Judgment Road (Torpedo Ink #1) Read online

  “What are we doing here, Reaper?” The question was a whisper.

  His heart clenched. “Told you I say when we’re done, not you. We’re not done. We stay together until then.”

  He saw her pull in a breath. He knew she didn’t like that, but he didn’t have much more to give her. Empty promises? He was a fucking killer and she was an innocent caught in his trap. He wasn’t going to lie to her if he could help it.

  Her tongue touched her lip. “Another woman ends it, Reaper. I walk.”

  He couldn’t imagine, after all this time, that suddenly other women would become attractive to him. “I’ll ask it again. You going to give me what I want?”

  Those green eyes moved over his face moodily. Brooding. She must have seen something she liked because she gave him a little half smile that turned him inside out. “We’ll see, won’t we?” Her lashes drifted down. “Good night, Reaper. Soak in Epsom salt, and really hot water. It will do you a world of good. Wherever you go to sleep, it had better be alone.”

  He stood there in the open doorway until her breathing turned slow and even. Only then did he turn and head for the bathroom and a long soak in the tub.

  EIGHT

  Reaper sat in the back of the bar, legs sprawled out in front of him, the neck of a beer bottle between his fingers. Absently, he rolled it back and forth. He’d been busy all day and hadn’t checked in with Anya deliberately. She was already ruling his thoughts. His mind. His body. He couldn’t have her knowing that shit. She hadn’t texted or called. He knew because he looked at his phone a thousand times, so much so that the others were giving him hell and calling him pussy whipped. He was. He didn’t want them to know—or her.

  He’d spent a good part of the day getting a couple of chairs and kitchen shit for the house. Ice and Storm helped him, but he was certain Czar sent them to ensure he didn’t do anything else out of line, like drive off cliffs or fight a dozen men. He was paying for that little indiscretion with a sore, stiff body.

  Anya was driving him crazy. She smiled at him a few times, flashing that bright, jerk-a-man-to-his-knees smile that had his cock reacting, but she didn’t give him more than that. He was beginning to think he was an idiot. He should have walked in, pulled her over the bar and kissed her right there in front of everyone, so any badass biker walking through the door would know just who that woman belonged to. He might still do it if the place got any more crowded.

  “You’re looking good tonight, Reaper,” Betina greeted, coming to stand directly in his way, blocking his view of the bar. “I’m on a break in five. We could go outside.”

  He raised his gaze to her face. “Do I look like I want to go outside?”

  “It’s dark enough in here. I could take care of that for you.” She indicated under the table.

  His body froze and that demon inside him stirred. Darkness welled up. Threatened to swallow him. He raised one finger and moved it sideways, indicated for her to move over. Something in his face must have tipped her off that she was in danger, because she took one step to the side, and then he could see Anya. His light. She shone there. Bannister, the older biker, said something to her and she threw back her head and laughed. The sound was like a melody playing through his mind, the musical notes streaking through the black rage, the need to kill.

  Anya looked up suddenly, met his eyes and sent him her little half smile. That enigmatic one that told him nothing and everything. His muscles relaxed one by one. He breathed the need for vengeance, for self-preservation away.

  He knew his cock had to look like a monster. It felt that way. Anya did that to him without trying, and watching her half the night, wondering if she wore him on her skin, was driving him out of his mind. That little half smile didn’t give a thing away, but it looked as if she had a secret. A smug little secret. That kept his cock at attention.

  “Don’t want your help, Betina.” He was blunt, but blunt might actually get her to listen. Nothing else he’d done had. She wanted to brag she’d had him. She wanted to go through them all. Even Czar was on her list. She had been all over their president until he’d told her she’d be gone if she didn’t leave him alone.

  Betina paled, her eyes showing fear. Reaper knew he’d given off that vibe the others had warned him about. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes the devil escaped, and then no one was safe. He reined his control back and brought the beer to his lips, took a pull, his eyes never leaving Anya’s before he set it back on the table.

