“Keep going, Absinthe,” Steele encouraged. “Sadly, I think you’re making sense.”
Czar nodded, steepling his fingers together, those penetrating eyes fixed on his face.
Absinthe kept his expression a mask. “What better way to penetrate our club? Send one or two to join the club patching over, and once accepted into the club—which they would be—hell, they’re probably well-known to the others. They were in the school together. All they have to do is get information on us and our loved ones. They’re assassins and they’re coming after us. They’re the ones who ride as the Ghosts when they want to convince another club they’re legit.”
He’d put it on the line. He’d been working it out for a while, the pieces of the puzzle moving around in his head, until he had them all locked into place. He could see the others catching up fast. Savage was already there, agreeing with him. Ice and Storm nodding. Maestro and Keys right there. Lana and Alena reluctantly agreeing, but not wanting to think that someone might infiltrate through a possible club. The rest of the members were just as fast once he presented the idea.
Something had nagged at the back of Absinthe’s mind ever since they had first rescued Plank’s wife, and it had finally come together as Czar was speaking. The president of the Diamondback’s Sea Haven chapter had been grateful, but wary—and frankly, he had reason to be. Their club didn’t add up. They seemed benign enough on the surface, but they had been able to do what the Diamondbacks hadn’t. More than once they had caught the president in a tight squeeze. When Plank had first approached them in their bar, to tell them about his wife being kidnapped, he thought he had the upper hand, but they had him in a crossfire situation. Again, when they brought her back, they had too many weapons in their vehicles. He would have gone down in a blaze of gunfire no matter the protection he thought he had.
“I’m going to play devil’s advocate here,” Czar said. “The Russian had no way of knowing we make up Torpedo Ink. He wasn’t aware of us, at all. Even when I assassinated Blythe’s stepfather and he was part of that, all those years ago, he had no inkling that I would ever cross paths with him again. In order for him to put someone into a chapter asking to be patched into Torpedo Ink specifically, the Russian would have had to know about us. He would have had to know we were from Sorbacov’s school and that we were a threat to him.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Absinthe agreed. “He had no way of knowing that. This group of assassins for hire, what do they call themselves, Code?”
“According to their offices in San Francisco—and they do have offices in a very upscale office building right in downtown San Francisco—they are called Sword Security. Nice little graphic. They don’t solicit business, nor do they take it from just anyone. You have to be recommended to them, and they don’t come cheap.”
“So, we have Sword Security set up in San Francisco and who knows where else. I’m guessing more than one place, am I correct?” Absinthe asked.
Code nodded. “Three cities, and they travel as well. I’m looking into them to try to find out how many they have on their payroll.”
“The Russian runs them. They’re his assassins. He took the reins when Sorbacov and his son died. These men wanted someone to tell them what to do and they needed the work and the money. They banded together, just the way the others did from Gavriil’s school, the ones that we patched over from Trinity County into Torpedo Ink,” Absinthe continued. “Sorbacov died, all of us were free and most of us had no idea what to do.”
“That still doesn’t mean the Russian would know enough to send one of his assassins undercover into a club just on the off chance that we had formed a club,” Czar said.
“He most likely didn’t,” Absinthe said. “He had his assassins working for the Ghosts, remember? They were pretending to be a club, getting in with other clubs, getting information, riding with them, trying to find the gamblers. The Russian would be smart enough to stick a couple of his men in with those clubs whose members they already knew. They could get the information so much easier. Go on runs with them, no one would suspect anything. If they had to kill, they were in a perfect position with plenty of cover.”
That much was true, and they all knew it.
“Once the Russian suspected he was dealing with us,” Absinthe continued, “if he had his men already in place, he could easily get word to his assassins to start pushing for their club to follow in the footsteps of the Trinity one to patch over to Torpedo Ink.”
“You put this all together when?” Czar asked.
“I’ve had this nagging feeling in my gut ever since the hit went out on Ice’s old lady. It didn’t make sense to me the way everything was so connected,” Absinthe admitted. “I couldn’t put things together, not until now. They just sort of clicked into place. That’s how it works with me.”
“It isn’t like we can ignore whenever something clicks into place for you as much as we’d like to,” Czar said. “You’ve never been wrong.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Damn it. The Russian knows we’re his enemy. He isn’t likely to try to recruit us. He’s very familiar with all of us. He had to be part of the school we were in, whether as one of the instructors—and he would have been one of the younger ones—or one of the students, and he would have been one of the older ones we thought had been killed.”
“I’m sorry, Czar.” Absinthe meant it. He didn’t like the pieces of a puzzle to snap into place late and put his club behind. “I should have figured this one out sooner.”
“I’m always amazed when you put things together, Absinthe. This was barely a thread to follow. I had my first hint of the Russian when I was ordered to take out Blythe’s stepfather. Her stepfather was a pedophile. At the time, all the information on him was correct and he deserved to die. What I didn’t know then, but since have learned, was her stepfather was part of a major pedophile ring and he’d crossed the Russian and the orders had come from him through Sorbacov. That was quite a few years ago and I’ve never even considered that he was behind these men.”
