Vengeance Road Read online

  She didn’t look away from his glittering midnight-blue eyes. She’d always thought he had the most beautiful eyes, ringed with all those dark lashes. The color of his eyes was unusual, in that they were so dark one had to stare at them a long while before realizing they were actually blue. His hair was wild and always out of control. When it was longish, it was decidedly unruly, falling into his face, but it didn’t make him look young. Nothing took the cold from his eyes.

  She found that his friends, the ones he mostly ran with in the club—and at that time they’d all been riding with the Swords—had eyes that were flat and deadly. She’d been young enough and stupid enough to get a thrill from that. Now, she just knew they weren’t good people and she didn’t want any part of them.

  “Did you come here to kill me? To kill Czar?”

  If her hands hadn’t been tied, she would have slapped him right across the face. She’d risked everything to warn him. To warn Czar. And some man named Jackson Deveau she’d never even met. She’d risked everything just to do the right thing. “Screw you, Steele. Yeah, that’s exactly what I did. I came here and left you a letter detailing how I planned to kill you all.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

  In the distance she heard the sound of pipes as two Harleys approached. She saw their lights once they rounded the bend. There would be no escaping from this if Steele didn’t let her go. She raised her gaze to his once more. “You know what the stakes are. Let me get out of here. If I can’t—”

  He shook his head. “You aren’t going anywhere, Breezy. We’re going to put this before the others and take a vote.”

  Horror swept through her. “We’re not something to vote on, Steele. What’s wrong with you? Just let me go. I warned you. I warned Czar. It’s up to you to warn this Deveau.”

  Steele transferred his hold to her elbow, and she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Her only hope was to convince Czar she was no threat to anyone. The others had always followed Czar’s lead, even within the Swords club, much to the chagrin of the president of their chapter. Czar had been the enforcer and very trusted. No one suspected, not for one moment, that he—and the others—were plotting to assassinate the international president and bring the club to its knees. Of course, she was gone by then. Long gone.

  The motorcycles reached them. She recognized Maestro on one, with Keys riding behind him. Ink was on the second bike. Her heart sank. She shook her head, trying not to feel desperate. A few hours could cost her everything. She looked up at Steele again, to catch him watching her. She should have known. Steele could be so completely still, it felt like he could disappear. His energy would get so low that you could forget he was in your space. He never missed anything when he was like that. He took in the smallest detail.

  He wasn’t a particularly small man either. He was a good six feet, all muscle, but not bulky about it. The definition was there, and not an ounce of fat. When she’d been with him, she’d been self-conscious about the softness around her tummy, but he had assured her time and again that he loved every inch of her body. She remembered how he’d looked at her with those cold eyes, just watching as if any second something would happen and he didn’t want to miss it. He wasn’t looking at her that way now. Now, it was more like he was about to shred her to pieces. He didn’t have to; he’d already done it long ago.

  She remained silent when he nodded toward the truck. What was there to say? She started toward it, Steele pacing along beside her, one hand on her arm as if he feared she would bolt for the cliff and toss herself over it. That wasn’t likely, but she clearly had made a mistake. She should have just shot him and then made her run.

  He yanked open the passenger door, put his hands on her waist, lifted her and tossed her easily onto the seat. Slamming the door again, he indicated his bike, telling Keys without words the keys were in the ignition. His Harley was big. It was powerful. It was hidden in the brush just as cleverly as her truck had been. He’d been the one to teach her self-defense moves. How to break out of zip ties. How to hide her vehicle if there was need. Always to have a plan. He’d warned her repeatedly that she had to pay attention to her surroundings.

  She pressed her head against the seat and closed her eyes, keeping them that way even when he shoved the seat back and took the driver’s position. “You should have told me.”

  Breezy glanced at him. Steele. He could always make her heart flutter and butterflies take off in her stomach. Always. He did so now in spite of everything, and she hated herself for that. For being weak.

  “Let’s just get this over with. Is Czar waiting? Because I want out of there as fast as possible.”

  “He’s waiting, but you aren’t going anywhere. You may as well understand that right now. The Demons are already gone. They cleared out this afternoon. We’re all set to deal with this as soon as we get you back to the clubhouse.”

  “The Demons take all your women with them?”

  “Breezy—”

  She cut him off. “We aren’t together. We never really were. You made that very clear, Steele, so there’s no need to explain yourself. You like sex. I get that. You like all kinds of sex. I get that too. I was one of the ones serving your needs; I certainly know your . . . appetites.”

  His expression hardened. “Don’t fucking pretend we weren’t on fire together, baby. Right now, hating me the way you do, you still want me. You think I can’t tell when a woman wants me?”

  “I’m certain you know everything there is to know about sex and women wanting you, Steele. You make an art of it. All of you do. My body may remember what it was like with you, but so does my brain. You’re bad news. I thought the Swords were bad, but you were worse. Far, far worse. At least they were up front in the way they treated me. My father turned me into a whore when I was fourteen. He told me straight up it was the only way I was worth anything to him or the club. He made me carry drugs and service other clubs to cement deals. I was so low, he let them beat the shit out of me right in front of him, but at least I knew what I was to him—to my brother and every other member of that club. You made me think I was worth more than that to you.”