  Anya popped a cap off another beer and came around the bar, threading her way to him. He didn’t like her out in the open on the floor. More than one biker thought he could put his hands on her. She slipped through them with practiced ease, leaned down to set the bottle in front of him and put her lips to his ear. “You need me to kick Betina’s ass for you? I can protect you if you need it, honey.”

  Her lips, petal soft, brushed against his earlobe. That soft little laugh accompanied her question, but he knew she meant it. She’d make Betina want to quit. He caught the front of her tank in his fist and pulled her close. His hand threaded through her hair and he took her mouth. He loved her mouth. The instant his tongue slid into that hot haven, fire erupted and they both ignited. He nearly pulled her down onto the table, but he managed to stay enough in control to just hold her still while he kissed her over and over.

  When he allowed her to lift her head, she smiled at him. “I think that should just about do it, honey,” she whispered. “I’m pretty certain everyone got your message loud and clear.”

  “You do it for me? You wearing me all over my property?” His hand slid down her back to cup her bottom. His thumb caressed her, brushing back and forth over the words that declared her his.

  She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”

  She left him, walking back through the crowd of customers, head up, regal, like a queen. He adjusted his cock, uncaring how many witnesses there were to what she did to him. He really couldn’t drink two beers tonight. He might have to ride. Steele and the others were on their way back and they’d be meeting as soon as they arrived.

  Hammer’s wife only had so much time, and God knew what those men were doing to her. The “ghosts” Reaper had killed had been sick fucks. He didn’t like thinking about any woman in their hands too long, let alone one who had been sick with cancer. He pushed the beer across the table even though his woman had brought it to him.

  His woman. He liked thinking of her like that. He liked that Anya was his. He was even beginning to like that his body responded to her of its own accord. Either that or he was getting used to being in a constant state of arousal. He pulled his gaze from her and took stock of the room.

  The bar was as packed as it was on weekends, because a small motorcycle club had come into Sea Haven, headed up to the redwoods, and quite a few other small clubs joined them. They stopped to check out the bar and liked what they saw. Maestro jammed sometimes on Thursday, and played shows on Friday and Saturday when the urge hit him. Although it was rarely scheduled, quite a few of his local followers liked to come in on Thursday to catch him playing.

  Reaper took in each person, man or woman, in the bar. He always did when he was there. He sized up each individual and appraised the threat level to Czar, and now Anya as well. Aside from the obvious bikers, there were three strangers sitting at the corner table opposite him that didn’t seem to belong. They kept to themselves and stayed quiet, drank very little, just enough to keep Betina going back to flirt with them. They weren’t quite in the shadows as he was, but they’d chosen their table carefully.

  He kept watch on them. They didn’t seem to look at anyone too long. They mostly put their heads together and talked in low voices, but he noticed they were very flirtatious with Betina, and very generous with their tips. One slipped his hand around her thigh and rubbed. She leaned into him like a cat, putting a hand on his shoulder and allowing him to move his hand a little higher. Twice she glanced back at Reaper, as if to see whether or not he was watching—or
to talk about him.

  He kept his legs sprawled lazily in front of him and his eyes hooded so they couldn’t get a lock on whether or not he was watching them. Betina knew better than to talk about the club. She was a lot of things and she liked playing games, but she wasn’t into betrayal, not at any price. Not that he could see.

  He glanced up at the camera and then tapped on the table. Three, two, three. He did it twice, as if he was tapping to Maestro’s music. He didn’t like puzzles, and those men were a puzzle. Code had equipment and access to databases most government agencies would kill for. He was that good. They’d have the identities fast.

  He eased his hips forward to keep pressure off his rib cage. He’d been an idiot to fight when they were trying to get Hammer’s wife back. He needed his body in good shape. It wasn’t. The fists had torn open the laceration in his side. He hadn’t bothered trying to neatly put the edges back together, he’d just bandaged the wound. He was a fast healer and he had that going for him, that and his body knew how to take punishment. He’d been taking fists, bats, whips and knives since he was a boy. That didn’t mean he wasn’t sore and he shouldn’t have indulged his need to inflict pain as well as take it.

