Vengeance Road (Torpedo Ink 2)

“You’re avoiding every subject but the one we need to talk about.”

The lash of anger in his voice sparked her own. She wanted to swing around on the seat, put her boots up and slam them right into his chest. Drive them right through his black heart. She sat very still, blood thundering in her ears.

“You need to let me go. I’ve worked this all out. All I asked from you was to follow the plan. That’s it. In all this time, that’s all I’ve asked. I know you’re busy with your parties, Steele. That’s clear. But maybe this once, for a few days, you can skip getting drunk in order to be ready in case you’re needed. I’m going in first and taking all the risk. Maybe your three women can take turns giving you blow jobs and keep you happy while you wait to see if I get killed or not.”

He slammed on the brakes, gave her a hard look and jumped out of the cab. She watched him round the hood, toss the keys to one of the prospects and then he was yanking open her door. He caught her chin in hard fingers, forcing her head up so she was looking into eyes glittering with sheer anger. “If you think I’ll let you go into that hornet’s nest you’ve got another think coming. He’s my son. I’ll be the one going to get him.”

TWO

He had a son. Just saying it tore at Steele’s heart. More, he’d had a son with Breezy. His woman. The woman that he’d taken a thousand times in a thousand ways and still hadn’t gotten enough of. He knew he would never have enough of her. Touching her was always a mistake. Just now, with her face turned up to his, he wanted to slam his mouth down on hers and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.

That was the problem. That was the way he was. He liked certain things. He’d learned to like them from a very early age. He liked things his way. Always. He’d learned that as well from an early age. He’d been programmed, and as much as he knew, that was what it was; there was no going back from that programming, nor did he want to. He was used to deference and control. He was used to others doing what he said. As a doctor, his word was law. As a VP of the club, it was the same.

To say he’d been shocked when he read that letter was an understatement. Few things ever threw him, but that had. That had made him crazy. She’d been all alone. She’d never been away from the club or learned how to make decisions on her own. She hadn’t been able to, not with every order coming from her father or brother. Being out on her own for the first time, alone and pregnant, had to have been a nightmare for her.

Fear for her. For his son. Anger at himself. At the situation. Emotions boiled together, and Steele let go of Breezy’s face, caught her around the waist and pulled her out of the truck, easily tossing her over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes. She cried out, the sound like music to his ears when he’d wanted to shake some sense into her. He wanted to put her over his knee and spank the living daylights out of her, and not in an erotic way. Things tended to go down that road fast with the two of them. They burned long and hot. He felt her nipples pressing tightly against his back, two hard buds, telling him she was as aroused as he was just by being in close proximity. That and how aggressive he was with her. Her body responded to aggression whether she liked it or not. At least he wasn’t alone in his hell.

He stomped into the clubhouse, kicked the door closed behind him and put her down in the center of the common room. Savage tossed him a knife and Steele cut through the zip ties. Savage was one of the two Torpedo Ink enforcers. He had the sergeant at arms patch on the front of his vest. His head was shaved, he had blue eyes, cold as a glacier, and he looked every bit as dangerous as he was. He nodded at their prisoner but didn’t smile.

Breezy brought her arms in front of her and began massaging her wrists. Steele took her hands, using force when she tried to pull away, and examined both wrists for bruising or marks. Both were good, and he let her go.

“Breezy,” Czar greeted.

This was the president of Torpedo Ink, and she wasn’t at all surprised. She remembered him as the enforcer for her father’s chapter. He’d been scary then; he was even more so now. She remained very still, motionless, frozen like that mouse she often thought of herself as. From the time she was a toddler and her mother had run off after too many beatings and being passed around, or her father had sold her off, Breezy had been beaten for getting underfoot. She’d learned to stay out of her father’s way. Her brother had treated her with the same contempt. The other club members had followed their example.

Silence reduced the chances of beatings. The less she was noticed, the better for her. She kept her eyes as downcast as possible, when she was really looking around at her surroundings. Without all the men and women covering the floor, the place looked huge. Someone had thoroughly cleaned it. The floor gleamed and the room smelled fresh, completely different from what she’d found earlier.

“Steele shared the letter you left him with me,” Czar continued, waving her toward a chair. “I want you to tell us, step by step, everything that happened. Absinthe is going to sit next to you and hold your wrist.”

Her gaze jumped to Absinthe and then she stumbled toward the chair Czar had indicated. They had all the exits blocked. It was casually done, a man near each door, all watching her. She raised her gaze to Steele as she sank into the chair. It was high-backed, not uncomfortable, but she thought it rather telling that she wasn’t offered one of the really nice armchairs on the other side of the room.

Absinthe sank into a chair beside her. Her gaze jumped to him. He was like the rest of them, all muscle. He had one scar that curved along his jaw on the left side of his face, and his nose might have been broken more than once. His hair was blond and spilled across his forehead. That should have made him look young, but it didn’t. His eyes were different. Light. Almost like two crystals.

Breezy stretched her arm out and concentrated on the floor. She just wanted them to get the questions over with, so she could leave. Absinthe’s touch was very gentle. He circled her wrist with his hands, his fingers over her pulse. She knew her heart was racing and that scared her; she was afraid he would tell them she was lying when she wasn’t.

“You want to tell me the truth,” Absinthe said, his voice as gentle as his touch.

She thought that was an odd way to put it, but she had no intentions of lying to him. What would be the point?

“Breezy, do you have a son?”

She heard a gasp and looked up. The room went electric. Lana was there. Alena. They had ridden with the sixteen men during their time with the Swords and were always protected. Always. Their faces showed shock as did those of most of the men in the room. They’d all looked down on her because she was Swords. She’

d also been a whore and a mule, lower than some of the other patch chasers. Now, she was the mother of Steele’s son. That must make them all a little sick, Steele included.

“Yes.”

She saw their gazes all switch to Absinthe. He nodded. “Is he Steele’s son?”

“Yes.” She looked up at Steele. “You’re such a son of a bitch. I would never have come here if I didn’t need you to back me up. I didn’t ask for anything from you. Not one damn thing. You know I didn’t sleep with anyone else once we were together. That was you being the slut, not me.” She spat the accusation at him, furious that he would question her word that her son was his as well. Steele, as usual, wore an expressionless mask, making it impossible to see what he was thinking, but the question told her everything.

“Breezy,” Absinthe directed her attention back to him.

“Get it over with,” she snapped, clenching her teeth.

“Did your brother and father kidnap your son?”

“Yes. They did.”

“Had you had contact with them prior to that?”

“No.” She swallowed the lump growing in her throat and told herself to keep it together. Zane would be so frightened, and her father believed in hitting children until they couldn’t cry anymore. She knew from experience. “I worked in a diner in New Mexico. Someone spotted me there, at least that’s what Braden—you know him as Junk—told me.” She was so upset she couldn’t remember if they knew given names of club members. They were rarely used.

“You spoke to your brother?”

“They came in the middle of the night, broke in and took him.” Her voice cracked, and she pressed two shaky fingers to her mouth. She thought leaving Steele after the ugly things he’d said to her had been the worst that could happen. She’d been wrong. She turned her head to the right, toward Absinthe, and swept back her hair so he couldn’t fail to see the bruising beneath the makeup she’d applied. “There’s more. A lot more.”