Bound Together

by Christine Feehan

  It had been too many days--three--since he'd talked to Blythe. She'd disappeared. He knew she hadn't gone back home because he'd spent the last three nights on her bed. She wasn't at any of her "sisters'" homes either. He'd checked. Repeatedly.

  He had a job to do, and if he didn't get his mind right soon, it would get him killed. Better that than to try to live without her. He figured his next move was to just ask one of her sisters. They'd probably slam the door in his face, but he'd keep after them until he found her. He'd learned as a child, if he wanted to survive, if he needed anything from food for the other kids to medical supplies or information, to just keep pushing until he got his way.

  Reaper and Savage pulled up on one side of him, Ice and Storm on the other. He glanced at them and then back at the ocean. Trouble. He knew it was coming. It had left him alone a little bit too long.

  "Tell me."

  All four men shut down the motors and stayed, like him, straddling their bikes.

  "You were right. That bastard is up to his old games. He sent another team in, but they're watching us, not establishing a campground. They're in Sea Haven right now, acting like fools. Getting rowdy with the locals. Someone is going to call the sheriff, and it's going to turn into a bloodbath. From what I saw of those two, Harrington and Deveau, there's no backup in them," Reaper said.

  "Are they watching the farm?" He kept his eyes on the crashing waves, stillness settling in him. He was used to trouble. To action. He needed it, and the Swords were delivering it up to him like sacrificial lambs.

  Ice answered. "I followed them. They hung out at the local bar, right there on the main street. I could have done them all when they came out. Loudmouthed. Drawing attention to themselves. They're here for a covert operation but they're making asses out of themselves."

  Viktor frowned. "Maybe they're supposed to find us and camp with us, the first wave before the others come." He hoped not. He was restless and edgy. That was always a bad sign with him. He needed the action, the same as Reaper, Savage and the others.

  Savage shook his head. "Caught two of them spying on our camp. Spent a bit of time with them, that's what made us go to town looking for the others."

  Viktor scowled at him. "You spent time with them?"

  "Needed information, Czar," Savage said. "Caught the bastards red-handed ogling Alena while she was showering."

  "I'll just bet she stripped nice and slow for them, kept their attention on her while the two of you crept up on them and 'caught them red-handed.'"

  "No need for sarcasm. Alena can't help but be beautiful," Ice said. "But no one's going to watch my sister shower when she thinks she's alone."

  Fat chance Alena thought she was alone. If Savage caught them, it was because Alena deliberately put on a show to keep their attention. It was the easiest trick in the book and one his family had used even as children. Alena and Lana had both used that technique more than once when they were trapping the worst of the pedophiles in the school.

  "I don't want any blowback. Seriously, we're going to establish ourselves here. We can't have bodies turning up," Viktor cautioned. "Especially if they have any marks on them due to a 'talk.'"

  Savage shrugged. "Nice thing about this part of the country is lots of places for bodies. No one is going to be finding them."

  "Make certain. And make certain nothing can be traced back to you."

  Savage didn't bother to answer a second time, nor did Viktor expect him to.

  "Are they wearing their colors?"

  "No, but they're talking loudly," Storm said. "They want everyone to be afraid of them. It's rather obvious. Deveau or Harrington sees them, for certain there's going to be a confrontation."

  "How many?"

  "Six in town. The other two don't matter much now," Ice answered.

  Viktor sighed. "I want all of you to listen to me. You don't have to stay here and make this our home base. You don't. The only tie you have to this place is me. I have Blythe, and I need her."

  He didn't talk feelings with his brothers, it just wasn't done, but someone had to lead the way into another life. None of them would survive if they kept going as they were. "I'm not going to lie to you about that. It's make it or not for me here. We keep doing what we are, sooner or later we'll cross a line we can't come back from. I'm not willing to do that."

  "What the fuck, Czar," Reaper snapped. "No one's looking to leave."

  "Then we can't make it a practice to kill in our own backyard."

  Storm made a sound like he was choking. Viktor turned his head to glare at him, but a part of him couldn't help being a little pleased that Storm found anything he said funny. None of them laughed much. They didn't have much to laugh about. They certainly never showed a humorous side to anyone other than their brothers and sisters.

