Scarlet closed her eyes briefly. Of course that would be something men like Absinthe and the others would do. After what they’d been through, they would detest anyone who trafficked in children or men or women. She took a slow drink of the cool water, letting it slide down her burning throat. She had never expected anything remotely close to what Absinthe was telling her. Not even remotely.
In Thailand, she’d lived with a Russian, Adrik Orlov, for a year. Rather, she trained with him, cleaned his home and cooked for him. She had her own tiny place on his property. She suspected he also had been from one of those schools, obviously not the same as the one Absinthe had been in, but one of the others. His brutal training methods made much more sense now. At first, he had been horrible, but she had persevered, determined to learn everything she could from him. Once he saw she would stick with him, he hadn’t been quite so inhumane. She had bruises and he’d broken her arm once and on two occasions her ribs, but she’d turned up for training and he’d been the one to call it off, not her.
“Once we took that down, we came here to the coast to find Czar’s wife, Blythe. It took a bit to set things right with her. They took in some children from the trafficking ring with no relatives and then another boy we found when we stopped another pedophile. So we ended up setting up the club here. All of us bought homes and started businesses here. We’d like to make this our permanent residence. We’re very careful with all the locals including law enforcement to keep everything good. We want to raise our families here.”
“You’re serious?”
He picked up his water bottle, broke the seal on the cap and took a healthy swallow. “Very serious. I have a house I’d like you to take a look at. You don’t like it, we can sell that one and look at others.”
She sat back in the chair and regarded him with a small frown. “You’re moving way too fast, Absinthe. We’ve had two dates. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”
“Actually, I do. That’s going to get us to the me-pissingyou-off part.”
“Don’t piss me off yet.” Scarlet hated to admit it, but she had to use the bathroom. She’d driven all the way from Sonoma and now she was chugging water down so even though she wanted to hear everything he had to say, it had to wait. “I need to go inside and find the restroom.”
“Small place, babe. I think you’ll see it right away.” Absinthe stood anyway and walked with her inside, his fingers tangling with hers.
He was right. It was a small coffee shop, but obviously popular. All the tables inside were taken as well, but not by Torpedo Ink members. That didn’t surprise her. None of them seemed the indoor type to her, especially in close quarters. She went straight to the bathroom, grateful it wasn’t in use.
The roar of pipes was very loud through the open window even over the sound of running water as she washed her hands. There hadn’t been eighteen members of Torpedo Ink sitting at the tables, so maybe the rest of Absinthe’s club had come to join them. Still, just the sound of the motorcycles made her tense up. She couldn’t help herself and she needed to get over that if she was really going to make a real effort at a life with him—and she wanted to. This was her one chance with a man who would match her in everything she needed or wanted. Everything. They might have a million issues to work out, but every single one would be well worth the effort.
Before Absinthe got to the part where he pissed her off, she had to do some confessing of her own. He had definitely told her things about himself he wouldn’t have told to just anyone. She had to learn trust all over again. The way her parents had died had shaken her belief in them and in their love for her. She’d lost faith that anyone could actually love her. That was really at the heart of her issues. Not only did she feel the guilt of her sister’s death weighing her down, but she didn’t believe anyone could ever really love her. If her own parents couldn’t stay alive for her and see her through Priscilla’s rape and death, if they blamed her, how could anyone else really love her? Wasn’t a mother’s love unconditional at least?
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her green eyes stared back at her. She’d come into the room believing she had a chance with Absinthe, and just that quickly she’d talked herself out of it. She had to stop and grab at life with both hands while she had the chance. If she didn’t, if she was a coward, the chance wouldn’t come around again.