Desolation Road

by Feehan, Christine

  She swung her gaze to Ice. “You’re recently married. Wouldn’t it upset you just a teeny tiny bit to have to interrupt your honeymoon because some sleazy-ass, hedonist, self-important, narcissistic, asshole stalker obsessed with you put out a contract on you? Wouldn’t that just make you a little upset?”

  Ice snickered. Scarlet turned her attention back to Holden, her tone still mild. “As if any woman would want to do you, Bobby boy, when your dick is so small. No wonder you’re always paying for sex and your wife ran the moment she had a good excuse.”

  “You fucking whore,” Holden burst out again. “I’m not obsessed with you. Not the way you make it sound.”

  Before he got another word out, a small silver object hurtled across the room so fast it whistled, the only warning. At the same time, Absinthe’s fist settled in Robert’s scalp again, jerking his head back, nearly breaking his neck. The very small knife cut perfectly into Holden’s flaccid member, shaving skin off the left side. Blood poured out around the blade and ran down his leg onto the silk black-and-white damask cushion of the three-thousand-dollar custom-made chair. Robert screamed loudly.

  Destroyer murmured something in Russian and Savage replied back immediately. Scarlet looked to Absinthe for an explanation.

  “Destroyer isn’t happy with Savage that he deliberately missed.”

  “I didn’t miss,” Savage denied, walking around the couch to retrieve the small throwing knife. “Hit exactly where I meant to hit. Shut the fuck up. You’re not that hurt. I could start slicing inches off. You talk to my sister like that again and I will.” He wiped the blood from the two-inch blade on the cushion of the chair and walked back to stand where he’d been, just in front of the shadows.

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t just whack that teeny little dick off,” Destroyer said. “He shouldn’t talk to her like that. But you were very inventive on our last trip so I’m willing to learn.”

  “Go ahead, moya literaturnaya ledi,” Absinthe encouraged. “Say your piece and then we’re going home. Savage and Destroyer can handle this one for us.”

  Scarlet turned her head, her gaze meeting Savage’s. “You look good, Savage. Very relaxed. Both of you do. I don’t think it’s necessary to carry this one out. Holden isn’t worth it, not to me. He really is absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. I truly mean that. I won’t lose sleep over him. Or think about him ever again. I don’t want either of you to think about this night.”

  Savage shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling easily. “Your call, honey. You know it won’t matter to me either way. I’ll do it for you.”

  “I know you would and that’s the most amazing gift of all, that all of you would.” Scarlet turned her attention back to Robert Holden. “How sad for you, that you had everything, and you threw it all away.”

  She stood up and turned her back on him, moving gracefully through the bikers. Not just gracefully, Holden decided, but regally. In spite of the fact that he hated her, loathed her, despised her with every breath he took, he knew she had somehow bested him again. It made no sense because she was nothing. Absolutely nothing, and yet she was walking away, dismissing him, not even delivering the last blow, as if he wasn’t even worth that much.

  Robert Holden Sr. wanted to scream at her to come back, to shoot him, to torture him, to do something, but the bikers were filing out after her. All but one. All but her husband, who had looped something thin and sinister around his neck and was slowly tightening it to the point that he couldn’t breathe.

  Absinthe leaned down so that his warm breath was in Holden’s ear, almost soothing the pounding of his wild, erratic heartbeat. “I’m not quite as nice as she is. You put a contract out on my wife, you worthless son of a bitch. She single-handedly killed that pussy son of yours and his little pissant friends. You did it because she bested you. And you couldn’t take it.”

  As he spoke, that voice nearly gentle, mild, even soothing, the noose tightened by slow increments, cutting off Holden’s air supply so that his body began to thrash in protest. It didn’t matter. The man behind him was too strong. Without mercy.

  “The contract on your wife has been called off. She won’t inherit your money because you’re penniless. Your money now belongs to my wife and is completely untraceable. The cash you kept hidden belongs to Torpedo Ink and Scarlet, but your woman gets all those properties you purchased on your own and hid from her so you could have your fun with other women, and of course, your life insurance policy.”

