Judgment Road (Torpedo Ink #1) Page 37

  He was still shaken at the idea that he’d nearly killed a woman. He knew the experience was too close to take the chance of lying next to the woman he loved and falling asleep close to her. He could have nightmares and she would be at risk. He stared out the window, noting, if they were going to continue to sleep in that room, they’d need heavy drapes. She was a bartender and up half the night. She’d need to sleep in.

  Anya had faith that they could overcome the problems they had. Now, with her new idea of getting him used to her touch, he was beginning to share that same faith. He paced some more and then stood by the bank of windows staring at the ocean. It was raging in the early morning hours, the wind kicking up white crests, the water dark, murky, very choppy, reflecting his own mood.

  He turned back to look at the woman sleeping on the floor. On the floor. Not the comfortable bed upstairs, the fucking floor because her man couldn’t stand sleeping with four walls so close. She’d just laughed and told him she didn’t care where she was sleeping as long as she was with him. The hell of it was, he knew it was the truth. Anya would go with him anywhere. If he said he had to leave, to just ride, not knowing where he was going, she’d get on the back of his bike in a minute.

  She was beautiful. Far more than he deserved. She deserved the world and yet she was choosing him, knowing all his problems. Could he really be a husband and father like Czar? He’d scoffed at the idea because he’d known it was impossible, but now … He shook his head and sank down into the chair next to her so he could look down at her face.

  He’d once asked Czar how he thought he could be a father to the children they’d taken in. His reply made sense. He was good at protection. He could provide for them. He could help Blythe with discipline and talking to them, loving them. He would count on her for the bulk of knowing what to do in situations he didn’t comprehend. Czar believed he learned fast and would know the next time the same thing came up, so he could be of even more help.

  It was really all about total commitment. Being all-in. Reaper leaned down and caught Anya’s long braid in his hand. He had to make up his mind to cut her loose or keep her. If he cut her loose, he couldn’t go after her later—and he knew he would. He wasn’t strong enough to stay away from her. He needed her brightness. He needed to see himself the way she did. He could be that man because she believed he was that man.

  So, total commitment. He could do that. He felt he already had. If she was willing to find a way for them to be together even at night, if she was willing to risk that, he had to be right there with her—even if that meant confessing to Czar. If she wanted children, he’d provide them and follow her lead on what to do with them. The club would help, not that they knew anything more than he did, but they’d help.

  “Reaper?”

  The long lashes fluttered and then he was looking into her eyes. His breath caught in his throat. She was drowsy, unable to mask her true feelings, and he could see the way she looked at him. He knew the love of his brothers and sisters. He knew the fierce loyalty they shared. Anya’s love was soft. Protective. Sexual. Comforting. It was all kinds of things, but mostly it was that look on her face. The one that told him he was her man and she didn’t want any other.

  “Go back to sleep, baby. You have to work tonight, and we’ve got things to do later.” He didn’t know what they were, but he wanted her asleep so he wouldn’t get any ideas. Already his cock was acting like a monster, the way it did anytime he was close to her. and he’d had her twice.

  She smiled and her lashes fell. She went back to sleep with that smile on her face. He watched. She went to sleep confident in him. Confident in them—that they could find their way together. So, he was going to be that as well. Confident in them. He stretched out beside her, on the other side of the rolls of blankets. All weapons were across the room. He could get at them fast if need be, but there would be no accidental mistakes. The rolled blankets would ensure if he turned over, and she did as well, she wouldn’t be touching him and playing into his nightmares.

  Reaper reached over the blankets and wrapped his arm around her. He knew he shouldn’t, not until he had a handle on his bad dreams, but touching her soothed him. He slid his hand under her breasts, spreading his fingers wide to take in as much territory as possible. He wanted to feel her heart beating into his palm, but he kept his hand low, on her rib cage, just below her breasts, listening to her soft breathing.

  “Do anything for you, baby,” he whispered. “Anything at all.” He meant every word.

