Torch (Great Wolves MC) - Jayne Blue

Chapter One

Torch

Fire freezes me. It keeps coming closer and I try to hold my breath. Don’t think. Don’t talk. Just let it happen.

My eyes filled with white light as everything closed in around me. I felt the warmth of the flames touch my face and closed my eyes.

A slap on my back. A light-hearted slug to the shoulder.

“Come on!” Kellan’s voice reached me, bringing me back to where I really was.

“You better blow them out before everything melts.” That was Nicole. Brax’s wife. She put a protective hand over her swollen belly. She was almost a week past her due date. Brax, her six-and-a-half-foot Viking of an old man leaned down and kissed her cheek, his platinum-blond hair brushing her shoulder.

I found my breath and blew out the candles. Nicole had covered the thing in about fifty of them.

“Happy patch day!” Nicole beamed.

One year ago today, I earned the patch that saved my life. I tried to forget about the fire even as an old scar across my back tightened when I straightened my shoulders.

Colt Reddick, my prez, stood off to the side, his arms around his wife, Amy. She tried to wave them away, but she had tears in her eyes. Of everyone here, she’d known me all those years ago before this club pulled me from the ashes. She’d been the one to encourage Colt to take me on and give me a job.

I met her eyes and found a smile for her. We didn’t have another second to get sappy before all attention went to the stage at the front of the bar.

Mallory, Kellan’s wife, stepped up to the mike. Chills went down my spine as she launched into my favorite song with a strong, soaring voice that would have made Freddie Mercury proud.

I took a seat at the bar. Joker stood behind it. He poured me a draft beer while Nicole slipped a piece of cake in front of me.

The Wolf Den was packed, but we were closed to the public tonight. It wasn’t just my celebration.

The beer was cold and smooth going down as I swiveled on my barstool to watch Mallory finish her set. Man, that chick could blow. She was one of the reasons the Wolf Den did the kind of business we did. She could have signed with a major label years ago but preferred being independent. Plus, she and Kellan had started a family.

Hell, they all had. Colt and Amy had two. Brax was working on his second. Now Joker and Tara were trying. The Great Wolves M.C. was a big, loud, fucked-up family. It felt good to be at the center of it tonight.

When Mallory finished, Colt hopped up on stage. He held a bottle of beer in his hand. “Torch,” he said, nodding to me. “Happy anniversary, man. But I’m sick of talking about you.”

This got a laugh from the guys. I turned as Joker slid a second beer toward me. This one came from a bottle and matched the one in Colt’s hand. I looked around the bar. Everyone had one.

“Here’s to an even bigger and better year,” Colt said, raising his bottle. The shiny, new, silver label on it read “Wolf Den Brew.” It was our own craft beer. My idea. Colt had been shepherding me through it.

“I wanted to wait until it was official,” Colt said. “Old George has been a buzzkill, but he was right.”

Laughter rose. George was George Bailey, the club’s lawyer. He sat in the corner of the bar looking completely out of place and nervous.

“Go ahead, Georgie,” Colt said. His eyes were a little hooded. It had been that kind of night for all of us.

Blushing, George rose from his seat. Mallory threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his cheek. His blush deepened. She handed him a mike.

“Yeah,” George said. “Okay. As of this morning, Great Wolves Brewing Co. just signed a national distribution deal. You’re official!!”

The guys and families whooped and hollered. Joker reached over the bar and slapped me on the back. I damn near spit my beer out.

“You knew about this?” I turned to him. I’d been working with a microbrewery in town to develop the product.

Joker’s face split into a wide grin. “Surprise,” he said. “It was killing me not to say something.”

I couldn’t believe it. This had been kind of a hobby of mine. Everyone else had their niche within the club. Now I had mine.

“National distribution,” I repeated. It was bigger than I’d