Bound Together

by Christine Feehan

  Transporter fired and the bodyguard went down. Viktor was already running toward Blythe. No one was more important. It didn't matter if Evan got away, even after five years and all the sacrifices. Blythe was everything and he wasn't about to lose her. He sprinted toward his woman as she rolled almost to the feet of three of the Swords. The men lifted their guns to empty them into her and Viktor shot while he ran. Three rapid squeezes of the trigger, with blurring speed, sending the men falling on top of her.

  She didn't make a sound, not even when four other club members began shooting at her and the bullets thunked into the bodies of the dead men protecting her. Maxim and Stefan had worked their way through the Swords to get to Blythe and killed two of the shooters and Viktor the others. The three were there, forming a solid wall of protection while Lexi, Abigail and Rikki threw up a barrier.

  Evan turned and ran up the logging road, his heart pounding, his belief in his superiority still safe. He was legend, a man impossible to defeat. It didn't matter that others had psychic gifts or an army against him. He would win. He always won.

  A small figure slid out of the trees just in front of him. The wind whipped through the trees, blowing her red hair around her like a cloak.

  He skidded to a halt. Fate always favored him. Always. He had fought his way up and this was his reward. A fortune that kept him safe. A club he'd taken by force, killing the members in his way. The largest human trafficking ring in the world and growing every day. And now, his greatest enemy's woman. Elle Drake.

  She was still damaged. Burned out. He'd paid a fortune for that information and then he'd killed the source, a man from Sea Haven who had spent time in the grocery store, listening for any gossip or small tidbit of information he could pass on to Evan. Evan had pieced it all together.

  He waited for her opening move. He would counter it and bring her to her knees in front of him before he destroyed her. He wanted Jackson to find her that way. He wished he had time to drag her out of there. Jackson would suffer more thinking she was in his hands. He could have sold her to the Arabs. The possibilities were endless.

  She glanced toward the general direction of the Drake house and the wind touched her face. Her eyes never left him. He didn't have time to dick around; he had to kill her and get out of there before someone came looking. He lifted his hands and realized that stupid bitch diverting his power might have fallen, but she hadn't released her hold on the energy flowing. In fact, it had increased. She'd gathered the energy from the battle and from him and bound it together with the women and men there. She'd taken it from the wind and the women standing on the widow's walk at the Drake house.

  The power crackled in the air surrounding Elle Drake. She lifted her arms and countered his weak push. Fire raced around him. Water bubbled up from the earth beneath his feet, turning the ground to mush. He began to sink. The first tree toppled, landing close, the branches whipping around him, knocking him to the muddy ground. The earth seemed to rise, dirt and mud covering him as vines and the branches of the tree reached for him.

  She was going to bury him like a worm in the ground. He couldn't have that. Evan screamed. This couldn't happen. A woman. A damaged woman at that. She was nothing, a body to use; this couldn't be happening. He fought to get away from the vines and the rising water turning the ground to quicksand. The vines slithered along the top of the ground and then over his body, wrapping him up, holding him still. Roots burst from the ground like terrible spears, penetrating his flesh everywhere.

  He kept his eyes on Elle Drake. She hadn't moved other than her arms. She looked calm. Serene. There was no brain bleed to end her life. The power the others offered up and the way that woman bound the energy together, Elle didn't have to use much of her own. She simply took what was offered. He died hard, the pain excruciating, all the while looking at the woman who didn't so much as flinch.

  Behind her two men wearing Torpedo Ink colors skidded to a halt. One held a hand to his bloody shirt, low on his left side. Ice and Storm watched as the body sank beneath the mud and dirt and eventually disappeared.

  "Nice work," Ice told Elle. "Your man's causing a ruckus. Wouldn't want to be in your shoes when he finds you."

  She smiled tiredly and touched his wound. At once warmth flowed into him. "How many wounded?"

  "Quite a few, but none dead on our side. That's a plus," Storm said.

  "Are my sisters here yet? I'll need them to help with the wounded."

  "Not yet, but I imagine word was sent for them. They're still mopping up, making certain we have all the Sword members. A few got away and hopefully they're long gone."

