Reckless Road

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Reckless Road Page 9

by Feehan, Christine


  “Zyah has changed the locks again, according to the police reports, to the kind where you have to punch in an actual code,” Code informed them. “She’s not taking chances.”

  “What are we going to do about these thieves, Czar?” Destroyer asked. His voice was mild, very soft. Very quiet. Still, his tone carried a deadly note in it.

  Czar sighed. “No matter what, whether Zyah works for us or not, whether she belongs to Player or not, we can’t have a group of brutal robbers preying on the elderly in our neighborhood. Although getting involved with the cops watching could be risky. And some of the neighbors aren’t going to like us watching at night if they spot us. We could be the ones accused. We’d have to take shifts, and Code would have to figure out who might become a target. That would stretch us pretty thin trying to cover them all. This is a fairly wealthy community to retire in.”

  “It doesn’t matter if they have money or not,” Savage said. “If they live in Sea Haven or even here in Caspar, the assholes are going to think they have money.”

  “If we take this on, we have to put everything else on hold. We have no idea how many homes we’re going to have to watch,” Steele said. “Player and Master risked a lot to bring back that intel on the Ghosts. We could lose them again if we don’t act.”

  “That’s true,” Keys agreed, “but on the other hand, this group, whoever they are, aren’t simply robbing these people, which would be bad enough—they’re beating the crap out of them.”

  “They’re escalating the attacks if they’re the same ones,” Code said. “It’s my best guess as well as the computer’s that it’s them. The MO is too close in every case I’ve looked at.”

  “I just glanced over the file Code has here, and running the numbers, I have to say I’m with Code—the odds are good that these people are the same ones moving from small village or town to the next,” Master said. “They always choose very small towns with no real law enforcement presence and hit hard and get out. They simply fade away. No one seems to have a clue who they are.”

  “This is bullshit,” Destroyer snapped, his tone low, almost husky, as if his voice had been as scarred as his oncehandsome face. He crossed his arms over his chest. He was a very big man, and the look on his face was one of disgust. “If the club isn’t going to take this on, I will anyway. I’m not leaving these old people to the wolves.”

  There was instant silence. Czar’s piercing gaze swung to Destroyer. “That’s not the way it works in this club. When you came to me and laid it on the line, I went out on a limb for you. I took your request to the others and laid it out to them, and they took you in on faith. On my belief in you.”

  Destroyer shook his head. “I spent a lot of years in prison, in solitary. Alone. When I wasn’t alone, I was fighting for my life or my sanity. I don’t know, Czar. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the chance you gave me, but—”

  “Destroyer,” Savage stopped him before he could say any more. He took off his cut and laid it on the table. “Have you ever really looked at this? Have you ever asked yourself what it meant? There were two hundred and eighty-seven children entering that school, if you want to call it a school. Count in you and your sister, that’s two hundred and eighty-nine. Counting you, nineteen of us survived that hellhole.”

  Player was shocked that Savage was fighting for Destroyer to stay. Savage wasn’t one who spent a lot of time arguing one side or the other on any issue. He had his opinion, expressed it succinctly and then waited for the others to discuss it. The club members really didn’t know Destroyer that well. Only Czar knew much about him. He had been taken, like the rest of them, from his home and trained to be an asset for their government, but in another school to begin with. He had been brought to their school as a form of punishment. Or, more precisely, for Sorbacov’s amusement.

  He pitted Destroyer against Ice and Storm in a series of challenges Sorbacov’s guests could watch and bet on while they “entertained” themselves with Alena and Destroyer’s sister, Calina. The winner of the series of challenges would be able to leave the schools and return to the outside world—or at least that was Sorbacov’s lie. Destroyer had won, and he and his sister had disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again, until he showed up as a member of the Trinity club asking to be patched over to Torpedo Ink. He didn’t fit with the Trinity club. He didn’t seem to fit anywhere.

