Judgment Road (Torpedo Ink #1)

by Christine Feehan

  Reaper just shook his head, despair gripping his heart. His chest hurt. His stomach was tied up in so many knots he wasn’t certain he could have stood even if his legs would have held him up. He couldn’t tell Czar the entire truth without losing the man’s respect.

  “Wasn’t it good?”

  His head jerked up. “Good? Fuck, Czar. Never felt anything like that in my life. Never. That’s why she’s not safe. I’d find that woman no matter where she hid, that’s why you have to protect her. The club needs to protect her. I’m asking for that.”

  “Did you even one time have it in your head to kill her? Even once? Before, during or after?”

  “Are you even listening to me?” Reaper hissed it, wanting to smash his brother right in the face, knowing it was really himself he wanted to hit. “I wasn’t thinking . I wasn’t thinking about anything. Not killing, not protecting. I didn’t even use a fuckin’ glove. All I could do was get inside her. Wanting to live there. There was no thinking, brother. None. Never in my life have I felt that.”

  “You’re the one not listening to me, Reaper. You’re so certain something terrible is going to happen that you won’t take a look at what did happen. You had sex naturally with a woman of your choice. You didn’t think about killing her. There was no fake seduction. The two of you lit the place on fire. You didn’t pull out a knife and slit her throat. You didn’t put a gun to her head. You didn’t garrote her. You had a wild ride and both of you survived.”

  Reaper took a deep breath. The air was salty. He was beginning to feel the bruises now. His body was stiffening. It hurt, but it was a good hurt, one he was familiar with. The roaring in his ears was beginning to settle enough that he could hear Czar. It helped that he’d been listening to the man since he’d been a toddler.

  Czar was plainspoken. He didn’t sugarcoat things. If he thought Reaper was a danger to others, he’d most likely pull the trigger himself. Of course Czar didn’t know the entire story, and Reaper couldn’t bring himself to tell him. They’d lived through shame together, but some things were too terrible to share, even with Czar.

  He spread his fingers wide and his knuckles protested. The pain grounded him. He could take pain. He could dish it out. That was something he understood. Fire like he’d shared with Anya, wild and out of control, that was something terrifying and new. He thought he understood sex. He was an expert at it. They all were. They’d been taught every type of sex known to man, forced to learn, to be good, forced to be disciplined to resist it if needed. They’d never been taught what it would be like if the body responded naturally.

  “What now?”

  “Now, you explore the relationship with her, Reaper. You figure it out. That’s what I had to do. That’s what all the brothers will have to do when the time comes.”

  Relationship? What the hell was Czar saying? Reaper wasn’t thinking beyond getting inside her again without harming her. Not a relationship. What did that even mean? No, sex was where he was keeping it, that was all he could do. He was so damaged there was no fixing him, and a woman didn’t stay with the kind of man he was. No woman could, let alone a woman like Anya.

  “What if I …” He couldn’t bring himself to say “kill her,” because the thought of that was so abhorrent he didn’t dare let himself say it aloud again. He could have. “I’m not a good man.”

  “Neither am I, yet I have Blythe and she’s a good woman. I count myself lucky.”

  Blythe was a miracle, but Reaper wasn’t going to say that aloud. He’d said enough about his sins. “Gotta go soak before I’m too stiff to even ride. Won’t be of use to you when Code gives us the information on the Ghosts.”

  “Then get to it. I have a warm woman waiting for me.” Czar stood up and reached down with a hand to help Reaper to his feet. “Take it slow. See where it goes.”

  Reaper nodded. He wasn’t promising anything. He had to think.

  SEVEN

  Anya heard the sound of the Harley long before it reached her. She was curled up, wrapped in the sleeping bag to stay warm, hidden in a circle of boulders. Thanks to Leslee, she had a ground blanket, and she’d swept off most of the rocks, but she was still cold. She sat up, listening, her heart accelerating. She’d recognize the sound of Reaper’s bike anywhere.