  "Won't they come after you and the others?"

  Ice shrugged. "Maybe. Let them come. We don't mind enemies. We wouldn't know what to do without them."

  22

  "BLYTHE, did you hide the salt again?" Kenny demanded.

  Darby gave him a look of pure disdain from under the crescent of feathery, dark lashes. "Salt isn't good for you."

  Blythe glanced at Viktor, who grinned at her. "Darby's right, Kenny, I salt the food when I'm cooking it. There's plenty on there."

  Kenny muttered something under his breath Blythe ignored. She was fairly certain he wanted the salt because Viktor did. Anything Viktor did, Kenny did.

  Emily giggled and even Zoe, the eleven-year-old, gave a faint smile. Darby caught it and glanced at Blythe to make certain she'd seen it. Zoe rarely spoke and never smiled. She was very traumatized by what had happened to her. A doctor had declared that all of the children were free of disease and neither girl was pregnant, but Zoe's and Darby's bruises were just now fading.

  Emily was still uncertain about her new home. She was terrified she'd be separated from her sisters again. Blythe knew it was going to be a long road ahead for all of them to integrate into one family, but at least all the children wanted to be there, and that was a start.

  Alena nudged Kenny and handed him something under the table. She was pale and couldn't be up for more than a few minutes without getting tired, but she was recovering.

  Kenny scowled when Blythe held out her hand, but he put the salt shaker in her open palm. "It's pink anyway," he declared. "Who wants to use pink salt?"

  The door opened and Reaper and Savage walked in. "Hey, Blythe. Sorry we're late. Had to escort that kid back home. He's taken to trying to sneak up on us."

  Blythe laughed. "Benito is a handful. He's trying to follow in Maxim's footsteps."

  "He's pretty good," Savage commented, and dragged a chair out from the table with the toe of his motorcycle boot. He winked at Emily. "You up for a ride today?"

  Blythe loved that all the members of the club were good with the children. They seemed to have an affinity for them. Emily shook her head, but Blythe noticed she smiled again. The smiles were coming a little more often.

  "I'm ready for a ride," Kenny declared. "I want to learn to ride a motorcycle."

  "You do your schoolwork?" Viktor asked.

  Kenny kept his head down, forking eggs into his mouth.

  "Yeah, that's what I thought. No schoolwork, no motorcycle," Viktor said. "We made a deal. In this family, we have a code of honor, Kenny. You get me?"

  Kenny looked up at his hero, gave a brief nod and went back to eating. Reaper wedged himself between Blythe and Darby and helped himself to eggs and bacon out of the warmer. The door opened and Ice and Storm came in. Both nodded at everyone at the table, drew up chairs and reached for plates off the stack Blythe had resigned herself to keeping on the sideboard along with extra silverware and napkins.

  Club members never knocked, they just walked in. They treated the children and her as family. They had a strict code they lived by, but they didn't have many rules. Blythe hadn't had the best family life, so she was willing to change some of her beliefs when it came to rules within a family. That meant the members walking into her home and treating it like their own was part of that.

  Her refrigerator was always full with groceries because if they came, th
ey always brought food and drink with them--and they came every day. She sat back as Transporter and Mechanic came in, followed by two of the newer-to-her club members, Steele and Code. The first week after the battle, the club had brought in a second long table. Blythe had realized why immediately.

  "Savage has contraband," Darby declared.

  "You little snitch," Savage said, scowling at her. "See if I give you a ride to school."

  "We don't have school today," Darby said, her nose in the air, but laughter in her eyes. "In any case, I can walk. It's just at Airiana and Maxim's house."

  "Give it, Savage," Blythe demanded, holding her hand out.

  "Come on, Viktor, control your woman," Savage said.

  Blythe snapped her fingers. "Hand it over right now."

  Savage glared at Viktor, who shrugged. "Don't want to get cut off because you can't eat your eggs without pouring salt on them."

  "Oh. My. God. That is so inappropriate," Blythe said, switching her attention to her husband. "You can't say things like that in front of the children."

  "Why not?" every member of Torpedo Ink sitting at the table asked simultaneously.

