She flashed him a grin that said he’d missed out. His cock jerked hard at that mischievous grin. He could fall hard for her. He thought maybe he already had. Six weeks staring at her and she’d cast her spell.
“He was deaf the first few years of his life and then they operated on him, but he’s had trouble hearing sounds correctly and so has been slow reading and identifying words. He fell behind and she can’t help him because she works nights and isn’t home with him.”
Scarlet shrugged again but he had the feeling she wasn’t as casual as she tried to sound. She was upset on the boy’s behalf.
“He puts in the time, but he needs a tutor. I work with him after hours sometimes and he’s catching up now. He’s getting it.”
He knew immediately she was tutoring him as well as working with him in the library. He didn’t bother asking but knew she didn’t get paid for it. She didn’t want him to ask. He liked her all the more for it. He dipped his bread into oil and balsamic. “I’m glad the kid’s picking it up and that he wants to learn. That’s really what it takes, the desire.”
“You know what I do—the library. What do you do?”
He made a point of sighing. “I was afraid you’d ask. It’s very boring. I’m an attorney.”
She stiffened. She tried not to, but she did. He could see she had a major aversion to anyone with his particular career choice. He thought perhaps that would gain him some points, but he just lost any advantage he might have had.
“Hate it. Don’t work much. Looking for another career. Kind of fell into it because I like to debate but feel like criminals always get off and no justice is ever served. So I’m kind of a lousy attorney.” He kept his voice low and pushed a little persuasion into it. Just the slightest bit to see the effect on her. She was different. He’d noticed that right away when he was with her in the library just observing her, and then later when he would ask for various books.
She was susceptible to his voice, and yet he could see she could build a resistance fairly quickly to things, she reacted so fast. He wasn’t going to let her find a way to stop his subtle influence on her until he had already managed to get her to fall completely under his spell. He intended to put everything he had into this war and win. She already admitted she had a fast learning curve. She had gifts, the same as he did, and they were strong in her, already developed. He had to be cautious. This was one war he was determined to win.
Scarlet visibly relaxed a little, taking a breath, studying her bread before she took another bite and washed it down with a sip of water. “What kind of lawyer are you?”
He shrugged. Now that was a very good question. He was whatever he had to be. In the days of specialization, Code’s paperwork was invaluable. Absinthe’s ability to devour law books and keep up with the latest on whatever was needed for Torpedo Ink was equally as valuable. “I’m kind of a jack-of-all-trades, the fill-out-papers, boring kind of work.”
She relaxed even more. “Do you have your own practice?”
He nodded. “I get by. It’s not my passion though.”
“What is?”
He wanted to say he’d walked into the library and found it, but he knew that wasn’t going to fly. “Books. Languages. The written word. Dead languages. History. Art. Martial arts from around the world. Legends. Weapons. Poetry.” That was all true. He didn’t bother to hide the enthusiasm because he actually felt it and that was who he was. If he wanted the real her, she had to want the real him.
A slow smile spread across her face. “You are an amazing man. I can’t imagine you as a lawyer.”
“Neither can I,” he agreed. “I should have been a librarian, although I did volunteer in a library once. I read all the books and then had to quit.” That was sort of true. He worked there, read as many of the books as possible, assassinated a member of the ministry and then returned to Sorbacov’s hellhole. That had been in Russia. “Do you like the outdoors?”
She nodded and looked up as the waiter returned to place a salad in front of her and then one in front of Absinthe. The waiter stood a little too close to Scarlet and she shifted in her chair slightly, edging away from him. She waited until he was gone before she spoke.
“I actually prefer to be outdoors if the weather’s good. Well,” she hedged, “sometimes I find the most amazing places and take a book when it’s storming just to be outside when it’s raining. I love storms.”
She was perfection. Who knew that it was possible to have a woman be perfection for him? He didn’t think it was. He hadn’t thought one was made for him. He could look at her all day. He knew he could because he had. He’d sat in the library and studied every single inch of her body. She was clothed, but often, her clothing was tight and moved with her body and he had mapped every curve, every valley, every sweet inch of her that he could.
“I really love storms as well. I particularly love to sit above the ocean and watch the storms move in while the waves rise up to meet the lightning. There’s something very freeing in the wildness of it.”
She regarded him over a forkful of romaine lettuce. “That’s poetic, Aleksei. I haven’t experienced that, but now I want to.”
“What about motorcycles? How do you feel about them?”
Scarlet took a sip of her water and then smiled up at the water boy who rushed to fill her glass. It was already mostly full. Absinthe thought the boy just wanted an excuse to be closer to her. He couldn’t blame the kid. Even the waiter was trying to find excuses to visit their table. He didn’t have to like it though—and he didn’t. The boy he didn’t mind. She didn’t either. The waiter was a different story. He actually seemed to brush his body up against Scarlet’s when he got close to her. Absinthe had never been a jealous man, but then he’d never had a reason to be jealous. He wanted her attention centered on him, which was childish. He was a grown man and very confident. He didn’t whisper “Go away” to either of the two servers, but he thought it.
“I take it you like motorcycles.”
