Scorched (Furies MC #3)

By: Harley McRide


Being shot wasn’t a picnic, but it was also not the end of the world, Torch thought as he walked down the corridor to his President’s office. He saw Ridge and his woman, Casey, laughing and talking to a few of the others in the club, all the while Casey was petting her monkey. Torch shook his head, how the fuck they got permission to have that damned thing in the country was beyond him, but miracles happened every day, and considering what Casey had gone through, he was happy she had something to hold onto, even if it was a strangely tiny monkey. These last few days had been fucking long trying to figure out where the fuck the asshole who was releasing information had been moved to. This had drained all of them and all their resources. No one had heard a damn thing, but they knew this asshole was just biding his time.

He opened the door to his President’s office and saw he was on the phone. When he held up his hand and motioned Torch to sit, he almost turned and left; he really wasn’t in the mood right now to deal with anything. Torch sat in the office while Fling was talking on the phone, so he leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to block out the conversation he didn’t want to listen to. His arm still hurt like a bitch. The bullet had gone through, and even though he wasn’t supposed to be riding for a few weeks, Torch was ready to get on the bike and take off. They had a week, and he just needed to take off by himself. Seeing Boomer and Ridge both find their old ladies was awesome, but it made him think too much about the one he had left behind.

Left behind was an odd choice of words. Torch didn’t leave her behind, she had left him behind, but it was easier for him if he thought of it the other way. Mostly because there was no explanation of her absence, and Torch had left as soon as he was reassigned. So if Anya had come back, she wouldn’t find him waiting. Thankfully, that transfer was the best decision he ever made. Why? Because that was when he found the Furies, and they had proven to him the real definition of family, all of them. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for this group of men, nothing.

If he thought about Anya, he would get pissed off, and pissed off wasn’t what anyone wanted right now. For the last few months, he had kept a lid on the anger that had threatened to rise to the surface. Seeing his brothers find their women, for some reason struck a sour cord for him, and he hated feeling that shit.

Anya had promised to wait for him, and then she had disappeared. He had looked everywhere for her, but it was like she had vanished into thin air. Her friends, her co-workers, everyone he asked said she had been there one day and gone the next. No one knew where she had gone, she hadn’t left a note, and all her stuff had been left in their home. Torch had been frantic, but no matter who he had hired to find her, they’d come up empty-handed on her whereabouts. So he was left with the knowledge she had left him for a reason, and she wasn’t coming back.

Casey, Georgie, Sunshine, they were all good women who had their men’s backs. Not Anya, she had disappeared without a thought of what it would do to him.

So he had thrown himself into his job, left on mission after mission, always volunteering to stay and let the men with families go home. On his last deployment with his former team, things had gone to shit. There was nothing he could have done, but still half of his unit had died in an ambush. They had sent the rest home, saying they needed counseling. It was bullshit; they had wanted to hide them from the media who learned of the huge loss.

For a few months, he did exactly what they said, went to the people they told him to, and tried to get everything out of his head. It hadn’t worked, and Max couldn’t stay in the house with so many reminders. They weren’t married, but Max had loved her. And it burned that she’d left when he needed her the most.

Torch transferred to Fling’s unit, there he finished out the last of his tour with men who helped him let the anger go, focus it on something else, namely the Furies. During missions, Fling and the others, Boomer, Loki, Ox, they all showed him acceptance.

Torch had gotten out; he had taken off with a pat on the back and a Bronze Star. The road led him here, and he had finally found solace in being a part of a unit again. But there was still that thought in the back of his head that would make itself known when he saw a fiery redhead walking down the street. Was it her?

Fling hung up the phone, and he said, “Sorry, brother, I know you had plans, but I have a bit of a situation here.”

“Okay?” Torch said slowly, and then Fling leaned forward and took out a file and put it on the desk in front of him.

“Do you know her?” he asked and Torch opened the file and looked down. He frowned and picked up the picture, and stared at the woman. It was her, but it wasn’t. The woman in the picture had black hair, and it was a lot longer than hers had been. Shit, Anya? It couldn’t be.

“Fuck,” Torch whispered and then Fling sighed.

“We had a request specifically for you but, brother, if you say no, we all do,” Fling said and then continued, “You know that hacker the government was looking for, the one in Nepal? Well, he’s no longer in Nepal, it got too hot, now his whereabouts are unknown again, but he is back in business and has reared his ugly head yet again.”