  "What can't you say?" Absinthe, Master and Ink asked, walking in. Behind them came Preacher, Maestro and Keys, followed by Lana.

  "Czar wants to get laid," Transporter supplied.

  "Did Blythe cut you off?" Absinthe asked. "Reaper says the two of you go at it like rabbits."

  "Viktor, stop them right now," Blythe demanded, and snatched the salt shaker away from Savage, who had liberally doused his eggs and was passing it to Kenny.

  "Babe."

  It was Viktor's word for everything. The rest of Torpedo Ink pulled out the chairs around the second table, and Lana grabbed the food warmers to put them out while Maestro and Keys plopped the plates and silverware on the table.

  "Got coffee, Blythe?" Master asked.

  "In the other room, a full pot," she said.

  She'd learned that coffee was essential. It seemed to be in its own food group. She had also learned that the club was big and noisy, but treated one another as family with a great deal of respect--and her most of all.

  She opened her mouth to try to tell them about children, but then closed it because a small sound escaped from Darby's throat. Her eyes were filled with tears. Instantly she had the attention of everyone at both tables. She jerked her chin in the direction of her little sister, who was watching Ice and Storm and her bottom lip had definitely curled into a very small smile.

  Zoe was smiling. It wasn't big. It wasn't a laugh. It barely reached her eyes or lit her face, but she was smiling. It was a first, and Blythe felt like crying right along with Darby. Instead she followed Zoe's gaze to the two brothers who, like everyone else, had stopped moving. Ice's hands were wrapped around a salt shaker and he was just handing it to his brother.

  Blythe cleared her throat. "More contraband? Seriously? Hand it over right this minute." She beckoned with her fingers. "What is it with all of you and salt?"

  "Catsup too," Alena said with some disgust. "I told them I wouldn't ever cook again for them if they poured that stuff on my fine cuisine. They are food morons."

  "You're a food snob," Storm said, grabbing the salt shaker and dousing his eggs. "But the best cook ever, so you're allowed." He hastily tacked his assessment of Alena's skills on at the end of his sentence because if he didn't he feared she wouldn't cook them another meal.

  "Where are we with the money for the land and houses we're purchasing, Code?" Viktor asked.

  "We're set. I sent every dirty detail about each of the chapters in every country or city to the cops not listed in the books I discovered. Every chapter kept their own books, and they were required to keep perfect records for Evan. Good for us, bad for them," Code answered. "The Sword club is officially bankrupt, as is the Shackler-Gratsos estate. All the freighters and ships were confiscated. Most of their money disappeared as if Evan never had it. Again, too bad for his estate and good for us. In other words, we've got enough to never worry for several lifetimes."

  Blythe closed her eyes. She wasn't certain talking about club business at the breakfast table, particularly stealing money even if it was a criminal's money, in front of the kids was a good idea. She'd argued with Viktor but he pointed out they didn't have a clubhouse yet, so their home was the only place. In any case, he insisted, the children would grow up with the club and had to know they didn't ever talk about anything they heard to anyone.

  She just hoped that what Code said was over Zoe's and Emily's heads.

  "A couple of your brothers want in," Steele said. "Gavriil and Casimir. I told them we'd talk it over and put it to a vote."

  "I want in," Kenny said.

  "School." The word reverberated through the dining room as all eighteen members said it simultaneously.

  Kenny groaned, rolled his eyes and looked at Darby. She smiled at him in sympathy.

  Viktor nodded. "We'll take care of that later. There might be concerns."

  Blythe was fairly certain he meant Gavriil and Casimir knowing they were still doing things that could be construed as illegal. Gavriil, for certain, wouldn't care. She didn't know Casimir well enough to know if he would.

  "What about the permits? You get what we need, Absinthe?"

  Blythe's breath caught in her throat. "Did you . . ."

  "Babe."

  Of course Absinthe had used his psychic gift to get the permits they needed for building. He made the deals for the club and he could persuade anyone--with the exception of those at the table--to do just about anything he wanted.

  Blythe sighed. She loved that they were working for a common goal. They wanted homes and businesses. They wanted a clubhouse. They wanted to put down roots. She'd wanted a family of her own. Looking around the table, she knew she had it.

