Chapter Eighteen #2
Ambush wanted the same thing for Rampage.
Keys didn’t blame him. Just watching the entitlement and air of superiority Kuzmin displayed made him realize that could be every single member of Torpedo Ink.
They were all lost in a society they couldn’t hope to integrate into.
They’d never been a part of it. Their skills could allow them to blend in, but they were always going to be predators and would react that way to nearly any situation.
Absinthe began his questions. He rested the pads of his fingers on Dementor’s wrist. It took exactly three questions before Dementor was screaming in pain.
They’d all been tortured. They’d learned how to torture others, but Absinthe’s ability to shred the brain was unheard-of.
The pain was excruciating. Disorienting.
Once lies were told, the pain continued to increase.
It wasn’t long before Dementor was pleading for mercy and had admitted to them that he’d given information on club business to Kuzmin each time he’d been asked.
He then admitted Kuzmin had insisted he be brought into the club.
Money was a factor. He’d been paid a great deal for the betrayal, providing information on each club member.
Through it all, Keys watched Kuzmin closely.
The man was harder and far more experienced than Dementor.
He had chosen Dementor as his target for a reason.
He’d known him in the Sorbacov schools and had found a weakness.
Kuzmin had learned at an early age to take advantage of weaknesses.
Hell, they all had. Keys found himself wanting to fault Kuzmin, but, in the end, he had to admit everyone coming out of the schools had very similar traits.
Absinthe began asking his questions, directing them in his soft, compelling voice to Kuzmin.
There was never any sign of a threat. Never any yelling or demanding.
Absinthe was one of the many secret weapons the founding members of Torpedo Ink had developed as children.
Those weapons had allowed them to survive.
Kuzmin lasted far longer than Dementor had, which was no surprise, but as always when Absinthe questioned anyone, the truth came out eventually, or they lost those interrogated to brain bleeds.
Kuzmin denied knowing anything about the Ghosts or that he was employed by them, but in the end, he admitted he was an assassin for the organization.
That those in his organization were hired by various people to carry out whatever job needed to be done.
The Ghosts had been hired by an organization that trafficked women as well as running drugs and arms. A group of very rich men who owned a string of casinos formed the organization.
That was only one of many businesses the Ghosts worked for.
They hired on as bodyguards or enforcers for anyone willing to pay their very steep fees.
The Ghosts were aiding Declan and Co. Corporation to find Lyric Johansen and return her in pieces to Declan himself, along with a video of a gang rape and vicious beating. The order was to keep her alive as long as possible, so she was aware and felt everything.
The information didn’t stop there. Kuzmin and his brother were high up in the Ghost organization.
There were offices in three states. By the time Absinthe finished getting every scrap of information possible, Kuzmin was screaming in agony, the sounds animalistic.
Blood ran from his eyes, ears and nose. Through it all, Absinthe’s voice never changed from his quiet, compelling tone.
The sharp contrast between how gentle he seemed and the bloody results was shocking to anyone who hadn’t witnessed such a phenomenon.
It was Savage, Keys, Destroyer and Maestro who took the two prisoners out of the room, taking a sharp turn and opening a door in the wall to reveal the tunnel leading down to the private beach.
The tunnel was long and sloped sharply downhill.
Several large chambers had been used by smugglers long before Torpedo Ink had purchased the land.
Those chambers were reinforced over the years with steel.
It was in one of the rooms that their equipment for interrogation was laid out.
Here were the drains Kuzmin had expected.
This was where the two traitors were going to die and have their bodies disposed of.
To those who knew them, particularly their fellow Ghosts, the two men would simply appear to have made the ride back to Rampage territory with their brethren.
Rock and Ink would wear their faces and colors.
They would be shown on cameras along the way.
They would take off the next morning, riding together, and simply vanish.
If their bikes were discovered a good hundred miles from the club, it would appear they’d been involved in an accident, and someone had hidden the motorcycles beneath a bridge.
