Vengeance Road (Torpedo Ink 2)

“A man hits my woman, that’s a dead man. If she kept it from me and I found out after the fact, ten hours, ten days or weeks or years, she would be a very unhappy woman for a long time. I would make my point, Steele, the first time, so I never had to make it again.”

“I get that. But I could have chosen a different way to make my point. Breezy isn’t the type of woman to do things just to piss me off. She thought she was doing right.”

Savage shrugged his broad shoulders. “Doesn’t matter, her motivation. She put herself in danger and didn’t tell you. That’s not ever going to be okay, and you know it. Hell, Steele, I want to go down there and shake some sense into your woman. She’s ours. Torpedo Ink’s. The minute she became your old lady, he had no right to touch her. Pisses me off.”

Savage turned away but continued talking. “We have a code we all live by. It’s what keeps us all alive and safe. We bring a woman in, she lives by that same code. She doesn’t, she endangers all of us as well as herself. You have to shut that shit down fast.”

Savage didn’t look pissed off. He looked scary as hell. Overhearing the conversation, Preacher took his eyes from the binoculars and turned to look at them. Transporter did the same. Even Ink blinked and glanced their way.

“What the hell did Breezy do? Who touched her?” Transporter demanded. “And how?”

Maestro had come up on the roof behind them, handing water to Preacher. He raised an eyebrow at Steele. “Someone hurt our girl?”

Steele nodded. “Back when we rode with the Swords. Breezy told me Bridges beat her every month because she wasn’t doing what he wanted, getting him in good with us. She didn’t tell me because she was afraid for me. Hit her in the stomach so I wouldn’t see the marks on her. She’d say it was cramps.” But he would have known better if he’d taken the time with her that he should have. That was on him.

There was a shocked silence. He didn’t know if they were all shocked because Breezy had hidden it from him or because Bridges was that reckless and stupid—or because he hadn’t known. Steele would have killed her father had he known. All of them knew that with certainty.

His jaw hardened. A muscle ticked there. He was getting fired up all over again, feeling the gathering rage pouring off the others that someone dared lay a hand on one of their women.

“She hid it from you?” Maestro echoed, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

Steele nodded. “Yeah. Pissed me off but made me all the prouder of her.”

“The woman never lacked for courage,” Transporter said. “Everyone knew that. Never could understand what was wrong with the men in that club. I guess when you traffic women you lose sight of what’s important because you rot from the inside out.”

“She know never to do that shit again?” Ink asked, his gaze back to the sky, following the path of the birds until the hawk chose a tree at the back of the house to settle in.

“She does,” Steele assured.

“Hope you reinforced that with a good lesson in what a man does when his woman fucks up,” Maestro said, anger shimmering in his voice.

“He’s pussy whipped,” Savage stated.

“Can’t deny it,” Steele admitted, in no way offended. His woman probably needed him right now to go down to her and wrap his arms around her. He was torn by that. It would only take a moment or two to reassure her and maybe apologize. Maybe he’d scared her. But wasn’t that the point? Hell. He was going to have to ask Blythe what he should have done.

Preacher grinned at him and settled back onto the roof. “I like your woman, Steele. She’s got courage.” He took a slow drink of water and put the binoculars back to his eyes. “Lana’s making her circle, coming back around toward the target. She’ll slow the boat some distance away, drop anchor and sunbathe. Mechanic will listen in for us, see if he can catch anyone talking.”

“Who’s on Breezy?” Steele asked Maestro immediately.

“Keys is with her. She’s in the kitchen fixing food. She fixes any more food and we’re going to have to roll ourselves to the bikes to get home.”

“You could actually skip a meal,” Transporter said. “Leave more for the rest of us.”

“I’m eating for Ice and Storm,” Maestro pointed out. “Someone has to do it when they aren’t around.” He toed Steele. “Your woman is nearly as good a cook as Alena, and that’s saying something.”

Steele nodded. “She is. She likes cooking. I was thinking I’d get a chef for us, but she seems to like to have the kitchen to herself, and it’s one less outsider. Don’t want to shock the poor bastard by eating her out on the counter in front of him.”

“Smart,” Transporter said. “Knowing you, a stranger looked too long at your woman, you’d slit his throat.”

Steele sighed. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve evolved very far. I’d hate to kill the chef. It might become a habit. After losing a few of them, Harrington and Deveau would show up asking questions. They still coming to the bar, Preacher? Asking about those bikers and hit men disappearing?”

“Not for a couple of weeks, but they’re keeping an eye on the place,” Preacher answered, but most of his attention was directed at the backyard pool and cabana area as well as the boat that had dropped anchor a good distance away.

“Czar was going to talk with Deveau,” Steele told the others. “He wanted to make certain Jackson was warned the Swords were making another play.”

“They aren’t going to stop coming at him,” Maestro said. “Or us. We just have to hit them hard every time and keep them weak.”

“That’s a good argument to patch over this other club,” Steele said, “then we’ve got twice the firepower against the Swords and any other enemy. They still don’t know who we are or where we are, but if Breezy found us through process of elimination, the Swords could. By now, Code has all kinds of dope on the chapter. Gavriil did an investigation before he brought us the idea. I’d like to know we’ve got more brothers watching out for those scumbags.”

“The Swords are used to their women doing their dirty work,” Transporter pointed out, contempt dripping from his voice. “They think it makes them stronger to have their women prostitute for them and carry their drugs, but in the end, it weakens them. What the fuck do they do all day? Sit around the clubhouse drinking, doing drugs and getting a beer belly.”

“You talking about me?” Maestro demanded, patting his flat washboard stomach.

“You’re eating twice as much as the rest of us,” Transporter

shot back.

“I’m taller than all of you. I’ve got more to fill up just from sheer size alone,” Maestro pointed out.

Steele shook his head. They were all crazy, but it was a good crazy.

“I’m with you, Steele,” Savage said suddenly. “I like the idea of bringing others on board. Gavriil was talking to Czar the other day, and he pointed out that there were four schools. We had it the worst, but the others had it bad as well and they were trained in the art of assassination, using every means possible. They had to go through similar trials. There are quite a few of our brethren out there. Men who survived the training and the missions and, later, Sorbacov’s purging when he tried to kill every single one of us and sweep us under the rug. The more men we have that we can count on, the stronger we’re going to be.”

Steele nodded. “I agree. I think we need to bring them in slow though. The Diamondbacks are definitely going to protest if they see our numbers growing, especially if it’s done too fast.”

“Lana’s making her show,” Preacher announced. “She’s laid out her towel and pulled off her suit and she’s pinning up her hair, making certain if anyone in that house is looking, they’re seeing something worth getting a closer look.” His rifle was inches from his hand. He was fast, and more importantly, he didn’t miss. He was all business with a rifle.

Immediately the attention went to the lake, and then to the backyard of the Abernathy estate. Lana stood in the boat, body swaying with waves, making a show of smearing suntan lotion over her skin. She paid a lot of attention to her breasts, rubbing in the lotion and then placing one foot up on the cab so she could spread it over her leg. She concentrated on making certain every inch of her front was covered before she lay down on the towel and put her sunglasses on to cover her eyes.

“Nice, Lana,” Maestro said. “You’re going to get skin cancer.”