Desolation Road

by Feehan, Christine

  “It’s going to be dark in the club when you go in with Savage, Destroyer,” Czar said. “How’s your night vision?”

  There was instant silence. The Torpedo Ink team had been working together since they were children. Bringing in another individual, no matter how skilled he was, could be dangerous to all of them. Savage had agreed to work with him as his partner.

  “Used to keep us blindfolded,” Destroyer murmured. His voice was slightly hoarse, as if somewhere along the line his throat had been damaged. “I spent a great deal of time alone so had time to practice listening for sounds. Became very accurate at finding rats scurrying in the cages with me. Could hit them precisely every time by my second year there. By my third year, I didn’t need eyesight.”

  There was no bragging. He didn’t look at any of them. He wore dark glasses most of the time. Absinthe had rarely seen him without those glasses. Up close, he was all muscle, but the kind of man that could move fast and strike hard. There was no wasted movement. When he was still, he was absolutely still. Like a mesmerizing cobra. Absinthe had the feeling that if he took off those glasses, his eyes could hypnotize his prey. He had scars everywhere. Far more numerous than those of the Torpedo Ink members—and that was saying a lot.

  “You aren’t eating,” Alena pointed out.

  Absinthe knew it cost her to even talk to the man. She didn’t want any part of him but when it came to food, she didn’t like anyone going hungry.

  “I can make it taste better. I know it’s pretty nasty,” she offered reluctantly. Destroyer was the only one who hadn’t handed his plate over to have her doctor it.

  Storm had stolen a large bowl of potato salad right out from under the noses of the Venomous club. He’d taken it off the back of one of the trucks when they were unloading. Ice had scored the plates and silverware while Alena had somehow gotten a few spices, pickles, olives and condiments.

  Destroyer shrugged. “No need. I’m used to crap food.”

  “Don’t be an asshole martyr,” Alena snapped and yanked the plate out of his hands.

  Absinthe had to turn away, hiding a smile. He noticed her brothers did the same. Destroyer might tower over her, but she didn’t back down from anyone. Not ever.

  “The other two daytime managers for the other clubs down there as well?” Czar asked, ignoring the byplay between his newest team member and Alena.

  Absinthe knew Czar never missed anything. He was well aware of the tension between them. Alena wasn’t happy Destroyer was a member of their chapter and Destroyer was well aware of it. He simply didn’t care. No one could survive the prison he’d been in for the years he had without becoming one tough, brutal being. He was an enigma.

  Absinthe had faith in the president of Torpedo Ink. Czar had never steered them wrong or misjudged anyone. He had personally vouched for Destroyer. That meant he knew more than the rest of them. He might not feel it was his right to share everything with them, but he believed in the man. That was enough for Absinthe. Clearly, it wasn’t for Alena and it might not be for some of the others. Destroyer would have to prove himself, although it looked as if he wasn’t in a hurry to make that happen.

  “Wings is there, just to the left of Jacko. He’s daytime manager for the Felix Club,” Savage identified.

  “Wings is reputed to have been the one to decide the fate of the woman they chose as their example for the other women to cooperate,” Absinthe said. “He came up with the punishment and wrote it all down step by step and sent it to the other managers so they’d all know exactly what to do when they took her. Code sent the emails to us. I read them and you know once I get that shit in my head, I can’t get it out.”

  He rubbed at his neck, wishing Scarlet was there. He’d left her with Steele’s team. He knew they’d guard her, but he didn’t like the separation, especially on the heels of their traumatic wedding night. They didn’t have the best start to their marriage, but she was sticking with him. He didn’t know how much sleep she’d actually gotten the night before. He’d been so exhausted after his flashback and confessing everything to her that he’d fallen asleep almost immediately.

  Scarlet was dozing when he’d woken in the middle of the night and kissed his way down her body, burying his mouth between her legs, waking her fully, devouring her until she was screaming for mercy. He’d buried himself in her again and again, looking into her green eyes, watching her face when she came apart, seeing the love there. It undid him. Overwhelmed him. It was almost unbelievable to think that she could feel that much for him when he’d told her the truth about his past, but it was there on her face and he was holding her hands, his cock buried deep, and there was no way for her to lie to him.