  She couldn’t stand looking at him, so she turned her head away and stared out the window into the night. She’d gone over and over every single detail of her life with him, looking for signs that she should have caught along the way that it had been a charade. A complete sham. She’d just been so young and stupid.

  “Breezy, come on, baby, it wasn’t like that and you know it.”

  “Don’t. Don’t, Steele. I’m not that same girl. You saw to that. I’m not naïve anymore. It may take hard lessons, but they get through. You made yourself clear and I heard every word. I made a life for myself and . . .” She broke off, her lungs seizing. It took a few minutes to find a way to breathe again. “Did you really assassinate the international president of the Swords? That’s what the rumor mill is saying. The Swords hate you more than any other enemy and there’s a price on every one of you.”

  “He had the biggest human trafficking ring in the world, Breezy. He was even allowing his clients to use and kill men, women and children on his designated freighters and bury the bodies in the ocean. He had to go.”

  “Czar joined first. And then one by one, the rest of you.” She made it a statement. They’d joined the chapter in Louisiana, the one her family belonged to. Czar had risen to power fast. He was that scary, and Habit, the president of the chapter, had relied on him heavily. Whenever Czar had recommended a prospect, Habit had been more than happy to oblige him. Each man had been as cold as ice and equally as deadly. They’d made the chapter extremely strong.

  “That was the plan.”

  “You rode with them for three years before you sent me away.” One of those had been as a prospect, and he’d just watched her. A year of them dancing around each other. Another had been with her as his old lady. His woman. No one else had dared to touch
her or try to use her for anything in that year. She’d been safe for the first time in her life. And then . . . he’d told her the truth. He didn’t want her anymore. He’d never wanted her in the first place. She’d known all along her father had given her to him with the idea of currying favors from Czar and his very strong companions. Her father had wanted to be part of that.

  “Five years Czar was with them. I rode with the Swords for four years.” He turned off Highway 1 to Caspar. “A fucking lifetime.”

  “You spent four years with them, another year after you sent me away, and yet you could so easily betray them?” She knew he could. He’d spent a year with her and she hadn’t meant anything to him.

  “They’re all scum, Breezy. Every last one of them.”

  She couldn’t help it. She glared at him. “And you aren’t? You rode with those men, pretended to be their brother and then put a bullet in them? You killed a bunch of them, didn’t you? You and your friends.”

  “Yes, we did,” Steele replied evenly, without one iota of remorse. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Believe me, baby, I don’t lose any sleep over it.”

  “I’m sure you don’t.” She was equally as sure he didn’t lose any sleep over her either. There was evidence of that when she found him lying naked under three women.

  “You’re avoiding every subject but the one we need to talk about.”

  The lash of anger in his voice sparked her own. She wanted to swing around on the seat, put her boots up and slam them right into his chest. Drive them right through his black heart. She sat very still, blood thundering in her ears.

  “You need to let me go. I’ve worked this all out. All I asked from you was to follow the plan. That’s it. In all this time, that’s all I’ve asked. I know you’re busy with your parties, Steele. That’s clear. But maybe this once, for a few days, you can skip getting drunk in order to be ready in case you’re needed. I’m going in first and taking all the risk. Maybe your three women can take turns giving you blow jobs and keep you happy while you wait to see if I get killed or not.”

  He slammed on the brakes, gave her a hard look and jumped out of the cab. She watched him round the hood, toss the keys to one of the prospects and then he was yanking open her door. He caught her chin in hard fingers, forcing her head up so she was looking into eyes glittering with sheer anger. “If you think I’ll let you go into that hornet’s nest you’ve got another think coming. He’s my son. I’ll be the one going to get him.”

  TWO

  He had a son. Just saying it tore at Steele’s heart. More, he’d had a son with Breezy. His woman. The woman that he’d taken a thousand times in a thousand ways and still hadn’t gotten enough of. He knew he would never have enough of her. Touching her was always a mistake. Just now, with her face turned up to his, he wanted to slam his mouth down on hers and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.

  That was the problem. That was the way he was. He liked certain things. He’d learned to like them from a very early age. He liked things his way. Always. He’d learned that as well from an early age. He’d been programmed, and as much as he knew, that was what it was; there was no going back from that programming, nor did he want to. He was used to deference and control. He was used to others doing what he said. As a doctor, his word was law. As a VP of the club, it was the same.

  To say he’d been shocked when he read that letter was an understatement. Few things ever threw him, but that had. That had made him crazy. She’d been all alone. She’d never been away from the club or learned how to make decisions on her own. She hadn’t been able to, not with every order coming from her father or brother. Being out on her own for the first time, alone and pregnant, had to have been a nightmare for her.