  She felt her husband's eyes on her and she looked up at his face. She could see love there. It was in every line, in his eyes, in the curve of his mouth.

  "Blythe and I are headed out on the bike today. She needs a little downtime and I want the day with her. Ice, Storm, you're on duty here with the kids. The rest of you get our bedroom finished."

  He'd promised to soundproof it and he hadn't been joking. The first thing the club members had done was arrive with a truckload of material and tools. She'd been worried that they'd tear her bedroom up and it would look awful, but she could see they were taking great care to keep it the same as it was before they added the soundproofing.

  She loved that whenever any of the club members were asked--or ordered by Viktor--to watch the children, they never protested. Not ever. Alena made it clear she would always prefer watching them over keeping an eye on the bikes. She even worked with Kenny on his school papers to try to tutor him so he would catch up faster, but she didn't encourage him to be a prospect until he'd finished school.

  "You finished, baby?" Viktor asked, standing and pushing back his chair. He reached over and removed his plate.

  That was another thing. They cleaned up after themselves. She loved that too.

  "I am." She stood up with him. "Darby? Zoe? Emily? You girls good with me leaving?" She always asked because she wanted them to feel comfortable with the club members. At first they'd said no. She hadn't left. Now, they all three nodded, even Zoe, the most reluctant to be alone with the men.

  "Kenny?" she asked.

  "Yeah, I've got lots of schoolwork," he said.

  "I can help you," Alena volunteered.

  "Kenny, please make certain Alena rests," Blythe said.

  Kenny looked important and nodded curtly, using the exact same gesture Viktor often used.

  Hiding a smile, Blythe grabbed her plate and followed Viktor into the kitchen. The moment the plate was rinsed and in the dishwasher, he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her into him.

  "I love you, Mrs. Prakenskii," he said.

  "I love you, Mr. Prakenskii," she whispered.

  He kissed her. She melted. He deepened the kiss an
d she pressed into him.

  "Let's get out of here. I found a couple of places I'm pretty certain we can be alone," he said, lifting his head. "I really, really want to be alone with you."

  She smiled up at him because she could hear the scraping of chairs in the other room. Savage and Reaper came in to rinse their plates and put them in the dishwasher.

  "Just remember, you two, I'm going to do a lot of screaming. Stay away," she warned. She even managed to say it without turning bright red--until they laughed.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from the next Shadow Rider novel by Christine Feehan

  SHADOW REAPER

  Available soon from Berkley

  RICCO Ferraro wanted to punch something. Hard. No, he needed to punch something, or someone--preferably his brother. It would be satisfying to feel the crunch of his knuckles splitting open flesh. Cracking bone. Yeah. He could get behind that if his brother didn't shut the hell up. They were in a hospital with doctors and nurses all around. If he really went to town and made it real, Stefano wouldn't suffer for too long. Of course, it might not be such a good idea when he could barely stand . . .

  "Ricco," Stefano hissed again, using his low, annoying, big-brother tone that made Ricco feel crazier than he already was feeling. "Are you even listening to me? This has got to stop. The next time you might not make it. You were in surgery for hours. Hours."

  Considering the fact that Stefano had been lecturing him for the last ten minutes, Ricco figured no one could listen that long, let alone him. He didn't have the patience. He knew damn well how close he'd come. They'd replaced every drop of blood he had in his body not once, but twice on the operating table. He'd hit the wall at over two hundred miles an hour, but he knew he hadn't driven into it. Something broke and the suspension went, driving pieces of metal through his body like shrapnel. He'd lived it. He still felt it. Every muscle and bone in his body hurt like hell.

  "I'll listen when you make sense, Stefano," Ricco snapped and finished buttoning up his shirt. It wasn't easy. The pain was excruciating when he made the slightest movement, but he was getting out whether the doctor signed the release papers or not. Six, almost seven weeks in the hospital was enough for him. All he could stand. Even though he'd spent three of those weeks in a coma and wasn't aware, it still counted. He'd had enough of all of them--doctors, nurses, surgeons, the neuro doc, but especially his older brother.