“Shit.” Ice shook his head. “He knows us. He knows every one of us.”
“That’s not true,” Steele, always the voice of reason, disagreed. “He may think he has the advantage because he thinks he knows us, but we survived by sticking together. By becoming one person, a machine. A killing machine, if you will. We wove ourselves together and he can’t know that’s how we function. He can’t know we took our psychic gifts, talents other people may have but ignore, and we practiced until we could do things no one would believe. He doesn’t know us as adults. Or that we still train every day to be faster and more skilled at the things we were taught and that we deliberately learned even more once we were outside the walls of that hellhole.”
“Steele’s right,” Czar agreed. “Even if he was one of us, and at one time received the same training, we never revealed to anyone but those of us right here in this room what we could do. Alena would share food with us telepathically, and suddenly all of us knew what cinnamon was and what it smelled and tasted like. Our bellies felt full even though we hadn’t eaten. The crap they gave us to eat, she made taste good. No one else knew about that. Only we knew. No one else but those of us in this room knows that we crawled through the vents and assassinated those raping us. The Russian, whoever he is, can’t know who we are, and he’s afraid of us. We’re not afraid of him. We’re patient. We’ll find him. We always find the ones we’re looking for, no matter how long it takes us.”
Czar looked around the table and they all nodded, in complete agreement, because it was the truth. They had learned patience in a hard school, and they took their time. Their two newest members, Czar’s birth brothers and men trained as assassins in the other Sorbacov schools, had learned that same patience and had the ability to take their time to strike at enemies. They knew loyalty and called each of them brother or sister.
“It will be easy enough to contact the president of both chapters and find out who the newest members are
. If there are any prospects. They’ll obviously know them, because they will have gone to the same school, and they’ll trust them,” Absinthe said.
“But we’ll have to be discreet about it,” Steele pointed out. “These men are like us. We can’t ever forget we’re dealing with trained opponents. The slightest hint that we’re onto them and they’ll be in the wind.”
“Can Code and his computers uncover that kind of information?” Ice asked, looking at Code.
Code shrugged. “I can. I just have a slight problem at the moment because I’ve had my computers searching in so many directions that they’re on overload. I’m in the process of building a couple more but need a day or two to get all this going.”
“I’ll take this off your hands.” Czar made the decision. “I can come up with a plausible reason to get names and how long they’ve been with the chapters. We’ve got a run coming up in a few weeks. It won’t be that difficult, especially if we’re throwing a party here as well.”
“Do we have any other business to discuss?” Ice asked.
Before Absinthe could make up his mind whether or not to bring up his librarian, Czar stood up, looking a little sheepish, something completely foreign to him. “I have a request. This came from Blythe—the two of us. I’m in agreement.” He paused.
Absinthe kept a straight face, but Ice looked at Storm and the two of them got some of the others around the table grinning. Czar stared them down. When they were all sober, he took a drink and set the glass carefully on the table.
“Our newest adopted boy, Jimmy, is having a difficult time adjusting. He’s lived his life in a cage, and you all know what that’s like. The world is too a big a place for him. Even the bedrooms. We’ve kept visitors to a minimum in the hopes that sheltering him for a while would give him a chance to get used to us and the household. The other children help, but he’s fearful and doesn’t believe he’s safe,” Czar admitted. “He won’t really talk about his experiences with us yet, and I don’t blame him. He can’t possibly trust that he’s safe this fast.”
“What do you want us to do?” Lana asked.
Czar looked around the table. “The kids need a few lessons in survival training. They need to get out of the house and have a little fun, but still learn. It’s part of their home-schooling. Blythe was hoping some of you would volunteer. She doesn’t want Steele or me to teach them. It has to be a few of you. Volunteering is good. It prevents me from giving out orders. Jimmy has been around both of us, but Blythe thinks if you come around and the other children treat you like aunts and uncles, without fear, and are having fun with you and doing something that might make him feel safer, it might bring him a little more out of his shell.”
“That’s a little unorthodox,” Preacher said. “Especially for Blythe to think up.”
Czar drummed his fingers on the table. “He has to feel safe and proactive. Once we felt we could fight back, once we felt we had a little control, we were better. All of us. He’s just a little kid and curls up in a ball at night in a closet. I can’t reach him. Blythe can’t reach him. Even Kenny and Darby aren’t getting anywhere, and they’ve tried. He’s so scared.”
“But survival training?” Maestro echoed. “Blythe is really okay with that?”
“It worked for us,” Reaper pointed out.
“Think of it this way,” Absinthe said. “The kids are part of this club whether they’re here at the clubhouse or not. When we’re threatened, they are. If we ever have to pick up and move, they do. They have to follow the code of the club, just as we do. They need to know how to survive in any situation. I don’t want them hurt the way we were, but they should know what to do if someone attacks them.”
“That makes sense,” Gavriil said. “Just know whoever is teaching that class is going to have to contend with that little devil, my brother Maxim’s son, Benito. He’s a mini Maxim, a little assassin in training.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Savage asked.