  "What's so funny?"

  "'We can't make it a practice to kill in our own backyard.' We learned in our own backyard. It's what we did and what we do," Ice answered for his brother. "You think we're suddenly going to be going to church on Sundays?"

  Okay, maybe it was a little funny. Viktor kept his face expressionless. "If I say we go to church, we go to church," he declared.

  Storm and Ice looked at each other and then at Reaper and Savage. Reaper let out a sigh. "It's a pun, you morons. We go to church every time we have an official meeting."

  Viktor let a smile slip through. "Idiots."

  "Very funny. I thought I was totally screwed for a minute there," Storm said. "I was sweating."

  Ice shook his head. "You took a few years off my life with that one. You're getting all weird on us, Czar. Maybe you really would want us to go to Sunday school."

  "You could use it," Viktor informed him.

  "Like we don't get enough sermons from you already," Storm muttered.

  Viktor had to reach, but he managed to cuff him on the back of the head. "How many following me?"

  "Two," Reaper answered, sounding almost bored.

  "Which chapter?"

  "They aren't wearing their colors, but my guess is they're out of North Carolina. They have the accents," Ice said.

  Viktor started his Harley. The others followed suit. He had to get down to business now, and he hadn't settled things with Blythe. He'd hoped for more time, at least another week to look around, find the perfect place Evan would want for his ambush and yet at the same time make certain civilians could be protected. He needed to talk to his birth brothers again to see if they knew a place he could bring the Swords in that wouldn't alert a paranoid Evan to a possible double-cross.

  Mostly, he needed to talk to Blythe. He couldn't keep his mind on his job if he didn't straighten things out between them. More, it nagged at him that none of his messages had gotten through. No one but his birth brothers knew about the message center they had set up for emergencies and to be able to communicate with one another. They rarely used it, and only in code, just in case someone accidentally stumbled across it, but Viktor knew that was next to impossible.

  Had one of his brothers betrayed him? If so, which one? Not Gavriil. They'd been the closest, and Gavriil's school hadn't been any picnic. He'd been brought to Viktor's school once in order to scare the brothers into compliance. He knew how bad it could get. Stefan or Maxim? Casimir? He couldn't see that.

  He lifted his face to the wind. He loved riding free. He'd been a prisoner so long, locked up down in the basement, sometimes in chains, sometimes not, but living like an animal. Always hungry. Always afraid. There was nothing like the open road. The roar of his bike and the feel of it, solid, part of him, as they moved together like one, man and machine. As he rode he continued to turn the problem over and over in his mind.

  Ilya was a hothead. He couldn't really blame the kid, although part of him did--the hurt part of him. Sorbacov brought him pictures of the baby every so many years, to threaten him with bringing the boy to his school. Kids died at an alarming rate there. The last thing he wanted was for his baby brother to be in that terrible place amon
g the criminals and the rats. The things that would be done to him . . .

  Even if the kid hated him, he couldn't imagine betrayal. But would Ilya see it that way? He clearly cared for Blythe. Would he wipe out every message from Viktor to Blythe with a misguided belief that he was protecting her? That didn't make sense either. He didn't know Viktor, didn't know what kind of man he was.

  He signaled and turned off Highway 1 to take the exit leading to Sea Haven. It was only a few miles from Caspar, where he hoped to settle. Less than five minutes. Ten to the farm if he pushed it a little. It was a good place to try to build a life for his brothers and sisters. There was something healing in the sea air.

  He spotted the motorcycles as he turned onto the street leading to the main drag. They were out in front of the local grocery store. Out of habit, they'd left one of their newest members with the bikes. He had to be patched, or he wouldn't have been sent, so there was no discounting him in a fight.

  He looked shocked when Viktor rode right up and parked his bike in the space to the left of the row of bikes. The kid swung his head toward the store as if trying to figure out how to warn his fellow Swords. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and as Viktor went past him, Viktor stripped it out of his hands. Reaper stomped on it with his motorcycle boot. Savage, Ice and Storm followed suit.

