Judgment Road (Torpedo Ink #1) Read online

  He was up and off the bike. He was a big man. Huge. Coming at her, a solid wall of sheer muscle, and he was coming fast. She backpedaled, stumbled, barely caught herself, no air in her lungs and a frisson of fear creeping down her spine. She threw up one hand to fend him off, as if that would work.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered, going right past her hand. “I’ll send Lana or Alena out to get your clothes.” He caught her outstretched hand, yanked her to him and then she was upside down over his shoulder.

  She let out a girly scream that she quickly shut down, and then she punched him. Hard. Right in his ribs. His breath hissed out and he flinched. His hand came down hard on her bottom. Very hard. Outraged, she hit him again. He repeated the swat in exactly the same place and fire rushed through her. Spread. She didn’t know if it was painful or if her temper had kicked in, or if he was so sexy anything he did sent heat rushing through her veins and throbbing between her legs.

  He set her down next to the bike, swearing under his breath. His color was off. Almost gray. She glanced at his ribs. She’d hit him, but this man was the enforcer of the club. She didn’t know a lot, but she knew sergeant at arms meant protector of the club. He should be able to take a hit in the ribs without flinching.

  “Get on the fucking bike.”

  “Stop swearing at me.”

  “It’s a word. Doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

  “Then it should be easy enough to stop using it.”

  “Anya.” He said her name between clenched teeth. “I’m out of patience. I’m forty-eight hours without sleep and I’ve had enough of being polite. It’s not my thing. Now get on the bike.”

  “Open your jacket.”

  His eyes were beautiful. So intense. Hooded. Shockingly blue. Cold as ice. Right now, those eyes bored into her and she couldn’t help the shiver running through her body. She wasn’t backing down no matter how afraid she was. He was hurt. She knew he was. It wasn’t a small thing either. He looked like he might kill her if she continued to defy him. That didn’t matter either. She sighed.

  “I’ll go with you if you open your jacket and let me see.”

  “You’ll go with me because I fucking tell you to,” he snapped.

  She ignored the macho bullshit. “Willingly.”

  He studied her face for what seemed like an eternity. His gaze drifted down, over her body, touching on her breasts, the junction between her legs, dwelt there for a moment so she had to hold herself very still so she wouldn’t squirm with need. So she didn’t give away the fact that she was damp and her clit throbbed for no reason other than he was the sexiest man alive. No, he was a beast. Still, every time he opened his mouth, he brought the hot factor down a notch, at least that was what she told herself, but then she could be prone to bullshit when it came to him.

  His gaze came back to her face. One hand went to the zipper of his jacket, and triumph burst through her. She’d out-stubborned him. Well, okay, he’d conceded. She knew it wasn’t in his nature and he certainly wasn’t a man that allowed a woman to tell him what to do, so what did it mean?

  She saw the blood and her breath left her lungs. There was old blood, nearly dry, and new blood slowly seeping into his shirt. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have hit you if I’d known.” She’d hit him twice. In the same spot. Hard.

  He zipped his jacket up, his features pure stone. “Get on the bike.” He slung one leg over and backed it up. “Right fucking now.”

  So much for concessions. She slipped her leg over, forgetting everything she might need the next day, only concerned with the wound she hadn’t seen beneath his shirt. Settling behind him, she wrapped her arms loosely around him, afraid of hurting him. He caught her wrists and jerked her close, mashing her breasts against his back.

  He pressed her hands into his waist tightly. She was forced to shift her body closer so that throbbing between her legs was pressed against him. Could he feel that? It was powerful. Intense. Insistent. The moment he started up the bike and it roared, sending vibrations between her legs, she was afraid she was going to get off right there.

  Riding with Reaper was an amazing experience. She pressed her face against his back and gave in to her fantasies about this man. He was a man. Hard as nails. Protective as hell with the members of his club, especially Czar. Anyone with powers of observation could see that. She’d never had a home. Never had protection. She’d never had anyone she could count on. The club members definitely were apart from everyone else, but with each other, they often joked or ribbed, and all of them watched over the two women, Alena and Lana.