“You could say I’m passionate about motorcycles. I love the freedom of riding on them. The way the road opens up and you become part of the world around you. You can’t get that in a car or truck. Even a convertible doesn’t give you that same feeling of being part of the landscape and highway around you as you ride. You can see everything. The road stretches out in front of you and it’s like the entire world is yours to see.”
“You make riding motorcycles sound very different than I ever thought about them.”
“What did you think about them?” He braced himself. Most people were very judgmental about motorcycles and the men and women who rode them. He was prepared for her poor opinion and knew he’d just have to work to change her mind.
She took off her glasses for a moment, blinking at him with her vivid green eyes. She had very long lashes, reddish-gold tipped with more gold. For some reason just looking at those lashes framing her large eyes made his cock come to life all over again. She had no idea what that meant when it was unheard of. The men of Torpedo Ink, his brothers, commanded their cocks. Women didn’t do that. Nature didn’t do that. The reality was, the ability had been beaten out of them so they could be trained to order their erections, to always be in complete control of every sexual response.
Until now. Until Scarlet Foley. The redheaded librarian complete with her black or purple or red square glasses framing her gorgeous eyes seemed to have taken command of his body. She was definitely his lady. His literaturnaya ledi, literary lady. He loved that she was as much into books as he was. That she loved the written word and she could read and comprehend what she was reading fast.
“I don’t know exactly. I haven’t been around motorcycles. I think I thought of them as death traps. One accident and bye-bye, brain.” She pushed her salad away. She’d eaten most of it. “You don’t like salad.”
He looked down at his plate. “It’s lettuce. Ruffled lettuce, but green all the same. Bugs thrive on this stuff.”
She burst out laughin
g and that dark place inside of him that was so solid nothing could penetrate it cracked. It just cracked like an iceberg. The sound of her laughter was incredible. Low. Soft. Intriguing. The tones played over his skin like the dance of fingers. He felt the brush of the notes on his chest and down his spine, the stroke of them on his cock and balls like caresses whispering over him. He wanted to close his eyes, all the better to savor the sensation. He had to file it away to take out later, but he knew he would never forget it. She had given that to him, just as she’d given him the first natural erection he could remember.
“So, you’re afraid of lettuce but not of motorcycles. I suppose, since you put your argument for riding motorcycles so eloquently, I’ll have to concede it sounds pretty awesome, as long as you ride with a helmet.”
“Babe, there’s a law in this state that makes that mandatory.”
The waiter arrived with their food, stepping very close to Scarlet so that when he bent to place her plate in front of her, his face was almost nuzzling her neck. She pulled her head immediately to the side, to get away from him, with a look of distaste. The move was almost reflexive.
“Step away,” Absinthe commanded, his voice low, but there was no mistaking the threat. He “pushed” blatantly, although no one would know. Only the waiter would feel it—and the threat that was all too real. “She doesn’t like you so close.”
The waiter immediately complied. There were very few people who didn’t comply when Absinthe used his voice at that level. It was rare and he was shocked that it came out so aggressively when the indiscretion had been a small one. There was silence as the man finished giving them their food. Once they were alone Absinthe reached across the table to gently cover her hand.
“I’m sorry, are you all right?” He removed his hand immediately before she could be the one to withdraw it. He wanted her to feel his touch, to be comforted, not offended by it.
“He just startled me, that’s all. I don’t like anyone I don’t know coming so close to me. It’s just a thing I have.”
“It’s not a bad thing to have, Scarlet. It’s called self-preservation. You’re a beautiful woman and men are going to find you very attractive. Most will just look. Others take advantage when they shouldn’t.”
“What do you do?”
“I ask you out and see if you’re interested.” He flashed a little self-deprecating grin. “I confess my worse sins, including not liking lettuce, and let you decide.” He was a fucking liar and he was going to burn in the fires of hell, but she was worth it.
She flashed him a smile and pointed to his steak. “Eat up before it gets cold. Do you actually own a motorcycle? Is that what you ride all the way from Caspar to here on? Because it gets cold, you know.”
It was his turn to laugh. They spent the next hour and a half talking and laughing together. He enjoyed every minute with her far more than he expected. He spent all of the time watching her every move, absorbing her as if he could just take her inside of him. It was interesting to be able to relax wholly in her company. He didn’t know why he didn’t worry about making mistakes with his voice, but he didn’t. He just felt at peace, the chaos in his mind receding until it was gone completely.
After dinner, he walked her to her car and told her he had a great time and he’d see her in a couple of days. She didn’t object or pull away when he brushed a light kiss across her forehead. Touching her skin was a mistake. Inhaling her scent was a mistake. Taking in her laughter and the poetry of her lyrics was even worse. It didn’t matter. He’d done it and he’d do again. She was his addiction now and he would return again and again. He hoped she felt the same about him.
He walked the two blocks to the parking garage where he’d left his Harley. Parked on either side were two other motorcycles, and sitting on them were two familiar men. Both wore Torpedo Ink colors and they were grinning at him.
Maestro tossed Absinthe’s vest to him. “You’ve been holding out on us.”
He had been. Absinthe caught his vest and shrugged into it, his colors fitting over his body like a second skin. “How long have the two of you been following me?”
