Vengeance Road (Torpedo Ink 2)

Now that he knew Zane existed, he would move heaven and earth to get the boy back, and he’d learn to be a good father. He was eager to be a father. He couldn’t imagine what that would be like, but already, just knowing Zane was out there, he felt connected. Bonded to him without ever having laid eyes on him. Just as he had a point-by-point plan to win his lady back, he had an equally well-thought-out plan to get his son back. And he would. There was no question in his mind. No room for failure in either endeavor.

Maestro and Keys carried the groceries up the walkway to the house. A fountain was on, and the sprays of water erupting into the air looked like diamonds as they landed in the circle surrounded by a wide swath of white flowers set among dark green leaves. Stonework and wide white stairs led up to a landscape of plants, trees and small expanses of lawn.

Breezy let him take her hand and tug her up to the front door, which Maestro had left open for them. The floors were white oak and travertine. They gleamed as if they’d just been put in. Light fixtures and chandeliers were brand-new throughout the house. All the chandeliers were blown glass. Lissa, Casimir’s wife, was a very famous glassblower who had earned quite a reputation, first in Europe and then in the United States. Of course she had made a fellow Torpedo Ink member first priority. He particularly loved the chandeliers.

“The way the house is set, we have the best view of the ocean from this side on all three levels. There are five complete bedroom suites. There’s a home office, which I need, but if you want one, we can allot one of the rooms for you. Each of the suites has views and balconies. There’s open social spaces.”

“Social spaces?” Breezy echoed faintly, looking at him like he’d grown horns. “Steele . . .”

“I know, at first glance, it looks like too much house. When we were choosing homes, Czar made it plain to choose something we’d be comfortable in. This has a temperature-controlled wine and cigar room.”

She frowned up at him and then blinked, those long lashes fanning her cheeks. “Do you even drink wine? Do you smoke cigars?”

He grinned down at her. “No. But that doesn’t matter. It’s just fuckin’ cool. There’s an indoor home spa, Bree, with heated floors, a steam room and a quick-fill tub. That doesn’t include the outdoor one. There’s a home gym you might like too. The best is the master suite. I can’t wait for you to see that.”

He took her farther into the house. She was staring all around her, looking at the ceilings with recessed lighting and wide-open spaces. The floor-to-ceiling windows were really movable pocket electronic doors that brought the outside inside. When they were open, one had access to an extremely large patio with an infinity-edge pool and spa, a fireplace, a built-in barbecue, a covered dining area and the lawn.

She stood at the glass staring out, looking as if she might faint. “Steele, this isn’t real. No one has a home like this. Maybe a movie star or someone like that, but you’re in a club.”

“We’re in a club, Bree, and this is really ours.”

“I work in a diner. I couldn’t afford the electricity on a place like this, let alone help with a mortgage payment. Does being a doctor really make you that kind of bank?”

“Baby, we own it outright.”

“The Swords didn’t have this kind of money.” She shook her head and stepped away from him, nearly pressing her nose to the glass, staring at the backyard with wonder.

“They had the biggest human trafficking ring in the world, Breezy. They had money. Their president was a fucking billionaire. We took his money too.”

She was silent. He watched her closely. She looked pale, but her shoulders were straight. She used to hunch a little. He had continually told her to stand up straight when they were together, especially around her father and brother. Now she did that all on her own. She was absorbing everything he said to her—with the exception of the “we” he kept throwing in. He did that on purpose, knowing the more she heard it, the more accepting she would eventually be.

“That’s a good thing, then. I hope you broke their backs.”

“We did. And Code keeps his eye on them. Anytime they try to reestablish those pipelines, or they kidnap fresh girls, we take that shit apart as well. We sub some of the work out if they’re in states too far for us to ride to.”

She turned toward him. “Sub it to who? Steele, I really am not understanding any of this. Who exactly are all of you? Where did you come from?”

At last. He’d been waiting for genuine interest. She wanted to know. That was step number two. Getting her was step one. That had been the trickiest because he knew she would be royally pissed at him and she’d equate him taking her prisoner with a club. He knew few clubs would have done such a thing, but it was ingrained in Torpedo Ink members to get what they needed at any cost to others. Blythe was trying to help them find a way to appear to assimilate into society, but all of them knew they would be forever living on the fringes.

Phase one was complete. Phase two was in progress. He had to seduce her first, get her in his bed, make certain she was mellow and on board and then he’d talk to her about the difficult subjects, things he wished he didn’t have to explain but knew were necessary to address if they were going forward in a relationship—and they were. It was a good battle plan, but there were quite a few things that could go wrong.

“You good?” Maestro asked. “The security system is up and running, groceries are put away and you’ve got the place mostly to yourselves. We’ve taken a couple of the suites. There’s a kitchenette and the home theater we’re using, so give us a shout if you need us.”

Breezy’s face showed her panic at the idea of being alone with him. Steele immediately stepped between her and the other two men. “We’re good,” he assured.

Maestro saluted him, and the two men sauntered off, leaving him alone with Bree at last. He took her hand and led her away from the panels of floor-to-ceiling glass so he could show her the rest of the house. He took her up the winding staircase. It was wide, the stairs curving around to the second floor.

Unlike most of the other members of Torpedo Ink who had purchased homes in Caspar, Steele had furnished his. Why, he had no idea, because he didn’t actually stay there. He had bought this particular home because he loved the outside, the views and the master bedroom, but more importantly, he knew when he found Breezy, she would love it.

The suite was enormous, and he needed the space. Lots of it. He had spent so much of his time in confinement that he couldn’t take closed-in places. He liked to be able to see what was coming at him long before it reached him. The house was mainly white, ivory or a light gray, making it aesthetically pleasing to him.

The bedroom had a gas fireplace with a long row of flames. The television was recessed into the darker stone above the thick white stone surrounding the built-in fireplace. The throw rug was white with gray accents. He especially loved the view from the huge window and glass door leading to the balcony. The room also had a frameless, stand-alone shower and tub and his and her closets that someone could live in. The frameless shower was a large rectangle made of glass. The sprawling views were tremendous in almost every direction.

He indicated the shower. “I fuckin’ love that.”

For the first time, a ghost of a smile touched her mouth. He watched her eyes dance for just a moment.

“You would. You have a thing about wearing clothes.”

“That’s true.” He caught her hand and dragged her to the large window that took up nearly one wall. “Look at this view. Nothing like it, unless you’re outside in the backyard.”

She pressed herself up against the glass, staring, just as he knew she would. The view was spectacular. “Oh my God,” she whispered in awe.

Steele removed his colors and put them on the table beside the bed. While she was staring out, looking at the wide expanse of ocean, the waves crashing and rolling, he sank down onto the bed and r

emoved his motorcycle boots and socks.

“I can’t believe you own this, Steele.”

He came up behind her, sliding one hand under her jacket and shirt so that his palm covered bare skin. He was a master at seduction. Every Torpedo Ink member was. It was what they’d been raised from birth to do. Seduce. Kill. They had complete control of their bodies. They also controlled the body of their chosen victim—or partner.