"When Sorbacov was told, I expected him to kill Savage or at least me. I should have known better. He was devious, the sick kind of man who loved psychological torture as much as physical. He had Savage so he knew I'd do anything to keep him safe. Pay any price. His price was to send me out to kill. I was his assassin. We all were, but I was his prized one. He wanted me to duplicate the kill over and over. Seduce the target and kill her the same way. I refused to kill an innocent. I wouldn't trade Savage's life for a woman who hadn't done anything wrong. I honestly don't know whether or not they manufactured evidence against women, but over the years, when it was a female target, Sorbacov sent me after her."
"And you . . ." she prompted, feeling sick.
"Repeated the killing in exactly the same way. Sorbacov made me record it and bring him the evidence. If I didn't hand the recording over, they didn't release Savage. I always knew I was working against the clock. He was in bad, bad shape when I'd get him from them. Sometimes we discussed killing ourselves like some of the other students had done."
She felt sick for all of them now. Every club member. Whatever was being done to Savage while Reaper was on his missions was clearly horrifying. All of the members had suffered unspeakable crimes.
"I'm so in love with you, Anya. I didn't want to take chances with your life. After what happened, I had to find a solution. I talked to Ice and Storm. I didn't give them details, just told them I was having trouble in that department and that I didn't want to hurt you. They knew about the instructor, but she worked with all of them. They didn't know I killed her or why. Czar knew that part. I didn't tell Czar or anyone else, not even Savage, what I had to do to keep Savage alive after that." His eyes met hers again and then he looked away, shame on his face. Guilt.
She knew he was expecting her to condemn him. She cleared her throat so she could speak, swallowing the terrible lump there. "What was the solution you came up with?"
"Ice read this story about sexual surrogates. I can't talk about killing multiple people to a therapist. I can't talk about things the club does now. I can't explain why I won't let the love of my life go down on me even though I want it more than anything. I told Ice finding a sexual therapist wouldn't work for all those reasons. He said we didn't need a therapist, only a sex partner who knew what she was doing."
Anya groaned and hit the back of her head against the chair several times. Of course they'd think that. "Honey, surrogates are trained."
"Well, yeah. So is Tawny so to speak, at least that's what Storm said and he had a point."
She was going to strangle the twins with her bare hands. She couldn't think too much about what he'd revealed. That would take a long time to process. She just had to keep her mind from screaming and screaming in rage and heartache for him.
"Keep going," she encouraged.
"They convinced me. I knew I'd have to be drunk, but I couldn't drink enough to make it all right. The thought of anyone touching me but you . . ." He broke off, shook his head. "I kept trying to tell Ice and Storm I needed to talk to you first. Ask what you thought, but they said you'd object."
"They were right, the blockheads," she muttered.
"I couldn't go into the room. I didn't want her in there. While we were arguing, she came out and right away started. I couldn't move. It was like it was happening all over again. That woman. I couldn't stand her hands on me. Touching me. She wasn't you and I couldn't get back to reality. I don't know what happened."
He pushed both hands through his hair and paced away from her. She could see his hands were shaking.
"I said no. I remember saying it. Then I was thinking it, like I did back when I was a kid. Screaming it over and over in my mind. She just kept coming at me, and when she touched me, I went crazy. In my head, it was Helena all over again. I wanted my knife but it wasn't on me so I grabbed her head in my hands. Anya, if it wasn't for your voice, for you walking in . . . she'd be dead, baby. If it was that close with her, no way can I take a chance on hurting you again, let alone killing you."
She bit down hard on her fist, fighting to keep from crying again. Crying for both of them. How did one fix this? She couldn't think with all the things he told her running around in a mad circle in her mind. He was having flashbacks. Of course he would. He was traumatized as a child. It didn't matter that he was a big badass biker, a trained assassin, he couldn't escape the past any more than a rape victim could. He was the victim of rape. Repeatedly. He was having posttraumatic stress episodes. She didn't know that much about it, but she'd certainly seen some of the soldiers in the shelters.
