Page 81 of Twisted Road

It was Burrito, the VP, who answered. “I’ve had a difficult time with him and said so on several occasions to Ambush and Cobra. I never could put my finger on it, but he seemed to be secretly smug. Acted like he was above everyone else, even Dementor. But then he always seemed a little arrogant, even in the schools.”

“Dementor changed,” Cobra volunteered. “Dragon’s secret smug arrogance rubbed off on him. He was decent enough until Dragon came on board.”

“And yet you didn’t mention your concerns,” Absinthe said.

Ambush shrugged. “They were my problem. At the time, we weren’t concerned with traitors or human trafficking. It isn’t as if we don’t all have issues. And Burrito felt his arrogance could have been a coping mechanism. Some had it worse than others, as you well know.”

Absinthe nodded his head as his gaze flicked to Czar, indicating Ambush was telling the truth as he saw it.

“We’ll be talking to your two men in a more private setting. They might not be joining you after,” Czar said. “Are you good with that? Will we have trouble with any of your members?”

Ambush sighed and spread his fingers wide, hands in front of him. “They voted. As far as we were all concerned, we were already Torpedo Ink. That vote means they agreed to abide by the laws of the club. If we have betrayers, they have to be dealt with.”

“Do either of those men have family?”

“Dementor doesn’t,” Burrito said. “I thought we were his family.”

“Dragon did, or does,” Burrito added. “I remember them from the schools. I was a couple of years older, so not attending the same classes, but once in a while I’d see them together.”

“Savage, you and Cobra ensure our two guests come to the meeting. Ambush, it’s up to you who you want to attend,” Czar said, pushing away from the table. “But they’re your brothers. You have the right to hear their defense. Hopefully, we’re wrong.”

“Is there a chance that you are?” Ambush asked.

Hearing the question, Keys knew the president of Rampage was well aware of Czar’s reputation as far back as the schools in Russia. Many of the students believed that he could look into a man’s soul and see his darkest secrets. He would know if that person was capable of a betrayal. He would see into the future when that betrayal happened. All of the Torpedo Ink members believed Czar was capable of such things. They’d witnessed it.

“There’s always an outside chance,” Czar said. “In cases such as this one, I hope I’m wrong. Let’s get it over.” He hesitated, shook his head and rose.

They think they’re ruthless. Czar sent the message telepathically to his brethren. We’re wolves and always will be. We formed our pack and hunt, and we don’t stop until we’ve taken down our prey using every method possible. They’re trained assassins, but they have no idea what they’re getting into. This will be an eye-opener.

And a test, Keys knew. The other schools had been brutal in their training, but they didn’t even come close to what the members of Torpedo Ink had been through. They’d learned to kill their enemies, all adults, when they were as young as five. Brutal couldn’t describe the atrocities that had been done to them, but out of two hundred and eighty-seven children over the years, there were only eighteen that survived, unless you counted Destroyer, who was only there for a short period of time. He had his own hell he’d lived through.

“What’s up, Ambush?” Dragon asked, looking around the room, where several members of his club, along with the president, were seated with the highest-ranking members of Torpedo Ink and their sergeants at arms.

“Both of you take a seat,” Keys said and indicated the two chairs on a slightly raised platform.

Dementor scowled at them and reluctantly obeyed. It wasn’t as if he really had much choice. A narrow stairway led down beneath the building, where this meeting room was secreted. As he seated himself in the chair, he noted it was bolted to the floor and there were metal cuffs for hands and feet attached. But there didn’t appear to be drains in the floor or a rack of tools and instruments that might mean torture. That eased a little of his tension.

Dragon showed no anxiety whatsoever. He sauntered over to the chairs and dropped into the one facing the head of the table. “I can see we aren’t invited to the table,” he said, amusement in his voice.

Keys felt the knots in his gut tighten. He’d met so many men like Kuzmin. Too many. Cocky. So sure of themselves. So willing to prey on those weaker. They had no problem hurting women and children and took the greatest pleasure in taking apart a man in order to prove their superiority. Sorbacov’s schools had produced far too many of those men and women. Mostly men. They’d been so abused, spending years without control, that it was necessary for them to control everything around them.

Like him. For the first time, Keys faced the trait he considered one of the most negative he could have. He tried to argue with himself that he didn’t humiliate or demean others, and that made him different. Czar had helped all of them feel in control when they’d plotted the deaths of the pedophiles abusing them. He admitted that made them different, but it didn’t stop them from having to be in control of every aspect of their lives. What did that mean for their partners?

Keys looked around the room at the other members of Torpedo Ink. All of them had those same control issues, some worse than others. Savage held on to Seychelle very tightly. Perhaps too tightly at times. He could see the toll it often took on her. He didn’t want that for Lyric, and yet he was the same way. He knew he was.

All along Czar had said the others, those in the Trinity chapter and the members of Rampage, needed direction. Needed their guidance. Keys understood a little better. Torpedo Ink had evolved. They were still evolving. They would never fit in with society seamlessly, but they were learning. The other men wanted, like them, to be decent. To be able to serve a community and have a family. They also were aware that the predator branded into their very bones was never going away and needed satisfaction. Czar found ways to meet those needs. He had done so by making the decision to stop human trafficking wherever they could and to go after serial pedophiles that weren’t stopped by law enforcement.

Code had been working closely with the two Trinity club members who ran their computer programs and did their research. They had successfully accomplished their first foray into the hunt, taking down a notorious child predator no one had been able to catch. Their club president had regular meetings with Czar and continued to learn to shape that branch of Torpedo Ink into a more efficient chapter, one able to hide their identities and better protect their community.

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.