  NINETEEN

  They came in just after midnight, seven members of the Diamondbacks. They didn’t come in noisily. They were quiet, looking around, faces grim. They went to tables at the back of the room, directly across from the bar, looked at the occupants, who vacated immediately, and sank into the chairs.

  It was slow on Tuesdays. One waitress. One bartender. Preacher had gone to some big meeting Czar had called at the clubhouse. Reaper was there as well. Fatei was on as bouncer, but no way could he take on the Diamondbacks if they got ugly. She’d forgotten Absinthe sitting just down the hall, watching the monitor. The club took the security of the women seriously. He came sauntering out, reached around her to casually push the button that was hooked into the clubhouse.

  “Should have done that yourself, darlin’,” he said softly and moved around her again to the hinged slab of bar that lifted.

  Anya watched as three more of the locals left their drinks right on a table and got up and left. She heard more Harleys. Big ones. Powerful. She lowered her lashes and settled her accelerating heart. She was a damn good bartender. Fast. Efficient. She could bullshit anyone. She glanced at Betina, who nodded and followed Absinthe directly to the table.

  “Nice having you here,” Absinthe greeted. He didn’t smile, because he wasn’t a man who smiled much, but he did manage to sound welcoming. “Drinks are on the house. Just let Betina know what we can do for you.”

  “You can introduce me to the bartender,” one said.

  Absinthe didn’t so much as change expression. “Anya? She is gorgeous. She’s Reaper’s old lady.”

  Betina flashed her high-wattage smile at the group. “What can I get for you?”

  As she asked the question, seven more Diamondbacks entered. Anya’s heart sank. No way would that many come in just for fun without someone warning them. She didn’t know much about club life, but when the Diamondbacks were on the move, everyone knew about it. This run wasn’t advertised.

  Absinthe and Betina stepped back as the Diamondbacks pushed tables closer to accommodate the new group. Absinthe and Betina helped with the chairs.

  “Czar around?” one asked. His patch proclaimed him the Mendocino chapter president.

  Absinthe nodded. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  Betina came back with their orders, and Anya lost herself in fixing the drinks fast. She put them on trays and Betina swept them away. She served the men and returned, leaning across the bar, looking as if she was showing off what was under her short skirt, but mostly she wanted to be close to Anya.

  “If they start trouble, get out fast. Don’t try to help.” Betina kept her voice low. “These guys play for keeps. And while I’m at it, I just want to warn you that Tawny’s seriously pissed. Lana and Alena paid her a visit, and it didn’t go well for Tawny. They apparently didn’t like that she kept at Reaper when he’d told her no. She didn’t look good when she left town. Before she left, she had a lot to say, and she’s very vindictive. Just watch your back from here on out.”

  Anya wasn’t certain if Betina had switched the conversation to really warn her, or if she’d done it because a couple of the Diamondbacks hadn’t sat down with the others and were wandering around and the waitress didn’t want to get caught talking about them. Anya nodded, just to show she was listening, but already she could hear the motorcycles arriving. She recognized the various bikes now. Reaper’s was among them.

  Reaper and Savage entered through the front door, pause
d the way they always did and scanned the room. Reaper noted that one of the two Diamondbacks wandering the room was close to the bar, close to Anya. He flicked his gaze toward the middle of the bar where the hallway would have her back, indicating he wanted her in that position. Anya patted Betina’s hand, gave her a small smile and moved to the middle of the bar where Reaper wanted her to stay.

  Maestro came up behind her and took his position behind the bar. “Sorry I was late, Anya, had a little trouble with a tub of ice cream.”

  “You have such a sweet tooth,” she fired back. He was lying his ass off, but if he could, so could she.

  The door opened and Lana and Alena came in, walking together, looking good the way they always did. The two of them drew the eye; man or woman couldn’t help but look. Lana’s dark hair curved at her chin, calling attention to that elegant detail. Her mouth was lush, her dark eyes framed with long black lashes, making her look exotic and mysterious. She had curves and she knew it, showing them off with her tight jeans and tighter tank. Her clothes screamed biker babe, and her looks screamed sheer elegance.

