’m telling you to leave your old lady out of this.”
Torch shook his head in frustration. “When are you supposed to get with Cora?”
“The day after tomorrow. I’ll talk to him tonight, I’m sure he’ll give me some extra time considering the circumstances.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he will. For an extra twenty-five percent.”
“I hate to bring this up,” Mace piped up, “but what about Scully’s offer?”
Hell no, Torch was putting his fucking foot down on that option. “We’re not running guns for Scully. End of.”
Mace squared off. “We should at least bring it to the table. You can’t just make that call, you two are the only voting members here.”
Mace was their enforcer and sat at the table, but as such—according to the club’s original bylaws—he only answered to Buddha and didn’t get a vote.
They both looked back over at Buddha.
“I’ve done more than enough damage, I’m stepping out of this,” he declared. “Bring it to the table, I’ll give Torch my proxy on that decision.”
It was a decent compromise. Pigs would fucking fly before Torch agreed to working with Scully and he could easily convince Zed to side with him, bringing it to three votes. That left Gauge, Grimm, and Squid and an even split meant they talked it over one more time. If it didn’t get four votes the second time around to make it a majority, whatever they were voting on didn’t pass. Either four of the six agreed to a move or it didn’t happen.
“Fine,” Torch agreed. “We bring it to the table tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, Buddha, you get with Cora tonight and see much time you can buy. Mace, call Gauge and see where he’s at, I think there’s a spare tire in the truck. If not, tell him to pick me up one.”
Mace nodded and pulled out his phone.
Buddha squeezed his arm. “Son—”
“No more talking, we’ll figure this shit out. Right now I need a smoke and some quiet.” With that, he walked off to go sit in the grass and try to figure out how the hell they’d come up with Cora’s money without asking his wife for a loan.
: 9 :
| LIVIA |
The kitchen quickly filling with smoke, I pulled my charred attempt at a home-cooked dinner out of the oven and flew across the room to open the patio door before the fire alarm started blaring.
I wasn’t quick enough; the fucking thing went off, sending obnoxiously loud and piercing wails echoing throughout the whole house. I climbed up on the counter to turn it off before my ears started bleeding, and sighed in sweet relief when it went silent. That was, until something brushed up against my leg. My nerves shot, I yelped and jerked back, sending myself flying off the edge.
“Whoa, baby,” Torch crooned, his strong arms catching me before I cracked my head open on the tile floor. He set me down on my feet but held on. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I breathed, my heart racing from a near-miss. “Why the hell are you sneaking up on me?”
“I called out. You didn’t hear me?”
I took a deep breath and shook it off. “No, I didn’t. Where did you get that alarm, a specialty store for the hard of hearing? Jesus, you can feel it in your sinuses.”
He leaned down and kissed me. “The real mystery is how you made it go off. I didn’t even think the thing worked.”
“Well, good thing I tested it then. The batteries are good, by the way, we can rest easy.”
“Good to know,” he said with a smile. He pointed to the stove. “Should I ask what that was supposed to be?”
“Well, it was supposed to be baked chicken, but I think the poor bird died in vain. Sorry, babe, at least you never have to worry about getting salmonella if I’m cooking. How do you feel about Chinese?”
“I’m not really hungry, sweetheart, but order something for yourself. And don’t worry, I didn’t marry you for your skills in the kitchen.”
“But my skills in the bedroom are top-notch, right?” I tried to snuggle up to him but was met with a stiff body. And I didn’t mean the appendage in his jeans. I took a step back and eyed him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just been a long day,” he replied. “I’m gonna go take a shower and do some work out in the garage, okay?�
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I studied his sullen face and frowned. Something was wrong, but he obviously didn’t want to talk about it and I wasn’t about the push. “Okay, handsome. I’ll get you something in case you get hungry later.”
He gave me another kiss. “Thanks, baby. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I watched as he walked off, confused as shit over what had just happened, it was probably the first time he’d ever gone cold on me. Maybe he’d gotten into it with one of the guys on the run?
There was no point in speculating, he’d tell me if he felt like it. In the meantime, I could keep myself busy online.
: : : :
I glanced down at the time on my computer screen, it was past ten and my eyes were starting to burn from fucking around with code for hours. Torch was still in the garage as far as I knew, I’d only heard him walk in and out once.
Deciding to call it a night, I logged out and walked to the kitchen. The food I’d ordered for him sat untouched in the fridge, so I grabbed two bottles of beer and headed back to the garage to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep in a pan of motor oil or something.
I found him hunched over one of the vintage Harleys he was fixing up, there were another seven lined up along the wall covered in dust. According to Torch, he’d taken on as many runs as he could and pretty much abandoned his side business while I was away. Why was he all of a sudden back at it?
I walked up from behind and handed him a beer over his shoulder. “How’s it coming out here?” I asked.
“Pretty good,” he mumbled as he tightened a bolt. “I just need to get a new muffler and give her a paint job now.”
“What color are you thinking?”
He scooted back in his little rolling stool, took a sip of his beer, and wrapped an arm around my hip. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know… Maybe a dark, army green? Something with a little sparkle but still masculine.”
“Yeah, I think that would look really great. Good eye.”
I combed my nails through his hair. “Are you about done? I thought we could watch a movie or something since you said you had a long day.”