Judgment Road (Torpedo Ink 1)

"You're starting a restaurant?" Anya asked. She'd seen the large building that had finally been completed. It had banks of windows, but inside, when she'd stopped to look, there was nothing on the walls or floors.

"I love to cook. I thought it would be fun to have a place to actually cook and have someone eat what I make besides my monster brothers who would eat anything and call it good."

Alena's voice was carefully casual. Anya could see the restaurant meant a lot to her.

"We've come to a standstill, because the interior is mine to figure out and I have no idea what I want. Ice and Storm told me to just hire someone, but then it's really not mine. I thought just talking it out would give me ideas, but so far, nothing. The building just sits there, after costing the club so much money."

"Babe." Czar's voice was gentle. "Stop that. That money is all of ours. We're golden right now, so no worries on how long it takes. You want it to be yours, do it your way."

"Thanks, Czar." Alena sent him a small smile.

"Won't hurt if Anya takes a look," Reaper said, volunteering her.

She would have volunteered herself a minute earlier because she felt Alena's genuine distress, but now that Reaper had done it she wanted to throw something at him. She was leaving. She'd made up her mind. She didn't belong in this world no matter how much certain aspects of it appealed to her.

"Would you mind, Anya?" Alena asked.

Anya wasn't certain whether Alena was trying to make up for the two-sizes-too-small tank, or really wanted her opinion, but she didn't have much choice. "Of course I'd love to look at it. I've stopped a few times and peered through the window because the building is so cool."

The foundation was cut out of the hillside, high enough to give a view of the ocean, and behind it the hillside was terraced. Already the plants were beginning to grow up, taking the shape of a wild garden one could see through the banks of glass. It wasn't huge, but gave a more intimate vibe, as if it was a secret place one might stumble on and enjoy with friends, someone special or family.

The club bought and employed locally if they could. They had a good relationship with Inez at the grocery store in Sea Haven and were in talks with her to open a smaller version in Caspar for the locals. The small town already had the new garage and tattoo shop. Both were building a reputation for good service and excellent work. The bar was doing extremely well, and on Friday and Saturday nights, there was live music. Maestro, Keys, Player and Master played. They were looking for a vocalist, but wanted the right one. Now, if Alena had her way, they'd have a restaurant.

Reaper and Czar left, and the women immediately began to prepare the food in earnest. While the potatoes and boiled eggs were cooling in the refrigerator, Blythe chopped up dill pickle and black olives to add into the salad. Lana and Alena quickly put the rest of the ingredients for the pasta salad together while the spiral noodles were cooling. Anya sliced the onions.

"I can shape the burgers," she offered. "I don't mind."

"Let the men do it," Blythe said. "Czar knows there's only a few of us and we can't cook for all of them without help all the time. It won't hurt for them to learn to help out in the kitchen. Czar's always helped me. Sooner or later, those men are going to find women that they want to spend their lives with. When that happens, I want them to be at least partially civilized. Otherwise, I'm going to have a few complaints on my doorstep."

Anya looked up, puzzled. "I keep missing parts of the conversation. Why would you get complaints if the men aren't acting civilized?"

Lana laughed. "She's Wendy. You know, Wendy from Peter Pan. Alena read this article about how some men are Peter Pan and never want to grow up and every Peter Pan needs a Wendy willing to surround herself with lost boys. She's our Wendy. Czar isn't Peter Pan because he's definitely grown-up . . ."

"I might argue if he was in the room," Blythe objected with a smile.

"But the rest of us are her lost boys. Alena and I included. She's the one we all go to. She collects lost children too."

"Um. No. You bring them to me," Blythe corrected.

"But you take them in," Alena pointed out. She blew Blythe a kiss. "I was a total bitch, Anya, when I had to move in with Blythe and Czar. I was hurt pretty bad. Didn't think I'd live, didn't know if I wanted to. Blythe worked her magic. I can recommend her highly."

Blythe blinked back tears. "I love you, idiot. Stop making me feel all mushy. Let's get this food done or we'll have a rebellion on our hands."