  Alena’s platinum hair was thick and wild, falling down her back and around her face in untamed waves. Her ice-blue eyes were striking. She was average height, but there was nothing average about the way she wore her clothes. Like Lana, she wore jeans that hugged her butt lovingly, and her breasts threatened to spill from the red bra that seemed part of the black tank.

  Anya had no idea how they did it, but the two women commanded the room. The air went electric, and they had the attention of everyone. Neither looked around; they came straight to the bar, smiling at her.

  “Hey girl, missed you,” Alena said. “You doing all right?” She slid her butt onto one of the stools and put her elbows on the bar, leaning into Anya’s space.

  Anya felt the butterflies settle in her stomach. Alena and Lana always exuded such confidence. In themselves. In the club. Whatever was happening, they would help take care of things. She was determined to learn, so she could be more of an asset in any situation.

  “Great, Alena. I’m doing great. Things are good,” Anya said. “You want a drink?”

  Alena nodded. “Make me something. I’m in such a mood tonight.”

  Lana slipped onto the stool beside Alena, making a show of settling herself, shifting from hip to hip, mesmerizing the men in the room who had eyes on her butt. “She is, Anya. Fix her something refreshing.”

  “And strong,” Alena added, stroking a red-tipped finger along the bar as if it was skin and she was caressing it.

  Anya glanced up just to catch a glimpse of Reaper. She blinked. He wasn’t there. Neither was Savage. They had faded into the darker corners of the bar, places the light didn’t quite reach. No one had noticed, especially the fourteen Diamondbacks sitting together at the table, eyes on the women at the bar.

  “I’ll make you a mojito. A strong one. The mint will refresh you, Alena. Who upset you?” She reached for a bottle.

  “Do your thing,” Lana encouraged. “You promised you’d show us.”

  Anya knew they’d never ask her if they didn’t want her providing a distraction. Alena and Lana had gotten Reaper and Savage in position. She knew Preacher would be up on the roof outside, waiting to cover the Torpedo Ink members if they needed to retreat. She was slowly learning how they did things.

  Anya flashed a quick grin, caught up a napkin, her thumb on the crease facing away from her, spun it like a frisbee, caught it on the back of her hand, turned her hand over and dropped the napkin in front of Alena with a flourish.

  Alena laughed. “Nice.”

  “Easy,” Anya said and reached for the bottle of vodka. She did the move she liked, one she’d practiced an insane amount of time. It was merely a stall, the bottle coming to rest on the back of her hand, staying there a moment and then she did a slight toss, caught it and in one motion pushed it toward Alena, tipped it to pour into the glass before it could spill. The “stall” was one of her favorite moves. It was small, didn’t slow her down, but effective.

  “Awesome,” Lana said.

  “Feel better already,” Alena agreed.

  Ice and Storm came up behind Anya from the hallway. Evidently, they’d come in the back way. Czar walked right behind them. Behind Czar were Master and Player. They were moving from behind the bar into the main room before anyone had noticed. Anya hadn’t heard them come up behind her.

  Czar smiled and walked right up to the table of Diamondbacks. “Nice to see you again, Plank.” He addressed the man with the patch on his jacket proclaiming him president. “Absinthe said you’re looking for me.”

  Absinthe hadn’t left the bar. He hadn’t spoken to anyone. Anya glanced at the camera over the bar. There were dozens of them, most hidden from view, but every angle of the bar was seen in the monitors. There had to be audio as well. She made a note to be aware of that in the future when she was talking to customers. Many of them told her all kinds of personal things.

  “Need to talk,” Plank said. He nodded to the second table of Diamondbacks. They immediately stood. “Clear the room.”

  “Betina, you’re off,” Ice said. “Bannister. Call it an evening.”

  The older man at the bar glanced at Anya. “You going home? I can escort you.”

  “She stays,” Plank said.

  The moment the president of the Diamondbacks decreed one of the Torpedo Ink women had to stay, the tension in the room went up several notches until it was stretched out to a screaming point. Bannister didn’t seem to be affected. He slid off his stool without looking at the Diamondbacks. “Be outside if you need me,” he said to no one in particular and sauntered out.