  She had no idea how to interpret her feelings. The moment she heard the bike and knew he was coming for her, her treacherous body went crazy. It didn’t matter that he’d treated her like a whore, using her and walking out without a word, she still remembered every single touch of his mouth, his hands and his cock. Best sex ever. More than that, when he’d kissed her, it had felt like he’d been staking his claim. Telling her she meant something to him. Clearly, she hadn’t.

  Anya had replayed those kisses in her mind over and over. Replayed him walking out over and over. She told herself she was a big girl. She’d known what she was getting into. She thought she’d come to grips with it and was prepared to face him when she went to work the following night. She would be professional. Behind the bar, she could do anything, even face him picking up another woman. Maybe. Either that or she’d quit and leave like he’d wanted.

  Her hair was braided in a tight weave. She reached for her bra. She was sleeping in his flannel. Damn. He’d see that and probably think she was trying to be clingy. He didn’t hesitate, or call out, he rode straight up the narrow trail leading to her little nest, as if he had a tracker on her. That was impossible. The Egg Taking Station was a huge place. Lots of camping sites. How could he possibly know exactly where she was? On top of everything else, it was dark. No lights, just the moon, and that was covered in clouds. Dark clouds. That should have given her a premonition.

  She extracted herself from her bag and pulled on her shoes, sitting on top of the boulder, watching him as he parked the bike. He didn’t get off, or turn it completely off, he just sat there waiting. She shoved the rest of her clothes inside the sleeping bag and rolled it tight.

  “How did you know where I was?”

  He didn’t answer her; instead, he reached behind him and pulled a jacket out of a compartment. She shoved the bag in and put the jacket on, then the dome he held out to her. She slid behind him, felt him wince when her arms went tight. Immediately she loosened her hold, using her fingers to bunch his jacket so she wouldn’t have to put her arms around him.

  Like he always did, he grabbed her hands and brought them around him. She didn’t know why she let him or why she got on his bike without a word. She did know he was going to tell her how he knew where to find her— that is, until the pickup truck that had been parked in the campsite just below her nest fell in behind them. He’d had someone watching her.

  Anya pressed her face against his back. She didn’t know whether to be happy or upset about that. Upset because it felt icky to know someone had been spying on her. Happy that he cared enough to have someone looking out for her. Did that mean there was a good explanation for him going off without a single word to her? Probably not. It wasn’t that difficult to say good-bye, see you later. No, Reaper was being Reaper, looking after someone working for the club, but he really was that jerk that screwed a woman and then just left her.

  They drove straight to the compound, the truck sliding into the parking lot a distance from them, closer to the garage. Two men got out and in the light spilling from inside the truck, she recognized the two prospects who had been in the common room that morning. Had it only been that morning?

  When Reaper slid off the bike, he looked stiff. As if his body hurt. She frowned. “Are you okay? Were you in an accident?”

  He gestured toward the building, removing his gloves as he did. “Inside.”

  She considered hitting him over the head with the helmet, but placed it carefully on the bike instead. Head up, she walked in front of him, feeling like a wayward child whose father had come and gotten her from the wild party. It didn’t help that several of the club members were seated around the bar and some at the tables. They all looked up when s
he came in. Some smiled. Preacher greeted her. She nodded to him, but Reaper put his bare hand on the small of her back, under the jacket and flannel, and pushed her into the hall.

  She was very aware of his hand, so hot it felt like he melted right through her skin to her bones. Sinking into her veins. Deeper. To her core. It felt too intimate, as if he had the right to put his bare hand on her bare skin. It shook her how much just his touch sent heat waves radiating through her body. She tried not to think too much about what was between them.

  She wanted him again. She knew that. She just didn’t know if her heart could take it. She went to the room she’d had the night before, and he reached around her to open the door. Once inside she turned and faced him, mostly because his hand had burned a hole through her entire back, all the way to her heart and it was melting that as well. She couldn’t afford for that to happen.