Anya had felt safe in the kitchen with the women, but now she hesitated. She didn't want to go outside with all the club members. She knew most by sight, but they didn't really talk to her. Reaper was being nice for the moment, but that didn't mean he'd keep being that way. She wasn't certain what she was going to do with him.

Maybe he didn't know what to do with her, but it was clear, the club took in strays. That was most likely how he saw her. That, and he wanted her. She could see that in the way his eyes moved over her body. The way his cock was thick and long, unashamedly bulging in his jeans. He never attempted to cover up or hide it from her. She wished she could be like that. Like Czar and Blythe, who made no attempt to hide the way they felt about each other.

"Anya." Alena held out a bag. "Try one of these tops. I think they'll fit better. All three are for you. There are limited choices here, but these are our favorite brands."

Anya took the bag, murmuring her thanks. Blythe indicated a door off the kitchen. The bathroom was spacious and smelled fresh with a hint of lavender. Anya found she was reluctant to unbutton Reaper's shirt. It enveloped her body in his warmth. It even smelled faintly of him. She had to give it back to him, because the longer she had it on, the more she felt she belonged to him. Pulling off the tiny tank, she examined the other three shirts. The two tanks were Harleys, and the other one was a brand she didn't know.

She chewed her lip as she pulled that one over her head. It was black, tight; although it fit perfectly, it was daring. Cut-out shoulder and sleeves with three more cutouts down the front. The largest right above her breasts, a smaller strip over the top curves, and a much smaller one showing a hint between the two mounds. She'd definitely fit in. There was a black bra that would go with it, support, but not show. It was sexy enough to get Reaper's attention one way or the other, but not so slutty that she would feel like her breasts were spilling out in front of everyone.

She pulled it on and examined herself in front of the mirror. Definitely sexy. What was she thinking? Entice Reaper? She was already out of her league here. She caught the hem to pull it over her head when the door opened and he walked right in. She whirled around, shocked, her mouth open. She didn't know why she was shocked, but she was. He'd done it before. Lana and Alena had done it. The club members thought nothing of locks.

"Um, Reaper. I was changing."

"Thought you might be hiding." He stared at her, took another step into the room and shut the door behind him.

Her heart went crazy. God. She couldn't breathe. He took up the entire room, and she'd thought it was a fairly large bathroom. She took a step back and bumped up against the sink. "I'm not hiding." Her voice came out a whisper.

He stepped closer. Very close. His eyes dropped to the front of her top. "This one." He said it softly, but it was an order. His finger slid over her bare skin, tracing the tops of her breasts.

"It's a little racy."

He didn't say anything, but his gaze jumped to hers. As he stared into her eyes, the pad of his finger went to the second open strip, spreading heat. Flames danced over her skin. Air was trapped in her lungs. He was touching her with one finger. One. That was all, and he owned her. He terrified her with his intensity. At the same time, the temptation of dancing with the devil was so strong, there was no resisting.

His finger left the second strip and slid to the third one. He never once took his gaze from hers, yet he was accurate, as if he had memorized exactly where he could touch bare skin. This time his finger stroked down her bre

ast, tracing the swell, first on one side and then on the other. Her heart beat out of control. She had no choice but to let out her breath and then her breathing turned ragged. Labored.

Her sex throbbed. Clenched. Went more than damp. Went slick. Heat flared through her body. One finger. It was terrifying what he could do. She licked her lips, tried to think beyond the brutal pulsing in her body.

"This one," he repeated, making it a decree.

God. God. No one was going to save her from damnation; that was for certain. She nodded, although she didn't know if she could walk out there in front of all the club members dressed in such a sexy top. Lana and Alena wore them with ease, but she was no Lana or Alena.

The moment she nodded, his palm curved around the nape of her neck and he bent his head. She felt his breath. Warm. She closed her eyes, and his mouth was on hers. Her heart stuttered. She tasted beer. She tasted man. Then she was addicted, just like that, because he was there. Reaper. All commanding mouth. Hot as hell. Scorching. No hesitation. Not rough, like she expected, gentle, but totally in control of her. Leading her where he wanted to go, and he wanted to own her. To brand her. To make sure no one else would ever satisfy her. He accomplished all of it with his mouth moving over hers, his tongue sliding along hers.

