Judgment Road (Torpedo Ink #1) Page 9

  Anya took over slicing the tomatoes, pickles and onions for the burgers. “I can’t imagine how much food you go through if they all eat here. Do you always cook for them?”

  Blythe washed the potatoes. “A lot of the time, but everyone pitches in. This is impromptu in your honor.”

  Anya’s heart jumped. “What?” She turned just as two more of the club members came in. Absinthe and Preacher gave her a wave, looked at each other, grinned and hurried to kiss Blythe. “Anything you need? Store run? You name it.”

  “We’re good. The others are in the back.” Blythe waited until they were out. “It isn’t every day Reaper puts a woman under his protection formally. As in never.”

  “I don’t understand.” She didn’t. She often didn’t get the terms they used or understand the logic of their choices.

  “That’s all right, Anya. Just know, once Reaper says you’re protected, the entire club will protect you. They have Lana and Alena they claim as their own. Me. My three girls and Kenny. Now you.”

  Anya ducked her head, shaking it as she deftly sliced pickles. “You misunderstand. He doesn’t even like me. He wanted me fired. I think he felt bad over asking Czar to fire me when later he discovered I was …” She bit her lip. God. Was she really going to admit to Blythe that she was homeless, living out of her car? Did she want the woman to look down on her the way Lana and Alena so obviously had? Screw it. “Living in my car. Camping at the Egg Taking Station.”

  Blythe drew in her breath. “That wasn’t safe.”

  Keys, Master, Transporter and Mechanic came in. With them was Fatei, the prospect. He trailed after them. The four club members kissed Blythe, nodded at Anya, really looking her over, taking their time until Blythe laughed and threw a wooden spoon at them. They went out, and Fatei looked around the kitchen.

  “Be glad to help. What can I do?”

  “You know where the paper plates and napkins are, Fatei,” Blythe said. “Would you get them and take them out to the tables outside? Maybe the others can help you move the tables into the sunshine.”

  He nodded and was gone, leaving Anya and Blythe alone again. Anya wished she had Blythe’s easy manner with the men. With the bar between them, Anya was in her element, but right now, she felt under scrutiny. “Why are they all acting weird toward me? They’re staring.”

  “You have on Reaper’s shirt.”

  The way Blythe said it, Anya knew immediately she had the wrong impression. Most of his club brothers probably did as well. “No, you don’t understand. It isn’t what you’re thinking. Lana and Alena brought me some clothes because I didn’t have time to get mine out of my car. The top was …” Now she was being a tattletale. “It just didn’t fit, so I asked him for a shirt to put over it.” She knew she was blushing. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t help remembering the feel of Reaper’s knuckles brushing over her breasts as he’d buttoned the shirt.

  Blythe turned away from the stove where she’d put the potatoes on to boil. “Let me see.”

  “It’s pretty awful.” She opened the shirt to show Blythe the tank with the lacy bra showing and her breasts bulging out everywhere.

  Blythe looked at her and then turned her gaze to the doorway. Lana and Alena were frozen there, Steele, the vice president, just behind them. Both women looked at Blythe, shame on their faces. Steele, put them gently aside and came across the room. Anya, horrified, her face bright red, buttoned up Reaper’s shirt and wished the floor would open so she could fall through.

  “We haven’t formally met,” Steele said, holding out his hand to Anya. “You’re Anya.”

  She nodded. “Bartender,” she reminded. She wanted that formal title now, to disassociate herself from Reaper. Everyone was getting the wrong idea. She didn’t want them to get that idea about her. It would be too difficult later on when they all remembered Reaper had wanted her fired. Gone. He was being nice because of her circumstances, but that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t like her.

  She held on to that. Held it close to her like armor. Her only protection against what she was feeling for him. The one night of wild, soul-destroying sex was one thing; anything to do with her heart was off-limits. She had to keep Reaper at arm’s length. She couldn’t see how vulnerable he could be. She couldn’t recognize that he was traumatized by something that had happened in his past. She didn’t want to see that the brothers in his club were worried about him and maybe wanted his kindness to her to mean something else just a little too much.