  The noose continued to tighten slowly, relentlessly. Holden’s heels drummed on the floor, spilling blood from the deep cuts from the crystal glasses he’d deliberately shattered against his fireplace and then carelessly stepped on.

  “Scarlet will live a happy, full life. Everyone will know what lousy, filthy human beings you and your son were. They’ll know how you manipulated the courts to convict a young teen after your son and his friends tried to rape her and that you knew they had but because she defended herself, you wanted her in prison. They’ll know how your son and his friends gang-raped her sister, driving that child to suicide, and even then you defended him and tried to keep Scarlet in prison. No one will ever want to be associated with your name. And Scarlet? She’ll be happy. Living her life.”

  There was pain, anguish, a terrible raw burning in his lungs, but no strength in his arms when he tried to lift them to pry the deadly noose from his throat. It just cut deeper and deeper until the blackness took over and he couldn’t see or breathe and the world around him faded and was gone.

  Transporter will take you and Scarlet back, Absinthe. Move it fast. The others will set the stage for the cops, Czar ordered. The moment that any one of these bodies are found, the cops will come knocking on your door and you’d better be home and in bed looking like honeymooners.

  Absinthe considered that they were very lucky for a variety of reasons. Transporter handled the Viper like a race car, shaving significant time from the three and a half hours it would take the majority of people to make the drive in the middle of the night with no traffic. One of his gifts, which Absinthe could never quite figure out, was how Transporter managed to know when they were coming up on cop, or when one was in the vicinity at all. He seemed to be a human radar detector. He always slowed and obeyed all traffic laws.

  Transporter delivered the two of them to their front door and with a wave was gone, leaving Absinthe alone with Scarlet, and he immediately lifted her into his arms and carried her over the threshold, nuzzling her throat. “Should have done this that first night, baby. Don’t want evil demons following us around anymore. We’ve had our share.”

  She settled her arms around his neck. “Yes, we have.”

  “Clothes off,” he ordered, nibbling on her neck.

  She unbuttoned her blouse and he carried her through the house, peeling off her clothes as she unfastened them, leaving a trail to the back deck where the hot tub was. She was naked by the time he got her there. Naked and laughing. He loved her laugh. Loved the way her eyes lit up. The moonlight spilled down on her red hair, turning it into a blaze of fire. She already had the silken mass piled on top of her head, twisted into some kind of knot.

  He liked very hot water, so his outdoor tub was blazing hot and she gasped as she sank down into it. “Absinthe. This could take your skin off.”

  “Or take all the kinks out.” He scattered his clothes down the hall from the front room to the outdoor deck almost on top of hers, making it seem as if they had come through their living room and couldn’t quite make it outside before they were all over each other.

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. You’re always going to be a little kinky and I like you that way.”

  He caught her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap, cupping the weight of her breasts in his hands, kissing her upturned mouth. “That’s a good thing, baby, because I’m crazy in love with you.”

  The doorbell was loud and demanding. Absinthe went from a deep s
leep to instantly alert. His body was curled around Scarlet’s, his arm locked around her waist, his cock snuggled in the seam of her cheeks. She rolled with him.

  “Cops,” he announced, peering into the security screen, which clearly showed the two men at the front door. “Don’t get dressed, baby. Put that nearly transparent long shirt on, as if you hastily threw it on. Wear a thong. Come out right after me, hair falling down, very messy, and look sleepy as hell.” He’d marked her skin, so she looked well used and very his.

  He dragged on a pair of the silky drawstring pants and called into the intercom. “This better be important, Jonas. I’ll be right there.” He strode down the hall leading to the main part of the house. When he opened the door, he was barefoot, bare chested, hair rumpled from sleep, and he wore only the thin drawstring pants.

  Jonas Harrington, the local sheriff, and Jackson Deveau, the deputy, both stood on his verandah, eyes sharp, taking in every detail, including his woman’s fingernail scratches at his shoulders and the little bites at his neck.

