The roar of Harleys, as they smoothed out every curve in the road, seemed loud in the gathering night. The sun had set, first plunging the world into gold and orange, and then into a silverish sheen that reflected on the leaves of the trees as they passed under them.
Viktor lifted his fist, signaling they were coming up on the road leading to Walter Sandlin’s house. They needed to stop and park their rides. He slowed until he found a small trail leading off the main road. He pulled over and shut off the engine, looking up at the sky through the branches.
Bats wheeled and dipped, catching insects, and a few lone stars shone through. A fog bank moved steadily toward them from the coast. Sandlin lived outside of Occidental, along an older, well-maintained road. His private road branched off from the older one. Houses had been few and far between. One ranch had several mournful-looking cows, and another had a herd of sheep kept watch over by a very large Great Pyrenees who kept a wary eye on them as they passed by.
“Alena, you stay with the bikes,” he ordered.
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Why me? Because I’m the girl?”
“That’s right. You don’t need to be doing this shit anymore.” His tone brooked no argument.
“Maybe I want to do it,” she muttered rebelliously, but she turned back to yank a blanket out of her pack and throw it down by the line of motorcycles.
“Babe.” Viktor waited until she looked up. “None of us should want to be doing this kind of thing. We’re turning over a new leaf.”
“I call bullshit,” she snapped back. “Just because we’re going all official, don’t think you can relegate Lana and me to the position of old lady.”
His jaw hardened. A muscle ticked there. The silence stretched out. “Are you in any way putting my woman down?” There was menace in his tone and he felt rage rising, the berserker rage he strove to keep under control when it was with one of his brothers or sisters.
Alena shook her head quickly. “Of course not. I didn’t mean it like that. We formed Torpedo Ink together, Czar. All of us. Lana and me as well. We were as much a part of that as all of you, and now suddenly, I’m not wanted in on the action.”
“Do you think I want any of you torturing or killing someone?” He all but snarled it. “I’ve been working my ass off trying to get us to a place where we have a choice in what we do. All of us, but yes, you and Lana especially. We have two sisters left out of how many? Every time your life is on the line all of us hold our fuckin’ breath. We survive because you did. You might not value your life or think it’s important, but to us, it is. I’m not putting you in harm’s way if I don’t have to, you get me?”
She nodded. “Yes, but we need some damn prospects the minute we’re settled because I don’t want to sit around twiddling my thumbs watching your bikes.”
He caught her by the nape of her neck and hauled her to him. “You get that you’re important, right?”
She hesitated but then nodded. “I get it, Czar.”
“Watch sharp. We don’t know what setup this bastard has. My guess is he’s paranoid as hell. Worried the cops are going to come nosing around or some of his other friends he’s probably blackmailing. Code looked at that site and it’s set up to gather all kinds of information. Their little friends they’ve invited to join from all around the world are probably getting blackmailed. That makes him doubly dangerous. He might have patrols this far out.”
She nodded again. “I have no problem with that. Might be entertaining since I didn’t bring my book.”
Ice snorted. She glared at her brother. “You implying I can’t read?” she snapped.
Ice held up both hands in mock surrender. “Just saying, baby sister, you can read, you just don’t.” He smirked at her.
Alena flipped him off and threw herself on the blanket. The men moved into the heavier brush, spacing about five feet from one another, slipping into their normal personas. They were phantoms. Ghosts. Assassins. This was what they’d been shaped into all those years ago and the fit was perfect, settling into their skins easily.
They didn’t speak because they didn’t need to. They’d perfected their skills as a team when they were children, some as young as two and three. They might have been sent out as adults individually to do Sorbacov’s dirty work, but they were essentially a team and always would be.
A dog barked in the distance. Viktor held up a fist and pointed to the thickest tree. Transporter went up it fast, climbing with speed that always astonished Viktor. In another life, Transporter would have made it big. He devoured books and retained everything he read. He could actually learn languages in a few hours. His hand-eye coordination and reflexes were astonishing, making it easy for him to drive at high speed. More, he was a human GPS, mostly, Viktor was certain, because of the maps he devoured in his spare time, but also because he just was.
