THIRTEEN
Highway 1 was a ribbon of curves and switchbacks, with few straight stretches. Ice loved the winding road. His woman wasn’t used to the bike, but she was on it with him, no complaints, dressed warmly for the early morning hour and the coastal highway. This was what he lived for, his woman, his Harley and the open road. He’d not gone more than fifteen miles when two bikes came up behind them. He sent his brothers a quick grin and a wave.
Savage and Absinthe moved neatly into position behind them. That was the way it often was, one would decide to ride, but others were already on the open road. The ocean stretched out to their right, and the mountains rose to their left. It was a beautiful sight. The sun wasn’t yet thinking about rising in the east.
They could find a little diner for breakfast in an hour or two. Soleil was bundled up—gloves, scarf, warm clothes, jacket—and her arms were tightly around him. He hated that she was worried he might leave her—that people in her life had led her to believe she was worthless other than for her money. He wanted her to see that he valued her for the person she was. For every part of her, including the little exhibitionist in her. She didn’t know it, but he needed that. He wasn’t being fair to give her only a part of who he was.
He thought about that for the next few miles. She was giving him everything. He could see who she was. So sweet. Cooking for him in their kitchen, poring over recipes she thought he might like. He didn’t give a damn about the food, just about her. He loved sitting in the kitchen watching her look so serious as she attempted some recipe that was probably far too complicated for an amateur. It didn’t matter. She was doing it for him. To make him happy.
Ice had never had anyone go out of their way for him in the way she was. He couldn’t remember his parents. They’d been murdered and he’d been taken to the school, supposedly to turn him into an asset for his country. There were four such schools, three of which trained children using torture and brutal methods but expected those children to serve their country. The fourth, the one he’d been taken to, was made up of criminals, pedophiles who were given a virtual smorgasbord of children to abuse in any way they could conceive. The children weren’t expected to ever leave the school alive, although each had been trained as a very lethal and skilled assassin so Sorbacov, the man who had put them there, could use them if he wanted to kill an enemy.
Soleil’s hand began to rub up and down his abdomen, as if she knew his thoughts had taken a sudden turbulent turn and she was soothing him. He dropped his gloved hand over hers in a silent show of gratitude. He knew he was far past falling and had actually fallen in love with her. He just didn’t know exactly what that was yet or what he was going to do about it.
A car came up behind them. It had been traveling at a high rate of speed, but it slowed to drop in directly behind the three bikes. Savage gave a low hand signal to Ice to pull to the side of the road when possible to allow the car to pass. It was an Audi, and there were four men inside.
Something about the way the car moved up on them, like a hungry predator, set off not only Ice’s warning system but Savage’s as well. Ice glanced at Absinthe. He wore an expressionless mask. Yeah, he felt it too. Whoever was in that car was specifically targeting Torpedo Ink. It wasn’t a random car just happening to slide in behind them.
He would have welcomed the action, and he knew the others would have as well, but there was Soleil to protect. And were the men there to kill her? Was this about their enemies? Or hers? Savage suddenly dropped back, signaling to Ice to take off. He didn’t bother to look, he already knew Savage had sent him forward to protect Soleil. Those in the Audi were making their move.
His Harley was a road rocket, and it shot forward at his command, Savage and Absinthe using their bikes to provide cover, weaving back and forth as they sped down the road. Ice heard the whine of a bullet as it zipped past him. That thoroughly pissed him off. Soleil leaned into him, tightening her arms and curling her fingers into his jacket. She didn’t panic or try to ask questions. She did what she normally did when she was with him. She gave him her complete trust, her body moving with his and the bike as if born to do so.
Just ahead, around a curve in the road, was a switchback. They knew the road and knew it was there. He gave a hand signal to Savage and Absinthe just before entering the switchback. The moment they were out of sight of the Audi, he slowed the bike and pulled off the road.
“Off, baby, run for the brush.” He had her arm and all but yanked her off the motorcycle. Soleil obeyed him, taking off for the heaviest brush.
Savage and Absinthe were there, bikes down, running with them for either side of the road, weapons out. They’d had seconds to set up. They were used to that, used to moving fast in a fluid situation.
The Audi swept into the switchback. Savage stepped out from the left side of the road and fired directly into the car. Absinthe did the same from the right. Ice had taken up the position just at the very apex of the curve. Savage must have hit the driver. The car went into a slide, and the smell of rubber burning was strong. The car spun and then hit the mountainside hard.
Ice sprinted to the rear door of the Audi, yanking it open, his elbow slamming into the bearded man on the passenger side, knocking him sideways. He pressed the barrel of his gun to the man’s head.
“I’ll fucking end you. Put your weapon down.” At a glance, he could see the driver was dead, slumped over the steering wheel, his foot a dead weight on the brake.
Absinthe had torn open the passenger door behind the front seat. He’d struck the man there a couple of times, ensuring he was dazed as he dragged him out of the car, taking him to the ground on his belly while he searched him for weapons.
Savage had the third passenger out, the shooter from the back seat. Ice had been busy trying to get Soleil out of harm’s way, but it was Savage and Absinthe who had been fired on. Savage wasn’t taking any chances with his prisoner. The man was dragged out of the vehicle and taken to the ground. Savage was rough as he inspected the man for weapons, but he didn’t bother collecting every gun and knife on his person. He left one. Just one, because that was the kind of bastard he could be—and there was Soleil.
“Who are you?” Absinthe asked his prisoner.
Ice dragged the bearded man around the car, uncaring of the rocks and branches that the body bumped over. He threw him down beside Absinthe’s man.
“Ed Charles.” No sooner had he gotten the name out than he began screaming, grabbing his head.
Absinthe smiled grimly. “I can make it hurt worse. You tell me the truth and it all goes away. Your name?”
“Phil. Phil Roberson.” The man took in great gulps of air. There were actual tears in his eyes.
“Why did you attack us, Phil?” Absinthe continued.
“Don’t you answer him,” Savage’s prisoner snarled.