"I know I have to let you go, but I couldn't let you go thinking I'd betrayed you. I didn't. I wouldn't have gone through with it. Even without that reaction, Anya, I wouldn't have gone through with it. You have only my word on it, but I felt like you deserved the truth."
He stood, head down, waiting for her to say something. Anya pressed her fingers to her eyes. She didn't know what to say. The idea of leaving was horrifying. If there was one person in the world who needed her, who needed understanding and love, it was Reaper.
The idea of staying was equally as terrifying. She knew his problems were going to be problems for life. They wouldn't go away just because she loved him. Not. Ever. No matter how long they were together, even if they had children, his past would torment them, and that was if they could get past this.
"Say something," he snapped and stalked back to the bar.
"Stop drinking. The last thing we need is for you to have any more alcohol."
He spun around. "I'm going to need it to watch you walk out that door, and Anya, unless I'm dead, there's no guarantee I won't come after you."
She knew that. The moment he'd declared his love aloud, she knew there would be no way he would let her go without a fight. Maybe not this minute when he was feeling raw. Guilty. Humiliated. Maybe not now, but later, he would wake up one morning, get on his Harley and ride after her. She knew that with the same certainty she knew the sun would rise in the morning. She pretended she didn't know.
"You might be ready to give up on us, but I'm not quite there yet. I have to think things through. My mother may have chosen drugs and shelters for us, but she said a lot of very intelligent things and one was, when you don't know what to do, stand still."
Reaper turned to more fully face her. "What do you mean, you aren't so certain? Do you have any idea what I just told you I've done?"
"Reaper, don't talk to me right now. Go tell the family to go away. We need to figure this out between the two of us. If we stay together we'll figure out how between us, not with the others. If I'm leaving, I'll go say good-bye to them in the afternoon. And grab my duffel bag while you're at it." She tried to sound matter-of-fact when her heart was beating out of control and her lungs felt as if they were desperate for air.
Reaper stood in front of her, staring at her as if she'd grown two heads. She held his stare through sheer willpower. She was a shelter girl and she was strong. She'd pulled herself out of that life and created another one for herself. All of those fighting skills, the will of iron she had, her ability to plan, it all had to be for a reason and she suspected that reason was standing in front of her, so no, she wasn't about to flinch. Or give up. Not until she'd exhausted every possibility.
Reaper turned and stalked outside. His head was up, not down, and that was something. She put her head between her knees and fought for air. Was she strong enough to stay? If she stayed, could they have any kind of a life the way Czar and Blythe had--with children? She wanted children. Did Reaper? If he did, was he willing to work in order to have them, because there would be work involved. And he'd have to let her talk to someone if they couldn't figure it out on their own.
What was she thinking? Committing to a life with him? Knowing the things he'd told her? Was she out of her mind? She should be running. If she had one ounce of sense she'd already be gone. She remained seated. Her mind went over those things. Everything he'd said. Right in the beginning,
before anything else, he'd said, "I would have fuckin' killed her, and all because she wasn't you."
He hadn't said he would have killed Tawny because she'd put her hands on him. Or her mouth. It was because she wasn't Anya. He may have thought that was what he meant, but it wasn't what he'd said. Later, he'd repeated something very close to that a second time. It would be dangerous, but could they work through his problem? She had to look up PTSD and figure out Reaper's triggers. More, they had to find out how others handled nightmares and how they kept their partners safe. Reaper and she couldn't be the only ones in a dangerous situation.
She straightened slowly, seeing not the room, but the look he'd had on his face. Destroyed. He'd been destroyed when Sorbacov had his parents murdered and he'd been taken from his home and thrown into the school. He'd been destroyed yet again when Sorbacov's criminal friends had murdered his sisters. So many times that destruction had happened, over and over, and yet, Reaper remained standing. He'd built a life for himself with his brothers and sisters.