  “What’s wrong?” Absinthe demanded, waving them inside. “Is everyone all right?” He looked around for his phone. “Damn it. Blythe? Czar? The kids?”

  There was a little whisper of feet and Scarlet rushed in, looking sexy, disheveled and very upset. Beneath the long boyfriend shirt she’d “thrown on” hastily, her full breasts were bouncing as she ran. Her red hair tumbled around her face, falling in a mass of silk, yet anyone could see the marks of his possession on her neck and down to the curves of her breasts. Bite marks, strawberries, an obvious night of wild possession.

  “Honey? Is something wrong? Someone hurt?” Scarlet skidded to a halt, one hand going defensively to her throat when she saw the two uniformed men. She backed up a couple of steps. “I thought it was Czar.”

  Absinthe picked up one of the throw blankets on the chairs and wrapped it around her, covering her body. “It’s all right, miledi. They were just about to tell me why they’re here. Scarlet, this is Jonas Harrington and Jackson Deveau. They’re law, but they’re good guys. My wife, Scarlet.” He waved the two men to a seat and sank down in the widest chair, pulling Scarlet down on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, locking her to him, his chin on her shoulder, eyes on the two men. “Get it done, gentlemen. I left my phone in the bedroom. If it’s one of my brothers I want you to just spit it out fast.”

  Jonas shook his head. “Everyone’s fine as far as I know, Absinthe. We’re here on another matter. It’s nice to meet you, ma’am, and we’re sorry to disturb you, but we received a call from a police department in the Bay Area. Several bodies were discovered tonight. Calloway, the judge who presided over your trial; your defense attorney; the prosecutor; a doctor who was a witness for the prosecution; and Robert Holden Sr. Three of the bodies had cards pinned to their chests made out to you, Ms. Scarlet.”

  Jonas leaned forward, looking right into her eyes. Absinthe kept his arms around her. She let out a small distressed sound and looked back at him over her shoulder. “I swear this nightmare is never going to end.” Her voice trembled, a thread of sound, barely there. So genuine.

  “The card said the men were killed as a wedding present to you from a fan. Calloway was murdered in a hidden room housing stolen masterpieces, artwork that belongs in museums. Holden was killed in his house in the same manner, a garrote,” Jonas continued.

  Jackson, as usual, didn’t say anything, preferring Jonas to do all the talking. His gaze didn’t stray from Scarlet’s face or her body, although Absinthe did his best to break up the way the other man could see her, using his arms and chin. Torpedo Ink had studied the two law enforcement officers very early on when they knew they were going to settle in Caspar. Jackson was their human lie detector just as Absinthe was Torpedo Ink’s.

  “It’s over,” Absinthe assured. “Whoever did this has nothing to do with you, Scarlet. You’re safe with us. You’ve got a life here with me.” He pressed his lips right over the pulse in her neck. It wasn’t even elevated. She was damn good at what she did. He was proud of her.

  “How do you know this person hasn’t fixated on me and isn’t going to try to kill you or …” Scarlet trailed off and waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the clubhouse.

  “I’m sorry, Absinthe, Scarlet. We have to ask a few questions and then we’ll get out of your hair.”

  Jonas was skilled at interrogation, sounding friendly, asking Scarlet questions about anyone she knew who might have shown interest in the trial and/or thought it had been unfair. Had anyone written to her in prison on a regular basis? The interview lasted nearly an hour. In all that time, Scarlet acted by turns frightened or upset.

  In the end, Jonas and Jackson seemed satisfied that they knew nothing at all about the murders and that there was no way they had been anywhere near the Bay Area during the time the men had been killed. Jonas told them that detectives from the Bay Area assigned to the case most likely would want to talk to Scarlet themselves at some point in their investigation, but not to worry too much about it.

  Absinthe walked the two men to the door, accepted their apologies and took his wife back to bed, grateful he’d been awakened in the middle of the night so he had the chance to take his time making love to her.