  She shook Steele’s hand, smiled at him and went back to her slicing while Blythe pulled eggs out of the refrigerator for the potato salad.

  “Anya.” Alena spoke first. “It was a shit thing to do, bringing a top that small. I’m sorry. We brought you a few that will fit better. Please try them on.”

  She glanced at them. There seemed to be genuine remorse on their faces. “What did I do wrong?” She put down the knife. “You have to be aware I don’t know the first thing about this lifestyle. I needed a job. I’m a good bartender. Actually, I’m a great bartender. The club needed one so it was a good fit for both of us. I’m trying to learn, but I seem to get on everyone’s nerves. Yours. Reaper’s. Just straight up tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

  The two women exchanged a long look, mostly puzzled. “Why would you think you’re getting on Reaper’s nerves?” Lana asked, coming around the island to take the bunch of broccoli Blythe was holding out.

  “He wanted me fired. He called me a bitch and asked Czar to fire me. I’ve never been a bitch to anyone. I don’t even make Betina and Heidi clean the bar after hours, especially if they had a hookup.” Anya was genuinely confused. “Then, today, it was made rather plain that no one wanted me around, I go to leave and Reaper won’t let me. He won’t even discuss it with me.”

  They were all crazy as far as Anya was concerned. She didn’t mind confronting Lana and Alena. Her temper was close just seeing them. She might be a shelter child but she had enough pride to tell them both to go to hell rather than accept charity from them.

  “What the fuck is going on in here?” Reaper demanded, making all of them jump. His voice was low. He hadn’t raised it, but he sounded as scary as hell.

  FIVE

  “Reaper, language,” Blythe reminded gently.

  “Nothing’s going on,” Lana assured quickly. “Just girl talk.”

  Reaper stalked across the room, stealing Anya’s breath and sending a little frisson of fear creeping down her spine. He just looked lethal. Dangerous. His blue eyes moved over her face. He didn’t look at anyone else, or even acknowledge their presence. He caught the front of the shirt he’d loaned her and tugged until she was right in front of him. One hand slid under the mass of her hair, curling around the nape of her neck. It felt like possession. Ownership.

  “Anya?” His thumb slid along her cheek.

  That felt … sweet. Caring. She couldn’t look at anyone, certain they would see her nipples pushing hard into the nearly nonexistent bra. They’d know her panties were damp and her clit throbbed with need. How did he do that? How was his voice like gravelly velvet, sliding over her skin like the touch of fingers? Rough. Soft. At the same freaking time.

  Her eyelashes fluttered because her voice didn’t work. She just stared into his blue eyes and was lost.

  “We can go.”

  There was no way she was going anywhere with him, as tempting as it was. No way. She might lose her mind and jump him. She managed to shake her head, but she was unable to look away from the intensity of his blue eyes. She wanted to tell him he wasn’t safe and he’d better get on his bike and run away as fast as he could go, but she couldn’t do that with the other women looking on.

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. What an idiot. She couldn’t actually talk? She was a bartender, for God’s sake. A damned good one. She relied on her ability to talk bullshit with anyone, but around Reaper, she found herself completely gone. No brain. He reduced her to pure need and her brain just ch
ecked out. They said it was true of men; well, she was there to testify it happened to women too.

  “All right. You need me, come and get me.”

  Anya nodded again. His fingers tightened for a moment and then he was gone, just as quickly and silently as he’d entered the room. She stood there like an idiot staring after him, wondering what was going on. A month of silence and now this. She would never understand him, not in a million years. Biker behavior was a far cry from what she’d thought it was.

  Blythe cleared her throat. “So. Anya. You were just telling us that Reaper doesn’t like you. That he tried to get you fired. You might want to continue the story for us. Because between the trying to get you fired and now, there seems to be a huge gap.”

