PRAISE FOR JUDGMENT ROAD
“In her last Sea Haven novel, the amazing Feehan set up the bones of her next gritty, thrilling and darkly sexy series that features the members of an outlaw motorcycle club called Torpedo Ink. . . . As Feehan’s fans know, she truly excels at giving readers characters whose demons are oh-so-close to the surface—which makes their fight to emotionally connect all the more gripping. Feehan is in a class by herself!”
—RT Book Reviews
“A fantastic emotional journey and action-packed thrill ride all rolled into one. . . . The Torpedo Ink series couldn’t have started off on a better note. Judgment Road was a tantalizing blend of a sexy-as-all-get-out love story and a gritty road to redemption for a bunch of badass bikers who all had something to prove.”
—Harlequin Junkie
“If you enjoy dark, serious storylines [that have] plenty of steamy and sweet, funny, and the much-needed righteous feel of good kicking butt, then Judgment Road is a must read.”
—Fresh Fiction
PRAISE FOR CHRISTINE FEEHAN’S SEA HAVEN NOVELS
“The queen of paranormal romance. . . . I love everything she does.”
—J. R. Ward
“A new cast of characters as heartwarmingly interesting as those in her Drake Sisters novels and as steamy as those in her Dark novels.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Ms. Feehan is at the top of her game with this magical romance.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“Suspenseful, engaging—fraught with magic, action and romance. . . . I HAVE to read the next one in the series.”
—Smexy Books
“An action-packed and romantic tale. Awesome as always!”
—RT Book Reviews
“Avid readers of Ms. Feehan’s work should dive in.”
—Fiction Vixen
“Once again, Christine Feehan brings a sizzling story of seduction and sorcery to her readers. Fans of previous Feehan novels, particularly the Drake Sisters series, will be enchanted by her new series.”
—Examiner.com
“Stunning, vivid, lushly visual. . . . It’s the perfect way to escape.”
—Romance Books Forum
Titles by Christine Feehan
COVERT GAME
POWER GAME
SPIDER GAME
VIPER GAME
SAMURAI GAME
RUTHLESS GAME
STREET GAME
MURDER GAME
PREDATORY GAME
DEADLY GAME
CONSPIRACY GAME
NIGHT GAME
MIND GAME
SHADOW GAME
HIDDEN CURRENTS
TURBULENT SEA
SAFE HARBOR
DANGEROUS TIDES
OCEANS OF FIRE
LEOPARD’S RUN
LEOPARD’S BLOOD
LEOPARD’S FURY
WILD CAT
CAT’S LAIR
LEOPARD’S PREY
SAVAGE NATURE
WILD FIRE
BURNING WILD
WILD RAIN
BOUND TOGETHER
FIRE BOUND
EARTH BOUND
AIR BOUND
SPIRIT BOUND
WATER BOUND
SHADOW KEEPER
SHADOW REAPER
SHADOW RIDER
VENGEANCE ROAD
JUDGMENT ROAD
DARK SENTINEL
DARK LEGACY
DARK CAROUSEL
DARK PROMISES
DARK GHOST
DARK BLOOD
DARK WOLF
DARK LYCAN
DARK STORM
DARK PREDATOR
DARK PERIL
DARK SLAYER
DARK CURSE
DARK HUNGER
DARK POSSESSION
DARK CELEBRATION
DARK DEMON
DARK SECRET
DARK DESTINY
DARK MELODY
DARK SYMPHONY
DARK GUARDIAN
DARK LEGEND
DARK FIRE
DARK CHALLENGE
DARK MAGIC
DARK GOLD
DARK DESIRE
DARK PRINCE
Anthologies
EDGE OF DARKNESS
(with Maggie Shayne and Lori Herter)
DARKEST AT DAWN
(includes Dark Hunger and Dark Secret)
SEA STORM
(includes Magic in the Wind and Oceans of Fire)
FEVER
(includes The Awakening and Wild Rain)
FANTASY
(with Emma Holly, Sabrina Jeffries, and Elda Minger)
LOVER BEWARE
(with Fiona Brand, Katherine Sutcliffe, and Eileen Wilks)
HOT BLOODED
(with Maggie Shayne, Emma Holly, and Angela Knight)
Specials
DARK CRIME
THE AWAKENING
DARK HUNGER
MAGIC IN THE WIND
A JOVE BOOK
Published by Berkley
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
1745 Broadway, New York, NY 10019
Copyright © 2019 by Christine Feehan
Excerpt from Toxic Game copyright © 2019 by Christine Feehan
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
A JOVE BOOK, BERKLEY, and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Ebook ISBN: 9780451490155
First Edition: January 2019
Cover art by Neils Antone / Lott Reps
Cover design by Judith Lagerman
Torpedo Ink logo design by Patrick J. Mears
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
CONTENTS
Praise for Judgment Road
Titles by Christine Feehan
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
For My Readers
Acknowledgments
Torpedo Ink Members
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
; Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Glossary
Excerpt from Toxic Game
About the Author
FOR MY READERS
Be sure to go to http://www.christinefeehan.com/members/ to sign up for my PRIVATE book announcement list and download the FREE ebook of Dark Desserts. Join my community and get firsthand news, enter the book discussions, ask your questions and chat with me. Please feel free to email me at Christine@christinefeehan.com. I would love to hear from you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would very much like to thank the men and women who contributed, sharing information generously when I asked them. Anne Roffe Tann, I appreciate your letter so much. Ed and Ruth, thank you for answering questions, even late at night when I’m getting crazy. A huge shout-out to Patrick J. Mears from Spread Eagle Tattoo for working so closely with me to create my vision and concept of the Torpedo Ink graphics. Sheila, you helped me very much, letting me talk things out endlessly. Domini, Brian and Denise, thank you for your help with everything from research to edits to pushing me to work faster.
