Betina came to his table to collect the empties. This time she didn't make the mistake of putting her body between his and Anya's. "I didn't know about you and Anya, Reaper. I apologize, and I'll apologize to her. She's my friend." She kept her voice low and her eyes downcast. She placed a new napkin directly in front of him and walked away.
Reaper wasn't surprised to hear Betina call Anya her friend. Anya, he was finding out, was well liked by just about everyone. He glanced down at the napkin. They're asking questions about the club. I gave them the standard "not my business," but they're persistent. What do you want me to do?
He didn't want her to do anything until he knew what they were dealing with. Betina liked to fuck bikers. She liked the parties and the life, but she also liked the protection they afforded her. She didn't mind men putting their hands on her. She loved the big tips, but she wasn't about to trade the club for any of those things.
She'd walked off, making the rounds of tables. He held up his hand to indicate to the bar he wanted coffee and jerked his head toward Betina. Anya got the message immediately. That was another thing he loved about his woman. She didn't know the first thing about their world, but she picked up on things. One time was all it took and she learned.
She called Betina over, pushed a mug of steaming coffee toward her and indicated Reaper. Betina hesitated and then said something soft to Anya. Anya nodded once solemnly and then flashed a smile at the waitress. It was her bright, radiant smile, the off-the-charts one that sent desire snaking through his body. She'd just forgiven Betina for trying to encroach on her man. Anya didn't hold grudges. That was one trait she'd need with him, because he was bound to fuck up a lot.
Betina set the mug in front of him. "Anything else, Reaper?"
He knew, without looking, the three men were watching them. "Not one thing. Coffee's all for now."
She nodded. She knew to stay as far away from the three men as possible. Not to give them anything, not to attempt to listen in on their conversation. He didn't want her taking chances. Pictures of the men had been taken and Code was already working to identify them. He wouldn't ever peg them as bikers, but that didn't mean anything. They didn't blend, but that could be on purpose.
He tapped to the music, another code. His brothers and sisters had perfected those codes when they were just children. Code had been their numbers man from the time he'd been brought to the school. He'd been skinny and tiny, with his hair sticking almost straight up, but he was a genius, and Czar had recognized it in him early. Reaper told Code to have the others keep Czar tucked out of sight with guards around him at all times. Two would be sent to his home to keep Blythe and the children safe.
Alena came down the hall, just as he knew she would. Alena was a heartbreaker. She was beautiful and a siren with the same call of temptation to destruction as the mythical sirens'. She looked like pure sinful sex with every step she took, dressed in her pencil-thin skirt and her tight little camisole. Earrings dangled from her earlobes, and her lipstick was bright red, framing her beautiful mouth.
Every man in the bar turned and looked at her. It was impossible not to, especially when she was working her hips and her breasts moved subtly with every step. She had perfect posture and looked like the most confident, sexy woman on the face of the earth. Very few men could resist her when she turned on the charm. Her siren's voice assured her of their attention. Another gift was her ability to lift anything from pockets without detection. Wallets, pens, a piece of paper, money, IDs. She had never once been caught, not even as a child first learning.
"Alena." A man stood up from the table, blocking her path. He stuttered her name, smiling like a boy in a candy store. "I was hoping I'd see you again."
She stopped, her high heels nearly making her as tall as the man blocking her path. Although she was only average height, she seemed taller. She was nearly to the table closest to the one where the three men were sitting.
"I'm sorry?" Alena never forgot a face or name. She knew exactly who the man was, but she pushed a little haughtiness into her voice, as if he might be a bug she was about to squash.
"Bronson. We met at the State Park. I'm a park ranger. You were on your way to check out Caspar. It was about a year or so ago."
"Ah. Of course." She gave the impression she was pretending to remember. "How are you?"
"I was hoping to run into you. I've come here a lot, but didn't catch you. Can I buy you a drink?"