  As she turned, he flicked on the overhead light and her breath caught in her throat. “Reaper. Oh my God. Sit down. What happened to you? Were you in an accident?”

  “Nope. A fight. A few fights.” Those blue eyes stayed on her face. “What the fuck were you doing out there again? You have some kind of a death wish?”

  She backed up until the back of her knees hit the bed. “You didn’t say anything to me, so I thought we were done. It’s not like I can live here just because we …” She gestured in the air, uncertain what they’d done. Wild sex? Best sex in the world? What? What did biker babes call it? They’d fucked. It was over. He’d made that clear.

  “I told you it was done when I said it was done. You hear me say that?”

  She shook her head because he hadn’t said they were done and that just left her more confused than ever.

  “You eat tonight?”

  “Didn’t your minions give you a full report?”

  “Babe. Long fuckin’ day. You hungry or what?”

  She shook her head.

  “Good. Strip.”

  “What?”

  “Take your clothes off.”

  “Just like that? I’m not so certain you’re up to this, and without any talking or anything I’m not sure I am.”

  “Can’t kiss you because my lips are cut to hell. Can’t talk because my cock is gettin’ in the way. Makes it hard to think when I hurt like a son of a bitch. You shouldn’t be so damn beautiful if you don’t want me hard as a fuckin’ rock when I look at you.”

  She bent down to untie her shoes. He stood draped against the door, looking beat up, bruised and swollen, but he was right, she could see the outline of his cock pushed tight against the fabric of his jeans. Even beat up he looked good. He wasn’t making a move to undress and that worried her a little. She kicked both shoes off and peeled off her socks, stood up and pulled off his shirt. Her new bra wasn’t as pretty as the lacy one he’d shredded, or the beautiful black one that went under the tee she spotted on the nightstand, but it was cheap enough that she could afford it. She wasn’t taking chances with him tearing it off her, so she took that off too.

  She had generous breasts. There was no getting around it. Just like her hips—she had those as well. She hesitated before turning to face him after putting the bra on top of his flannel.

  “Keep going.”

  When she turned back, he had his jeans open and his fist circled his cock. Her breath caught in her throat. He looked sexy as hell standing there, still in his colors, fully clothed, with his cock out, stroking it slowly, his gaze burning through her.

  “God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful it hurts.”

  He sounded like he meant it—that he was in awe of her or something. A fresh wave of hot liquid dampened her panties. She pushed jeans and panties off her hips and stepped out of them. She was totally naked, and he was fully dressed. It felt decadent. Sinful. She also felt vulnerable.

  She fully expected him to ask her to kneel down and suck him off, but he didn’t. He indicated the bed. “Bend over the bed.”

  She couldn’t believe the way her heart began to pound so frantically, or the way her body had already started into meltdown. He hadn’t kissed her. He hadn’t touched her. Nothing. But she wanted him desperately. What was wrong with her?

  “Sure you don’t want to lie down? I could ride you,” she offered.

  “Body’s too sore. Get your ass over that bed. Not going to tell you again.”

  She sent him a look over her shoulder, moving to obey, but deliberately slow about it. He caught the nape of her neck and pressed her face into the mattress, one hand sliding between her legs.

  “Fuck yeah, Anya. You’re ready for me.” He pushed her legs farther apart with his boot. One finger curled into her. “Can’t eat you tonight. Hungry for you, but my mouth is a mess.”

  She didn’t care, although his mouth had given her multiple orgasms. Right now, she just needed him in her. Deep. She pushed back. “Hurry.”

  “You’re always thinkin’ you’re going to tell me what to do. Not happening.”

  He leaned over her, his body blanketing her, his mouth at the nape of her neck. She felt his lips, whisper soft. Then the erotic scrape of his teeth. More liquid heat. Her heart stuttered. Her belly did a slow roll.

  He kissed his way down her spine, his teeth gentle, his tongue touching her here and there, tiny dots that sent pulses to her clit. How did he do that? One hand swept down her back and over her butt, shaping her, as if he was memorizing her.