  She had been the one to come to him close to dawn when he was sitting on the edge of the bed, nightmares close. She crawled off the bed, her body feline, sensual, her body movements so perfectly like a cat that he couldn’t stop looking at the way her muscles moved beneath her skin as she crawled up to him. He parted his thighs, beckoning his kitten to him. Immediately she responded, purring, crawling sensuously, rubbing along his inner thigh with her body, her hair, her cheek. She licked with her tongue, sending fire racing up his groin. His cock responded. Then she lapped at his sac so his balls tightened at the exquisite feeling. Her nails kneaded his muscle and her teeth nipped along his inner thigh then her tongue worked him, sliding up his balls to curl and tease along the base of his shaft.

  He had dropped his hand in her hair and sighed contentedly, demons dispersing under her ministrations. He had been remembering how he had tried so hard to die. To just slip away after he had lost all those he had trained. Demyan had held him while Lana sang to comfort him. Steele healed his vicious wounds. The others had watched over him. All the while Demyan had whispered to him day and night about the kittens and how he needed them. How he loved them and wanted them to comfort him. How he had to care for them.

  Demyan told him repeatedly that there was a kitten somewhere out in the world, one in desperate need of him, to take care of her, to provide for her, give her food and water. Give her special treats, the warmth of his cock. She wanted to snuggle with him. Show off for him with his brothers only so she was always safe. She couldn’t have any of those things without him. It was the only way they had gotten him to come back.

  Scarlet had a mouth on her to rival the best of the best and she used it to give him paradise. She didn’t have her tail in and he missed seeing it, the way it rose up in between her gorgeous cheeks, a furry declaration of pride and sass, but it didn’t matter, she didn’t take her green eyes from his. There was love in her eyes and he needed that more than he needed a tail. She was his kitten, his kiska. She was his wife. His everything, because she chose to be. He hadn’t ordered her. He hadn’t used his voice.

  Absinthe closed his eyes, reliving those few moments after with her, holding her in his arms, wanting her to know she was his world and he would spend his life making her happy. He tried to tell her, but she just kissed his throat and snuggled back into his arms, sliding right back into sleep. She was naked and warm, and he had gone to sleep as well, this time undisturbed by the demons in his past.

  Something white came at the side of his head and he picked a wadded-up napkin out of the air. Storm grinned at him. “You’re looking goofy. Ice gets that look when Soleil is under the table on the balcony in the morning giving him head while we’re trying to have a discussion about the price of gold going up.”

  “Bullshit,” Ice said. “You’re jacking off, not talking.”

  “I was trying to talk. It’s a little difficult when you two go at it. She gets very enthusiastic. And you’re always pointing to your feet and then taking off her top when we’re having breakfast. What the hell do you expect?” Storm defended. “I like watching. It’s a fuckin’ turn-on.”

  Absinthe wasn’t certain how to feel about that. He’d had a hand in that as well. Exhibitionism and voyeurism. The twins had been beautiful children and had been forced to perform conti
nually for Sorbacov and his friends. Demyan and Absinthe had tried to help them overcome their reluctance and disgust. Now it was ingrained in them to want, even need, the sexual gratification of both traits. He sighed. Scarlet would tell him to let it go. Maybe she was right.

  He glanced at Destroyer. He hadn’t been raised with them. He’d been in a prison, a completely different environment. There was no way to know what he was thinking. No expression crossed his face and those dark glasses were very dark, hiding his eyes. He might not have heard any of the exchange, although Absinthe knew better.

  Alena handed him the plate of potato salad. Destroyer murmured a polite and succinct “Thanks” before she could turn away. She nodded abruptly without looking at him. Absinthe didn’t think they were going to be friends any time soon. He couldn’t tell with Ice and Storm. Her brothers hadn’t given any indication of where they were leaning as far as Destroyer was concerned. Savage and Reaper were the kind of men who were black or white. If he made one wrong move, they’d kill him. If he worked with the team, he was part of Torpedo Ink and welcome.