The hoot of an owl sounded from above them, out of the higher limbs, four times. Viktor wanted to swear. Four dogs patrolled with their handlers. They didn’t like killing animals if they could help it. The dogs were just doing their jobs. It wasn’t their fault they worked for one of the biggest networks of pedophiles in the world.
He circled in the air with his finger and pointed to Reaper. The man had a gift – one that allowed him to move through impossible situations, including dogs. Once in a while, whatever trick he used didn’t work, and it was left to Savage to keep his brother alive by whatever means necessary.
Savage was quick and deadly, just like his older brother. Neither talked much to outsiders and both meant what they said. No one laid a hand on them unless it was one of the brothers – and only then if they wanted a beating. Reaper and Savage came into the school together along with two older sisters. All four children were from a privileged family, doted on by loving parents. The children had seen their family brutally murdered right in front of them.
Savage and Reaper had been targeted by two of the cruelest, most brutal pedophiles in the school. Their sisters had tried to protect them, and both had paid the ultimate price, but only after being raped, beaten and tortured in front of the two little boys. Viktor had been fourteen by then and when the bodies of the two girls had been left in the “dungeon” with the boys, drawing rats and flies, he had stepped in. He couldn’t let things go on as they were. He made up his mind to stop those running the school – and for the most part, over time, he’d managed to do just that. But that beginning had taken a toll on the two brothers.
He watched over them carefully now, uncertain what kind of life either could lead. Every single survivor was fucked-up, but in their world, Savage and Reaper were the question marks. The two played for keeps. They often fought in underground fights. At first it had been for quick money, but Code had taken care of all the money problems. He had cleaned out more than one criminal nest with no way to trace the devastation back to them. Torpedo Ink had more than enough money to give them all a good life. Now, Viktor knew, Reaper and Savage fought because they had to. They needed to feel fists hitting solidly into flesh. To feel those fists hitting them. It wasn’t something Viktor could stop so he didn’t try.
They continued to inch closer to the large, ornate wrought iron fence surrounding the property. Viktor spotted the first of the four dog handlers with a big Doberman. The dog was a big brute, a “Warlock,” one much larger than the normal breed. Dog and handler were outside the fence and moving in a clockwise circle around the property, but delving into the woods, going along well-worn trails. They seemed to be headed straight toward the spot where Viktor knew Reaper was concealed.
Suddenly the wind changed direction, picking up speed, moving fast toward the house and away from Reaper. Ice and Storm were doing their jobs, keeping their brother safe. The dog couldn’t possibly catch a scent with all of them now downwind.
The dog was a beautiful animal, and Viktor knew it only had minutes to live if they kept on course. Savage would kill it first and then the handler. Whatever gift or talent Reaper had to make people and animals look the other way, now was the time to employ it. He waited, his body still, his heart rate normal. This was a world he lived in most of the time and he was used to the danger. He was cautious, but everything was very familiar to him.
The handler suddenly changed course, looking toward the west, away from Reaper, moving quickly in that direction. Viktor sighed with relief. Savage would have killed both before they got to his brother, but still, there was always a chance the guard might shoot first.
He joined the two men. Reaper shook his head. “They have more than four dogs, Czar. The place is totally wired, cameras, mics everywhere. Sandlin is definitely paranoid and he’s into electronics big-time.”
His men gathered around him. Reaper, Savage, Ice, Storm, Mechanic, Transporter and Absinthe, the ones who generally ran any mission with him. The vice president of their club, Steele, ran the missions with the other eight members. They were used to working with one another and performed like a finely tuned machine. Each had their gifts and particular skill set.
“I can take them out, Czar,” Savage offered, his tone strictly neutral.
Viktor glanced at him. The man was young, but his eyes looked old. There was no expression on his face. He would do it, kill the dogs and men if Czar asked him to, but the scars were there. Viktor shook his head. He wasn’t adding more, not now when he had them all perched right on the edge of their goal. So close. He could give them a life. Blythe was there to help him. To show him what he needed to do.
Already he’d seen the shift in them. They had included her in their circle. She was his, and that meant she was theirs. Just that acceptance of another human being into their family was miraculous. None of them trusted an outsider. They kept to themselves and looked to one another for backup.