  “Czar is this tree trunk. He got us out, but he did more than that—he kept us from losing complete humanity. To get out of that place, to save ourselves, we had to do things even adults shouldn’t have to do. Without him giving us a moral code, none of us would have survived intact,” Savage continued.

  Destroyer put both hands on the table, fingers splayed wide. He had big hands. His fingers were tattooed. His hands were clearly weapons. His arms, all the way to his shoulders and up his neck, were covered in tattoos—not the smooth artwork Ink did, but raw prison work done in cells with contraband. He had long hair he wore pulled back from his face and bound tightly in two-inch increments down his back.

  “I’m not certain I ever got out of that prison,” he said, his voice husky. At some point his vocal cords had been damaged. He had scars, but the tattoos swirling up his neck covered them unless one looked closely—and Destroyer wasn’t a man to let anyone get that close to him.

  “That’s the point,” Player added his two cents, trying to fight for the man. They all were drowning in their own ways. “We’re better together. I’m not saying this right. I exist because we exist. I don’t know how else to put it to you. That’s how we get through.”

  “You’ve had one another since you were kids,” Destroyer pointed out. “You went through all of it together. That had to have woven a tight bond.”

  “Or it could have done just the opposite,” Steele said. “In many cases it did. So many children refused to join with others—with us. They were embarrassed, or they wanted to please Sorbacov, or the instructors, hoping for favors. Whatever the reasons, they went their own way and they didn’t make it.”

  “I had no choice.”

  There was no bitterness in Destroyer’s voice, and Player realized that was one of the reasons Czar had fought so hard for him. He accepted what happened and went on from there. None of them could change the past, but they’d had Czar and one another to keep going—what had Destroyer had?

  “Yes, you did,” Czar said, his tone low but firm, the way it was when he was making a point and wanted it to stick. “You always have a choice, and you know that. You stayed alive in that prison. Something kept you alive. Whatever it was, it was strong, and you made it out and it brought you here, to us. You came this far and you have to take that next step and let us in.”

  Destroyer shook his head. “I’m not ever going to be that man who tells someone what happened to me. You all shared that past. That gave you a tight bond.”

  “Stop using that as an excuse. You were there in that school. What happened to us, happened to you,” Czar snapped. “What’s really going on here? You didn’t have to be in the same room with us, because those fuckers went after all of us. You lost your sister. You know what they did to her. Every one of us suffered losses. Too many of them.”

  Before Czar could continue, Alena put both hands on the table. “Let me, please, Czar.” She waited for his nod of consent. “Destroyer, you wanted to be part of this club. One of us. It was huge to allow you in. We don’t do that. I held a childish grudge against you and nearly held out because of it, but Czar reminded me that you suffered the same nightmare childhood and losses we did. You belong with us, but we live with a code.”

  Destroyer started to speak, but Savage shook his head and indicated for him to allow Alena to continue.

  “This isn’t easy for me to say. I have a difficult time with outsiders, and letting you in when I felt you betrayed me was one of the hardest things I’ve done. I’m working every single day to accept you wholly into our family. The thing is, you have to come all the way in. Yes, it�
�s true that we lived together, so we have that advantage on you. You were taken to that prison and lived alone. It’s difficult to merge with us, I know that. It must seem like so many rules and personalities. I’m getting to the point, I promise. I’m just working up the courage to make my confession.”

  “Alena,” Czar said gently, “you don’t have to.”

  “I do. He’s a member of the club, and we all know one another’s worst secrets. We all saw the terrible things done over and over. He didn’t. He might know what happened. He might have experienced the same things, but he didn’t see it happening to us the way we did. He doesn’t get thrown out without me making an attempt to get him to understand. I was the one who behaved childishly, and I can stand up for a brother. We made him that when we gave him a Torpedo Ink cut.”

  “Alena.” Destroyer’s voice lowered another octave. “It’s all right. I appreciate you standing up for me, but this thing is very personal to me.”

