Torched: Afterburn (Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club Book 2) (15 page)

“It hasn’t been that long,” Torch argued. “How the fuck can they know it’s not working yet?”

“It’s been six weeks of chemo, my blood work should be showing improvement but it’s not. They know. Hell, I know. My only chance is a bone marrow transplant—”

“Then we’ll get you a fucking transplant.”

Buddha looked down and swirled his glass. “It’s not that easy. They already tried to find a match in the national registry, no luck.”

“What about your sister in Orlando?”

“My sister was adopted. She got tested but it wasn’t a match.”

Shit
.

Torch finally reached out and poured back a drink, trying to quell the nerves that felt ripe to explode. “Then we all get tested.”

“The chances are shit—”

He slammed the empty glass down. “A chance is a
chance
! And fuck you for sounding like you’re giving up.”

Buddha shook his head. “It’s not about giving up, it’s about being realistic. I’m gonna stop the treatment, son. I’ll have plenty of time to feel like death when I’m actually dead, I don’t wanna spend what time I’ve got left weak and shrinking away. How would that look?”

“Who the fuck cares how it looks?” Torch demanded. “What if the chemo starts working? What if a match comes up, but you’re too far gone because you’re more worried about club image than staying alive? What the fuck’s wrong with you, man?”

“I’m already far gone,” Buddha sighed. “They say three months without the meds and chemo, maybe six without a transplant if I keep doing it. That’s not worth it to me.”

Not worth it? An extra three months was worth everything, it was extra time to find a donor. They could multitask, they had to.

“I’m gonna call a vote,” Buddha added.

“You’re not calling a fucking vote,” Torch growled, knowing exactly what the man was getting at. He wanted out.

“Let me finish—”

“I don’t give a fuck what you’re about to say, brother, we don’t walk away from a fight. You started this shit with Cora and the coins. Unless you actually croak in the meantime, you’re gonna see it to the end with the rest of us. And the cancer too, you’re gonna fight like a goddamn Serpent. We’re your family, I’m not gonna give you my vote so you can go curl up and die with a clear conscience.”

Without saying another word, Torch shoved his glass across the desk, got up, and walked right back out the goddamn door. He was done with this fucking conversation, Buddha could go find somebody else to entertain his death fantasies.

Fuck that.

: : : :

| LIVIA |

Rounding a corner after leaving the bathroom, I saw a furious Torch stomping out of the clubhouse. Seconds later, I heard his Harley starting up and taking off.

Looking across the room into Buddha’s office, I noticed him leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples, so I strutted in and planted my ass in the chair Torch had vacated. “What happened?” I asked.

Expecting to see anger in his eyes for unceremoniously intruding, I was taken aback when he looked up and all that came across was pain and confusion. Buddha was many things, but openly emotional wasn’t one of them. Neither was confused, the man walked and talked with purpose under any circumstance. Even a cancer diagnosis hadn’t seemed to throw him off his game.

But this? I felt like I was in the company of his shadow, and it wasn’t because he’d lost weight. He looked utterly deflated.

“I know he told you about the cancer,” he muttered, pushing a glass of whiskey across the desk. “Have a drink with me, toots.”

I complied and leaned back in my own chair, staring at him and waiting for some kind of explanation.

“He’s pissed ‘cause I’m stopping the chemo—”

“
What?
Why the fuck would you do that?” I demanded.

“It’s not working, Liv. There’s no point.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He sighed. “I didn’t wanna believe it either, but it’s a fact straight from the doctor. My blood counts aren’t improving, the only option now is a bone marrow transplant and he already checked the registry. I’m not gonna go through all this shit for a couple extra months, fuck that.”

That didn’t mean anything, I refused to let this goddamn illness get the last word over someone I loved. “Then we all get tested,” I said.

Buddha gave me a pained smile. “Those were your old man’s exact words. I swear you two are the same fucking person.”

That was true, especially when we were both right. Sensing an opportunity to crack some of the tension, I rubbed my chin and asked, “Did I forget to shave this morning?”

Buddha chuckled and shook his head. “You’re a beautiful person inside and out, sweetheart. The best thing that stubborn fuck ever did was getting you down the aisle. He’s gonna need a strong old lady next to him when I’m gone and I can’t think of a better woman for the job. You ground him.”

Instead of turning into a blubbering mess, which was
exactly
what my tear ducts wanted to do, I cleared my throat and redirected back to business. “Okay, none of that shit right now,” I huffed. “Here’s what’s about to happen… You’re gonna keep doing the chemo. Two weeks, that’s all I’m asking. If we can’t find you a donor by then, I’ll back off and you can do whatever you want.”

He gave me the infamous Buddha side-eye. “Sweetheart, the chances—”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about statistics right now,” I cut in. “This club has over five hundred members alone, never mind prospects, old ladies, crawlers, and hang-arounds. They don’t even need to go to a clinic, I read up on this stuff when Torch first told me and the test is just a cheek swab. I’ll arrange for lab techs to go to clubhouses—”

“I can’t ask all those people do that. And who the fuck would pay for it anyway?”

“You can’t ask them to stick a q-tip in their mouth? Are you serious? I thought the whole point of this club was brotherhood and family, that we unconditionally back each other up.”

“That’s exactly what it’s about, but—”

“But nothing. Either it’s true or it’s not, and
you
have a duty to set an example. You’ve been the president for twenty years, fucking act like it.”

Buddha pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. Did the truth piss him off? Tough shit. “Careful, toots,” he warned. “I’m not your man.”

Obviously, but they weren’t all that different either. “Yeah, well, you’re just as pig-headed, so I know asking nicely won’t work. You want me to start sugarcoating shit now?”