“We’ve got Mechanic,” Viktor pointed out. “We’ll do it the way we used to at the school. It’s good practice for us.”
“I mess up his cameras he’s going to hard alert,” Mechanic said, confident that he could.
With his brother Transporter, Mechanic worked on all their bikes. He was just as good with cars. Viktor had seen his drawings of custom cars and bikes, and they were really good. The hope was a shop where Transporter and Mechanic could do what they loved in peace. Mechanic could mess with anything electronic. Something in his body radiated enough energy to disrupt any electrical signal.
“Not if we provide him with good reasons,” Viktor said. “Ice and Storm can do their thing, bring a limb or two down on power lines. Start picking up the wind, bring it in just enough to beat at his windows and drive his outer guards closer to shelter.”
“You got it,” Storm said.
Ice just nodded. He had three teardrops tattooed on his left side, as if he were crying. He’d done it because he never cried. He couldn’t cry. He rarely, if ever smiled, but then, smiling or laughing wasn’t that common. Mostly with one another. It was never real with outsiders.
Viktor and the others moved deeper into the woods, getting off the path the guard dogs and their handlers took. As they walked, he put his hand on Savage’s shoulder, something rare. He felt Savage’s body stiffen and then shudder under the gentle pressure, as if just being touched hurt. Still, Viktor did it, trying to get the man used to it.
“Didn’t want to kill those dogs,” Savage muttered.
“Me either,” Viktor confirmed.
“Would have done it, if you needed me to,” Savage added.
“I know, but it wasn’t necessary.” Viktor removed his hand casually, wishing Blythe could give him some advice on how to handle the nightmares and the effects of the trauma that continued even now when they were all supposedly free.
He believed in her – had the utmost faith in her – and that hadn’t been misplaced. Five long years without a single word from him and she had taken him back when most women, after what she’d gone through, wouldn’t have even considered it. There wasn’t another woman like her. He worshipped the ground she walked on. He loved and admired everything about her. He knew she’d take in traumatized children without so much as batting an eyelash. That was Blythe. His Blythe.
“You’re thinking about her,” Savage said, startling him.
He nodded tersely. He had to be more careful. Protect her. He never wanted an outsider to be able to read his feelings for his woman.
“How did you know she was the one for you?”
Viktor shrugged, wishing he had magic words to make the world right for all of them. He knew the others were listening. They wanted to know as well. Already, Blythe had given them hope that maybe there were other women out there who would accept them with all their flaws and issues. “The moment I laid eyes on her, heard her laughter, saw the way she treated others, I just knew. It felt like something hit me hard, I mean really hard, right in the chest.” He grinned at them. “You know how we control our cocks? We decide if we want to fuck someone. That went right out the window with her. I see her and my cock is ready. Not just ready, it’s fighting for all the attention. There’s no controlling that.”
Laughter erupted, but it was muffled. They were very cognizant of being in a danger zone. A few of them looked a little skeptical, and he couldn’t blame them. One of the most difficult and disturbing lessons they’d learned was control of their bodies at all times no matter what was being done to them – and a lot had been done to them.
He glanced over at Ice and Storm. They spread out, putting a good ten feet between them. Both had stopped, were completely motionless. He knew they were communicating telepathically. They could use the weather, harness the power of storms for their own purposes. It was all about energy and projecting that energy where they wanted or needed it.
Both looked up, searching the power lines and the trees. Storm nodded, and Ice moved out of the center of the woods and the heavier brush concealing them to the wider hiking trail. Immediately, Absinthe slipped around to the other side, guarding his back.
Reaper, Savage, Transporter and Mechanic waited with Viktor to be in position as close to the fence as possible, waiting for Ice and Storm to take out the electricity. The two brothers had chosen the tree limbs they wanted to bring down. Now it was a matter of doing so as naturally as possible. The wind shrieked, tearing through the trees straight toward the Gothic-looking mansion.
Sandlin wanted nobility so he’d had a castle built out in the woods at the end of his long private drive off a road with few neighbors. The house was a monster, with gargoyles staring out along the rooftops and round turrets. There were few lights on, but the ones that shone through the windows were a yellowish-green, like the eyes of a predatory cat.
