Judgment Road

by Christine Feehan

  "I was worried so I got off early and went to the clubhouse," Anya replied in a little rush to get it over with fast. "He wasn't in the common room so I went to the back, going down the hallway. I could see him standing in front of his room. The door was open and the woman--Tawny--was on her knees with her hands on his cock. She had her face upturned toward him and her mouth wide open as if she was just about to take him in her mouth." Her stomach lurched. "I can't talk about it. I'll be sick."

  "What was he doing?" Blythe persisted. "How was he acting?"

  Anya shook her head, tears starting all over. "I wasn't focused on him. The moment I saw her, she was all I could see. That woman with the man who was supposed to belong to me."

  Blythe indicated her tea. "Don't let it get cold." She waited until Anya took another sip before she spoke. "You can't expect any of them to know the right thing to do in a situation. One that calls for action, this crew is the best, but regular everyday matters? No. They haven't a clue. Someone with a deep sexual issue? Absolutely not. They might be silly enough to listen to one of their brothers who read an article in a magazine about using a surrogate for sex. They might be so desperate to keep their woman that they allow their brother to talk them into trying to use a surrogate to overcome whatever the problem is."

  Anya put down her teacup. "It doesn't matter what the reason was, Blythe. Would you live with Czar after he let some other woman do that to him?"

  "She didn't actually do it," Blythe pointed out. "You don't know what would have happened had you not arrived. He might have stopped her. From the two thousand texts I'm getting, there appears to be more to it than met the eye."

  "I only know I saw her there on her knees. He let another woman do something he would never let me do." She put her hands flat on the arms of the chair and pushed herself up. "Thank you for the tea, Blythe, but I can't stay. I know what you're trying to do, and I'm grateful. Believe me, I am. I've never had caring before, and this felt like it. It's just that I'm not strong enough to keep going back to get kicked in the teeth. How does one recover?"

  Blythe stood up too. "I don't know, Anya, but I do know, if you can do it, it would be worth it. At least listen to him. Hear him out."

  Anya shook her head. It wouldn't matter what he said. Her more than healthy dose of self-preservation was kicking in, stronger than ever, and telling her to run like hell as far and fast as she could.

  SEVENTEEN

  Blythe stood up as well and hugged her. "I hope you find peace, Anya."

  That brought a fresh flood of tears. Blythe brought her peace. She probably brought it to Czar and any of the others that stayed around her. "I'll miss you," she said softly. "I wish I had more time to get to know you."

  "I wish I could persuade you to stay."

  Anya clung for a minute, wishing the same, but she knew she had to go. Deep inside there was a blaring warning signal that wouldn't leave her alone. It was telling her she had to leave immediately. To run. Her clothes and money were back at the house. She just had to get them and get on the road.

  Blythe went with her to the porch. Motorcycles were parked all over the yard. Some were behind her car. Anya went straight to the two sitting on them. "You're going to have to move."

  "Where you headed?" Maestro asked.

  "Back to the house. Would you please move?"

  Both men nodded. "Didn't mean to park in the wrong spot. I think Czar needs to paint stripes for designated parking."

  "Yeah," Player agreed. "Might have to suggest that to him." He leaned down and fiddled with something on his bike.

  Anya heaved a sigh and walked around the bikes to get to her car. The men waited to move until she had turned on the engine. She hadn't spotted Lana anywhere, but when she started up the car, she was suddenly on the porch, Ink and Absinthe beside her. She could see them in her rearview mirror. Lana swung onto the back of Ink's bike, and Absinthe got behind Maestro, further delaying her as she had to wait for Absinthe, who sauntered down the porch stairs over to Maestro, had a small exchange before he climbed on the back and the motorcycles backed up and then swung around to leave in front of her.

  She wanted to scream at them to hurry up. When they turned onto the highway, in the direction she needed to go, trapping her behind them, she sighed and decided to use the time to plan instead of raging. She needed to know exactly what to do. She was a planner, and until she got things settled in her mind, chaos would rule her head.