  “It’s personal to all of us. We always talk out everything, give every side of it, look at every angle—that’s our way. We vote, make a plan and then attack as an entire group, an entity. One. Torpedo Ink. You take on one of us, you take on all of us. It has to be that way. A long time ago, someone hurt Lana, really hurt her, and I couldn’t stand it. I decided I was going to exact revenge.”

  Lana leaned toward Alena and covered her hand. “Baby, I love you so much.” She whispered it so softly the declaration was barely audible.

  Alena’s blue eyes turned liquid, but she went on. “It had been drilled into me not to go off alone, or deviate from the plan, but I didn’t care and I did it anyway. The consequences were extreme and taught me a lesson I’ll carry on my soul the rest of my life. A young girl died as a result of my stupidity. We are safer and work better as a team. We have to be able to count on you at all times. And you have to know you can count on us.”

  Destroyer nodded. “You didn’t have to tell me that, Alena. I know that wasn’t easy for you. It’s damn difficult to try to fit into a tight unit when you all have been together for so many years. I sometimes feel like I have nowhere to go.”

  “You’re wearing the colors,” Alena persisted. “They mean something. Make them mean something to you like they do to us.”

  “You said this was personal,” Savage said. “Tell us why.”

  Destroyer looked around the table at the Torpedo Ink members, his brothers and two sisters, the ones wearing the same ink, bound together by something tighter, even, than blood. It occurred to Player that Destroyer said very little, and when he did, it was never about himself or his past. They all knew that, like theirs, his past wasn’t good. He wouldn’t have been in the schools if he hadn’t been torn from his home. He would have suffered torture and rape; they knew his sister had. He had carried out the work of an assassin. They knew he had been sent to the worst prison possible when he was only fourteen years of age. How did one survive that and come out intact?

  Destroyer curled his fingers into two tight fists. He had massive shoulders and arms. Every time he moved, muscles rippled ominously beneath his skin. Clearly, he fought his natural inclination, which was to just walk out and stay on his own.

  Alena tried again. “All of us have hit a wall at some point, Destroyer, where we felt we couldn’t keep going. It wasn’t that long ago that it happened to me. We were in a huge fight and I ended up on the wrong side of a knife. The stab wounds were deep, and I knew they were bad, that there was no way I was going to make it through. I welcomed death. I was so damn tired of fighting for sanity every day. Lana was there. I remember her voice, looking up at her, hearing her call to me, telling me she needed me with her, and I knew I just couldn’t keep going. It was all too much for me.”

  Player watched Destroyer carefully, as did the other members of Torpedo Ink. They knew Alena, knew just how difficult offering any part of herself up to a virtual stranger could be, but she was doing it in order to try to save him, to make up for the grudge she’d held against him. The club members saw past her tough exterior. That had been so hard-won. She was soft inside and needed to protect herself.

  Her birth brothers, Ice and Storm, could barely contain themselves, but she had every right to put herself out there for a brother. Player was proud of her, but like Ice and Storm, and probably all the others, he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and carry her off before she exposed herself. Before she cut herself open and bled for him. If Destroyer didn’t see what she was giving him, he didn’t deserve to wear their colors.

  “You would never have sought out a club unless you were getting desperate. Unless, like I was, you were right there, saying, Enough. I was through waking up every morning to pain and memories I couldn’t take in a world I didn’t understand and could never fit into. When you didn’t fit with that chapter, you came here, because you’re like us. You see you in us. You have to take that leap, Destroyer, let down your guard with us, just like we’re doing with you. Let us in. Give us something so we bond together, and you’re part of us. We’re all of us one. Part of these colors.”

  Player didn’t take his gaze from Destroyer’s eyes. The man looked like what he was—a brutal, dangerous man. He could be charismatic if he chose, with his dark, mesmerizing eyes, eyes that were fixed on Alena’s face. There was despair there. Sadness. No way was Destroyer going to walk away from Alena’s plea. He knew how difficult it was. He saw inside her to that soft, vulnerable part she protected, and the man was bracing himself to do something he’d never done in his life—share something that was real and painful and buried so deep no one knew how much it hurt to give it up.