He crossed his arms across his chest, but his terse expression warmed a little. “Nah, I like you the way you are.”

“So we have a deal?” I asked.

“Not so fast,” he said, shaking his head. “This deal’s a little one-sided, I’ll need something in return. You wanna play at my level? Let’s go all in.” The way he looked at me suggested he was about to toss out something he knew I wouldn’t like, probably something he assumed I wouldn’t agree to.

He thought he could get me to back down? Good luck. I snickered at the thought of Buddha trying to beat me in a negotiation, especially when his life was on the line. I loved the man too much to be steamrolled. Swiping the bottle of whiskey from his side of the table, I poured both of us another round and got comfortable. “Okay,” I said, my veins properly lubed up with alcohol, “state your position.”

He raised a brow and cocked his head. “I know if this doesn’t work and my fate’s sealed, shit could get real bad at the end. I’ve got no intention of waiting around to die in a hospital bed, shittin’ in a goddamn bag ‘cause I can’t even walk. If it gets to that point, I want you to help me.”

That was it? “Of course I’ll help you,” I assured him. “We’ll all be here to—”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” he interrupted. And then, looking me straight in the eye, he played his actual hand in a single, blunt sentence. “I want you to kill me, Liv.”

It felt like my jaw hit the floor so hard the earth stopped spinning. Did I really just hear him say what I
thought
he said? “Buddha, that’s fucking insane,” I fumed. “You can’t be serious, how’s that even close to a fair trade-off? The whole point is to
save
your life.”

“I couldn’t be more serious. Both of my parents died of cancer, I know how brutal those last days can get. And you’re right that I have a duty to this club, I’ve devoted my whole life to living by its code and leading by example. Our constitution says we don’t kill ourselves or brothers in good standing, I can’t do it myself and I sure as shit can’t ask one of my guys to do it either.”

“I would think a terminal illness would be some kind of extenuating circumstance,” I pointed out. But then I realized I was kind of making an argument for putting his request on Torch or one of the other brothers. “Not that I condone your line of thinking,” I added.

“But you get it, right?”

I didn’t say anything. What could I?

“Liv,” he continued, “I
know
you get it. You’re the smartest and most understanding bitch I know. You’re asking me to go two more weeks of feeling like shit, I’m asking you to shave a couple weeks off the worst of it. I realize it’s nowhere close to being the same, but that’s what it’s gonna take for me to do what you want.”

Frustrated as hell, I got up, took a swig straight from the bottle, and sat down on the corner of his desk. “That’s one hell of a counter offer.”

“I’m an outlaw, baby. Haven’t gotten this far without learning how to get what I want.”

“I see that,” I smirked. “Okay… you have a deal.”

He leaned back in his chair and raised a brow. “What?”

“You have a deal,” I repeated. “If I can’t find you a donor, I’ll help you die.”

“Are you bluffing?” He looked dubious.

“I think I might be calling
your
bluff. Unexpectedly, judging by the look on your face.”

“This isn’t a battle of the wills, Liv. You agree to this, you’re giving me your word, and you know keeping your word is important around here. You wanna sleep on it?”

No, I didn’t want to fucking sleep on it, I knew exactly what I was doing. I also knew Torch would probably lose his shit when he found out. But Buddha was a grown man of sound mind who’d put in enough time on the planet to decide for himself when and how he wanted to leave it. Who was I to deny his last wish? I’d violently killed a man before, I could easily procure some kind of drug cocktail and help Buddha wash it down, right? It wasn’t like I had a choice, euthanizing their president wasn’t something any of the members would want to live with.

Besides, I wouldn’t actually have to go through with it. I
would
find a donor, even if I had to get on my bike and personally scour the fucking country looking for one. Any thoughts of the worst case scenario would just have to wait until it came to it.
If
it came to it.

“I don’t need to think on it,” I answered. “I’ll do it, but I need your word too.”

Buddha slowly stood up and gave me a hug. “You’ve got my word, sweetheart, and my fucking respect. We’ll do this shit your way for now.”

“My way’ll work.” I snatched the bottle of whiskey and tossed it in the trash can. “And no more booze for the next two weeks, I don’t wanna have to look for a liver too.”

He chuckled and took my face between his hands. “Love you, sweet girl.”

“I love you too, Buddha. You’re not going anywhere, don’t underestimate me.”

“I wouldn’t fucking dream of it.”

: 13 :

| TORCH |

After riding around aimlessly for an hour to clear his head, Torch was torn between going home to his old lady or just following the wind until dawn. He was pissed and confused and just plain miserable. And weak. Christ, he felt like everything was spinning out and there wasn’t shit he could do to control the damage. He’d been able to keep his mind off of it over the past week, but now Buddha’s “predicament”—as he preferred to call it—was starting to eat away at him.

Buddha wasn’t just a man he respected and took orders from, he wasn’t just another brother, he was like a father. Actually, no, not
like
a father, he was his real one. He was the man who’d found a scared and angry sixteen-year-old kid in a rain-soaked alley and taken him in as his own, no fucking questions asked.

Torch remembered the night well, the details had never faded from memory. He remembered shivering as he cowered under a piece of cardboard to shield himself from a downpour; the feeling of panic when three shady-looking bikers rolled up and made him stand so they could look him over; and his sheer fucking gratitude to the leader of the pack who respected his request not to call the cops.

That night, Buddha only asked him two things: whether he needed help and whether he had anyone who could do it. Torch nodded at the first question, he’d been sleeping under bridges for over a week and couldn’t even sell drugs to get by because he had no money to buy them. He figured maybe the big, burly dudes would spot him a twenty or something. But when he shook his head at the question of having friends or family, Buddha didn’t pull out his wallet, he told him to get his ass on the back of his Harley.