One hand was at the nape of her neck, the other at her throat, his thumb sliding caresses over her soft skin while her heart pounded into his palm. His body wasn't touching hers, but she felt it, felt his heat like that of a furnace. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to because she was his prisoner, held there by his mouth, by his kiss. She had no idea anyone could kiss like that, or that a woman could be lost in a man, give herself to him, just with a kiss.

When he lifted his head, the terror was still there, maybe more so, her heart beating out of control. She knew she was lost, that he could take her over, that he would take her over. She had to remind herself that she didn't belong in his world and men like Reaper didn't stay. That her personality would never mesh with his. Sex was acceptable, but falling wasn't.

"Come on out of here." His voice was gruff.

It was difficult to find her voice. His hand was still on her nape, although the other reached to fiddle with her hair. The blue eyes remained on her face. "Um. Reaper. You just walked in again. This is a bathroom. I could have been on the toilet." That embarrassed her, but really, it had to be said. Even after the hottest kiss in the world. That should take the hotness factor down a peg or two for both of them.

He shrugged. "Everyone uses a toilet, Anya. No big deal." He turned and yanked the door open.

She caught up his shirt, the flannel, a security blanket just in case everyone stared at her and she couldn't take it. He took the shirt out of her hand and tossed it on the counter as they passed through the kitchen.

"I might need that. It turns cold fast here."

Reaper looked at her, took her hand and tugged until she followed him out the door. Heads turned. She should have known. She kept her chin up, but she didn't look at any of them. She kept her eyes on Blythe. If Blythe could function in this crowd of bikers, she could.

"Lana tells me you know how to do some fancy flair," Preacher said, handing her a beer as they approached the group.

She took the cold bottle from him, nodding. "It's just a fun little craft I used to work my way up through the bars to the big money." The moment the words left her mouth, she knew she'd disclosed too much. Far too much. What was wrong with her? They might be criminals. Okay, she was certain they were, but she couldn't tell them what she was running from. She didn't know them that well. Any of them. Not even Reaper. She'd come this far by keeping her own counsel.

"What are you doing slumming in a biker bar?" Czar asked, leaning his elbows on the back of Blythe's lawn chair.

She took a step away from Reaper and he caught her around her ribs, with one thick arm, just under her breasts and pulled her back to lock her tightly against his body. A claiming hold. She almost dropped her bottle of beer. Around her, the others gave one another looks she couldn't interpret. What the hell? Just because she hadn't seen him with anyone for the last month didn't mean he wasn't the resident hound dog. She'd seen the others, especially his brother, with women, so why hadn't she thought he was all over them?

A month of watching him didn't mean anything at all. He was too smooth. Too good at seduction. A touch. His mouth pure fire. Why did she ever imagine that she was special? What had given her that idea? The night before, he'd made it clear he didn't even like her. He'd called her a bitch and tried to get her fired. Now, suddenly, he was hot for her? It was sex. Pure sex. She had to keep her head in the game and her heart locked up tightly.

"You don't have to answer," Czar assured her. "You don't owe me an explanation."

Had she looked panicked? No, she'd just taken too long to answer him. She tried to shrug, to be just as casual as all of them. "I needed a change. Cities got old. I needed to breathe." That sounded good. It didn't explain her beat-up Honda or the campground, but he just said he didn't care if she didn't want to explain.

Reaper put his mouth next to hers as Czar straightened to go flip the burgers. "Better to stick to the truth, or just plain don't answer, than to lie."

She stiffened, tried to pull away, but his arm locked tight. He took another swig of beer, ignoring the tension in her.

"There's a chair right here," Blythe said, patting the one beside her.

"She's fine where she is," Reaper said.

Anya turned her head, one arm curving up and around, so she could put her hand behind his neck, looking affectionate. She put her lips against his ear. "She can answer for herself," she hissed, and bit his earlobe.