Anya saw now why they were so interdependent on one another. She'd known what they'd been through was bad, but she'd had no real idea of the horrific extent of their suffering. They had brought Blythe into their circle, making her part of their club, making her voice count. They had shown a willingness to extend that invitation to Anya as well. Neither woman would have a vote in club business, or even know most of what went on, but they had much bigger roles in Torpedo Ink.
Reaper returned, carrying her duffel bag. He set it to one side. "I want you to know, they probably put a tracker on your car. I did when I bought it, just so if something happened, I could always find you, but they would have tonight for certain."
"You're telling me this because?" she prompted.
He remained by the door, leaning against it, studying her face. Looking for something. She didn't know what it was. Reassurance maybe? She couldn't give that to him. Not yet.
"I'm telling you this because if you have any brains in your head you'll leave and try to hide from me. You won't find the trackers, either one of them, so you'll eventually have to get rid of the car. Still, Anya, most likely, I'll track you down." His voice dripped with tears, although there were none on his face. "I want you to have a decent chance to escape all of us."
"You're pulling out all the stops to get rid of me. How 'bout you call Czar right now and tell him I want Tawny gone. I never want to see her around the bar, the compound or anywhere else I might run into her. She knew you were trying to get away from her and she refused to stop. Just you saying no should have been enough. She also knew you were mine. She doesn't get to stay. If Czar chooses to allow her . . ."
"He won't. He already gave that order, baby, when he was trying to snap me all the way out of it. Not to mention, he bit the heads off the twins and reamed me up one side and down the other."
"Don't call me baby yet. I'm not ready for it. This was one of the stupidest things you've ever done, Reaper. I hope you know that. Not Ice or Storm. You. You belong to me, not them. It was up to you to come to me with all of this. You needed to share why you didn't want to be touched. Why you were afraid to sleep in the same bed."
He nodded. "I'm well aware of that, Anya."
"That frying pan is looking better and better to me," she muttered under her breath. "I think we're going to have to hang one on the wall in every room, both here and at the clubhouse."
He slid down the massive front door to the floor, as if his knees had buckled and refused to hold him up anymore. He drew up his legs and put his arms around them, holding tight, holding himself together. "You shouldn't stay, Anya."
"You think I don't know that? You think I don't know it's absolute madness to stay with you? I want a home. A family. A man devoted to me. Not only do I want those things, Reaper, I deserve them."
"Absolutely you do."
Those compelling blue eyes never left her face. She couldn't look away from him. "The thing is, Reaper, you deserve them too. And I'm in love with you. Not just falling, I'm in all the way. Gone. Totally gone. Don't let admitting that to you let you think you're off the hook--you're not. I want a family. Children. I want to sleep with my man. I want it all. We have to find a way for that to happen."
He shook his head and dropped his face into his hands. "It's never going to happen, Anya. I can't take a chance with your life. I'm not willing to do that with you."
"There's two of us in this relationship, Reaper," she pointed out as gently as she could. She wanted to go to him and shake him. He was willing to try some lame-ass, harebrained scheme his brothers came up with, but wouldn't explore any ideas with her. "You don't get to make those kinds of decisions alone."
"Anya."
"Reaper." She stared him down, uncaring that those blue eyes slashed at her, fury beginning to build. "If the roles were reversed and I'd been the one traumatized . . ."
"Don't use that word. I fuckin' hate that word."
Anya stayed very still. There was something here she didn't understand. "Why? Why would you hate the word? It's just a word describing the results of a childhood of rape and torture."
"No, it isn't. It's a word people toss around when they don't have the least idea what the fuck they're talking about." He ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly. "I'm a man. A grown man. I keep my shit together, and it isn't supposed to leak out and hurt the woman I fuckin' love more than life itself."