  “Coming up the embankment is Holler, the last one of the day managers. He manages the Devil’s Palace. That’s the most hedonistic club. They have quite a back room set up and a basement with a bullshit dungeon,” Savage informed them. “Guess they don’t want trouble with the cops because nothing in that dungeon is the real deal.”

  “Too bad,” Reaper commented. “You would have some fun with these boys. They’d find out they don’t know shit about what they were doing with that woman.”

  “They’ll find out,” Savage said. “I’ll re-create their work and critique it for them.”

  He stood up and stretched, a lazy ripple of muscle, much like a panther. “You about done with that salad, Destroyer? Thought we’d take Holler since he’s so set on givin’ us the opportunity.”

  Destroyer nodded and handed Alena his empty plate. “Big difference,” he admitted. “You’ve got a rare talent.”

  She’d opened her mouth to protest that he’d given her the dirty paper plate to dispose of but pressed her lips together at the compliment. Destroyer sauntered off, not a whisper of movement or sound even in the grass following in his wake.

  Ice and Storm were all business, both retrieving sniper rifles to cover the two men as they crossed the asphalt-covered parking area to intercept Holler as he came toward the upper parking lot where the vehicles, mostly motorcycles, had been left. A couple of bored prospects guarded the bikes but paid no attention to the trucks and two cars the women had brought to carry chairs and food. The prospects had their backs to the stairs carved into the side of the embankment Holler climbed.

  Destroyer casually wrapped the Venomous club member up as he swaggered past, one hand over his mouth, muffling any sound, while Savage injected him directly in the neck, putting him to sleep almost immediately. The two carried him back to the other end of the lot where Torpedo Ink’s trucks and cars were parked along with several others enjoying the sunset. It took all of five seconds to finish stowing him under a tarp.

  Savage glanced at his watch. “Wings and Jacko have a little rendezvous planned in a few minutes with an underage girl they’ve been corresponding with online. They’ll be coming up those stairs any moment. We’ll have to be their welcoming committee. She’s very young. Black hair. Hot as hell. Sent them her picture and everything. Wearing a string bikini to show them her smokin’-hot bod.”

  Destroyer glanced at Alena, who patted the short black wig she wore. She opened the little button-up shirt she had on, showing her generous breasts nearly falling out of the triangles held up by two strings. She had flawless skin dotted by tiny freckles that made her look even younger than usual. She batted her eyelashes at Mechanic and Transporter as she closed the shirt she wore.

  Absinthe noticed she avoided looking at Destroyer. It was impossible to tell if he was looking at her, although who wouldn’t look at her? She was beautiful, even in a black wig. She was a true platinum blond, just as Ice and Storm were, but somehow, she still managed to pull off the black hair.

  “They’ll definitely be looking at you and not anywhere around them,” Transporter said, grinning. “You’re on, babe. Don’t draw the attention of the prospects by walking like a model.”

  Alena rolled her eyes. “Since when am I an amateur?”

  She swung a thick coat around her, making her look shorter and much blockier. When she walked, she hunched, shuffled her feet and kept her head down, hands in her pockets. Absinthe noted one of the prospects glanced toward Alena as she made her way toward the two restrooms at the end of the parking lot. Her steps were slow and measured, almost plodding. He looked away immediately. Absinthe wasn’t worried about her anyway. Ice and Storm had rifles trained on the two prospects at all times.

  Savage and Destroyer waited until the prospects were once again staring down at their phones, uncaring what any of the civilians were doing in the lot as long as they didn’t approach the bikes. The two loosely followed Alena, spread out so they took up residence on either side of the stairway leading to the river below. Hidden in the dense brush, they disappeared completely.

  Alena shrugged off the bulky coat, laid it on top of the stairs, opened her top to reveal her breasts in the little bikini and waited until she caught sight of the two Venomous club members coming toward her. She stood and, like an impatient and nervous teen, began to hop from one foot to the other and bite on one fingernail. The movement sent her breasts bouncing, drawing the eyes of both men. They approached her, grinning, their leering gazes trained on the tiny triangles that couldn’t quite contain her full, rounded flesh.

