Reckless Road Read online

  PRAISE FOR VENDETTA ROAD

  “Feehan’s books center around romance stories, but oh boy, when she writes fight and action scenes, she writes them to keep you at the edge of your seat!”

  —Open Book Society

  “One of the best stories told in the series.”

  —Yearwood Daily Book Review

  “Vendetta Road is a dark, romantic sexy story that is also very emotional. . . . This is a great series.”

  —The Reading Cafe

  “Vendetta Road is Christine Feehan’s hottest book yet! She once again takes her readers on the ultimate thrill ride, but this time it’s seductively darker than ever before.”

  —Agents of Romance

  “Vendetta Road is sexy, action packed and totally hits the ground running. This book sucks you in instantly and will leave you holding your breath and waiting for more.”

  —Once Upon a Book Blog

  “I have loved every book so far in this new series by this author, and book three is another fine example as to why. We get nonstop action and total alpha males. . . . The chemistry between this couple is off the charts, sassy and sizzling hot.”

  —Book Nook Nuts

  PRAISE FOR CHRISTINE FEEHAN’S SEA HAVEN NOVELS

  “The queen of paranormal romance. . . . I love everything she does.”

  —J. R. Ward

  “A new cast of characters as heartwarmingly interesting as those in her Drake Sisters novels and as steamy as those in her Dark novels.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Ms. Feehan is at the top of her game with this magical romance.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  “An action-packed and romantic tale. Awesome as always!”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Avid readers of Ms. Feehan’s work should dive in.”

  —Fiction Vixen

  “Stunning, vivid, lushly visual. . . . It’s the perfect way to escape.”

  —Romance Books Forum

  Titles by Christine Feehan

  The GhostWalker Novels

  Lethal Game

  Toxic Game

  Covert Game

  Power Game

  Spider Game

  Viper Game

  Samurai Game

  Ruthless Game

  Street Game

  Murder Game

  Predatory Game

  Deadly Game

  Conspiracy Game

  Night Game

  Mind Game

  Shadow Game

  The Drake Sisters Novels

  Hidden Currents

  Turbulent Sea

  Safe Harbor

  Dangerous Tides

  Oceans of Fire

  The Leopard Novels

  Leopard’s Rage

  Leopard’s Wrath

  Leopard’s Run

  Leopard’s Blood

  Leopard’s Fury

  Wild Cat

  Cat’s Lair

  Leopard’s Prey

  Savage Nature

  Wild Fire

  Burning Wild

  Wild Rain

  The Sea Haven/Sisters of the Heart Novels

  Bound Together

  Fire Bound

  Earth Bound

  Air Bound

  Spirit Bound

  Water Bound

  The Shadow Riders Novels

  Shadow Flight

  Shadow Warrior

  Shadow Keeper

  Shadow Reaper

  Shadow Rider

  The Torpedo Ink Novels

  Reckless Road

  Desolation Road

  Vendetta Road

  Vengeance Road

  Judgment Road

  The Carpathian Novels

  Dark Song

  Dark Illusion

  Dark Sentinel

  Dark Legacy

  Dark Carousel

  Dark Promises

  Dark Ghost

  Dark Blood

  Dark Wolf

  Dark Lycan

  Dark Storm

  Dark Predator

  Dark Peril

  Dark Slayer

  Dark Curse

  Dark Hunger

  Dark Possession

  Dark Celebration

  Dark Demon

  Dark Secret

  Dark Destiny

  Dark Melody

  Dark Symphony

  Dark Guardian

  Dark Legend

  Dark Fire

  Dark Challenge

  Dark Magic

  Dark Gold

  Dark Desire

  Dark Prince

  Anthologies

  Edge of Darkness

  (with Maggie Shayne and Lori Herter)

  Darkest at Dawn

  (includes Dark Hunger and Dark Secret)

  Sea Storm

  (includes Magic in the Wind and Oceans of Fire)

  Fever

  (includes The Awakening and Wild Rain)

  Fantasy

  (with Emma Holly, Sabrina Jeffries, and Elda Minger)

  Lover Beware

  (with Fiona Brand, Katherine Sutcliffe, and Eileen Wilks)

  Hot Blooded

  (with Maggie Shayne, Emma Holly, and Angela Knight)

  Specials

  Dark Crime

  The Awakening

  Dark Hunger

  Magic in the Wind

  A JOVE BOOK

  Published by Berkley

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  penguinrandomhouse.com

  Copyright © 2021 by Christine Feehan

  Excerpt from Lightning Game copyright © 2021 by Christine Feehan

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  A JOVE BOOK, BERKLEY, and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Ebook ISBN: 9780593099872

  First Edition: February 2021

  Cover art by Neils Antone

  Cover design by Judith Lagerman

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  pid_prh_5.6.1_c0_r0

  For Khloe Wren—thanks for being such an inspiration in the trenches.