He didn't so much as flinch. He kept his arm around her body, caught her hair with his free hand, yanked her head back and took her mouth. This kiss was different. There was no gentle. This was rough. Hard. Wet. Fire poured down her throat. Not just fire. Magma. It felt like a volcano erupted and burst through her, spreading through her body, engulfing every nerve ending she had.

She felt him shift her in his arms, but her body burned for his and there was thunder in her ears. Blood pounded in her clit. His hands were on her bare skin, and she badly wanted to get to his bare skin. The roaring in her head was desperation. Need was intense. Brutal. So sharp and terrible she couldn't think straight.

Reaper walked her backward and voices faded. She found herself up against the side of the house, his hands cupping her breast, his thumb sliding over her nipple, brushing her with flames. His mouth devoured her. She heard herself give a little sob of need and then his mouth was on her, and the world felt like it exploded. Fireworks. Colors burst behind her eyes. His tongue and teeth never stopped, and then his hand was opening her jeans and sliding down.

Through the loud drumming of her heart in her ears, that booming thunder, she heard the faint sound of a child's laughter. Instantly she caught his wrist and dragged air into her lungs so she could speak.

"We have to stop."

He lifted his head, looking into her eyes. "Not happening unless you don't want me." His hand slid farther into her jeans, one finger curling into her. "You're hot and slick, Anya. Tell me you don't want me."

She looked around. They were on the side of the house away from the others. Foliage shrouded them, but she still didn't want to take the chance that Emily might walk up on them. She was a little ashamed that she would have gone for it even if the others were around, taking the chance, but not with a child.

"Emily."

Immediately he jerked his hand out of her jeans and licked his finger. "We're getting out of here."

God. Yes. She'd go anywhere with him.

SIX

Anya ducked into the kitchen to retrieve Reaper's shirt on the pretense that she needed it to stay warm on the back of his bike. It kept her from having to face anyone. Neither spoke as they hurried out, but right before she climbed on behind him, he caught the front of her shirt and kissed her again. Another blinding, fie

ry kiss that melted her stomach and had her kissing him back with everything she was. Giving herself to him completely. She hadn't known she could kiss like that. She hadn't known anyone could kiss like that.

She slipped behind him, her arms tight, and they were on the road, the big bike vibrating like a monster between her legs. One of his hands dropped to cover both of hers, pressing them tightly into his waist, the moment they were back on Highway 1. She couldn't have said how long it took to get back to the compound. The ride was a haze of need. Of dark, carnal desire. It pulsed between her legs, blood pounded in her clit and roared in her ears.

He had her off the bike and was dragging the flannel over her head as he pulled her toward the building, bunching it in his hand. He had the new top off by the time they hit the common room. She barely noticed that the two newer prospects were sitting at one of the tables, but Reaper did. He grunted something to them, reached down and caught her, tossing her over his shoulder and striding to the room he'd allowed her to stay in.

She caught at the hem of his colors, holding tight, her heart pounding. He kicked the door shut and tossed her on the bed and threw the flannel into the corner. Putting one knee on the bed, he reached for her shoes. She couldn't breathe, the need was so strong. His face was dark, cut with harsh lines of pure carnal lust. That took any breath she had left in her lungs away. She'd never seen him any way but in complete control.

His hands were strong as they peeled away her jeans and panties in one swift motion, leaving her sprawled out on the bed, naked except for her bra. Dropping to his knees at the end of the bed, he dragged her body to him, using her ankles. She had no chance to do anything to prepare. He jerked her thighs wide, tossed her legs over his shoulders, and his mouth was there. Right where she needed it the most.

She bucked, the world exploding, fragmenting as the orgasm rushed over her that fast. He didn't stop. He didn't even seem to notice. He devoured her. Ate her. Took complete control of her body so that she felt helpless against the onslaught of his mouth and teeth and tongue. He knew exactly what he was doing and he gave it all to her, so much that her mind turned to mush, so that there was no thinking person, only a wild, out of control woman, head thrashing back and forth on the sheets and her hips riding his mouth.