“But those of us that have actually spent any time with her, got to know her… We fuckingknowshe would never do anything to harm Mara.” He laughs again, spits on the ground and then locks eyes with me. “And then you walk into the clubhouse and watch her get torn apart in front of everyone.”
My hands ball into fists, but Torch doesn’tfuckingstop.
“And when Razor hit her…”
That’s it, I grab him by the collar and slam him back into the truck. The metal dents with a loud bang.
Axel moves instantly. “Clutch…”
Torch doesn’t fight back, he just stares at me. His dark eyes steady, looking almost bored.
“You act like you’re hurt,” he says.
My grip tightens.
“You act like you love her.”
The words hit harder than any punch.
Torch’s voice doesn’t change. “You talked about building her a house.”
My stomach drops.
“You talked about getting her out of the clubhouse.”
He shakes his head slowly.
“But what I saw tonight?”
His eyes sharpen.
“You don’t love her. You love yourself and the fucking club.”
My hand tightens in his cut.
“Careful.” I growl, but every word… everything he is saying is eating at me.
He pushes into the knuckles at his neck, his eyes flaring wide whenhe continues saying, “She was right, Clutch. She was fucking right! About it all.” He sighs and drops his weight back down on the hood. “That’s not the same club I joined.”
Torch’s mouth twitches. “Hell, I’m not even sure it’s been that club for a long damn time.”
The station doors slam open and all three of us look as Four steps out into the floodlights. For a second the entire parking lot goes still. He looks different, it hasn't been that long since I’ve seen him.. Not really. It’s like he has a sharper edge to him tonight. But the way he carries himself hasn’t changed at all. Like gravity follows him around.
The cocky fucker, Jack, walks out behind him holding a folder. He says something I don’t bother hearing. Four scans the lot, his eyes landing on us. Then on me and he stops, completely.
“Jesus,” he mutters.
He walks down the steps slowly, boots echoing against the concrete and the whole lot watches him cross toward us. When he reaches the edge of the light he studies my face for a long second, my hands at Torch’s neck.
Then he asks the question. “Why do you look like someone died?”
Torch huffs out a laugh. The words come out before anyone can stop him. “Not someone. But Clutch’s marriage sure as hell did.”
Everything inside me snaps, I release Torch and swing. Axel grabs my arm mid-motion.
“Clutch!”
The punch still connects halfway and Torch’s head snaps sideways, slamming into the hood.