  Destroyer shook his head and ran his hands through his hair again. “I’ve never really followed anyone in my life. Not since I lost my grandmother, but Czar and I have a history. If there’s anyone I believe in, it’s him. You lay down an argument I can’t exactly ignore, Alena. All of you have. I appreciate you fighting for me.” He managed a rueful smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  He sighed again. When he put one hand on the table, he closed his fingers into a tight fist. It was large, tattooed, scarred and had seen many fights. “We lost our parents early. Calina, my sister, didn’t talk for a long time after their accident.” He ducked his head, avoiding Alena’s eyes. “It wasn’t an accident. My father started drinking more and more, and when he did, he would get very angry with everyone. He didn’t like anyone looking at my mother. She was very beautiful.”

  It was clear he didn’t talk about his family to anyone. He probably hadn’t talked about his parents since he was a child. He fell silent and no one prompted him to speak. No one became impatient with him. They simply waited. All of them knew what loss was. They’d all suffered enormous losses. It was entirely up to Destroyer if he wanted to give that piece of himself to the club.

  “He flew into jealous rages, and he did that night. He shot our mother and then tried to shoot Calina, but I dragged her out of the room and ran out of the house with her. I wasn’t very old myself, but I just kept running until I made it to my grandparents’ house. They lived about three miles from us. He killed my mother and then himself. Calina was really just a baby, a toddler, and he shot our mother right in front of her—she had blood all over her. My grandparents took us in. They were good people. The best.”

  He did look up then, but this time at Czar. “I get crazy sometimes, in my head. What the hell is wrong with the world? When Sorbacov’s men came for my grandfather because he was too outspoken against the new president’s policy, the soldiers shot him, but they beat my grandmother to death, again, right in front of Calina. I tried to stop them, and they found that very amusing. I took a beating myself in front of her. She was practically in a catatonic state after that. I thought when Sorbacov and his son were dead and I was free, all the killing would end, all the brutality, but it follows me. What’s the difference between someone who would kill a child and someone who would do the same to the elderly?”

  Destroyer rubbed his fist in his pal
m in agitation. “A grandmother? They beat her? Robbed her? A woman with the guts to bring a ten-year-old girl to the United States and start a life? It’s bullshit. It just triggered something in me.”

  “That’s understandable, Destroyer,” Czar said. “I can safely say, it triggered something in all of us. We’ll vote on it, but I don’t think you have much to worry about.”

  Destroyer cast the first vote decisively in favor of watching over the elderly and finding out who was behind the robberies. It was unanimous, which didn’t surprise Player in the least.

  “You’ll have to find out everything you can about the other robberies, Code,” Czar said.

  “I don’t sleep so good,” Destroyer confessed. “I can take the night watches, although if someone spots me, they’ll probably be more afraid of me than the robbers.”

  “Not that I can imagine you letting anyone spot you,” Czar said, “but we could have Inez smooth things over with her friends, let them know we’re looking out for them. On the other hand, it might not be the best idea to risk it. Someone had the key to that lock at the Gamal house. That’s someone who knows them.”

  “Best not to let anyone know so you don’t get caught when you’re on guard duty,” Steele cautioned. “Are we finished here? I want to make certain my woman is safe so she can see her friend again.”

  “Not yet,” Czar said. “One more thing. We can get to it fast, though, Steele. Code is overworked. He can’t get everything done, no matter how many computers he uses. He can have dozens searching for what we want or need, but he still has to program them and monitor them. He’s asked that we relieve him of the duty of treasurer. I propose we do so. Master is our resident wizard with numbers, and half the time he’s working with Code anyway. He can manage everything, decide our investments, and Code will still maneuver accounts when needed. Are any opposed?”

 

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