Viktor stiffened. The house had been built for secrecy and to make anyone entering uneasy. More, out in the middle of nowhere, in a house that large, Sandlin could do anything he wanted. He could entertain in his living room, even have a dinner party and hold a child prisoner downstairs in the basement and no one would ever know. He was perverse enough to enjoy that kind of thing. Viktor knew because he had studied his online persona. Sandlin was the one encouraging others to take sexual advantage of children, declaring the children loved it and society refused to recognize their needs.
A gust of wind battered at the house, rattling the windows, shrieking to get inside. Dogs and guards moved inside the gate, out of the woods, knowing it was dangerous in a storm to be where branches could fall on them. Sensitive to the energy hurtling through the air toward the house, the dogs roared and leapt to the end of their leashes, barking ferociously. Their handlers reprimanded them and yanked them away from the fence back toward the shelter of their kennels.
The wind retreated and was quiet a moment, as if taking a deep breath, and then once again it rushed the house, howling with rage, throwing twigs, leaves and debris at the sides and windows. The lights flickered, went brown and then glowed again a garish yellow.
Sorry, buddy, Viktor whispered in his mind to the child he was certain was being held in the basement. He’d been in a similar situation for years, and he knew what it was like when the lights went off and it was pitch-black. The rats came out – human and otherwise.
He shuddered and turned his head to look up at the chosen tree. It swayed and rocked with the force of the winds. The wind rose to a shriek of glee as it tore the limb from the tree and hurled it into the power line. The lights flickered a second time, went off and then came back on.
“He’ll have a generator,” Mechanic warned.
Viktor nodded. “One thing at a time. We’ll be able to locate it easier by the sound. Ice and Storm can keep this up and the dogs and handlers won’t be able to be out. We’ll be in position the moment we know they’ve knocked out the cameras. We’ll only have a few seconds.”
The team was already moving to the woods just outside the fence. The patrols had a good six to eight feet of bare ground between the woods and the fence, but Sandlin had wanted to keep the forest close. It protected him as much as it was a threat.
The buildup of electricity in the air was shocking in its intensity. He hoped Ice and Storm were careful of starting a fire. The sound of lightning cracking across the sky and a tree splintering simultaneously was loud. At once the lights were off. Viktor and the others ran to the fence, were up and over it, counting seconds as they ran. They’d already chosen their places of concealment and were in them before the generator began to power up.
The estate had extensive gardens. Sandlin believed in every luxury. He also relied heavily on his cameras and sound equipment. The generator began to hum and then the noise was very loud. Right next to Viktor. At first he didn’t see the cement pad artfully hidden by the lacy bushes surrounding it. The generator was on the pad, encased in a wooden housing. Viktor shook his head. Sandlin had spared no expense on his elaborate house, but something as important as a generator he’d skimped on. He was from the city and probably didn’t think too much about it when locals told him he’d need a generator, and then he simply hadn’t bothered to upgrade. Good for them, bad for him.
The wind shifted minutely, giving the house a brief respite. An owl hooted. Just once. That meant the generator was located close to Czar. Absinthe answered him from the woods. Message received. Mechanic had to move without being spotted.
The buildup of electricity had the hair on Viktor’s body standing on end. Cursing, he went down to his belly and lay flat in the heavy foliage. Lightning cracked across the sky and thunder roared almost simultaneously. Side lightning and forks split the night sky, lighting up the grounds as the bolts rained down. He knew it was necessary to keep the guards and dogs inside until the others were over the fence. No one could move around in such a dangerous storm – including them.
Thunder cracked and shook the ground as the lightning receded from the main house, moving east toward the barracks. As soon as it did, Mechanic made his way through the garden on his belly, using elbows and toes, utilizing the plants for coverage. He sent a quick grin to Viktor as he eased up beside the generator.
Viktor hooted twice to ensure Ice, Storm and Absinthe were moving into position in the woods just outside the fence. The moment Mechanic stopped the generator, they would be up and over the fence, joining them. He watched as the man crouched beside the large box and studied it, mapping it out in his mind.