Maestro and Keys exchanged a long, amused look between them. “About two weeks now,” Keys admitted. “We hung back, stayed up on the roof across from the library, just to make certain you were safe.” He shook his head. “Even if she’s yours, Absinthe, you know to be careful.”
“Especially if she’s yours,” Maestro corrected.
Absinthe nodded and slung his leg over his bike. The moment he did, most of the chaos that had been returning in him settled. His bike. His colors. His brothers. His little redheaded librarian. “Yeah. What blows the most is I wasn’t aware you were following me.”
“We only had to stay close the first time. After that, we knew where you were going. You like books. You like to hang out in libraries. We weren’t aware for the first week that the librarian was the big draw.”
There was a questioning note in Maestro’s voice. Absinthe nodded. “Yeah. She’s mine. I don’t have her yet. She’s somewhat of a mystery and I’m taking my time with that.” And enjoying it. He liked watching her. Uncovering her little secrets. Watching her with the teens that came in and the infinite patience she had with them.
She was attracted to him and shocked that she was. Shocked and a little embarrassed, yet at the same time, she wanted to go for it. He was certain she would have tried for a purely sexual relationship had he suggested it, but because he had asked her to dinner and kept it light, talking about himself and asking questions about her, pushing more for a relationship, she was confused and didn’t know exactly what to do.
“Code look into her yet?” Keys asked cautiously.
“No. Tonight was the first real contact I’ve had with her,” Absinthe said. “When I said I was taking it slow, I meant really slow. I would have lost had I gone too fast.”
Maestro’s head went up alertly. “You didn’t use any influence?”
Absinthe shook his head. “No, of course not. If she comes to me, I want it to be because she wants me as much as I want her. Something’s not quite right though. I did lift the fork she used tonight and got her prints. I also got a very good picture of her on my cell. Code should be able to give me the information I need if she needs protection, or if I do.”
He sent them a brief grin, but he wasn’t kidding. She had abilities. He was certain of it. He just didn’t want to give Code the opportunity to find out about her yet. He wanted to take his time and uncover her himself, one layer at a time. He knew he was giving them the impression he was turning over the fork and picture to Code immediately, but he didn’t intend to do it, not yet. He really did want to take his time with Scarlet.
“I’m just taking my time right now and enjoying myself.” That was the best he could do, give them the truth of it. They seemed to understand, both nodding.
“Let’s ride, gentlemen. It’s getting late and we’ve got a distance to go,” Keys said.
“She know you’re in a club?” Maestro asked.
Absinthe should have known he wasn’t going to get off that easily. He expected the question. “No. Not yet. I went into the library without my colors and kept it up. Didn’t tell her tonight. I had a feeling …” He trailed off. Why hadn’t he told her? He was Torpedo Ink. The club logo was inked into the skin of his back, but more importantly, he was part of his brothers and they were part of him. One didn’t work without the other. It was that simple. It always would be.
“A feeling?” Maestro prompted.
Absinthe shrugged. “I just had a feeling I shouldn’t. She’s skittish, and I’m not losing her. I’m reeling her in slow. Once I have her hooked, then I’ll tell her. I just need to set that hook in good.”
Maestro shook his head. “I hope to hell you know what you’re doing, man.”
Absinthe hoped so too.
TWO
“Who do we have watching outside?” Czar asked, indicating the door leading to the common room.
/> Savage was leaning casually against the inner door. He was a big man, with wide shoulders, narrow hips, a thick, muscular chest and glacier-cold eyes. He flicked a look at the president of Torpedo Ink. “Fatei,” he answered, naming the prospect they all respected the most. Fatei hadn’t attended the same school in Russia as they had, but he’d been in the next most difficult and he was a hardened, dangerous man.
Czar nodded and looked around the oval-shaped table. Including Czar, all eighteen of the original charter members of Torpedo Ink were seated for the meeting, along with Gavriil and Casimir, the two newer fully patched members. Both were Czar’s birth brothers, and both had attended one or more of the four schools in Russia Sorbacov had set up to train children to become assassins for their country.
Czar believed in getting right down to business. “The Diamondbacks have reached out to us and asked us to help them with, and I’m a quoting, a ‘small’ problem they have. According to them, the Venomous club has been encroaching on their territory just this side of Sacramento. They bought a strip club there they knew the Diamondbacks were in negotiations for. This is the third club they’ve moved on in the last few months and stolen out from under them, meaning the Diamondbacks didn’t offer enough money and gave the Venomous club the opportunity to take it. Again, according to the Diamondbacks, Venomous is running drugs, particularly heroin and cocaine, through these clubs. We know that the Diamondbacks have the territory and they aren’t partial to sharing or to having any other club come in and start cutting up their territory.”
“Interesting,” Code said. “I get notifications any time Jeff Partridge’s name shows up—he’s president of Venomous—and he was in a photograph on a realtor’s website in Fort Bragg. I just noted it and moved on. I’ll have to go back and pay more attention. The fact that he was photographed with a realtor out of Fort Bragg means they could be looking to buy something in this area. If that’s what he’s doing, they’d be encroaching on Diamondback territory in this county as well.”
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