  The motorcycles didn't turn off to go to the clubhouse, but led the way to Reaper's home. Thankfully, she didn't see his motorcycle. She parked the car, waved the motorcycles away and ran into the house. She took the stairs two at a time, dragged her old duffel bag from the closet and tossed it on the bed. Her cash was stashed in her duffel bag. She threw two pairs of jeans, several tees, sweaters, socks, and underwear into it. She hesitated. She didn't have a picture of Reaper and knew that was a good thing. Her sketch pads were covered with him. Still, she reasoned, knowing she was lying to herself, she needed the sketch pads. She could always throw away the drawings of him. They went in her bag, and then she ran down the stairs.

  She nearly ran right into Reaper. He caught her by the shoulders to steady her. Anya jerked away instantly. "Don't you touch me," she hissed, pulling back so hard she stumbled.

  "Anya, you have to listen to me."

  "No, Reaper, I really don't," she said. "Get out of my way."

  He shook his head. "No. You're going to listen."

  She stepped toward the door. He glided between her and her way out. He did it easily, as if he hadn't drunk all the whiskey in the world.

  "Get out of my way."

  "I said no. You're going to listen to me. After that, if you still want to go . . ."

  He hadn't said he'd let her. Desperation set in. Reaper could talk her into anything. She'd looked once at his face. Her heart had stuttered. Butterflies had taken wing in her stomach. He looked as destroyed as she felt, and that worthless part of her that needed to fix him, that couldn't stand him hurt, had risen up to try to comfort and save him. Not her. She wasn't going to be that person.

  She swung the bag at him. Hard. He dodged it and when she tried to get around him, he blocked her way again.

  "Just calm down and let me talk to you. I can explain what happened."

  "I'm sure you can, Reaper. You always have an explanation for everything, don't you? I don't want to hear this one. I'm done. I'm all explained out. I was patient. I gave you every opportunity to talk to me, but you chose not to. You made your choice with Tawny. Hell, you gave your cock to her. That was more than you ever did for me." He winced, and she hated herself for being a bitch.

  "Baby."

  She dropped her duffel bag and pushed at him. Hard. Both hands on the wall of his chest. He didn't even rock back. He just caught her hands in both of his and pulled her in close. She was waiting for that. She knew him, she knew he'd take advantage. She brought her knee up hard between his legs. He howled. Let her go. She whirled around, caught up the duffel bag and ran out of the house to her car.

  It wasn't there. She looked around blankly. Shocked. Of all times for a car to get stolen, this was the worst ever. She dropped the bag, fished around until she got her bankroll, shoved it into her pocket and started up the drive at a jog.

  Ice moved out of the shadows into her path, forcing her to stop. "Can't let you go, honey," he said. "Go back into the house."

  Club members moved then, coming out from cover of darkness, surrounding her. She caught sight of Maestro and Player. They'd been stalling her. Waiting for Reaper to get home. What had taken so long? Had he stayed to comfort Tawny? Let her finish the job? Her mind just couldn't go there, but it did, and it wouldn't stop, looping the two scenarios in her head, over and over.

  "All of you?" She turned in a circle. "Lana? Even you?"

  "For you, Anya," Lana said. "Just listen to him. After, if you're certain you want to leave, I'll help you."

  "You'll do what's best for h
er and Reaper," Ink said. "Just like all the rest of us."

  "You don't get to make that decision," Anya said. "I have rights as a human being."

  "Those rights include fucking up?" Ice asked.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact they do," she snapped back.

  "Too bad, honey. We don't want you fucking up," Storm said. "I think Ice and I have taken the cake in that department. Someone has to have some sanity. That someone is you. Go in and listen to him. As crazy as it sounds, every word is the truth."

  Czar stepped out of the darkness. "Anya, I stayed back when Lana took you to Blythe, so I could talk to Reaper. That's where he's been. That's where Ice and Storm have been. If I didn't believe their idiotic explanation, I wouldn't have agreed to holding you here to listen. Reaper swears he'll tell you everything. Not just what they were attempting, but why he believed it to be necessary. If you want to leave after that, I'll personally escort you off the property."