  Special thanks to Adaiah La Vonda for naming Hannah’s shop the Floating Hat and inspiring me to write the scene with Hannah and the mischievous little boys!

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Praise for Christine Feehan

  Titles by Christine Feehan

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  For My Readers

  Acknowledgments

  Torpedo Ink Members

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Thre
e

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Terms Associated with Biker Clubs

  Resources

  Excerpt from Lightning Game

  About the Author

  FOR MY READERS

  Be sure to go to christinefeehan.com/members/ to sign up for my private book announcement list and download the free ebook of Dark Desserts. Join my community and get firsthand news, enter the book discussions, ask your questions and chat with me. Please feel free to email me at [email protected]. I would love to hear from you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As in any book, there are others to thank. Brian for competing with me during power hours for top word count, when I wanted to move fast on this one because I kept insisting on writing it over and over. Domini for always editing, no matter how many times I ask you to go over the same book before we send it for additional editing. Sheila for your help with all the notes. Denise for always finding ways to keep us going no matter how difficult the circumstances.

  Special thanks to Susan Cordeiro, who first suggested using 287 for the name of the restaurant, “for all the children who were taken into the school . . . to show none of them were forgotten.” I loved this suggestion so much!

  Special thanks to Amy Sutcliffe Pierce, who first suggested Crow, but in Russian. She said to name it ворона to honor their crow tattoos and colors. I decided to go with the English version, but I loved the suggestion of using it in Russian.

  I decided to combine both of these suggestions together for Crow 287. To me this sounded simple but meaningful and very much like Alena.

  TORPEDO INK MEMBERS

  Viktor Prakenskii aka Czar—President

  Lyov Russak aka Steele—Vice President

  Savva Pajari aka Reaper—Sergeant at Arms

  Savin Pajari aka Savage—Sergeant at Arms

  Isaak Koval aka Ice—Secretary

  Dmitry Koval aka Storm

  Alena Koval aka Torch

  Luca Litvin aka Code—Treasurer

  Maksimos Korsak aka Ink

  Kasimir Popov aka Preacher

  Lana Popov aka Widow

  Nikolaos Bolotan aka Mechanic

  Pytor Bolotan aka Transporter

  Andrii Federoff aka Maestro

  Gedeon Lazaroff aka Player

  Kir Vasiliev aka Master

  Lazar Alexeev aka Keys

  Aleksei Solokov aka Absinthe

  NEWER PATCHED MEMBERS

  Gavriil Prakenskii

  Casimir Prakenskii

  PROSPECTS

  Fatei

  Glitch

  Hyde

  ONE

  Fog churned over the ocean, the wind blowing the roiling mass over the highway, turning the silvery night a dark, angry gray. Wisps curled around the truck as Gedeon “Player” Lazaroff maneuvered one of the severely tight curves on Highway 1 along the Northern California coast. He was familiar with the highway, but most of the time he rode his Harley and had his brothers riding with him. In some ways he was thankful they weren’t with him, but he would have welcomed the comfort of their company.

  The dark gray mist thickened so it seemed an impenetrable wall, and he slowed down, although he was so close to home his inclination was to step on the gas to get there faster. He was nearly desperate to make it back to the Torpedo Ink clubhouse and the solace of the room he used there. He owned a house and normally would have gone there, but at this point, he didn’t have the time. The clubhouse was much closer, and the longer he was out in public, even in the seclusion of the truck, the more dangerous it was. He knew that, and he had vowed never to take chances with anyone’s life again.

  The cell played Master’s short tune announcing a call, and Player hesitated, swearing under his breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his face. He wiped at it with his palm before hitting the Bluetooth. Cell phone service was spotty at best on Highway 1, and he hoped it wouldn’t work. Naturally, he wasn’t that lucky.

  “Yeah?” He was abrupt. Off-putting. Hoping Master would get the hint.

  “You okay? Where are you?”

  “About four miles from home.” Deliberately, he hadn’t distinguished between the clubhouse and his residence.