  Viktor yanked open the door to the grocery store. The familiar adrenaline hit, rushing through his veins like a drug. He flexed his fingers inside the leather gloves, needing to hit someone. Hard.

  "You have to pay for that." The voice shook a little, but was determined.

  An older man stood beside an older woman at the counter. The Sword member was busy pocketing several items. Three others grabbed six-packs of beer, while a fifth shoved a boy who had to be in his late teens or early twenties every time the boy reached to pick up bags of potato chips and rolling cans.

  "Let Donny go," a female voice added. "Donny, get out of here now."

  "Shut the fuck up or I'll shut you up," snapped the first one, the obvious leader. His gaze went to the boy on the floor that his fellow biker had shoved over with his foot. He grinned as the boy sprawled out on the floor.

  It was that grin as the boy landed on his belly, arms and legs splayed wide. The look of fear on the kid's face. The dark rage in the pit of Viktor's belly began to churn. The burn inside grew hotter, searing right through him. The kid looked helpless. How many kids had he seen looking just like that? Maybe they weren't as old as this one, but he wasn't quite right and looked and acted younger.

  Still, the boy had courage. It wouldn't do him any good against the kind of men in the store. As he tried to roll over, the biker kicked him again, this time in the ribs. His fellow bikers howled with laughter, as if they were watching a movie, rather than seeing pain spreading across the face of a young man. That rage inside of Viktor erupted into a red river of ferocity calling for violence. The vicious well roiled and seethed while images of dead children shimmered in front of his eyes.

  "I'm calling the sheriff," the woman said.

  "You do that. He won't walk out of here alive," the leader snapped, leaning across the counter and grabbing her by the neck. He shook her.

  "Inez," the older man whispered.

  She looked very fragile, her thin body like a rag doll's. He looked at the others, and they all laughed. "He can't do nothin', you old bitch."

  "Maybe he can't," Viktor said quietly, "but I can." The rush was on him. The need. "Let her go now." His voice might be low, but it carried unmistakable authority. He'd been Czar since he was ten years old, commanding children older than him, planning battles. He'd learned to fight and then to kill with his bare hands. So long ago. So many dead men since then. It was in his voice. Demons were in his eyes. Need was a living, breathing entity.

  Beside him, Reaper, Savage, Ice and Storm spread out, trapping the five Swords between them and the exit. He jerked his head toward the kid on the floor and Ice sauntered over to him, reached down and helped the boy to his feet. Very slowly the leader let go of Inez and turned fully to face him.

  Donny scrambled over to the woman, slipping behind the counter to face them. He looked as if he'd been trying not to cry. Clearly the Swords had been pushing him around for some time.

  "How much do they owe you, ma'am?" Viktor inquired softly.

  "Inez," she mumbled as she rang up the rest of the beer and the cigarettes the leader had indicated. "Everyone calls me Inez."

  She was nervous. Her hand was shaking, but both stood their ground even in the face of the five men looking for trouble. He could see bruises already coming up on the woman's thin skin. Her wrist looked as if it was swelling. There were lumps on the boy's face. The evidence of a bully working over a kid and a woman was accelerant on the fire already building inside of him.

  "This ain't your business," the leader snarled.

  "They knock over the chips and cans I see in the aisles?" Viktor continued, ignoring the Sword leader, his gaze on the woman. He couldn't attack first. He had to make the leader do it, and that had to be very, very clear in the recordings. He'd spotted the cameras the moment he'd entered, although he'd been careful not to look at them. He knew none of his brothers would either; they were too well-trained.

  Inez nodded. "They broke the jars of mayonnaise and pickles in the back."

  Viktor stepped back and indicated the aisles. "Gentlemen, I suggest you go clean that up. You don't want me to take you out behind the barn and teach you a lesson in manners."

  A dull flush of red came over the leader. He had his orders from his chapter president. They weren't to engage with Viktor and the others, just watch them. They weren't supposed to attract attention, but now they were getting dressed down by the very men they were supposed to be watching. They weren't wearing colors, and they'd never met, so the leader had to be thinking maybe Viktor didn't know who he was. On the other hand, it went against everything in him to allow anyone to order him around or embarrass him and his brethren.

