Page 80 of Twisted Road

She’d left her hair down, something she rarely did. It was thick, straight as a board, falling to her waist in sheets of glossy ruby red. Her barely there makeup managed to emphasize her green eyes even more than usual. And her lips…Keys found himself having to do his best not to fixate on her full, pouty lips colored a soft mauve. Her lips gave him way too many fantasies, and tonight was all about work.

She definitely turned heads, but she didn’t seem to notice, focusing on him, which made Keys feel good. Not only did he feel great with her full attention, but he found most of the tension slipped away. He hadn’t realized he could be ridiculously jealous. He knew she wouldn’t go off with someone else. His idiotic jealousy stemmed from his own insecurities. He wasn’t going to put that on her.

Only two of the members of Rampage had brought a woman with them. Out of respect, knowing they were being vetted, the club hadn’t brought any patch chasers. They weren’t there to party. Czar made that very clear. He was up front with them about what was happening at the barbecue. If they weren’t cooperative, he would simply tell them, No harm done, just walk away. Every member had to be on board. They knew a vote had been taken to join with Torpedo Ink, and they were told it had been unanimous, but Czar wanted Absinthe to confirm that with every member.

Keys stopped and spoke to each member as he ran into them. Lyric gave them her salon smile, but she left it to Keys to do the talking. He did his best to get a feel for each man. They weren’t much different from the members of Torpedo Ink and certainly not different from the members of the Trinity chapter. These men had been ripped from their parents when they were young, taken to one of Sorbacov’s schools and trained as assets. The training had been harsh, brutal and violent.

Keys could admit to himself that he didn’t trust easily—and then only rarely—but the men seemed like good men. They wanted Czar’s direction, and Keys didn’t blame them. Czar was legendary. He had been known throughout the other schools. Students had been sent to the various schools, changing back and forth in the belief they wouldn’t form alliances. In any contests, which usually played out to the death, or close to it, no one wanted to go up against Czar’s team or his people. He was that good.

They ate at the picnic table, sitting with Lana and Alena. Both women made a point of befriending Lyric. Keys was grateful to them. The two were tight, and sometimes it took them a long while to warm up to a newcomer. Both asked questions about her salon. That was the right topic to get Lyric to open up a bit. Within a matter of minutes, she was laughing with the women, turning heads with that perfect pitch of hers.

“Absinthe has spoken with every member,” Steele announced, slipping onto the bench beside Keys. “He didn’t touch anyone, just relied on voice, but he can’t find a traitor.”

“But?” Keys prompted. He knew by Steele’s voice that something wasn’t right.

“Czar has that feeling he gets. He’s certain the Ghosts put someone in this club,” Steele said. “We may be here all night for nothing. He said no way would he accept them without each of them consenting to Absinthe’s interrogation…” He broke off, his attention suddenly on Lyric.

Beside Keys, Lyric froze. Keys felt the sudden tension in her. He followed her gaze across the meadow to one of the smaller tables, where a couple of the Rampage members were eating chicken and potato salad.

“What is it, Wildfire?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

Lyric was instantly aware she had the attention of Lana, Alena and Steele, not just Keys. She really detested the spotlight. She did that thing, pressing her lips together to remind herself to stay silent. She shook her head.

Steele started to say something and Keys waved him off. He pressed his forehead to Lyric’s. “Keep your eyes on mine, baby. Look right at me. It’s important, or I wouldn’t press you. What are you seeing that we’re not?”

Lyric’s gaze clung to his. “The man sitting at that table, the blond, he looks exactly like Yaman Kuzmin. I know it isn’t him because Kuzmin had a scar on his left cheek. It was fairly prominent, but that man could be his twin.”

Keys didn’t make the mistake of looking. Instead, he leaned into Lyric and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks, Lyric. This could be the break we’re looking for. I need to talk to Czar for a few minutes. Are you good with staying here with Lana and Alena? If you prefer, you can come with me.”

The last thing he needed was for Lyric to accompany him while he discussed club business with Czar, but he’d given his word, and he wasn’t going to break it.

“I’m good,” Lyric said, glancing over to the much larger table where Czar sat with Blythe and Hud Mason, the president of Rampage, as well as numerous others from both clubs.

Keys didn’t wait. He brushed a kiss on top of her head and then sauntered across the short distance, drawing Czar’s attention. He broke off his direct trajectory and made his way to the side of the clubhouse facing the ocean. It didn’t take long before Czar joined him, Savage close by.

Eighteen

“We’ve got a problem, Ambush,” Czar told Hud, the president of Rampage.

Hud Mason, as well as his trusted sergeant at arms, Martin Bird, Cobra, and his VP, Elliot Samson, Burrito, had been escorted into the meeting room. Code, Keys and Absinthe sat at the table with them. Savage and Reaper had taken their normal positions in the shadows of the room, where they could best protect Czar should it be necessary.

“What have you been looking for all this time?” Ambush asked. “I knew it had to be something big.”

Czar explained about the Ghosts. “The members who do the dirty work for hire, torturing and killing anyone these people direct them toward, are all from the same Sorbacov schools. They infiltrate clubs, find the weak links and eventually, through those members, gather enough information to force the club to give them whatever they want. They often do that by taking the wife or family members of the president or another high-ranking member. They gang-rape and torture those individuals and send them back in pieces.”

Ambush and Cobra exchanged a long look. Burrito cursed. “I knew something was off,” he said. “I told you, Ambush. Had a bad feeling from the start.”

“I was very direct with you, told you we don’t tolerate human trafficking. Don’t care how much money it makes, every last one of us went through that, and we’re not about to put others through that same hell,” Czar continued. “When your club voted to be patched over, was that made clear to every member?”

“Once in Torpedo Ink”—Absinthe took over, letting ranking members of Rampage know the rules—“if you screw up, it’s permanent. That was carefully explained as well. The benefits are we handle paperwork and smooth out the future for you, but the expectation of strictly following the rules was laid out, with the consequences of what would happen if any member fucked up. We don’t play.”

“We’re used to those rules,” Ambush said. “We’ve lived by them our entire lives. We’re comfortable with knowing what’s expected. Every one of us agreed with no human trafficking.”

“Does that include your newest member?” Czar asked. “He joined nearly a year ago.”

“Dragon?” Ambush asked. “His name is Mir Kuzmin. He goes by Dragon. He attended two of Sorbacov’s schools, rotating like most of us between them. I knew him, but not well. One of our members, Luka Morozov—Dementor, if you’ve met him—knew Mir very well. They’re good friends. Dementor vouched for him.”

“You don’t seem too surprised that we’re asking about him,” Czar said.