  Savage was on Jacko while Destroyer pushed the needle easily into Wings’s neck. Transporter drove the truck right to the edge of the lot, allowing the two men to dump the bodies into the bed of the truck and cover them with the tarp. Savage tied the tarp down tightly, leapt into the back with Destroyer and signaled Transporter they were good to go.

  Alena caught up the coat, wrapped it around her and assumed the same shuffling walk back to the second truck, where she climbed into the back of the cab. Ice appeared carrying a case and slid into the front passenger seat beside Mechanic, who was driving. They pulled away. Czar, Code and Reaper followed in an Audi.

  Absinthe and Storm fell in behind them, bringing up the rear in an older-model Dodge Viper that had a powerful racing engine Mechanic and Transporter had designed. It performed like a miracle and could outrun just about anything on the road. Absinthe had to admit, he loved driving the very deceptive-looking car. Each of the other vehicles had a performance engine designed by the two men so the vehicle could handle and make a run if necessary.

  Transporter drove to the location they had already scoped out and deposited the three Venomous club members inside the stuffy, dilapidated barn. It was out in the middle of an abandoned property Code had found that had been put up for sale several years earlier that no one had wanted because there was no water available to it. For Savage and Destroyer, it was perfect for their needs—away from everyone with zero chance of anyone overhearing screams.

  Savage dragged Wings out of the truck by his boots, not paying attention as the man grunted and thrashed, starting to come around as he hit the dirt and bounced over the rocks and debris leading to the barn. “We’ve got plenty of time before we have to pick up the night managers. Torch will do her thing to the two clubs after hours. These assholes will be left at the Gypsy Club on the stage.”

  Destroyer caught Holler by his neck, flung him over the side of the truck onto the ground with more ease than one might expect and reached for Jacko. The Venomous club member had come out from under the drug enough to try to pull a weapon out from under his jacket. Destroyer casually slapped it away and drove his gloved fist into Jacko’s mouth. His fist was wide, and his knuckles shattered the man’s teeth as if they were glass. Just as if he weighed no more than a doll, Destroyer picked Jacko up and threw him into the rocky dirt beside his moaning friend.


  Savage leaned down and began to strip Holler of weapons. Destroyer did the same for Jacko. They tossed the guns, knives and brass knuckles into the back of the truck. Later, they’d leave them on the stage at the Gypsy Club with the bodies of the Venomous club managers. When Holler tried to rise up and fight, Destroyer casually kicked him squarely in the face, his motorcycle boot striking him hard in the jaw. Holler fell to the ground, his eyes rolling in his head. Destroyer picked him up, slung him over his shoulder and carried him inside the barn, where he threw him down beside Wings. Savage followed with Jacko.

  “They brought plenty of condoms with them. Guess they planned to use them on the underage girl they lured to them,” Savage commented.

  The three men were stripped naked and tied to the rickety supports holding up the tilted loft above their heads. Facing them was a screen brought in and set up ahead of time. Code had meticulously prepared the presentation for Savage. Their tools were laid out on the floor on a tarp. They didn’t much care about blood getting on the floor, but they were bringing the tools back with them and didn’t want them ruined.

  Destroyer doused the three men with buckets of icy water, making certain they were awake. Savage smiled at them. “Good of you to finally join us. I have a little surprise for you, kind of a walk down memory lane.” He put the first slide up, a picture of a beautiful, smiling, very vivacious woman. “I’m sure you all remember her.”

  The three men exchanged worried looks. Jacko moaned, blood dribbling down his chin, and he spit several times.

  “What do you want?” Holler mumbled, his jaw already swollen on one side.

  “Her name was Diane. Diane Miller. She was a single mother and had two kids. She worked at the Felix Club stripping. When she went to work, the policy was she didn’t have to do more than strip. If she wanted to do lap dances in the back room, that was her prerogative and she got the tip money and was paid extra for that. If she wanted to make arrangements beyond that, she was protected and, again, it was all up to her. Your club made it mandatory to do it all and she got nothing for it. She protested that shit along with the other girls, so you decided to make an example out of one of them. Wings, you chose her.”