  To think of being under Reaper’s protection just for a night. To feel his body moving in hers. To have glorious sex, the earth-shattering kind, no matter how bossy he was, would be worth it—for a night. She wasn’t the kind of woman to be in that world. She reminded herself often, every night, when she looked at him across the bar. Every single night.

  Czar and the other members of the club treated her fine, but most of the bikers coming into the bar tried touching her inappropriately. Called her names she really didn’t like. Sweet tits—the name Deke had called her—was the least offensive. Betina’d had sex with one biker right outside on the picnic table. Another time she’d let a man put his hand up her very short skirt, and if Anya wasn’t mistaken, he’d gotten her off right there in the bar. Later, she’d given the biker a blow job right outside around the corner of the building. Anya had gone out to get some fresh air and had seen them.

  The other waitress, Heidi, was just as bad. Both women wore either tube tops or halter tops with very short skirts to work. They got tons of tips and definitely knew how to handle the men coming in. Anya didn’t understand why, when both women were so readily available, most of the bikers flirted with her and gave her equally good tips or sometimes, even better. She got along with both waitresses, unless … She squirmed, forcing herself to be honest. She’d detested it when Betina had gotten it into her head to flirt with Reaper tonight. She’d never done that before. She would want to kill either waitress if they went somewhere alone with him.

  He didn’t like her. She had to keep telling herself that. He wanted her fired. He’d almost gotten her fired. She had no idea why Czar spared her and let her keep her job even though she’d been very late coming in. She knew it was a big thing for Czar to go against Reaper’s desire to fire her.

  She closed her eyes and let the road take her, the sensation of moving with Reaper and the bike. It was perfect. She loved the way they took a curve, their bodies in perfect sync. Riding with Reaper, it never occurred to her that he could lose control of the bike. She couldn’t imagine him ever losing control, but she’d want to try to …

  She broke off that thought and forced herself to think about how tired and achy she was. Her feet hurt. She hadn’t slept much the last few nights. She probably shouldn’t have given her extra blankets away, but she had an old sleeping bag she’d gotten from a thrift store, so she wasn’t as cold as some of the men and women sleeping in the streets. Still, she felt as if she would never be warm again.

  The ride was over far too soon, and she found herself in the parking lot of the Torpedo Ink compound. It had been turned into a fortress. A high chain-link fence surrounded the property. The building was intact but modernized, according to all the gossip she’d heard—and there was plenty, particularly at the grocery store in Sea Haven. Sometimes she drove there just to listen to the locals talk about the club.

  She got off the bike feeling a little unsteady. He backed the bike next to a row of other motorcycles and shut it down. She looked at him uncertainly. She didn’t know what to expect. She could see he was exhausted. And he had all that blood on him. He wasn’t going to throw her on the bed and have his wicked way with her. In spite of the exhaustion, he still looked like sin and sex, carnal sin. Animalistic. Primitive. Heat rushed through her to settle uncomfortably between her legs. That persistent throbbing stayed there.

  What was wrong with her? She wanted that.
Dirty. Wild. Uninhibited. She wanted whatever he would give her. It would be something she would have for the rest of her life. One glorious night with a man who knew what he was doing. She couldn’t stay here forever. She didn’t fit in and never would. She wasn’t looking for forever. Just one night.

  Her tongue touched her lower lip in a slow, sensual slide. Thinking about tasting him. What would he feel like? She bet he was beautiful. Thick. She bet he tasted like heaven. Her breasts ached. The tips were on fire. Thank God for her jacket.

  “I’d like to take a look at that wound in your side.”

  “You a nurse?”

  Why did he have to open his mouth? A woman should be able to have fantasies about the hot gorgeous body she was perving on without him ruining it by speaking. She sighed. “Nope. Not a nurse. Just thought I’d help you out seeing as how you took the time to give me a ride and all.” So, screw him. She didn’t need or want his shit.