  Betina came to his table to collect the empties. This time she didn’t make the mistake of putting her body between his and Anya’s. “I didn’t know about you and Anya, Reaper. I apologize, and I’ll apologize to her. She’s my friend.” She kept her voice low and her eyes downcast. She placed a new napkin directly in front of him and walked away.

  Reaper wasn’t surprised to hear Betina call Anya her friend. Anya, he was finding out, was well liked by just about everyone. He glanced down at the napkin. They’re asking questions about the club. I gave them the standard “not my business,” but they’re persistent. What do you want me to do?

  He didn’t want her to do anything until he knew what they were dealing with. Betina liked to fuck bikers. She liked the parties and the life, but she also liked the protection they afforded her. She didn’t mind men putting their hands on her. She loved the big tips, but she wasn’t about to trade the club for any of those things.

  She’d walked off, making the rounds of tables. He held up his hand to indicate to the bar he wanted coffee and jerked his head toward Betina. Anya got the message immediately. That was another thing he loved about his woman. She didn’t know the first thing about their world, but she picked up on things. One time was all it took and she learned.

  She called Betina over, pushed a mug of steaming coffee toward her and indicated Reaper. Betina hesitated and then said something soft to Anya. Anya nodded once solemnly and then flashed a smile at the waitress. It was her bright, radiant smile, the off-the-charts one that sent desire snaking through his body. She’d just forgiven Betina for trying to encroach on her man. Anya didn’t hold grudges. That was one trait she’d need with him, because he was bound to fuck up a lot.

  Betina set the mug in front of him. “Anything else, Reaper?”

  He knew, without looking, the three men were watching them. “Not one thing. Coffee’s all for now.”

  She nodded. She knew to stay as far away from the three men as possible. Not to give them anything, not to attempt to listen in on their conversation. He didn’t want her taking chances. Pictures of the men had been taken and Code was already working to identify them. He wouldn’t ever peg them as bikers, but that didn’t mean anything. They didn’t blend, but that could be on purpose.

  He tapped to the music, another code. His brothers and sisters had perfected those codes when they were just children. Code had been their numbers man from the time he’d been brought to the school. He’d been skinny and tiny, with his hair sticking almost straight up, but he was a genius, and Czar had recognized it in him early. Reaper told Code to have the others keep Czar tucked out of sight with guards around him at all times. Two would be sent to his home to keep Blythe and the children safe.

  Alena came down the hall, just as he knew she would. Alena was a heartbreaker. She was beautiful and a siren with the same call of temptation to destruction as the mythical sirens’. She looked like pure sinful sex with every step she took, dressed in her pencil-thin skirt and her tight little camisole. Earrings dangled from her earlobes, and her lipstick was bright red, framing her beautiful mouth.

  Every man in the bar turned and looked at her. It was impossible not to, especially when she was working her hips and her breasts moved subtly with every step. She had perfect posture and looked like the most confident, sexy woman on the face of the earth. Very few men could resist her when she turned on the charm. Her siren’s voice assured her of their attention. Another gift was her ability to lift anything from pockets without detection. Wallets, pens, a piece of paper, money, IDs. She had never once been caught, not even as a child first learning.

  “Alena.” A man stood up from the table, blocking her path. He stuttered her name, smiling like a boy in a candy store. “I was hoping I’d see you again.”

  She stopped, her high heels nearly making her as tall as the man blocking her path. Although she was only average height, she seemed taller. She was nearly to the table closest to the one where the three men were sitting.

  “I’m sorry?” Alena never forgot a face or name. She knew exactly who the man was, but she pushed a little haughtiness into her voice, as if he might be a bug she was about to squash.

  “Bronson. We met at the State Park. I’m a park ranger. You were on your way to check out Caspar. It was about a year or so ago.”