  They weren't giving her any way out. She looked around her. In the dark, it was hard to distinguish features, but those she could see held regret and upset. No one appeared to like what they were doing, but they were resolved to continue with their actions.

  They weren't giving her a choice. She marched back up the pathway leading to the front door, refusing to look at any of them, or give Czar the dignity of a reply. Reaper stood in the doorway and he stepped back as she approached. She blew right past him and flung herself into the armchair closest to the door, crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight ahead. He could talk until he was blue in the face. It didn't mean she had to listen.

  Reaper closed the front door slowly and turned back to face her, leaning his back against the door. "First, before anything else, Anya, I have to apologize to you."

  "Don't bother. I know Czar told you to, and I don't want your apology." She snapped it at him, furious again. Wanting to cry again. Apparently sitting in silence wasn't her forte. He'd uttered two sentences and she was already snapping at him. She was supposed to keep her mouth shut.

  "Why would you think Czar would tell me to apologize?" He sounded genuinely puzzled. "Czar has nothing to do with this. I made a terrible mistake and you had to see it. It was humiliating that I ever put either of us in that position. It hurt you--really hurt you--and that would be the last thing in the world I ever wanted to do. More than anything else, I'm sorry for that."

  "Okay, you've apologized." She waved her hand at him. "I accept, Reaper." Her voice cracked and she inwardly cursed. He had to know, by the redness of her face, how swollen it was, that she'd been crying. Still, she didn't want to cry in front of him. If he had an endless line of exes crying over him and begging him to take them back, she didn't want to be one of them. "This is done."

  He shook his head. "It isn't done. We had a deal. It was done when I say it's done, and I never said that. I never thought that. Not for one moment."

  "It was done the moment you put your hands on another woman."

  "I never touched her."

  She wanted the frying pan. The urge was so strong she nearly got up to get the weapon so she could knock sense into him because he wasn't making any. "So sorry I used the wrong part of your anatomy," she said as sarcastically as humanly possible. "Please allow me to rephrase. It was done the moment you put your cock in her mouth."

  "Damn it, Anya, I would have broken her neck if you hadn't walked in and yelled. That's what was in my head. Ice and Storm were there to make certain it didn't happen. I left all weapons in their rooms, but they would have been too late. I would have fuckin' killed her, and all because she wasn't you!" He shouted it at her. "I said no. I told her no. I said it over and over in my head. I tried to move, but I was frozen there."

  He looked as destroyed as she felt and she froze. There was no denying the ring of absolute truth. "You were going to kill her? What are you saying, Reaper? I don't believe you're a sociopath. I just don't believe that."

  He paced across the floor, and Anya watched him, for the first time allowing herself to see the image that was in her head, replaying the incident, all of it, not just seeing the parts she remembered for Blythe. She tried to focus on Reaper, not Tawny. He'd been sweating. She had seen the beads tracking down his skin. He hadn't looked as if he were in the throes of ecstasy, or even in anticipation; he'd looked . . . destroyed, just like he did now.

  Nothing made sense. Not his disturbing confession. Not the way he'd looked when she'd walked up on them. Not the way he was acting now, or the way his brothers and sisters had acted. She forced air into her lungs. She had to be calm because Reaper wasn't calm. He was highly agitated.

  "All right. I'm listening. You'd better tell me what happened." God. God. What had happened? Even now he looked so ravaged, so beyond grief. Sick even. As if he was running a temperature. He kept rubbing his chest, right over his heart. Her tattoo was there, and it was still new. He shouldn't be pressing so hard, but she knew he wasn't even aware of doing it.

  "I'm going to tell you everything. I haven't even told Czar all of it. Not Ice and Storm. I told them part, but not all. I already feel like I've lost you, so it's a huge gamble, telling you the truth, but you're leaving me because I was so fuckin' stupid I took the easy way out."

  She frowned. She was so lost, feeling like she'd come into a story halfway through it.