TORPEDO INK MEMBERS
Viktor Prakenskii aka Czar—President
Lyov Russak aka Steele—Vice President
Savva Pajari aka Reaper—Sergeant at Arms
Savin Pajari aka Savage—Sergeant at Arms
Isaak Koval aka Ice—Secretary
Dmitry Koval aka Storm
Alena Koval aka Torch
Luca Litvin aka Code—Treasurer
Maksimos Korsak aka Ink
Kasimir Popov aka Preacher
Lana Popov aka Widow
Nikolaos Bolotan aka Mechanic
Pytor Bolotan aka Transporter
Andrii Federoff aka Maestro
Gedeon Lazaroff aka Player
Kir Vasiliev aka Master
Lazar Alexeev aka Keys
Aleksei Solokov aka Absinthe
NEWER PATCHED MEMBERS
Gavriil Prakenskii
Casimir Prakenskii
PROSPECTS
Fatei
Glitch
Hyde
ONE
Breezy Simmons leaned against her pickup for a moment, staring at the large building that housed the Torpedo Ink Motorcycle Club. Her heart beat so hard in her chest she was afraid she might vomit. The world spun uncontrollably, and she quickly leaned down, putting her head between her legs, drawing in great gulps of air. She caught a glimpse of two men on the other side of the compound as her head went toward the asphalt, and she didn’t recognize either of them. That made her pounding heart sink.
She couldn’t possibly have the wrong club. This had to be them. She was running out of time and options. She slowly righted herself and took another cautious look around. The two men stared at her from across the parking lot. She was careful not to look at them too long. She didn’t want them coming anywhere near her. She needed to get in and out very fast.
The Torpedo Ink compound was extremely large and had a high chain-link fence surrounding it. There was even razor wire up on top of the fence, making the place look like a fortress. The rolling gates were wide open, and she’d driven her truck right inside, parking as close to the clubhouse as possible. She’d deliberately left the door to her beat-up pickup open and the engine running. Hopefully, no one recognized her, and she could get in and out of the building quickly, once she asserted these were the right people, the ones she was looking for.
In the early morning hours, the club was just beginning to stir. Clearly, they’d partied hard over the weekend. In the enormous side yard, the one with the beautiful ocean view, she could see embers in fire pits glowing as the breeze stirred them up. A man with his back to her watered them down with a hose. He wore a tight tee and jeans, but no colors. Still, she knew this was the home of the club that called itself Torpedo Ink. She sent up a silent prayer that this was the one she’d been looking for.
There were empty bottles strewn around the grass and on the ground to the side of the building in the wide expanse of open field. Cars, motorcycles and trucks were scattered around the parking lot, although no one parked where the club did. Their motorcycles were lined up neatly and a prospect watched over them. He sat on the curb looking at her. She was parked too close to the precious bikes, but she didn’t care—other than that it had drawn the attention of the prospect.
Another long line of motorcycles was parked a short distance down from the clubhouse and a prospect watched over those bikes as well. He looked at her without much interest, which indicated to her that those bikes belonged to a visiting club. He wasn’t as interested in protecting the grounds as the one closest to the clubhouse.
She had to get this over with. Just being in such close proximity to an MC made her sick. The fact that she knew what went on at the party made her even sicker. That this might be his club, and she had to risk running into him, made all that far worse.