  “Ah. Of course.” She gave the impression she was pretending to remember. “How are you?”

  “I was hoping to run into you. I’ve come here a lot, but didn’t catch you. Can I buy you a drink?”

  She reached out and touched his collar, one swipe of her bloodred nail. “So sweet, Bronson, now I remember you. You had that sexy uniform on, didn’t you? Weren’t you going to throw us out of the park?”

  His mouth flew open to protest. At the same time, he shook his head over and over. She pressed her finger to his mouth. “Another time. I’ve got to wait for my brother.” She stepped smoothly past him and walked straight to the empty table, leaving the ranger staring after her, his gaze glued to her swaying hips.

  Reaper was always amazed at how smooth Alena was. She commanded an entire room with her presence, leaving the faintest scent of perfume behind her, so faint it was elusive, and men wanted to follow that trail. She had the attention of the three men instantly. They would have been deaf and blind not to notice her. Bannister, sitting on his stool at the end of the bar, swiveled in his seat to keep her in sight.

  Deliberately Alena sank into the chair facing the three men and crossed her legs. The action hiked the tight skirt halfway up her thighs. She wore silk stockings and a hint of a black lace garter showed at the top, sexy as hell. She glanced at her watch, sighed and then sat back and fidgeted with her hair. She happened to glance up and catch the stranger opposite her staring and sent him a faint smile.

  Reaper watched that lure to get the stranger on Alena’s hook. The man’s breath caught. He pushed at his short, spiky cut and then his hand went to his throat as if to straighten a tie. That was a tell if Reaper had ever seen one. This man was more at home in a suit than in his casual blue jeans and T-shirt. No wonder the three men looked so out of place. It wouldn’t take long for Alena to reel them in. She’d have them eating out of her hand.

  Reaper sipped at his coffee, keeping an eye on the park ranger. He had eyes only for Alena. They couldn’t afford the ranger interfering with their plan. He lifted his coffee cup to catch Betina’s attention. She immediately abandoned the table near the stage where the band played where she’d been taking orders and hurried to him.

  She poured the coffee. “Anything else?”

  Reaper jerked his chin toward the ranger. “Nope, coffee’s fine.” He pushed a tip toward her fingers. She almost shook her head but then took it when he lifted an eyebrow and jerked his chin slightly toward the park ra
nger again.

  Betina flashed a smile and went straight to the Bronson. She stepped close. Very close. Leaned in, right over the table so he got a perfect view of her breasts. Her red push-up bra showed under the low, dipping neckline. Bronson glimpsed a partial nipple. She smiled at him. “Hi handsome, I’ve seen you around, but you’re never in my section. I’m Betina. What’s your name?” She stroked a finger down his arm.

  The ranger coughed. She pressed closer on the pretense of patting his back. Her leg wedged between his, her thigh tight against his cock. “Are you okay?” She practically crooned it. “Let me help you. I’ve got a little break coming. Would you like to go outside with me and find a place to … talk?” Her voice was very suggestive.

  She caught his hand and pressed it to her hip, right where her tank rose just a little, so he was feeling skin. “Please?” She widened her eyes. “I never get to meet any decent men when I’m working. They all want just one thing.” She glanced over her shoulder to give Heidi, the other waitress, a head’s-up that she would be leaving for a few minutes.

  Reaper wanted to shake his head when the ranger stood up with Betina and, like a puppy dog, followed her right out the door, leaving the way clear for Alena to keep the three strangers occupied solely with her. He heard her give a sigh as she uncrossed her legs and recrossed them. Then she tapped the table impatiently to the music, swaying a little in her chair.

  “Don’t tell me someone was stupid enough to stand you up.” The spiky-haired man stood up and walked over to her. Alena’s restless fingers continued to tap a rhythm on the table, this time a signal for Maestro to swing into a slow ballad.

  “My brother is notoriously late,” she answered and then looked up, and, as if just really seeing him, letting appreciation and interest show on her face. “Hi. I’m Alena.”