  There was a small silence. Four miles from home meant Player had been pushing hard. Far too hard. Risking trouble. Already, they’d broken the rules by separating. Torpedo Ink members stayed close. When running a mission, they paired up, eyes on each other at all times. They’d gotten into unforeseen trouble, and Player needed to get home fast. Master wasn’t able to drive as fast. He carried an unexpected passenger with him, and Player couldn’t risk being in close proximity with her, not in his present state of mind, although he’d only told Master he was feeling very sick and needed to get home.

  Master had to drive the passenger’s vehicle home anyway, so it had all worked out for the best. They’d reported to Czar and let him know Player was coming in early without Master, and Master was bringing in “baggage.”

  “Tell me,” Master insisted.

  “Fog rolled in.”

  “Pull over. I’ll send someone to you.”

  “I’m close. I can make it. Just one of my damn headaches.” Player poured confidence into his voice, ignoring the way the road seemed to be coming alive with the fog wrapping it in loops and whorls like smoke from a pipe. “Less than four miles now.” He shook his head trying to clear it. All that did was rattle his already hurting brain. He clenched his teeth against the pain.

  “You sure? Go to the clubhouse—it’s closer.”

  “Yeah. Good idea. I can make it.” He could. There was no one with him. He was good. Just make it into the yard. Park the truck. Get to his room and lie down. His head was pounding. It felt like his brain was coming apart. He had made it home a day early, so that was a good thing. “I can make it, no problem,” he reiterated, trying to sound unaffected.

  Blue and red cut through the gray veil of fog in the rearview mirror, and he cursed silently as he looked down at the speedometer. Shit. Speeding. He could have sworn he’d slowed down. Hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember now. He was sweating bullets.

  “Gotta go, Master, you’re breaking up anyway.” He needed to concentrate. He dropped the connection before Master could protest.

  They had run what was supposed to be an easy assignment, trailing a couple of Ghosts that Code, their computer genius, had uncovered. Find out where the two were going, which motorcycle clubs they were targeting next. Easy, right? Torpedo Ink wanted to know who they were.

  The Ghosts turned out to be businessmen who had been preying on weaker members of the various outlaw motorcycle clubs, specifically those members who gambled, getting them in deep and then making certain that they gave up information on the clubs running drugs or guns or trafficking in return for getting out of debt. The Ghosts wanted cuts into those particular businesses.

  When a club reacted negatively, they had the president’s old lady kidnapped, raped and tortured until the club complied or she was returned dead and another woman was taken. The Ghosts had a particularly vicious group of hit men doing their dirty work for them.

  Player’s club, Torpedo Ink, had rescued two women belonging to separate MCs from the hit men the Ghosts kept on retainer. In both cases, Torpedo Ink had been hired secretly so no one associated them with the
rescues. The larger clubs didn’t want it known that they had gone outside their club looking for help. Torpedo Ink didn’t want it known that they had helped. They were a small club, and they wanted to stay under the radar—from law enforcement, other clubs and definitely the Ghosts.

  The very fact that the Ghosts kept themselves out of the line of fire by hiring hit men to do their dirty work for them was why they called themselves Ghosts. They believed no one could ever trace them. They didn’t know about men like Code, who were that good with computers and could track just about anyone.

  Player took his foot off the gas and eased the truck to the side of the road, watching the deputy pull in behind him. He was two lousy miles from the Caspar turnoff and the clubhouse. Two miles. In his present state, it was dangerous to have any interaction with any other human being. That had been the reason he’d separated himself from Master. Being safe. Making certain everyone was safe. Now this, all because he hadn’t been paying attention. He knew better.

  He hit the back of his head against the seat twice in recrimination and fished his license out of his wallet. Transporter and Mechanic, fellow members of the Torpedo Ink club, always kept the vehicles in the best of shape, the paperwork up to date and in the glove compartments. He had no doubt everything was in order, but he was so tired he wasn’t certain if the truck was clean of any weapons. He just couldn’t remember if he’d given everything to Master or if he’d kept guns with him.

  He was exhausted, seventy-two hours without sleep and he’d used his psychic gift for far too long, something he knew better than to do. It not only drained him and took a huge toll physically and mentally on him, but if he used it for too long, it began to spill over into his reality. That was the main reason he had pushed so hard to make it back to his room at the clubhouse. He needed to be where he was surrounded by familiar things and he could replenish his strength and allow his fractured brain time to recover.