  "Fuck you," he snapped.

  Viktor smiled without much humor, goading him more. "Sorry, only my old lady gets to do that. You, on the other hand, need to pick up the items you or your boys knocked over."

  "Or what?"

  "Or we're going to be taking this outside and you're going to get your ass kicked. Inez's going to call the sheriff, and he's going to charge you with theft and vandalism. They'll probably lock you up for a while."

  Now the leader had a real dilemma. He probably had outstanding warrants and couldn't afford to go to jail for anything petty. He stood for a moment and then stepped into Viktor and swung. A surge of pure, savage joy ripped through Viktor as he caught him, rolled him around and muscled him right out of the store. Savage, Reaper, Ice and Storm did the same with the others.

  Viktor flung the leader into the street, almost into the path of a car. The car screamed to a halt as the man rose with a roar, lowered one shoulder and rushed Viktor, swinging at him. He stepped to the side, delivering a hard, solid blow to the man's face. He heard the satisfying crunch of cheekbone and added two more quick, hard blows, a roundhouse to his temple that rocked him and an uppercut to his gut. They fought like two primitive warriors, although it became clear that Viktor was doing more playing than fighting. Each blow he did deliver was hard enough to rock the man. He even slapped him a few times open-handed, delivering the insults to rile him more.

  In the distance the sound of sirens grew louder. The leader heard them after a minute or two and tried to push away, but Viktor refused to allow it. Now he stepped in close and pounded his fists into the man, connecting solidly, feeling the satisfying break of bones and cartilage. Around him, his brothers did the same with the others.

  They needed this release, this outlet. Reaper and Savage often fought for money, and they always won. Viktor and the others bet on them because no matter what, they were going to get their money's worth. The two were impossible to beat. They fought viciously; all of them did. They didn't
know any other way. They fought because they needed to feel the familiar strike of fist against flesh, raw pain exploding through their bodies, the adrenaline that told them they were alive and not robots designed just to kill.

  He detested that this man and his brothers from the club hurt children. They kidnapped women and raped them repeatedly. They beat them, just as they did young boys and girls, in order to make them compliant. It had been nothing to them to harm the older woman and the kid. The dark rage inside him had a good hold so that he saw red, saw the images of the dead children on the floor, their bodies litter, garbage to the ones that killed them. They killed and then went off to drink. He hit and hit, losing himself in the rhythm, trying to get the sight of those children out of his mind.

  Viktor. Stop. A soft breeze slipped through the red haze. The lightest of touches. Almost a caress. His name on her lips. God. God. He loved her. He wanted her. Right then, high as a kite from fighting. He wanted her with just the sound of her voice whispering through his mind. Stop, honey, or you're going to kill him.

  He wanted to kill him. Wasn't that the point? There were only the targets. That was what he could see. That was what he could feel under his fist as it slammed deep.

  Viktor. Stop right now and stop the others. The sheriff is coming.

  The worry in her voice broke through and he stepped back, breathing hard, trying to catch his breath, trying to force the rage back into his belly and out of his veins where it rushed like a drug.

  The leader staggered and went to his knees, blood dripping from a cut over his eyes and his nose. There was a mouse growing under each eye and his jaw was swelling at an alarming rate. His breath came in ragged, labored pants as he struggled for air. Viktor knew his ribs were caved in and he'd hit hard enough to drive them into his lung.

  "Stop." He made it an order, knowing the others were as bad or worse than him when they fought. It was all or nothing. There was no in-between, especially when they had an opportunity to go after any of the Swords. They regarded them as the lowest of the low. To them, that was pedophiles, men and women who brutalized innocent children. "Now."

  Just as Blythe's voice could stop him, his command was always obeyed--other than occasionally Reaper--and that was only when Viktor's personal safety was at risk. He looked up, searching the crowd for her. She'd saved him from beating someone to death right in front of a very large crowd. His radar found her immediately and his heart clenched hard in his chest.