She reached out and touched his collar, one swipe of her bloodred nail. "So sweet, Bronson, now I remember you. You had that sexy uniform on, didn't you? Weren't you going to throw us out of the park?"
His mouth flew open to protest. At the same time, he shook his head over and over. She pressed her finger to his mouth. "Another time. I've got to wait for my brother." She stepped smoothly past him and walked straight to the empty table, leaving the ranger staring after her, his gaze glued to her swaying hips.
Reaper was always amazed at how smooth Alena was. She commanded an entire room with her presence, leaving the faintest scent of perfume behind her, so faint it was elusive, and men wanted to follow that trail. She had the attention of the three men instantly. They would have been deaf and blind not to notice her. Bannister, sitting on his stool at the end of the bar, swiveled in his seat to keep her in sight.
Deliberately Alena sank into the chair facing the three men and crossed her legs. The action hiked the tight skirt halfway up her thighs. She wore silk stockings and a hint of a black lace garter showed at the top, sexy as hell. She glanced at her watch, sighed and then sat back and fidgeted with her hair. She happened to glance up and catch the stranger opposite her staring and sent him a faint smile.
Reaper watched that lure to get the stranger on Alena's hook. The man's breath caught. He pushed at his short, spiky cut and then his hand went to his throat as if to straighten a tie. That was a tell if Reaper had ever seen one. This man was more at home in a suit than in his casual blue jeans and T-shirt. No wonder the three men looked so out of place. It wouldn't take long for Alena to reel them in. She'd have them eating out of her hand.
Reaper sipped at his coffee, keeping an eye on the park ranger. He had eyes only for Alena. They couldn't afford the ranger interfering with their plan. He lifted his coffee cup to catch Betina's attention. She immediately abandoned the table near the stage where the band played where she'd been taking orders and hurried to him.
She poured the coffee. "Anything else?"
Reaper jerked his chin toward the ranger. "Nope, coffee's fine." He pushed a tip toward her fingers. She almost shook her head but then took it when he lifted an eyebrow and jerked his chin slightly toward the park ranger again.
Betina flashed a smile and went straight to Bronson. She stepped close. Very close. Leaned in, right over the table so he got a perfect view of her breasts. Her red push-up bra showed under the low, dipping neckline. Bronson glimpsed a partial nipple. She smiled at him. "Hi, handsome, I've seen you around, but you're never in my section. I'm Betina. What's your name?" She stroked a finger down his arm.
The ranger coughed. She pressed closer on the pretense of patting his back. Her leg wedged between his, her thigh tight against his cock. "Are you okay?" She practically crooned it. "Let me help you. I've got a little break coming. Would you like to go outside with me and find a place to . . . talk?" Her voice was very suggestive.
She caught his hand and pressed it to her hip, right where her tank rose just a little, so he was feeling skin. "Please?" She widened her eyes. "I never get to meet any decent men when I'm working. They all want just one thing." She glanced over her shoulder to give Heidi, the other waitress, a heads-up that she would be leaving for a few minutes.
Reaper wanted to shake his head when the ranger stood up with Betina and, like a puppy dog, followed her right out the door, leaving the way clear for Alena to keep the three strangers occupied solely with her. He heard her give a sigh as she uncrossed her legs and recrossed them. Then she tapped the tab
le impatiently to the music, swaying a little in her chair.
"Don't tell me someone was stupid enough to stand you up." The spiky-haired man stood up and walked over to her. Alena's restless fingers continued to tap a rhythm on the table, this time a signal for Maestro to swing into a slow ballad.
"My brother is notoriously late," she answered and then looked up, and, as if just really seeing him, letting appreciation and interest show on her face. "Hi. I'm Alena."
"Tom. Tom Randal. Can I buy you a drink?"
"Do you dance?"
"Slow."
She stood up, very close to him. Reaper knew how heady men found her. She smiled, staring straight into his eyes. "Tom, I believe the music is just slow enough." She put her hand in his.
