Torched_ Afterburn - Shay Mara Page 0,20

we’re motivated by food, sex, and survival, the same as every other species. And just like in the wild, shit happens. For me, that means you accept it, react, and go back to hunting for your next meal. But like I said, that’s my way of getting through it, you need to figure out your own. If it helps to talk, then talk. It’s not like a quick stint in rehab always fixes everything. They have counselors at the community college or you can look for one in town. There’s absolutely no shame in needing someone to vent to or get an outside opinion from, it doesn’t make you weak.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Not at all. You’ve already proved how strong you are just by coming back to this town knowing it would be an uphill climb.”

“I guess—”

“No guessing. Quit focusing on the doubts and take things one day at a time, it’s all anybody can do.” I dropped cash on the table, slid out of our booth, and grabbed my helmet. “You ready to get going?”

She scooted to her feet too and wrapped her arms around me. “Yeah. Thank you again, Liv. You won’t regret it.”

: 6 :

| TORCH |

The smell of steaks and brats was making his stomach rumble, but Torch was hungry for something that tasted even better and had a pulse. Where the fuck was his woman and why wasn’t she answering her goddamn phone?

He’d had a long ass day of working in the salvage yard behind the clubhouse, baking in hundred-plus degree heat while tearing apart cars and appliances to get ready for the compactor. Scrap metal was a lucrative business for the club, they normally loaded up a flatbed truck and made a run to an exporter in New Mexico every three or four months. But with bills to pay, shit to fix in the clubhouse and shop, and business down across all of their ventures with no sign of when it might pick up, they’d decided to go through the piles and try to scrounge up an extra load.

It was the middle of the week and he would’ve thought that everybody would be too tired to party after hours of manual labor, but Zed and Grimm had made a run to the grocery store and fired up the grill.

Sweaty, sore as shit, and ready for a night of cold beer and sweet pussy, he pulled out his phone to call Liv for a third time when Buddha came strutting across the courtyard.

“The bar’s back in business!” he hollered. Amid hoots and whistles, he approached Torch and patted him on the back. “I heard your old lady paid Jan Collins a visit today. Not only did our license get reinstated, but the cops dropped the investigation. That bitch is a fucking tiger.”

Torch chuckled and checked the time on his phone. “Not even thirty-six hours since we got the notice, that’s gotta be some kind of political problem solving record.”

Zed came jogging over and handed Buddha a thick, cardboard envelope. “A courier just dropped this off, said it’s from Jan Collins.”

Buddha’s smile turn into a confused frown as he took it and tore it open. His eyes about popped out of his head when he pulled out two straps of hundred-dollar bills. “Holy shit, this is twenty grand. What the fuck?”

It didn’t look like they’d have to wait long for an explanation. Hearing Liv’s bike, Torch glanced over at the gate and saw her finally rolling in.

She was all smiles as she dropped her helmet on the seat and walked over. “Hey,” she cooed, wrapping her arm around his waist. “I take it we’re having a barbecue?”

“Apparently, we should’ve picked up some lobster and champagne instead,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You wanna explain why we just got an envelope stuffed with cash from the councilwoman?”

“That would be for the damages her dumbass son caused. What’s on the grill? I’m starving.”

Changing the topic, a classic up-to-no-good response. “Babe, that glass won’t cost more than a couple grand. She sent twenty.”

“I know. I also billed her for lost revenue and emotional distress.”

“You’re insane,” he smirked. “Emotional distress?”

“And she just rolled over?” Buddha asked.

Liv grimaced. “Weeell…”

Torch groaned, suddenly remembering who they were dealing with. “Babe, what did you fucking do?”

“Hey, I didn’t do anything, it’s what Jan used to do. Did I forget to mention that she turned to working for a high-end escort service after her breadwinner husband died five years ago? And there’s video.”

“Yeah, you kinda

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