Judgment Road Read online

  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 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. She'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.

  "What are you doing with that woman?" Savage demanded.

  Reaper didn't know what he was doing with her. He'd walked into that bathroom, knowing she'd fallen asleep, knowing she would be naked, but the idea of her lying in cold water had been more than he could take. He pressed his fingers to his eyes.

  "She's living out of her car. The car wouldn't run. That simple. Woman shouldn't be out there by herself. Sooner or later her luck is going to run out."

  "You let her put her hands on you, Reaper. Since she's been here, you haven't been acting like you."

  What was he supposed to say to that? It was true. There was nothing he could say, because he couldn't even explain it to himself. "You get rid of those assholes, the ones that tried to jump her?"

  Savage shrugged. "You put a knife in one of them. Sooner or later he was going to talk. Sad ending for them. Drove their bikes over the cliff about fifteen miles from here. Bodies won't be found."

  "You tell Czar yet?"

  Savage nodded. "Stopped by his house. Caught him and Blythe going at it." He smirked a little. Blythe was so much a part of their family now, none of them could imagine life without her. "Talked to him through the window. She told me she was going to shoot me if I didn't go away. I told her to stay busy while I gave Czar the minimum. Used our code so Blythe can sleep good at night. Not sure he got it all because Blythe did what I said, and he was a little distracted."

  Reaper shrugged out of his shirt. "Hurts like hell," he admitted to his brother.

  "Woman's turning you into a whiner," Savage commented, but his fingers were gentle as he examined the wound. "You need those antibiotics, bro. Some of your stitches have popped. I'll have to redo them." />
  "Woman packs a punch." For the first time in a long while, Reaper's mouth softened. It wasn't a smile, but it might have been a ghost of one. "She's got a hell of a temper, but keeps it covered."

  "Why'd she hit you?" Savage kept his eyes glued on the laceration. He'd already laid out the needle and thread and antibiotic cream. He had topical lidocaine just in case as well.

  "Smacked her ass twice. She retaliated. Had her over my shoulder."

  "She know you were hurt?" Savage's voice was mild.

  Reaper frowned. "No, she didn't. Don't go getting predatory on me. I recognize that tone. She's under my protection."

  "You're under mine."

  "Damn it, Savage, I mean it. I forced her to come here . . ."

  "She doesn't put her hands on you."

  "I let her. You know I let her." This was why he didn't let anything out of the ordinary into his life, and Anya was so far out of the ordinary he didn't know what to do. He could barely breathe when he looked at her. All he wanted to do was throw her over his shoulder like a caveman and fuck her until she couldn't walk. Until neither of them could stand. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, but getting her hurt wasn't one of them. "She's under my protection," he said again. "That means she's under yours."

  It was a challenge and both knew it. A warning. Maybe even a plea. This scenario was out of both of their depths. Savage nodded and continued working. "We'll play it your way, Reaper. Maybe you should take her to Blythe."

  Czar's old lady could do anything, fix anything, advise them on anything. As far as the club was concerned, she walked on water. She never minded if they all showed up for breakfast, lunch or dinner. She let them watch the four kids while Czar took her off for alone time--as alone as one could get with bodyguards. She was a screamer, so more than once, during the throes of sex, the bodyguards had run up on them, guns drawn, to find them going at it hard. She didn't look down on them, or act like she was embarrassed to be seen with them.

  The members of the club had been raised, most from the time they were toddlers, without clothes or food in a particularly violent school in Russia. Their parents had been considered enemies of the State, so once they'd been taken, no one ever came to rescue them. They had lived in a small windowless basement a good deal of the time. Nudity didn't bother them. It sometimes was difficult to stay indoors. Every kind of sex was commonplace, their teachers forcing them to perform in front of the others. It became so usual, they didn't think anything of it. Now, trying to integrate into society, at least as far as they could, it was difficult to know and understand the rules. Some of the things they were used to, people on the outside frowned upon.