  Ice followed him and locked the door. He turned and leaned against it. Storm took the opposite side of the room. Czar slipped into a chair one of the Diamondbacks had vacated. Master and Keys sat on either side of him.

  Lana reached across the bar to Anya. “This goes bad, hit the floor,” she said softly. “Don’t look if you can help it.”

  Anya wasn’t about to argue. She didn’t like the fact that Plank had insisted she stay. None of the Torpedo Ink members liked it any better. She’d heard more bikes minutes earlier. She knew the members of Torpedo Ink in the bar weren’t the only ones around. The others were just out of sight. Waiting. Waiting for everything to go bad.

  “You sent us word that a group of men had gotten together and formed some kind of club calling themselves the Ghosts,” Plank stated. “What do you know about them?”

  Czar nodded. “Code, our resident hacker, came across them. They were extorting money from another club that had asked us for help. When Code looked into the Ghosts, it was made up of several corporate men, very wealthy with ties to gambling in both Vegas and Reno. They play for keeps, Plank. They have no problem slicing up women and children if their demands aren’t met. We saw that firsthand.”

  “Mafia?”

  “Ties to it for sure. I think a couple of sons of owners in Reno started with an idea to target MCs because they figured we couldn’t go to anyone for help. They start small, use computers to find members with gambling problems. Target them first, get them hooked, in deep, needing to pay off a large debt, and they flip them.”

  Plank stirred. Looked around the table at his men. “You’re saying someone in my club fed them information on us?”

  Czar nodded. “The Ghosts don’t give a damn about the gambling debt. They want information on the club’s activities. If you’re running drugs through a pipeline, they want a cut. They want to use the pipeline to move their money around. They need to know what you’re doing and how you do it. What kind of money they can get. Once they have that information, they go after the club president’s wife. That’s why we gave you the heads-up. Your wife was on their list. We sent the proof, the pictures they had of her taking her yoga class. Running up by the dam. Picking up your kids from school. She was a definite target.”

  “Do you know who the mole is?”

  Czar shook his he
ad. “I don’t. Code might be able to find out for you. He’s good at what he does.”

  “I had her guarded night and day. Locked her away. She was pissed too. Sent the kids to her mother’s, just to be safe. Had my men guarding them. They still got my wife. Knew right where she was. Killed two of my men.” Plank glanced at Anya. “Took her right out from under us. My. Wife.”

  Czar’s fingers tapped on the table restlessly. “I’m sorry, man. These fuckers don’t play around, Plank. You have to get her back or pay their price, whatever it is.”

  Lana stood up casually and walked around the bar. Instantly there was a stir, the seven Diamondbacks moving to cut her off. She gave them a small smirk. “Bathroom. Come with me if you want, boys.” She kept walking to the door marked “Women” and disappeared inside.

  Alena leaned across the bar to Anya. “Checkin’ on Blythe,” she mouthed.

  Anya’s nod was barely perceptible. She realized that Plank was vaguely threatening her by insisting she stay. She knew the members of Torpedo Ink had gone on alert, but she hadn’t realized she was the cause, that they were really threatening her. She had been identified as Reaper’s. Uneasy now, she began taking care of all the empties behind the bar.

  * * *

  Plank’s enforcer, Jiff, had been identified by the patches on his jacket. He was a big man. Big to be intimidating. Reaper watched him move around the room, a deliberate act to show the members of Torpedo Ink that he was watching them. He never spotted Reaper or Savage. He hadn’t even noticed they’d disappeared.

  The real threat came in the form of a slender man, one not noticeable. He was quiet, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, almost as still as Reaper was being. That man had noticed they’d lost eyes on two of the Torpedo Ink members, and he continually scanned the room, searching for them. His patch declared he was a road captain named Pierce. Reaper knew that was bullshit. Or if he was, he was also Plank’s greatest protector. He had draped himself against the wall behind Plank, in a position to cover him, take him to the floor if necessary. He was a man few would notice. Most wouldn’t even mark him as a threat.