  "That woman, whatever her name was. Tawny. She would have been the easy way, and I fuckin' couldn't stand her near me. She made my skin crawl and every nightmare I've ever been through came screamin' back. Telling you all this is the most difficult thing I've ever done. When you look at me, Anya, you look at me in a way no one ever has. Like I'm someone special. Like you see inside me to some part of me everyone, including me, gave up on before I was ever born."

  That right there was what she'd feared if she let him talk to her. He got to her heart every time.

  "You don't see me covered in dirt. In filth. You see something else. Something even my brothers and sisters don't see. The sun shines in your eyes when you look at me."

  That was true. More than true. He was everything to her and she didn't even know how he'd gotten in so deep.

  "No man wants his woman to know another man put his hands on him. It happened, over and over. It was ugly and brutal. But there were women there too. Women who liked to hurt children. Liked to see them hurt. One of the women, her name was Helena, was assigned to help us learn discipline and control of our bodies." His voice cracked.

  He turned his back on her, paced across the room and returned. "She was the worst, Anya. No demon from hell could rival her. She always brought her male partner to the sessions. She would go down on me, and he would whip me, or slice into me with a knife. Sometimes he would burn me, and always, always, he raped me. They started when I was ten and kept at me until I was fourteen."

  Her mouth went dry. There was something in his voice, a note that warned her. When he was talking about the man torturing him his voice was matter-of-fact. Whatever was coming, in his mind, was even worse. She didn't want to know worse, but at least she understood his aversion to having anyone go down on him.

  "One day Helena introduced something new into the mix. God knows, it wasn't sick enough already for her. She brought a young girl with her, one of the newer ones. The girl had been brought in a week or so earlier and was very submissive. She was so scared she did anything they said. We couldn't work with the new ones, not until they got past that stage. It was too dangerous for us. We had to know they weren't plants so Sorbacov couldn't figure out how we were killing the instructors, or even if it was us. By that time, he suspected us, all the instructors did as well, but they couldn't figure out how we were doing it."

  "At fourteen, you were still under their control?"

  He nodded. "By that time, we were being sent out on missions. If I went, Sorbacov had Savage locked up with the worst of them. The faster I returned, the quicker he was released. And vice versa. He knew with each of us who to threaten. Czar had it the worst because Sor
bacov was certain he was the glue, keeping us all together and being the brains behind the killings, and he wanted to break him."

  Reaper stalked across the room to the small bar they'd set up at the far end. He poured a small amount of whiskey into a glass and tossed it back. She almost asked him for a drink herself, but figured one of them had better stay focused, sober and calm.

  She wanted to put her hands over her ears. He'd been a child, and he was talking so easily about killing. About being sexually assaulted repeatedly.

  "Helena brought the girl with her and told her she had to keep me aroused while Helena's partner tortured me. Of course the kid had no idea what she was doing, and I was supposed to try to resist. I figured it was an excuse to hurt her, but . . ." He cleared his throat, his hands going to his eyes. His throat worked. A hard swallow.

  Anya braced herself.

  "She slit the girl's throat. Right there, with her kneeling in front of me. Mouth still on me. Blood was everywhere and that bitch laughed and smeared it around, pushed the body aside and I swear to God, she took the kid's place. I just lost it, Anya. I grabbed the knife out of her hand and killed her just the way she'd killed that girl. Mouth still on me. Then I turned and stabbed him. I don't even know how many times. I don't remember much of it, although I have nightmares all the fuckin' time."

  Both hands raked through his hair. His blue eyes met hers. His were tortured. Tormented. "That's what happened that night. My dreams of you, of you loving me, turned into a nightmare of Helena torturing me. God, baby. I'm so fuckin' sorry. I'm so fucked-up and there's no way around it. None."

  "Reaper." She didn't know what she was going to say. What she could say? Tears trickled down her face, and this time they were for both of them. For Reaper because he was right, there was no way to undo that kind of severe damage. That kind of trauma. And for her, because she loved him with everything in her and she didn't see a way through this.

  "There's more. I'm going to give it all to you."

  How could there be more? She wasn't certain her heart could take any more. She felt paralyzed with grief for him. Her chest hurt there was so much pressure.

  "Just say it, honey," she whispered.