  Anya looked from Blythe to Lana and Alena. All three were staring at her with the same shocked look on their faces. “He’s just acting weird,” she said. “It started last night when he took me to the campground where I was staying. My car was dead. It was cold, and he felt bad. Really bad.”

  Lana poked Alena. “Because Reaper is known for feeling bad.”

  Anya picked up the knife she’d abandoned when Reaper had come in. “I just don’t understand any of this, so I can’t explain it to you. He brought me back to the clubhouse and let me sleep there.” When Blythe raised her eyebrows, she clarified. “Alone. We’re not …” Her hands fluttered helplessly. There was no explaining Reaper’s behavior. “He went from sitting in the bar every single night for over a month and not speaking a word to me, to wanting me fired, to bringing me here.”

  “He sat in the bar every single night for over a month?” Alena echoed. “Did Preacher tell you that, Lana?”

  Lana shook her head. “He wouldn’t rat on his brother.”

  Anya put her hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have told you that? Why not? I really, really don’t belong here. I don’t understand anything.” She’d never been so frustrated in her life. It wasn’t like she normally went around desperately needing sex. Since meeting Reaper, she’d been on edge, moody and totally frustrated. Lately, it had been a thousand times worse. Coupled with not knowing the rules, she found herself ready to scream.

  “Pasta salad,” Blythe told the two club members. “You know how to make it. Get busy. I’m working on the potato salad, and Anya’s getting everything ready for burgers.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with telling us that Reaper sat in the bar, Anya,” Alena assured. “Preacher wouldn’t do it because there’s this entire brotherhood code that’s pretty ridiculous and makes the two of us crazy. We grew up with them. We’re in the brotherhood, but because we have vaginas they treat us different.”

  “They’re protective of you,” Blythe pointed out.

  “Which is rather silly, don’t you think?” Lana asked.

  “I think it’s sweet,” Blythe said.

  “Where are you from, Anya?” Alena asked.

  Anya should have been expecting the question. She weighed her answer. She had to be careful. “San Francisco was the last place. I move around a bit.”

  “Where were you born?” Lana persisted. “We were born in Russia. All of us were. Every member of the club. We were all in a school together there.”

  None of them had much of an accent, but Anya didn’t question what Lana told her. There was no reason to lie. “I was born in LA. I don’t think I was actually born in a shelter but I don’t remember anything else—my mother went from shelter to shelter. I can’t remember anything other than the streets.” She forced herself to be matter-of-fact. If they were going to judge her, the hell with them. There wasn’t an ounce of shame in her voice, nor was she looking for pity. She didn’t need it.

  “Is your mother still alive?” Blythe asked.

  “Nope.” Keeping her voice casual was harder. “She died when I was a teenager. Drug overdose. I was surprised she lasted that long.” But she’d loved her mother, and when her mother remembered her, life was good for the two of them. Even in the shelter.

  “How’d you end up a bartender?” Alena asked.

  “I saw a program on television. It was a bartender famous for his tricks,” Anya admitted. “He was mesmerizing. He could toss bottles around like you wouldn’t believe. I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. I knew if I could get to be that good, I could make money. Bartending school wasn’t as pricey as college, and a bartender can get a job almost anywhere. The payout is much sooner as well, so for me, it made sense. It also helped that I have an amazing memory.”

  “Can you do some of those tricks?” Lana asked.

  Anya nodded. “Absolutely. That’s the fun part. I give my customers flair and they love it. I get better tips and it works great all around. It’s not easy and I have to practice regularly, but I learned less is better.”

  “Preacher didn’t tell me you can do tricks,” Lana complained.

  “He doesn’t know. They’re showy, only done in certain kinds of bars. They wouldn’t be welcome here. I’d just look like I was showing off.”

  “Can you teach me?” Lana asked.

  “And me,” Alena added.

  “Sure, if I’m around long enough. The garage has my car right now. They’re hopefully fixing it.”

  “Wait,” Blythe said, frowning. “You aren’t sticking around?”