The bodies would never be found. Transporter was waiting for Ink and Rock at a prearranged location, in a car that would never be identified with the club.
It was a job run by the numbers, just as every mission had always been.
Hot blood rushed through Keys’ veins and gave savage life to his cock.
Full. Hard. Demanding. These were the times he felt incredibly alive and aware.
Every nerve ending in his body was on fire.
This wasn’t the usual: him needing sex because he was bored out of his fucking mind.
This was the aftermath of the violence, the sheer joy of survival.
The high of finally getting information they’d been after for well over two years.
Prior to the meeting with Rampage, Lana and Alena had taken Lyric back to his home and made certain the alarm was on before they left.
The sight of her lying asleep in his bed did something amazing to his insides.
He was as hard as steel, but she made him soft inside.
He stood in the doorway, just watching her, drinking her in.
Lyric woke immediately when he called her name softly. Her face lit up the way it did when she first saw him. She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist as she blinked sleepily. “I missed you.”
He loved that look on her. The sound of her voice. Then, fully awake, she practically hurled herself across the room, jumping into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips and turning her face up for his kiss. If it was possible, his body reacted with a stronger, urgent need.
“Got a few surprises for you tonight, babe,” he informed her. “I’d planned the night for after your salon opening, but I need you now. Right now. I want you to come outside with me.”
He set her feet on the ground and took her hand. She was dressed in a tiny pair of panties and a racer-back crop top. That didn’t stop her from going with him without question into the cool night air.
Before waking her, Keys had prepared for their adventure ahead of time.
The fire pit was lit, and the spilling light illuminated the special bench he’d made.
The highly polished wood seemed to glow, highlighting the whorls and knots.
Being outdoors, even in their fenced-in garden, as private as it was, gave him a rush, mostly because he knew she’d like it as much as he did.
He’d brought a bag of toys out, things he hoped she’d enjoy. Tossing a blanket on the ground in front of the bench and another over the bench, he unzipped the bag.
“Strip. Everything off.”
She cast a quick look around, scanning the fence line. “Out here?”
“I did warn you I planned to fuck you on every piece of furniture we own, remember?” He poured humor into his voice. “I meant outside as well.”
“I should have known.” There was a touch of humor in her voice to match his.
“Yeah, babe. I want you to experience the thrill of having sex right out in the open. You enjoyed outdoor sex at the club the other night. This is more intimate. Our backyard. Our furniture that clearly needs anointing.”
She laughed. “Only you would say that.”
“You’re new at this, so I’m easing you into the things I like and need.
Had a breakthrough tonight. Success at last. You’re my reward, Wildfire.
I’m not waiting until after the salon’s opening.
This one’s for me. I promise something special on that night.
But right now, get rid of the clothes before I do.
I know you like that top.” The last was a warning.
Her lashes came down, but her hands went to her crop top.
She pulled it over her head, exposing her feminine body.
His heart went crazy just looking at her standing there, knowing she had taken off her top for him.
Just to please him. To give him what she always did when he asked for it.
Her body. The one he would forever claim as his.
The cold air teased her nipples into hard little peaks as she shimmied out of the scrap of underwear. She stood in front of him, totally naked, shivering a little in the slight breeze coming off the ocean.
He let her stand there for a few minutes while he looked his fill, his gaze moving possessively over her face and then lowering to her body. It was intense enough that she started to cover her breasts and the fiery junction between her legs.
Keys shook his head. “Keep your hands at your sides. You just stand there and wait for me,” he added as he pulled various items out of the duffel bag.
“Been wanting to do this for a while now.” He sank onto the bench, deliberately leaving her standing in front of him.
He loved looking at her. Loved her waiting for him.
She didn’t question him, but that little hint of trepidation crept into her eyes.
Along with that was desire. Need. Hunger.
“You’re so fucking perfect, Lyric.” He patted his thighs. “Come over here and lie across my lap. You’ll like this, babe.” He sent her one of his evil smirks. “Eventually.”
She didn’t move. “What are you going to do?”