They all looked at one another, clearly puzzled.
“It is when he’s a bloodthirsty boy bent on revenge and Airiana, my sister-in-law, and Blythe are watching his every move—and ours. He’ll try your patience to no end,” Gavriil said.
“You and Casimir are the newest members,” Preacher pointed out. “You should volunteer and take this project on.”
“They nixed us,” Casimir said complacently. “Some little complaint about Gavriil pulling Benito through the window by his hair and putting a knife to his throat. Airiana wasn’t very happy with him. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven him. The woman holds a grudge and she’s our sister-in-law.”
Laughter went around the table and when they sobered, Transporter shook his head and nodded at Gavriil. “Got to hand it to you. You don’t talk much, but you’ve got a way with women.”
Another round of laughter went around the table. Gavriil shrugged, not in the least disturbed by the assessment.
Absinthe looked around. “Czar laid it on the table. All joking aside, Blythe really wants this, and we have to give it to her. She doesn’t ask us often. That means we have to be serious about it and come up with a plan. We need to know what we’re going to teach them. How much time it’s going to take. That kind of thing. I’m willing to plan it all out, but there are a lot of kids and they’re different ages. I’ll need help with the actual instructing.”
Czar shot him a grateful look. For Absinthe, it was all about Blythe. She had put up with all of them almost from the moment she met them—and they hadn’t been easy on her. Not even Alena and Lana.
“Absinthe, sadly, is right,” Lana agreed. “We’re going to have to deal with those little monsters. All of us.” She looked around the table. “You’re not leaving them to us because Alena and I are women. Every single one of you can help. Absinthe, when you’re making up the lesson plans, factor that in. Give everyone a role.”
Groans accompanied nods, but no one was going to turn down a Blythe request.
“Put it to a vote?” Steele asked.
“We don’t have to vote,” Preacher said, “but if you want it official …”
Survival training passed immediately.
Ice looked around the table. “Any other business?”
Absinthe waited, but when no one spoke, he nodded his head. “I found my woman,” he announced. He kept his voice low, matter-of-fact. He was always careful when he talked. He’d learned never to use his voice on his brothers. It wasn’t always easy to stop himself, especially if something was really important to him like this. Like his little librarian.
Czar’s head went up alertly, as did Steele’s. Czar was back to using his razor-sharp, piercing eyes. He turned them on Absinthe. “When?”
“About six weeks ago. I went to a library in Sonoma for a little downtime and she was working there. It took me all of about two minutes of looking at her before my body reacted to her. I knew then but refused to believe it.” He couldn’t help but smile. “She likes books. She likes the same things I like. I just watched her for a while. She’s good with kids, teens especially. She helps them with their homework, and I can see she really cares. She’s got this bright red hair. And I mean fire-engine red.”
“Temper to go with it?” Keys asked with a small grin.
“Probably,” Absinthe admitted, his gaze lifting to Keys just for a moment, amusement creeping into his mind. Yeah, he was pretty certain Scarlet had a temper. “I haven’t tested that yet. I asked her to dinner the other night and wasn’t stupid enough to push her beyond that, although the waiter pissed me off. He made a play for her right in front of me.”
“You weren’t wearing your colors,” Czar said. “If you were wearing your colors no one would have made a play for your woman. That would have been a big red flag.”
There was a silence and several of his brothers straightened in their chairs. Mechanic and Transporter shifted closer to him as if they were ready to protect him.
Absinthe shrugged, careful not to look at Czar’s pi
ercing eyes. “I was playing the lawyer. Wanted her to think that was what she was getting.”
“Why?” Storm asked. “That’s not you.”
“That’s a part of me. One side of me. The thing is, she …” What could he say to make them understand? He rubbed his temples. The slow throbbing had gone from annoying to painful.
“I told you I get feelings sometimes, and I did while riding up to the library. I removed my colors because I knew something momentous was about to happen. It didn’t feel like a threat, and I always follow my gut instincts. I was right this time.”
He looked around the table. These were his brothers and sisters. He’d fight and die for them. They were his family. His world. He hated telling them the truth.
“All of us in this room have demons. We can’t escape them. We all know that. Unfortunately, I have all your demons in my head along with my own. I have the demons of every man or woman I’ve had to question or kill in my head. I have the demons of the ones we couldn’t save. They don’t leave me or let up. They just are stuck there, driving me insane.”
He couldn’t look at them as he made the confession because he knew he was hurting them. It wasn’t his intention, but he had to make them see that Scarlet was as necessary to him as Blythe was to Czar or Anya was to Reaper.
“Sometimes, when one of you is having a particularly difficult time and you’re trying to deal with it, my brain feels like it’s being shredded. I can’t make that stop, no matter how hard I try. So, when it’s particularly bad, I go to a library alone. I sit there surrounded by books and the people who read them. I sit in that silence and there’s a semblance of peace.”
There was complete silence in the room, almost as if everyone held their breath. Absinthe finally forced himself to meet Czar’s gaze, the man he looked up to. That hurt, right in the gut like a hard punch.
Desolation Road Page 5