Tom walked her to the dance floor, and she turned immediately and put both arms around his neck and pressed her body tightly against his. He locked his arms around her waist, and they began to sway together. She'd made certain to lead him close to the edge of the low stage. It was no more than a step. The way their bodies were locked together, Reaper knew Alena could feel every bulge in Tom's pockets. She knew exactly where his wallet was.
Reaper kept his eyes on her. So did Master. He played bass and every now and then dropped to a slight crouch while he played one-handed to fiddle with his amp--the amplifier positioned right on the corner. Alena's hand swept down Tom's body in a little caress as she turned her face up to his and talked softly, intimately to him, creating a spell with her voice. Reeling him in. Her fingers found his wallet and she handed it off to Master easily. He beckoned to Mechanic, who crouched, came to the corner of the stage to fiddle with the amp, took the wallet with a sleight of hand and disappeared.
It was smooth. Practiced. They'd done it hundreds of times. The wallet went to Code, the ID copied, put back and returned to Master in minutes. Alena laughed at something Tom said, and Master slipped it back into her hand. She went up on her toes and whispered, her lips against Tom's ear, her fingers slipping in a caress down his back and over his hip, the wallet smoothly sliding back into his pocket.
Alena had indicated twice that Tom was asking about the club. Or at least the president of the club. She'd delivered the information via code, tapping that rhythm right on Tom's shoulder blatantly.
Tom looked like he'd been lovestruck. He couldn't take his eyes off Alena. He walked her back to the table when the band went into something energetic, keeping possession of her hand as they neared her table. "Come sit with us."
She nodded immediately. "Storm's always late."
"Storm?" Tom echoed.
"My brother. He's got a temper and can create quite the storm when he's angry." She gave a small laugh. "Introduce me to your friends." Her voice had dropped an octave, throwing the lure that often got her exactly what she wanted.
"Steve and Mike Burrows," Tom said. "Alena."
"Are you just passing through?" she asked as she slid gracefully into a chair.
"Staying for a few days," Steve answered. "We like sea fishing and come to Fort Bragg occasionally to fish. This is our first time in the bar. Someone told us to come on Thursday nights to hear the band."
"They're good, aren't they?" Alena said. She moved, a slow subtle undulation of her body that kept their eyes riveted to her. All the while she tapped her fingers to the beat of the music, giving the other two names to Code through the camera.
"I can't believe they play in a small bar like this. They could be quite a draw if they had a little publicity," Mike pointed out.
"They don't play on a regular basis," Alena said, leaning her chin into the heel of her hand, staring into Tom's eyes. "How long do you think you'll be here?"
"A few more days," Tom said hastily.
"Who owns the bar?" Steve looked around carefully. "It's unexpected. I was told it was a biker bar. I thought fights and broken glass."
"Torpedo Ink club owns it. My brother's Torpedo Ink."
"Is he the president?" Mike asked.
She shook her head. Reaper saw her sign immediately. She didn't like the way the conversation was headed. She ran her fingers through her hair--Storm's sign to get out there. Her brother strode into the bar within minutes, coming in through the front. He was wearing his colors, just as Reaper and the band members were.
Alena stood up instantly with a smile. "I'd better go," she whispered, almost as if she was afraid of what her brother might do to her--or to them--if he caught her sitting with them. Before Tom or the others could protest, she hurried straight to Storm. He caught her arm and dragged her out the front door.
Reaper gave Fatei a thumbs-up to indicate that he should let Betina know the coast was clear and she could get back inside. They'd all done their jobs. They were skilled at working together, one smooth, oiled machine. He glanced up to see Anya's gaze touch the three men, speculation in her eyes. She looked away quickly.
He had a sudden feeling of unease. His woman was intelligent. She noticed things and had a great memory. She remembered the name of every single customer, family members and even friends. She remembered the drinks they liked. Any bit of overheard conversation and eventually she would be able to put pieces of puzzles together. He'd have to caution the others to be careful around her.
