will not let you ruin what I’ve built. You can shit all over your own future if that’s what you want. You will not shit on mine. I’m taking care of this, whether you like it or not.”
The phone clicked. My father hung up on me. I’d never once heard him use that kind of language, let alone with me.
My heart raced. I pulled the pictures he sent back up. They were a little grainy as if they’d been taken through a high-powered lens from some distance away.
I looked around the courtyard, feeling as if spiders were crawling down my spine. I was suddenly suspicious of every single person out there.
I slipped my phone in my pocket. My apartment just had cheap blinds with vinyl slats. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think the same photographer could have gotten some images through them. But I was on the second floor, thank God.
Not last night, though.
A shadow fell over me, and I jumped. I turned, preparing to scream. Torch’s hand shot out. He read my face and concern filled his eyes.
It was then that I fell apart. I ran into Torch’s arms, loving the feel of his strong, protective arms around me. Except someone could be watching me right now.
He pulled me away and brought me back to the bench.
“Baby,” he said. “Who the fuck hurt you?”
I was almost hysterical. I could barely get the words out. I took out my phone and showed him.
Fury carved deep lines in his face as he scrolled through them. “Your father?” he asked.
“He says no. He says somebody followed me out here and took them to blackmail him with. Torch, I’ve told you. My dad is the head of a very conservative megachurch. He associates with and depends on some very alt-right Christian groups. They aren’t very tolerant, if you know what I mean. It’s one of the things that has caused a lot of the friction between us. He feels this could destroy his reputation if these pictures got out.”
He handed me back my phone. “There are more,” he said. “These are the mild ones.”
I nodded. “He didn’t say so explicitly, but yes. I think so. And I can’t say for sure we haven’t been followed this whole time. Last night ... out in the woods.”
“No one was out there,” he said. It was then I noticed the gun at Torch’s side. I mean, I knew he probably had a concealed carry permit. But he’d kept the thing in a storage compartment on the bike. I hadn’t realized he’d armed himself before going into Sammy’s.
“It’s going to be okay,” Torch said. “I’ll take care of this. You don’t have anything to worry about. But it’s time to get back. Do you think you can handle riding straight through?”
I nodded quickly. “Yes. I don’t ... I don’t want to stop either unless we have to.”
“Good,” he said. He had me wait on the bench as he stepped out of earshot. He took out his phone and made a call. To the club, no doubt. I wanted to know what he said. At the same time, I realized it was better if I didn’t.
Then Torch came back to me, and he was all business. We were silent as we walked back to the bike. I climbed on and put my arms around him. Torch felt hard as granite as he pulled away from the curb and tore down the street, heading for home.
Torch blew through just about every speed limit. He drove the bike with the same fury that had darkened his face. It matched my own.
I felt violated. Betrayed. My father may not have been the one to order the investigator, but the whole thing happened as a direct result of who he was. I hated him a little for it.
It was almost midnight when we finally made it back to my apartment. I was road-weary, exhausted, and barely able to stand.
We weren’t alone though. Three of the prospects had taken sentry outside my apartment. About a minute after Torch pulled in, Joker rode in behind him.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“We swept the place,” Sticks, one of the probies, said. “Or we tried to, anyway.”
“Tried to,” Torch said. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Joker had a grim expression as he approached. “Your Uncle George has been here,” he said.
“He owns the building,” I said. A new horror took root in my gut. Had my own uncle sold me out? Had he told that