“They’re lethal enough,” Gavriil said. “If they went after the Diamondbacks, the club would never know what hit them. They’d take them down one by one silently, and they’d have patience to do it over time just the way we would. They’d be in and out like phantoms and the Diamondbacks would never know who the enemy was.”
Czar had six biological brothers and Steele had been around them for a while now. He knew they had attended the other schools, but they were dangerous men, particularly Gavriil. If those asking for acceptance into Torpedo Ink were like Gavriil, they were trained in the art of killing. The Diamondbacks, Pierce in particular, wouldn’t like it, but it would be good for Torpedo Ink to have that kind of backup.
“The Diamondbacks are an international motorcycle club. They’re 1-percenters, outlaws, living their lives their own way. We’re here because they’ve given us permission to be here, but we’ve always treated them with respect and played nice,” Maestro said.
Keys nodded. “We tried flying under the Diamondbacks’ radar, but more than once now, we’ve inadvertently showed our fangs to their club, risking retaliation. It would be extremely dangerous to bring more attention to us.”
“On the other hand,” Savage began.
The others fell silent immediately and paid attention. Savage rarely offered anything to the table. He just listened most of the time.
“These are men like us with nowhere to go. They need what we have to survive. A brotherhood. A family. They need a leader. They need Torpedo Ink.”
That was the damn truth, Steele decided. Savage was right. How could any of them possibly fit into regular society? None of them knew the rules. They didn’t know how to behave. They’d been taught to kill to survive. They knew a lot of ways to kill, but few ways to integrate into society. They certainly didn’t know how to have relationships.
Ruthlessly he turned his mind away from the woman in his bed—at least he tried to. It was hard not to think about her lying there, curled up the way she did, into a little ball, as if protecting herself. The way she slept had always stolen his heart. He’d wrapped his body around hers to show her she was safe. She’d been so fragile and yet she really wasn’t, he was beginning to realize. She’d had his baby alone. She’d found a way to support the child and care for him when she’d left not even knowing how to make a decision.
In the world of bikers, Breezy had appeared to be a leader of the women and children, one of the reasons he’d thought she was older. She anticipated problems and dealt with them ahead of time. She knew the language of bikers and her father’s particular club. Outside that environment, she was in an entirely different world and had no idea how to interpret or fit into it or make decisions accordingly—yet she’d managed. She’d done it for herself and their child.
She’d depended on Steele entirely when she’d been with him. She’d looked at him as if the sun had risen and set with him. Now, that adoration wasn’t there, and he found he needed it back. She’d been the one. He hadn’t said a word to the others. Czar had been sent by Sorbacov to kill Evan Shackler-Gratsos, the international president of the Swords. He had crossed Sorbacov one too many times and the order had gone out.
Evan Shackler-Gratsos had inherited billions from his brother. Those billions included freighters that Shackler-Gratsos had turned into snuff ships. His very wealthy clients paid for sexual partners of any age from very young children to men and women, used them and killed them after or during sex, and then disposed of the bodies at sea. Of course, Czar would want to shut that shit down. He’d risked everything to do so, not just his life, but his marriage to the woman he loved. One by one, the other members of Torpedo Ink had followed Czar into the Swords club in order to have his back. Steele couldn’t have left him when a war was brewing, and he couldn’t have left Breezy there where the Swords would name her a traitor.
Steele had seen Breezy for the first time and all hell had broken loose inside him. He’d been trained, like the others, to have complete control over his body and that had gone right out the window the moment he’d laid eyes on her. He’d watched her, couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He’d taken every opportunity to talk to her. She’d been responsible, always looking out for those younger than she was. She cooked for the club. She cleaned up after them and never complained. She was a problem solver when things went wrong and had to be fixed. She never asked for help, she just quietly did what needed to be done.
She was beautiful, it was impossible to guess her age. She looked young, but her eyes were old. She’d seen too much. Endured too much. He should have known he was looking into the eyes of a child who had been horribly brutalized. He’d certainly seen it enough.
“You with us, Steele?” Czar asked.
Steele nodded. “Savage is right. These men may not have been from our school, but they’re brothers. They need Torpedo Ink, in my opinion. I’m certainly willing to listen to any other opinions with an open mind.”
That phrase was used a lot. Czar had taught them the importance of hearing everyone out. Each person’s input had counted when they were children, no matter how young—and Steele was one of the youngest. All were heard, and Czar had emphasized they should be heard with an open mind. He’d encouraged participation from everyone. Steele had caught on early that by listening to each child, Czar had made them feel important and the group cohesive. They were tight-knit and rarely fought. They often had lively and heated discussions, but they didn’t get angry with one another as a rule.
“I’m all for giving them a chance, Czar,” Ink said. “But, we have family now. We’ve got Blythe and the children. Gavriil’s and Casimir’s women. Anya, Reaper’s lady. Lana and Alena. We’ve got more to protect than ever.”
“I don’t need protection,” Lana said with a little sniff. She tossed her head so that her glossy black hair fell around her face, framing its beauty.
“Neither do I,” Alena echoed. She was a true platinum blond, her hair rioting down her back in waves. Her eyes were that same startling blue her older brothers, Ice and Storm, had.
Ink ignored the byplay. “Pierce is going to be watching us closely, Czar. You know that. He’s very suspicious of us.”
“I can handle him,” Reaper said. “A quiet accident.”
“Not you,” Savage said decisively. “You have Anya. I’ll do it.”
Pierce wasn’t going to be easy to kill. Both knew it. All of them knew it.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Alena snapped. “He doesn’t have to be killed. Leave him to me. He advocated for us. It was because of Pierce we didn’t go to war.”
“He may have advocated for us, Alena,” Reaper said, “but don’t kid yourself. He was there to kill us if anything went wrong.”
“He would have tried,” Savage said. “I was on him the entire time and he had no idea.”
Alena shrugged. “If it comes to that, I can do it myself.”
“We know if our club grows it will make the Diamondbacks nervous, but there was no limit put on how big our club could be. We’re charter members, but they expected growth,” Czar said. “They knew we had a couple of prospects.”
“Maybe not twenty-five new members,” Master said with a faint grin.
“Put it to a vote whether or not to meet with them,” Czar said. “This has come at a bad time for us, but we may as well get it done if we’re going to do it.”
“We’d have to send someone to Trinity for a few weeks. And then Savage will need to go back and forth. We have to trust these men if they’re part of us,” Steele said.
“I could go,” Casimir volunteered. “Lissa likes to travel and she’s all I need for backup.” Lissa and Casimir had done what no one else had been able to do. They had freed all those trained under Sorbacov’s brutal schools by assassinating Sorbacov and his son. Now, they were free to live their own lives and choose what they wanted to do. The problem was, they only knew how to seduce and kill. All of them were struggling to find their way.