  She stayed silent. Two could play at that game. She just waited while he fiddled around with something on his bike, and then he gestured toward the building. She took a deep breath. He didn’t like her. He wasn’t going to jump her. Even if he did, it would only be what she wanted, a glorious night of sex and sin. She hoped they were really, really bad sins that would last forever. She knew her luck wasn’t that good.

  The door opened into a large room with a curving bar, tables and chairs, a couple of couches and more comfortable-looking chairs. She didn’t get a good look at the series of doors because he led her down a hallway. “Bathroom is right there. No one is using that one right now. A few of the brothers are sleeping here tonight. They might wander around naked. No big deal. Just know they do.” He pushed open a door. “You can sleep in here. Bed’s clean.”

  She’d heard about the wild parties. She knew a few of the women who had partied here. A woman would come into the bar pretending to want to see Betina and Heidi, but Anya knew it was to try to get one of the men to claim her as their old lady. She studied the bed. Was it clean? She didn’t want to be sleeping on sheets used for something else.

  Reaper didn’t move as she slowly slipped past him. He filled most of the doorway so her body brushed against his as she entered the room. Her heart accelerated the way it always did when her body got close to his. It was on overload, so stimulated, she wished she’d thought to pack her vibrator when she’d run. She hadn’t had time to think of things like that.

  “Reaper,” she said softly as he turned to go.

  He turned back and just stood there waiting.

  “Thank you. It was really cold in the car. I appreciate you helping me. I won’t be a bother.”

  “Give me your car keys.” He held out his hand.

  She frowned, but found herself digging through her pocket for them. She didn’t obey anyone. It wasn’t her style, but his voice was gruff. Mesmerizing. Somehow it seemed a little rusty, as if he rarely spoke. Going by the nights he’d spent in the bar, she was sure she was right. Just his talking to her made her feel special to him, even though she knew she wasn’t. She knew he disliked her. She handed the keys to him.

  He turned away from her and shut the door. He didn’t do it hard, but he did it firmly. She had the feeling that if he was on her side of it, he would have turned the lock. “Good night to you too,” she said loudly, just to piss him off.

  There was no answer. She didn’t even hear him going down the hall. Looking around, she took in the room. It was small, a tiny closet, a built-in dresser. Nightstand with a lamp. The bed was a double and looked inviting. She wasn’t going there yet. She wasn’t even sitting on it. She was too tired and would have fallen asleep. She wanted a shower. A real shower. She didn’t care if she had clean clothes or not. If the men in the clubhouse could wander around naked, she could cover herself up with a towel—assuming they had towels.

  She was shocked when she walked into the bathroom and found a tub. Why would the club members think of putting in a bathtub? She found bath salts under the sink. They weren’t the standard Epsom salts one would expect; they were actual good-smelling salts. She turned on the hot water tap experimentally. Light was already creeping through the window, the first few rays of dawn. It lit up the room, hitting on the full-length mirror attached to the door.

  This was a woman’s bathroom. Reaper had said no one was using it. Did that mean, when they had their parties, this room was occupied by the women who came? The club members had sex with them in her bedroom and then used this bathroom? She inspected every inch of it. The towels were thick and fluffy, colored a soft apricot. They matched the apricot swirling through the shower curtain.

  The two female club members. This had to be one of their rooms. Their bathroom. She sighed with relief and stripped. She stepped into the shower first, letting the hot water spray over her. She found really good quality shampoo and used it unashamedly twice. If she needed to replace it, she would do so gladly.

  She conditioned her hair. When she rinsed, her hair felt nice for the first time in weeks. She’d washed it in the sink, but she had so much hair, she never felt as if she’d really cleaned it thoroughly. Sponge baths sucked. This was heaven. Pure heaven.

  Wringing out her hair, she looked through the various drawers and found several hair ties and clamps. She put her hair on top of her head, secured it and sank down into the water. Pure bliss. She could stay there forever. She closed her eyes and put her head back and just drifted.