Viktor had always admired Mechanic’s ability with anything that had moving parts. The generator droned steadily and creaked repeatedly. Metal ground against metal. There was a loud, ominous crack and the strong smell of oil. Mechanic sat back and waited. The generator sputtered. Black smoke rose around it. The grinding got worse and then, abruptly, it shut down.
The lights in both the house and the barracks went off. Storm, Ice and Absinthe were up and over the fence in seconds, all three running to join the others. Ice turned back toward the barracks, directing the powerful energy around that house, to ensure the guards stayed inside.
He could feel the anger in the storm and knew it reflected the rage hidden in all of them. When the brothers had first discovered they could utilize the energy weather provided, they had been very weak at it and then out of control. This storm felt that way – out of control. Viktor didn’t want the barracks burned to the ground.
The feeling in his gut that they had it right, this was their target, grew with everything he saw. Sandlin was definitely a viper, a snake poised to strike at any unwary child he could get his hands on. He might not be part of Evan’s human trafficking ring, but he had one of his own going. He was almost positive that it was this man who had destroyed his messages to Blythe. Why he would do that for Sharon, he didn’t know, but he was going to find out.
Lightning and thunder crashed together, rattling the gutters in the barracks. Viktor’s heart clenched hard in his chest. Little beads of sweat dotted his forehead and ran down his face and chest. He remembered storms vividly. Being in the “dungeon” without lights. The things they did to him in the dark by candlelight, telling him he was lucky he wasn’t alone. Storms always brought the nightmare of memories.
“Pull back,” Viktor hissed, afraid for the kid in the basement, because now he was certain there was a child down there. Enduring. Sometimes the lightning would go after the water pipes and those would connect in the basement.
Storm blew into the air, a long rush of warm breath, and the lightning receded as if on his command, leaving the sky dark. A few heartbeats later, it started up again, striking the ground near the barracks where the guards had retreated with the dogs.
His brothers gathered around him. “He may have people working for him inside. Housekeepers, maids, that sort of thing, but they’ll know what’s going on so they won’t be innocent. Still” – he looked straight at Savage – “until we know who is guilty and who is innocent, we aren’t going to wipe them out.”
His word was law when it came to that sort of thing so he didn’t wait for an acknowledgment. Still, a part of him wanted confirmation. Savage worried him. They all did, but Savage had it nearly as rough as Reaper and definitely from a younger age.
Reaper went with Viktor. He always did. He’d appointed himself Viktor’s personal bodyguard back when he was six years old and Viktor was fourteen, over twice his age. Viktor went up the side of the house while his men scattered in pairs, going in from every direction. He entered through a second-story window. It had an alarm, but that was hardwired into the electricity and failed when the backup generator went down.
He moved in silence, going quickly through the upper-story rooms, clearing them. No one appeared to live in any of them. There was a thin layer of dust on the bureau, but otherwise the place was clean, telling him the man had a cleaning crew that came in regularly, but not daily. He didn’t want to think about where the kid was put when the cleaners came.
Downstairs he found the master bedroom. It was quite large, very decadent with mirrors from floor to ceiling on the two walls on either side of the bed and also on the ceiling above it. There were manacles attached to the foot of the bed and also at the head. Obscene pictures of Sandlin with a young boy decorated the walls not covered in mirrors.
Sandlin wasn’t there. Viktor didn’t find a foot patrol or even a security room in the house. The cameras were monitored from the barracks housing his guards. Clearly Sandlin didn’t trust anyone to know what he was doing. As he blackmailed others like him, he had to fear that someone would discover his secret and blackmail him.
“Coffeepot is hot in the kitchen,” Transporter reported. “Ice and Storm are keeping the storm heavy to keep the guards indoors. They can’t keep up the lightning forever though. We’ve got to find him.”
“Pretty certain I know where he is,” Viktor said grimly. “He’ll be downstairs. With the kid.”
The tension in the room rose to a dangerous level. Viktor felt scary dangerous himself. This time he wasn’t going to tell them to be cautious. He hoped he was wrong about what they were going to find, but he knew he wasn’t.
Reaper and Savage turned first but Viktor held up his hand. “We go in careful.”