She opened her mouth twice and then closed it on the things she wanted to say. She recognized she had to choose her words carefully. "We're all products of our past. Me included. All of us have triggers. We used various things to cope with whatever ordeals we went through as children. That's normal, Reaper. Traumatized is just a word to describe those things, it isn't a judgment."
She desperately wanted to go to him, to hold him. Comfort him. She couldn't do that, not until she knew he would accept the things she said to him.
"I know you love your brothers and you respect them. That's normal as well. You had to grow up with a much tighter bond than most people, certainly more than I ever had. But, honey, you have to know the way you grew up wasn't normal. You were given educations in very specific areas, and in others that education was neglected. Going to Ice or Storm or any of them for something that belongs to you and me was wrong."
He kept pushing his hands through his hair over and over. Twice he pressed his fingers into his eyes as if they were hurting. He didn't move from the door, and it occurred to her that he was blocking it at the same time he was telling her she had to go.
"I know that. I get that. I got that almost right away, Anya. The fact remains we can't sleep in the same bed. You can't touch my cock or put your mouth on me."
"You don't know that because we haven't tried. The bed is something we can figure out. The other might never be worked out, but we could have fun trying. We can also get real help, not some horrible woman who knew, who knew, Reaper, that you're mine."
His entire body shuddered. "She touched me. I almost killed her, Anya." His hands went to his face again. "It was close. So close. If you hadn't come when you did, Ice and Storm could never have stopped me."
"Like I care," Anya muttered under her breath, but she did care. Tawny deserved to be kicked out, she didn't deserve death. She wanted to punch the woman in the face for touching Reaper after he'd clearly said no. If nothing else his body language had said no.
"The point is, we can get legitimate help."
He lifted his head. "Babe, you know we can't go spill our guts to some fuckin' counselor who will be required to tell the law that I confessed to slitting Helena's throat."
"Why didn't you go to Czar?"
He went silent. Staring at her. Giving her nothing. She didn't back down. She kept looking at him. Waiting. Eventually, and it felt as if he took forever, he looked down at his hands. "He wouldn't have been satisfied with me telling him about killing Helena. He knew that. He would know there was more, and I was ashamed. I didn't want him to know."
Czar was father, brother, friend, guardian angel all rolled into one. Still. She kept looking at him. His blue eyes shifted from her face.
"He tells Blythe everything if she asks, and she would because she always knows when it's about one of us. Don't want her to look at me any different. She's like you, not as bright for me, but she still looks at me like I'm worth something--like we all are."
"Does she look at the children any different because of what happened to them?" She leaned toward him, her eyes once more meeting his. "Reaper, what happened to you was beyond your control."
"Not killing those others, not when Sorbacov sent me out and told me precisely how I had to do it. Czar worries there are videos of us as children--I know no one will ever be able to identify us, but Sorbacov liked his snuff films. I did my best to keep the camera off me, but when I was young, I was terrified. I could have made mistakes. What if the woman was . . ."
"If a woman touched you when you were a child, Reaper, and that includes your teenage years, she was a pedophile. She wasn't a good woman. I don't know about those tapes, or films, but I do know, you should have trusted Czar. You've always trusted him. There was no reason for you to be ashamed. You told me they held Savage . . ."
"What I didn't tell you is that when a woman touches me like that, the first thought in my head isn't pleasure," he burst out.
"Okay. That's fair. But you should have told me. You could have given me the opportunity to work through it with you."
He scrubbed his hands through his hair for the millionth time. "Are you going to stay, Anya? I'm terrified you'll say yes. I'm equally terrified you'll say no."
"No more secrets." She took a deep breath and stepped off the proverbial cliff. "We talk things out, and we're going to Czar and Blythe together when we need to. That's the price for me to stay. There's no reason to stay otherwise because we'll never work."
He stared at her so long she thought he'd never speak. Once again, she thought she caught the sheen of tears in his eyes but he pressed his fingers tightly over them. "Anything, Anya."
"And you touch another woman or let her touch you, I'm going psycho on your ass."