  The water was cooling when she jerked awake. Reaper was bent over the tub, one hand in the water, pulling the plug. She nearly did the girly shriek again, but managed to stop herself just in time.

  “Get out of there. Water’s too cold.” He sounded abrupt. Annoyed.

  “I’m naked. You shouldn’t be in here.” Hadn’t she locked the door? She couldn’t remember.

  “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before,” he said and stepped back, holding out a towel.

  That killed any hope he was attracted, although he was a man. His gaze lingered on her breasts. So screw him, she’d give him a show if that’s what he was looking for, although she didn’t think so, judging by his stony features. She stood up, forcing herself not to blush when her entire body wanted to go red.

  She knew she had good breasts. High. Rounded. Generous. Her rib cage was narrow, her waist small, in proportion with her generous hips, which made finding jeans that fit difficult. And she certainly had hips. No lie. And he was looking at them. She resisted the urge to turn her back on him because then he’d see her equally generous butt.

  She took the towel just as the door opened. Reaper glided between her and the door.

  “What the fuck, Savage? You don’t just walk in when a woman’s taking a bath. I thought Blythe went over the rules with you.”

  Savage shrugged. He was a younger version of Reaper, just as hard, just as scarred, his blue eyes just as dead. “You don’t care about those shit rules any more than I do.”

  “Maybe not, but this is Anya’s first night here.”

  “It’s morning,” Savage corrected. He glanced at her and then his gaze jumped back to his brother’s face. “Want to take a look at those stitches. Doc gave me the antibiotics to give you to you.”

  Anya remained frozen, the towel pressed to her breasts. She didn’t dare move or Savage would see her in all her glory. It was one thing for the man of her dreams, who clearly thought of her as a burden he had to bear, to see her, but an altogether different one for his brother to walk in on her when she was naked.

  Stitches? Had she broken open his stitches when she’d punched him? Good God. He’d just thrown her over his shoulder. Why did she have to punch him for it? Remorse hit hard. He might be gruff. He might not like her, but he’d rescued her.

  “Stitches? Reaper, I’m so sorry …”

  “Forget it.” His tone told her to shut the hell up. “Wait outside for me,” he ordered his brother.

  Savage nodded and without a word to her, sauntered out. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Sh
e’d lived in shelters, places where there was little privacy, but men just coming into a bathroom … She had locked the door. She wouldn’t forget something like that. She narrowed her eyes at Reaper. “That door was locked.”

  “Shit lock, babe. I put a couple of bottles of water on the nightstand by your bed. Waited for you to get out of here but when you didn’t, knew you’d fallen asleep. Too quiet.”

  “It was unnecessary to come in.”

  He looked thoroughly unimpressed and as bored as hell. “Depends on which one of us you’re talking to. Get to bed. I pulled the privacy screen for you. It will keep the room dark. Alena and Lana are going shopping for clothes.” He turned and stalked out, leaving her standing there, the towel clutched to her chest, a little breathless and her eyes wide with shock.

  He’d walked in, right through the locked door, unplugged her bathtub, handed her a towel and then stood in front of her when his brother had walked in. He’d gotten her water and pulled the privacy screen. She knew he was even more tired than she was, but he’d come to check on her. She wrapped the towel around herself and started back to her designated room.

  A man came walking down the hall, totally naked. He glanced up, saw her, made no move to cover up and nodded before pushing open a door. Holy cow. That had been Ice. He was … impressive. She was never going to look at him the same way. Sheesh. He was built. She couldn’t think about that, not when Reaper had her tied in knots and she didn’t have anything or anyone to help with the frustration.

  She found two extra blankets folded at the bottom of the bed, proving that Reaper had actually listened to her. She threw herself on the bed, facedown, grateful for the bath, the room, the comfortable bed, even the new toothbrush she’d found in the drawer, still in the packaging. She didn’t care if Reaper walked in on her or she saw men with hot bodies walking naked through the halls, it was the best place ever. So much better than her car.

  She dragged a blanket over her and drifted off to the murmur of voices.