  Fear for her. For his son. Anger at himself. At the situation. Emotions boiled together, and Steele let go of Breezy’s face, caught her around the waist and pulled her out of the truck, easily tossing her over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes. She cried out, the sound like music to his ears when he’d wanted to shake some sense into her. He wanted to put her over his knee and spank the living daylights out of her, and not in an erotic way. Things tended to go down that road fast with the two of them. They burned long and hot. He felt her nipples pressing tightly against his back, two hard buds, telling him she was as aroused as he was just by being in close proximity. That and how aggressive he was with her. Her body responded to aggression whether she liked it or not. At least he wasn’t alone in his hell.

  He stomped into the clubhouse, kicked the door closed behind him and put her down in the center of the common room. Savage tossed him a knife and Steele cut through the zip ties. Savage was one of the two Torpedo Ink enforcers. He had the sergeant at arms patch on the front of his vest. His head was shaved, he had blue eyes, cold as a glacier, and he looked every bit as dangerous as he was. He nodded at their prisoner but didn’t smile.

  Breezy brought her arms in front of her and began massaging her wrists. Steele took her hands, using force when she tried to pull away, and examined both wrists for bruising or marks. Both were good, and he let her go.

  “Breezy,” Czar greeted.

  This was the president of Torpedo Ink, and she wasn’t at all surprised. She remembered him as the enforcer for her father’s chapter. He’d been scary then; he was even more so now. She remained very still, motionless, frozen like that mouse she often thought of herself as. From the time she was a toddler and her mother had run off after too many beatings and being passed around, or her father had sold her off, Breezy had been beaten for getting underfoot. She’d learned to stay out of her father’s way. Her brother had treated her with the same contempt. The other club members had followed their example.

  Silence reduced the chances of beatings. The less she was noticed, the better for her. She kept her eyes as downcast as possible, when she was really looking around at her surroundings. Without all the men and women covering the floor, the place looked huge. Someone had thoroughly cleaned it. The floor gleamed and the room smelled fresh, completely different from what she’d found earlier.

  “Steele shared the letter you left him with me,” Czar continued, waving her toward a chair. “I want you to tell us, step by step, everything that happened. Absinthe is going to sit next to you and hold your wrist.”

  Her gaze jumped to Absinthe and then she stumbled toward the chair Czar had indicated. They had all the exits blocked. It was casually done, a man near each door, all watching her. She raised her gaze to Steele as she sank into the chair. It was high-backed, not uncomfortable, but she thought it rather telling that she wasn’t offered one of the really nice armchairs on the other side of the room.

  Absinthe sank into a chair beside her. Her gaze jumped to him. He was like the rest of them, all muscle. He had one scar that curved along his jaw on the left side of his face, and his nose might have been broken more than once. His hair was blond and spilled across his forehead. That should have made him look young, but it didn’t. His eyes were different. Light. Almost like two crystals.

  Breezy stretched her arm out and concentrated on the floor. She just wanted them to get the questions over with, so she could leave. Absinthe’s touch was very gentle. He circled her wrist with his hands, his fingers over her pulse. She knew her heart was racing and that scared her; she was afraid he would tell them she was lying when she wasn’t.

  “You want to tell me the truth,” Absinthe said, his voice as gentle as his touch.

  She thought that was an odd way to put it, but she had no intentions of lying to him. What would be the point?

  “Breezy, do you have a son?”

  She heard a gasp and looked up. The room went electric. Lana was there. Alena. They had ridden with the sixteen men during their time with the Swords and were always protected. Always. Their faces showed shock as did those of most of the men in the room. They’d all looked down on her because she was Swords. She’
d also been a whore and a mule, lower than some of the other patch chasers. Now, she was the mother of Steele’s son. That must make them all a little sick, Steele included.

  “Yes.”

  She saw their gazes all switch to Absinthe. He nodded. “Is he Steele’s son?”

  “Yes.” She looked up at Steele. “You’re such a son of a bitch. I would never have come here if I didn’t need you to back me up. I didn’t ask for anything from you. Not one damn thing. You know I didn’t sleep with anyone else once we were together. That was you being the slut, not me.” She spat the accusation at him, furious that he would question her word that her son was his as well. Steele, as usual, wore an expressionless mask, making it impossible to see what he was thinking, but the question told her everything.

  “Breezy,” Absinthe directed her attention back to him.

  “Get it over with,” she snapped, clenching her teeth.

  “Did your brother and father kidnap your son?”

  “Yes. They did.”

  “Had you had contact with them prior to that?”

  “No.” She swallowed the lump growing in her throat and told herself to keep it together. Zane would be so frightened, and her father believed in hitting children until they couldn’t cry anymore. She knew from experience. “I worked in a diner in New Mexico. Someone spotted me there, at least that’s what Braden—you know him as Junk—told me.” She was so upset she couldn’t remember if they knew given names of club members. They were rarely used.

  “You spoke to your brother?”

  “They came in the middle of the night, broke in and took him.” Her voice cracked, and she pressed two shaky fingers to her mouth. She thought leaving Steele after the ugly things he’d said to her had been the worst that could happen. She’d been wrong. She turned her head to the right, toward Absinthe, and swept back her hair so he couldn’t fail to see the bruising beneath the makeup she’d applied. “There’s more. A lot more.”