The last thing he wanted was for Anya to know about any of the work they did. She had to know he wasn't a good man, she'd seen the knife he'd thrown at Deke, but she didn't know that they'd been assassins for their government and that they hunted pedophiles, or took jobs as couriers to escort people safely through gauntlets.
He had kissed her in front of the three strangers, men asking questions about their club, about their president. He had kissed her to stake his claim in front of everyone, but it had been a selfish gesture. He would have done better to ignore her. She would have followed his cue. She was always professional at work, and she was still unsure of the status of their relationship.
He stood up slowly, for the first time drawing attention to himself. Even in the bar, with Betina bringing him coffee and Anya kissing him, he knew he went still after as he always did, and that allowed him to become somewhat invisible. He was noticed only when he wanted to be. Stalking across the bar, he went down the hall rather than going behind the bar to access the meeting room. Maestro, Player, Keys and Master put their instruments aside and used the hinged slab at the bar to retreat toward the back room.
In the mirror above his head, Reaper noticed the three strangers going on alert. He nodded to Fatei to watch them. Gavriil and Casimir Prakenskii, two of Czar's brothers, stepped into the hall to guard the door while the club members went inside. Gavriil, Reaper had come to know over the last year, and he was every bit the badass Czar had warned them he was.
Casimir had earned the club's respect because he had been the one, along with his wife, to free them all from Sorbacov and his murderous son. The couple had killed the two Sorbacovs, allowing those left alive from the four schools to live in the open. Both men had been patched in. As the newest members, they still pulled guard duty quite often.
Reaper moved to the back of the room while Savage took the front. The rest of the club members, Alena and Lana included, gathered around the large table. "First, before anything else, Code, what did you find out about the Ghost Club?" Czar asked.
"We stumbled into a nest of vipers, Czar. Pure and simple. They've targeted the clubs, all of them, large and small. They have quite the racket going. We got close enough to hear that they want the Diamondbacks and expect to get them soon. Some prick, and I haven't gotten his name yet, but I will, is selling out his club, setting up the president of the Mendocino chapter's wife in exchange for his debt. They think they've gotten big enough to take the Diamondbacks on starting with the Mendocino chapter."
Czar shook his head. "Are they crazy? The Diamondbacks will eat them alive."
"The Ghosts are bigger than I first thought. They've got members in various states and no one knows who they are."
"Someone has to know."
&n
bsp; "Their computers are like a fortress. Better than the government's, Czar. It took both Cat and I to figure out how to break through their firewall. I'm searching the servers now and will have the data to you soon," Code said.
Reaper was always impressed with the things Code did with computers.
"I did get into their emails. They use a code that was easy to break, unlike their firewall. There was quite a buzz around the fact that three of their men were killed in a botched raid on the president of Mayhem's wife." He sent a quick appreciative grin to Reaper.
Steele nodded. "We heard the same thing. They think members of Mayhem saved the president's wife and daughter. As far as we could tell from the conversation, we're not on their radar. At least not as someone that interfered with their scheme."
"How'd you get so close?" Preacher asked.
"Master gave us some good audio surveillance equipment and we picked up conversations the Ghosts held in their basement offices. The casino's down there and below that are the offices. They also have an escape tunnel below the Ghost Club."
"Nice, Master." Preacher smirked at him. "Knew your gadgets would come in useful."
Master flipped him off. He loved anything electrical. Mechanic and Master spent hours working on new equipment, trying to make each device smaller and smaller.
"Hammer's woman?" Czar got to the point.
The smiles faded from Steele and the others. "She's there. They've got her underground, down near the tunnel. It didn't sound good, Czar. I think it's best we get her out of there as soon as possible."
"Can we get a hold of the blueprints for the club, casino and offices?" Czar asked.
"Absinthe went to the city planning office to take a look. Nothing but the club itself. Whatever original plans were there, aren't any longer," Steele said.
Czar sighed. "It's damned hard to go in blind."