  “Love your skin, Anya. Love the way it feels.”

  Abruptly he straightened, and in one move, entered her. Just like before. Hard. Fast. Pushing through her tight folds with no warning, just taking her, burying his cock in her sheath. Lightning seemed to streak through her. His fingers bit deep into her hips and he yanked her back every time he plunged deep. Over and over. The flames ate her from the inside out. She went over fast. Too fast. The orgasm caught her before she had time to catch a breath and she cried out, trying to muffle the sound, knowing they weren’t alone in the big building.

  He didn’t stop or slow to give her a chance to recover. To ease down. He just kept pounding into her, driving her high and tipping her over the edge again. She couldn’t stop the shattered cry the second or third time. She didn’t know if it was one continuous orgasm after that or if it was more, but she couldn’t catch a breath, her voice a sobbing gasp, begging him. For what she didn’t know. All that fire pouring into and over her was too much. She couldn’t think, only feel. Then it was building into something uncontrollable and she tried to move away from it, tried to get out from under him, terrified this one would drive her insane.

  He gripped her harder. “Let go. Let go for me, I’ve got you.”

  She would have done anything he asked her. He was there, right there, and she gave herself to him completely. It hit, the wave bursting over her, sweeping her away, taking him with her. He gave a hoarse shout that sounded like a gruff version of her name and then he lay over top of her, his heart pounding through his cock. She could feel him inside her.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead into the mattress. They hadn’t used a condom again. She knew better. What was it about him that made her lose her mind like that? She was definitely going to get back on birth control immediately.

  He pulled out of her, and she heard his zipper. She rolled over, sprawled half on and half off the bed. “You’re sleeping here. Tomorrow I’ll show you the house,” he ordered.

  She put her hands behind her head, forcing herself not to ask if he was going to sleep with her. Clearly, he wasn’t. He’d actually stepped back across the room so he was against the door. Watching her. There was something in his eyes she couldn’t read, but it terrified her. This man was too complicated for her. Too scary. Too sexy. Too everything.

  “I need to know how much it’s going to be to fix my car.” That should be safe enough.

  “You aren’t going anywhere. I told you. You started this with me. I gave you the chance to leave and you didn’t take it. You stick it out until it’s done.”


  She sighed and sat up, feeling more vulnerable than ever naked, with his seed dripping down her thighs. “I don’t understand you.”

  “What’s not to understand? I don’t like you putting yourself in danger by going out to that campsite. You don’t have a gun. You’re a woman alone. You’re just looking for trouble.”

  That was pretty much what Leslee had said, but when she’d said it, the warning had sounded a lot nicer. “I don’t have money yet for an apartment.”

  “Made myself clear.”

  “If you’d made yourself clear, Reaper, I wouldn’t have left. I won’t go back out there, but I still need my car. I’m not on birth control. I’ll have to get on it, and it takes a month before we’re safe. Condoms would be good. Maybe you need to carry them with you or something. You never take your clothes off so fill up your pockets. We’ll be golden.”

  “Your car is a shit car, Anya. It’s held together with rubber bands, electrical and duct tape. There’s no hope for that rusted pile of bolts.”

  She laughed. It was an apt way of describing her car. She reached for his flannel and pulled it on.

  Those blue eyes burned over her. “Don’t like you covering up.”

  “You’re covered up.”

  “Not nearly as beautiful as you.”

  How did he do that? It was such an unReaper-like thing to say. “Maybe I disagree with that. I think you have a beautiful body.” He was covered in scars and tattoos, but she loved every inch of him.

  “Not right now, I don’t. You need the bathroom?”

  She nodded. He was pressed against the door, one hand on the knob as if he needed to run from her. He looked bruised. His knuckles were smashed, swollen and torn. One eye was already black. She stood up, clutching the sides of the shirt together and looking around for her panties. He opened the door. “What are you doing?”