He led the way, Reaper in step behind him, as they hunted through the downstairs for the door leading to the basement. It was just off the kitchen, looking as if it was a closet. Viktor pushed open the door very slowly. There was a creak. He stopped and glanced back at Savage. The man stepped forward and nodded for Viktor to open the door. The sound was muffled, so that the door was silent as it swung inward.
It should have been pitch-black beyond the door, but a flickering light danced on the walls. Candles. Sweat broke out on Viktor’s skin. He remembered candles vividly, flickering in the darkness, the hot wax on his skin, the burn of cigarettes, Sorbacov’s cruel laughter as he rutted and then turned him over to the vilest of the prisoners running the school. Bile rose, burning Viktor’s throat.
He forced air into his lungs and kept moving forward. They crept down the narrow crude staircase, Savage muffling any noise they made. He smelled blood. The disturbing scent of Sandlin’s perverted arousal.
“You should be happy I love you so much,” Sandlin crooned. “I didn’t want you all alone down here. I know how much you hate the dark.”
The sound of the boy’s breathing was a harsh, painful rasp with each brutal jerk of Sandlin’s body. The sound of flesh slapping flesh was loud, echoing through the room. Viktor’s mind went from total clarity to complete meltdown. He actually saw red. The rage in the pit of his stomach welled up like a volcano, ready to erupt.
He didn’t wait. He couldn’t. He was across the floor, uncaring whether or not Savage could mask his presence. It didn’t matter now. He wasn’t that helpless child, unable to get out of the manacles and kill his attacker. He was free. Dangerous.
He caught Sandlin by his bare shoulders and literally ripped him off the boy and threw him halfway across the room. The man landed with a thud on his naked buttocks, howling as he hit hard. The boy sagged across the back of the bed, his arms outstretched, his wrists bleeding. There were bloody stripes and welts on his back, buttocks and legs.
Viktor had to turn away from the disgusting sight of the sputtering, naked Sandlin. “Where does he keep the keys?” he asked. “Just give me a minute and I’ll get you washed up.”
The boy didn’t respond. He kept his head down and turned away from Viktor, but not before Viktor saw the wax coating the front of his body. Viktor wasn’t shocked in the least that the teen didn’t respond. More than once, in the early days of his captivity, Sorbacov thought it was funny to send “rescuers” to “free” him, but they were friends of Sorbacov playing their role, and the sport that followed had been painful and cruel. He didn’t bother with platitudes either. The boy wasn’t going to believe a single word he said. Actions were necessary, not words.
He stalked across the room to where Sandlin was sprawled on the floor, trying to cover his flaccid cock with both hands. He stared up at them with horrified eyes. “Where’re the keys, you son of a bitch? You got three seconds and then we start working you over with a broken bottle.” He poured enough rage into his voice that Sandlin couldn’t do anything but believe him.
“The wall by the staircase.”
Viktor stepped over the bloody condom and stalked to the wall, shining the penlight hanging from his key chain along it until he found the nail with the key hanging from it. The others had spread out, one poking through a box until he found a shirt and jeans that had to belong to the boy. At least he had clothes. For many, many years, Sorbacov hadn’t bothered to cover any of them.
He was gentle as he unlocked the manacles. “You got a bathroom around here, to wash up in?”
He’d seen the doorless hellhole Sandlin had given the kid, but it did have a sink. The boy didn’t move. Not even to pull his arms back to him. He’d retreated from reality to distance himself from what Sandlin was doing to him. Viktor had seen plenty of children crawl into their own minds to stay sane.
“Czar,” Transporter said softly. “Let me take care of the kid. We don’t have a lot of time before those guards come looking for their boss to make certain he’s all right. We have to be gone.”
Viktor hated that he was right. They needed to get their business done and get out of there as quickly as possible. He turned away from the boy who was far too much like all of them. Distant from everyone. Ashamed of what he couldn’t stop. Living in his head to survive. Suppressing a rage that could consume the world. He stalked over to Sandlin. Absinthe crouched down.
“Sharon gave you the code and you erased every one of Viktor Prakenskii’s messages to Blythe.” Absinthe made it a statement.