  TWENTY

  Scarlet was so excited she was nearly jumping up and down, waiting for him to sling his leg over the Harley and make his way up to the house. Perversely, Absinthe wanted to take his time and just enjoy the show she was putting on for him. She looked so beautiful, her face lit up, happiness giving her a carefree, even younger appearance.

  He had taken his time making his way on the bike from the clubhouse to their home, using the twisting back roads rather than utilizing Highway 1 to take a shorter route. Normally, Scarlet loved every moment she could have on the motorcycle with him, her arms locked around him, hands at his waist, sometimes sliding lower to tease him, but this time, she hissed in his ear to hurry, which only made him slow down, joy spreading through his gut at her reaction.

  Her entire body vibrated with eagerness. She was nearly as coiled with tension and ready to explode as when he played deliberate sexual games with her body. He loved playing. Prolonging that tension. Stretching that time out until he could hear and see and feel her need for him. Right now—and it had never happened before without sex being involved—the tension felt the same way. Whatever Scarlet had done for him mattered so much to her that he knew even if he didn’t like it, he was going to find a way to love it because she had cared this much to give it to him.

  Scarlet had talked him into staying at the clubhouse with her for the last three weeks while Maestro, Master, Player and Keys renovated their house at her direction. He hadn’t been allowed to go near it. His brothers had been closed-mouth, refusing to tell him one single thing about what she was up to with her surprise remodel. She’d been the one to design everything and had worked closely with his four brothers. They grinned at him a lot, but they continued to be tight-lipped even when he’d made a halfhearted attempt to bribe them.

  She said the renovation was a birthday gift. He reminded her his birthday was a few months earlier. She just laughed and said that didn’t matter, that only meant it was a belated birthday present and she just owed him all the more. Now, watching her hop from one foot to the other while he straddled the Harley, pretending to fiddle with one of the compartments while she was bursting with impatience, it was all he could do to keep a straight face.

  “Absinthe.”

  He glanced up. Casually. One eyebrow lifted. Bog. She was so beautiful she took his breath. The sun hadn’t yet set, although the fog was beginning to creep in, little fingers of mist drifting on the wind. The rays of the sun caught the brilliant red of her hair, turning it into flashes of ruby, reminding him of the gemstones in the furred tails Ice had made for them. He wasn’t certain she would ever play his kiska again for him and he knew he needed that kitten in his bed at times. He hadn’t brought himself to talk to her about it, not after the
disaster of their wedding night.

  Scarlet stepped close to the bike, her hands framing his face. “What is it, honey? You suddenly looked so sad.”

  He hadn’t thought to keep his emotions off his face. This was her moment and just like that he’d changed her mood. She was that tuned to him. He should be grateful for their close connection. It was growing all the time, but it also made it more difficult to keep anything from her. He had always thought he would be able to know her every thought, every worry. He hadn’t expected it to be a two-way path. She was becoming very adept at reading him. They’d promised each other the truth. In any case, she would hear a lie. Communication was necessary in a relationship like theirs. Sometimes, it was all they would have.

  He turned his face so his lips slid along her palm, pressing a kiss into the center. “I was wishing I wasn’t quite so fucked up in my needs.”

  She leaned into him, kissing his forehead and then straightening and stepping away from the bike. “Aren’t we both a little fucked up? If you’re talking about me being your little pussycat, I have to admit, I miss being her. I missed our privacy and our home. I hope you like the changes and what I’ve created for us.”

  His heart kicked into overdrive at the casual way she announced that she missed being his little pussycat. He decided to take the chance and push it just a little. Swinging his leg over the bike, he stood up and held out his hand to her. “I’m happy to hear you miss being my kiska. That’s never going to go away. Demyan planted that need so deep in me that no matter what, along with the training of my childhood, it’s there for the rest of my life. In reality, I’ve not only accepted it, I enjoy it.”

  She took his hand and let him draw her close, right under his shoulder as they walked up the stairs together to the front door. He would have to put his bike up later. Torpedo Ink rarely left the motorcycles out in the saltwater air for too long. The Harleys were protected every bit as much as they protected one another.