Breezy squared her shoulders, dragged the envelope off the seat and turned all in one motion. The prospect was on his feet. If she knew for certain this was the right club, she would have thrust the letter into his hands and left, but she was guessing from a process of elimination.
She purposely hadn’t kept track of him, especially when she’d heard, a year after she’d left, that eighteen members of the Swords had set up the international president for assassination and had, allegedly, wiped out a number of members and then disappeared. She knew who those eighteen members were immediately, and knowing them, she knew it was possible when others said it wasn’t. She’d run as far from the life as she could, and now she was being pulled right back in.
The parties. The violence. The utter disregard and disdain for women. She shut that down fast and walked with brisk, purposeful steps to the club. She yanked open the door and went right in. It smelled just the way she remembered. Booze. Sex. Weed. Her stomach lurched. God. God. She couldn’t stand walking into the clubhouse, let alone anything else.
The common room was enormous. One side held a long, curving bar, in the center of the room were tables and chairs, and the other side had several couches and armchairs. Sleeping bodies were everywhere. A woman picked up bottles and put them into a garbage bag, dumping paper plates in along with the other trash as she moved through the mostly naked bodies strewn around the floor. She glanced at Breezy but didn’t say anything. She kept picking up trash as if on automatic pilot. Breezy remembered what that was like. She could have been that woman.
She didn’t recognize any of the men that she could see lying on the floor or slumped in the chairs, and her heart sank. She paused by the bar, her gaze going from one face to the next. Half-naked or naked men and women were draped in chairs around the room or on the floor. Most snored softly, but one woman was busy going down on a man with wild blond hair and ice-blue eyes. Three teardrops were tattooed at the corner of his eye like ice drops dripping down his face.
He slumped in a chair looking almost bored, his eyes at half-mast as the woman knelt at his feet, her mouth busy, while another woman kissed her way up his chest. Across from him, a second man who looked exactly like the blond, obviously his twin, watched, his fist around his impressive and somewhat intimidating cock. With a jerk of his chin, the one with the teardrop tattoos indicated to the woman kissing his chest to go to his watching brother. She immediately dropped to her hands and knees and crawled between the thighs of the other twin.
It was them. The right club. The men she had searched for. She’d found them. She recognized the twins and her heart kicked into overdrive. How could she not recognize them? They were gorgeous men. As cold as ice, but beautiful. The one with the tattoos, Ice had been his name, suddenly lifted his gaze and met hers. Her heart stuttered at the recognition she saw in his
eyes.
She slapped the envelope onto the bar. “Give that to Steele.” She turned to go, her gaze sliding around the room once more.
At the sound of her voice, three women stirred in the far corner of the room, their sleeping bodies pushed aside by the man who lay under them. The movement drew her eye. He half sat, shoving at the dark hair spilling onto his forehead. It was thick and wild, a little out of control. He blinked drowsily at her. Her heart faltered. Stopped. They stared at each other, her stomach lurching.
Breezy threw dignity to the wind. She ran. Fast. She heard the sharp whistle following her, but she had already flung herself into her pickup and thrown it into reverse, foot stomping on the gas pedal. She pressed down hard, and the truck roared as it backed all the way through the rapidly closing gates. Men poured out of the clubhouse, she could see them through her windshield when she glanced at them, but they were mostly naked, and the gates had closed behind her with a loud clang. She was on one side, the side of freedom; they were on the other, those gates holding them in. For once, luck was on her side.
She backed straight into the street, thankful it was so early and there was no traffic. Throwing the pickup into drive, she nearly spun out of control as she overcorrected before straightening out and taking off toward Highway 1. She had a plan, just in case, and she was grateful she’d made it. Her entire body trembled, so much so that it was difficult holding on to the steering wheel. She did though, her knuckles turning white.
Why did it hurt? He’d made it very, very clear she was nothing to him. Another club girl. No, lower than that. A whore. One her family had pimped out. A drug mule. Nothing. She was nothing. She’d thought he was her world, and all the while, he’d been plotting to take down her family’s club. She’d loved him. He’d used her and then thrown her away, shattering every dream, every hope she’d ever had.
Her vision blurred, and she swiped at her eyes, furious that he’d made her cry again. That he could make her cry again. She’d cried enough tears over him. The liar. He was just like all the others in the clubs. Women were nothing to them. Nothing. They used them. Humiliated them. She’d been born into that life, but she didn’t have to stay there. She wasn’t that girl. Not anymore. Not ever again.