Reaper made a show of pulling his knife from the sheath on his belt. Sandlin’s gaze was all over the place, darting in every direction, but Viktor’s brothers had spread out, surrounding him, looking grim. Merciless. Sweat poured down the naked body. Sandlin kept himself fit, needing strength to keep his prisoners under control, but right now, he was only trying to think of a way out. Like most true pedophiles they’d run across, he was a wimp, weak and scared when confronted.
Viktor held his hand up and Reaper put the knife in it. In one motion, Viktor turned his hand over and stabbed down hard, sinking the blade right into the man’s upper thigh. “Answer him or I’m going to cut off body parts.”
Sandlin screamed and screamed.
“It’s a good thing he soundproofed down here, isn’t it, Czar?” Ice asked.
“I did. I did. She wanted it done and she didn’t know how.”
“You kept doing it after she died,” Absinthe pointed out. His voice dropped an octave. “I would like you to tell me why.”
Absinthe had studied law by devouring all the books available to him. He was the one to negotiate all deals. He had a voice that could hypnotize, allowing him to force his will on others.
Sandlin shook his head several times, but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out an answer. “I told an old friend about it. He’s in Russia, and he knew Viktor as a child. He sent me tapes. So many wonderful tapes. I had them put on DVD so I could watch them over and over. He has the master tapes. Kenny watched with me.” He indicated the boy Transporter was washing the blood off of. “My nephew. He’s attracted to older men. Begs me to let my friends come down here and play with him. I’ll let you… Tell me who you are, what you want. Anything. I’ve got money…”
Viktor slammed the knife right through the other thigh and blood erupted in a geyser. “Whoops.”
Sandlin shrieked. “I’ll sell him to you. My nephew. No one will ever come looking for him. I paid a doctor to sign his death certificate. He doesn’t exist. See? You can take him and do anything you want with him. Just take him and go.”
“Who is this man in Russia?” Absinthe pressed.
The knife sliced down and across the groin before Viktor could stop himself. Sandlin screamed and screamed, his eyes rolling back in his head. Ice shook him.
Absinthe smiled. “Come on, Sandlin. Man up. You don’t want to look weak in front of the boy, do you? You want to tell me who this man is.”
Sandlin shook his head over and over while the blood sprayed. Ice let go of him, and he fell backward. Drool trickled from his mouth and he began babbling.
“He’s done,” Absinthe stated. “Shit. Sorry, Czar. We need to know where those tapes are, and he’s bleeding out.”
Viktor rose slowly, suddenly tired. No matter what he did, how hard he worked, he couldn’t seem to stop men like Sandlin. He didn’t want to think about what could be on those tapes. He especially didn’t want to think about the hell the boy went through. “If he made the kid look at them, then they’re probably in this room somewhere.”
Absinthe went to the bed where Transporter was pulling a shirt over the teenager’s head. “You know where the DVDs are kept?”
For the first time the kid seemed to come out of his mind with a little start. He jerked his head toward the wall behind him. At once Mechanic was there, feeling along the wall for a safe. Kenny looked over his shoulder at Sandlin, a fleeting expression of satisfaction on his face.
“Don’t look at him, kid,” Viktor snapped, cleaning the knife on Sandlin’s discarded clothes. He handed the knife back to Reaper. “That’s not something you want to see.”
“I want to see it,” Kenny muttered. “I need to see it.”
Transporter handed him his trousers. “Get these on.”
“We’re out of here, kid. Call it in. You tell them we killed the bastard.”
“I’m not sticking around. He has friends. Powerful friends. They were down here often with him, and they have a lot to lose. I’m out of here.”
“Where you going to go, kid?” Transporter asked.
Kenny shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.” He looked at them defiantly, taking in their scars, their tattoos. Their scary appearance. “Maybe I’ll go with you.”
“Like hell,” Viktor said. “Call the cops as soon as we’re gone.”
“He’s gotta come with us, Czar,” Storm said.
The others nodded.
Viktor scowled at them. “What the fuck are we going to do with him? Drag him along when the Swords try to blow our brains out?”