  “Like I said, despite what you saw from Mr. Conflicted, I’m not his favorite person. I can’t afford to have my job yanked out from under me when next he decides he wants me gone. I have to plan things. That’s my personality. If I don’t have a plan, I get overwhelmed.”

  The three women exchanged a long look again that Anya pretended not to see. Two men stuck their heads in the door. One was covered in tattoos and Anya recognized him as Ink. He rarely came in the bar. The other was named Maestro and she knew he played a multitude of instruments because occasionally, he and a couple of other club members jammed together in the bar. He was really, really good.

  “Everyone out back?”

  “No, Ink,” Lana said in a snippy voice. “Everyone clearly is not out back because we’re right here. Four of us. Women. You know,females.”

  Ink grinned at her. “That time of month, huh, babe? Feelin’ your pain.”

  He ducked when she threw a bag of pasta at him. They could hear his laughter as he joined the other men outside. Maestro put his hands in the air in surrender and followed him.

  “Idiot,” Lana huffed under her breath. “I’m going to run off to another state for a while. On my own. I need to get out from under them.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Alena volunteered.

  “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not leaving me with all of them,” Blythe said. “They barely have manners. At least you two have them semi-tamed. Without you around to keep them in line they’d go rogue on us. You can just stick it out and help me.”

  Lana and Alena exchanged a long look and then burst into laughter. “You’re hard up if you think we’re the answer to helping you teach them manners. We don’t know any better than the boys.”

  Anya could listen to them talk all day. The camaraderie was something she’d never experienced. The shared laughter. They had a past together. They had a future. Just from the way they spoke to one another, she could tell the three women would always be friends. She wanted that. She craved being a part of something. She wanted friends, a home, a family most of all. Getting those things seemed to be so much harder than she’d ever imagined.

  She’d never considered that a biker club could be about family. She’d lived on the streets and run into all kinds of people, most just trying, like her, to survive. Many had run from their families, couldn’t find their way back to them, but wished they could. She watched parents dropping their children off at school, hugging them, purchasing clothing and food for them and longed for that in her own life. She’d never considered a man like Czar, so remote and distant, would do those same things for his children—and when he couldn’t one of his brothers was doing it for him.

  She
looked out the window, watching the twins chase little Emily around the yard and then lift her up to their shoulders. They brought her right into the circle of men and each one greeted her, teased her, talked to her like she mattered. “Preacher mentioned you had four children,” she said, still watching the child. She envied her. She wanted that for her children as well. No shelters. She couldn’t imagine these men turning their backs on that child if something happened to Czar and Blythe.

  “We do. We have three girls and one boy,” Blythe said. “The three girls are sisters. Darby is the oldest, and she’s amazing with her sisters, although she and Kenny argue a lot. I think they both want the other to concede they’re the top dog.” She laughed softly as if their arguing was funny rather than annoying.

  “We brought Kenny home to Blythe,” Alena confessed. “He was in a bad way, but she took him in immediately. It’s a wonder what she’s accomplished with him.”

  Anya had no idea what they were talking about, but she wanted to hear more. Clearly Blythe hadn’t given birth to the four children, but watching Czar with them and hearing the love in Blythe’s voice, she knew those children were theirs. They loved them as much as any birth parent could.

  “Darby doesn’t think so. She’s after him all the time to study. They’re at Airiana’s house right now. It’s just down the road. They go to school there. Zoe’s with them.” She frowned. “Our Zoe is still having nightmares. We’ve got her in counseling, but so far …” She broke off, shaking her head. “I think it’s good for her to be with Airiana’s children. They talk about what happened to them among each other at times. Darby says she thinks that’s helping Zoe a little bit.” She looked straight at Anya. “They were all victims of human trafficking. Airiana’s children, other than her new baby, and other than Emily.” There were tears in her eyes.

  “Blythe.” Alena’s voice was soft. Gentle. Caring. It was the first time Anya had ever heard those notes in her voice. “I see them now, and I saw them then. You’ve done wonders for them. They love it here, and most importantly, they feel safe.”