Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Steele tapped the end of a pen on the table, his eyebrows coming together as his mind tried to put the pieces together. “Master, was there any indication where the second assassination team loyal to this woman might be?”
Master shook his head. “I doubt he knew.”
Czar frowned. “What kind of an answer is that? He either knew or he didn’t. You should have had the time to extract the information out of him.”
There was no getting back to the man he wanted to be when Czar made it so clear he preferred the beast who belonged in a cage. He flicked his dark eyes toward the president of the club just once, determined to stay in control, when he wanted to surge to his feet and turn the huge table over, dump it right on Czar and pin him to the floor. So much for loyalty. Maybe there always had to be a bottom-feeder. Too fucking bad it was him.
The roaring in his ears drowned out everything else. His heart accelerated and then slowed to a steady beat. The roaring subsided, and his vision tunneled. Marked his targets. Czar’s guards, how many, who he would have to take down first in order to get to the man.
“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I’m sorry, man.” Czar scrubbed his hand over his face. “You went into that hellhole for me and got what information you could. I know that. I’m just so damned scared for Blythe and the kids. I’ve never given a shit about my own life, but Blythe? If we didn’t have those windows, she’d be dead right now. I don’t know how I’m going to keep her safe. But I do know I have no right taking my fears and frustration out on you, Master. Especially when you sacrificed so much for me. Believe me, man, I do appreciate it.”
Master watched, with a kind of shock, as Czar rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. He looked around the table. The other members of Torpedo Ink were staring at Czar with the same shocked expression Master was certain he wore. Czar was their absolute rock. Absolute. He didn’t ever waver. He looked . . . destroyed.
Clean air rushed through Master’s lungs, driving out the burning claustrophobia that numbed him, that buried any good trait Master might have so deep he forgot he was a human being. He could look at his president in that moment with compassion. This was about Blythe. Their Blythe. She belonged to Torpedo Ink.
“No one can get to them,” Reaper reminded Czar. “We’ve got them locked down tight.”
Czar shoved both hands through his hair in agitation. He looked at Master, not Reaper. He waited until Master reluctantly met his eyes. Master didn’t like looking directly into Czar’s piercing gray gaze. That gaze could look right through you and see things better left alone.
“Blythe told me I was never to ask you to go back to prison. Not for any reason. That whatever information, whatever the club needed, wasn’t worth what it would take from you personally.”
The gray had melted into silver just as Master feared it might, but he couldn’t look away. It was too late.
“She was right, wasn’t she? She said she was in prison, and her cage was beautiful. She was surrounded by the people she loved. She had the freedom to go anywhere on an enormous property and visit with her sisters, and their children. But she couldn’t live her life the way she wanted. Her children couldn’t live their lives free either. Darby is unable to go to work or repair the damage to a relationship she clearly held dear. Blythe said if they were all miserable in such a beautiful environment, the real prison had to take pieces of your soul.”
There was no hiding from that silver gaze. Czar had highly developed gifts, just as they all did. Few knew exactly what Czar could do, but they knew his gifts were powerful. Having the spotlight turned on him was uncomfortable, but it also gave Master insight into Czar. The president of the club would always have to carry a heavy responsibility with the things he knew about the human beings surrounding him. Their strengths and weaknesses—traits Czar had helped develop. Right at that moment, Czar had to see that Master didn’t have a soul left, or if he did, it was black as sin.
“We’ll find this woman,” Steele said. “She can’t hide forever. Master took out her first team. If she hid her second team in a prison, which I doubt, we have a backup in Destroyer.”
Both Master and Czar looked to the nineteenth member of Torpedo Ink. Rurik Volkov, aka Destroyer. He was a big man with massive shoulders and muscular arms. He was covered in tattoos, some drifting up his neck. The tattoos were raw prison tattoos covering scars, not smooth ink work. His eyes were dark and mesmerizing. His hair was long, falling to his waist and braided in segments.