Mechanic had the safe open. There were dozens of DVDs and piles of cash as well as notebooks and photographs. “It’s packed full.”
“Take everything,” Viktor said. “He probably has his entire blackmailing operation in there and we can get the names of his friends.”
Mechanic jerked the pillow out of the case and scooped everything into the pillowcase. It looked heavy.
“I can fight,” Kenny decreed.
“Take him to Blythe,” Reaper said.
“Great. She barely took me back, and now you want me to bring her home another mouthy, seriously fucked-up kid. Like she doesn’t have enough problems with all of you.”
“I’m not mouthy, but I am fucked-up,” Kenny said.
“Don’t you say fuck in front of Blythe,” Reaper snapped. “She doesn’t like it.”
“He’s dead,” Storm announced, keeping a distance from the body so the blood didn’t touch him. “Let’s get out of here.”
“He can say fuck all he likes, I’m not bringing him home to her,” Viktor said. “She’s taking on three girls who all are going to have major issues.”
They were on the move, hurrying to get out of the house now that they had the tapes and Sandlin was dead. Kenny followed them. Viktor swore in his native language, but ignored the kid, halting abruptly in the thick gardens while Ice and Storm built the wind again and brought with it the rumble of thunder to keep the guards inside long enough for them to leave.
They jogged back to the bikes, and Viktor had to give it to the boy; he kept up when he clearly was hurting and out of shape. He was thin, every bone sticking out. His arms looked like sticks and there were red circles around his wrist, old scars on top of new ones. Viktor didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see himself, that ten-year-old boy so helpless still there inside of him. A victim. No one to stand for him. But damn it all, he couldn’t ask Blythe for one more thing. Not one. She’d taken him back. She’d accepted his family.
Alena stood up when they came into view. She looked them all over and relief lit her face. She lifted an eyebrow when she saw the boy and looked to Viktor for an explanation. He shook his head.
Instantly, Ice went to his bike and rummaged through a bag. “I keep an extra helmet for Alena,” he said and tossed it to Kenny. “Put that on.”
Kenny held the helmet to his chest, looking up at the sky and around the trees. He reached out to touch Viktor’s Harley.
“Don’t, kid,” Viktor cautioned. “You don’t touch another man’s bike without permission. Not ever.”
Kenny drew his hand back and then just stood there as if he didn’t know what to do. Absinthe took the helmet and put it on the boy.
Viktor shook his head and straddled his Harley. “I don’t know what you’re going to do with him, but I’m not taking him home to Blythe.”
“He’d make an excellent prospect,” Alena said, pulling a jacket from Storm’s pack. “I’ve got this extra one. It’s not terribly warm, but it will work for you.”
“What’s a prospect?” Kenny asked, taking the jacket.
The kid couldn’t stop shivering. Probably from a combination of shock, cold and fear. Viktor sighed. “When was the last time you were out of that house?”
“When I was nine. I went to live with him when I was nine, and he took me down to the basement. I was fourteen when he took me up to his bedroom. That was two years ago. Mostly I stayed down in the basement.”
Viktor cursed under his breath. What the hell was he going to do with the kid? The boy couldn’t fend for himself. He didn’t know the first thing about life outside that basement.
“What’s a prospect?” Kenny insisted.
“Someone wanting in the club,” Mechanic answered.
“They watch the bikes when we’re all doing something and make certain no one touches them,” Alena added.
“I could do that,” Kenny said.
“He’s sixteen years old, damn it. He’s not going to be a prospect,” Viktor declared. He turned the engine over, so his Harley roared to life.
“Get on the back of my bike, kid,” Transporter said.
Kenny stood there staring. Alena patted his shoulder. “Watch me.” She put her hand on Viktor’s shoulder and swung up behind him.
Viktor shook his head. The kid needed a doctor. Counselors. An education. Parents who could deal with trauma. Understand what had happened to him and guide him through the pitfalls of shame, guilt, depression and terrible, terrible rage. He didn’t have their training. He didn’t know the things they at least had been taught. He was vulnerable, and he’d be acting out a lot.
Everyone was looking at him as if he could save the world. Including the kid.
“I’m not asking her,” he declared and got out of there.