“We were all over him.” Master spoke up unexpectedly. “He told us where he was taking her, and we set up ahead of time and covered him. She didn’t make one move against him. He indicated immediately where her weapons were so we would know if she made one movement toward them.”
Absinthe loved that brother.
“I was with him at the library,” Lana said. “Checking her out after he told us he was certain she was the one. She was wearing the cutest outfit, a blouse and skirt, but I could see they were concealed-carry clothing and told him so. He already knew and he pointed out her boots to me as well. He was on it. We watched her together that evening, and later, when he went into her home when she was out, I covered him.”
The way Lana put it to everyone wasn’t a lie at all. Every word was the truth. He had known Scarlet was carrying weapons and he knew about the ones in her boots. Lana acted as if they’d known Scarlet was away from her home, that it wasn’t a mystery. She had covered him when he went in. He could have kissed her. Instead, he didn’t look at her, but kept pacing.
“And this date you went on with her?” Czar asked. “At the restaurant?”
“We had him,” Maestro said. “Keys and I were on the roof across the street. He took a table where we had the perfect shot.” There was a ring of truth in Maestro’s voice.
That hadn’t been on purpose, but Maestro would have known if Absinthe took her to dinner, he would have chosen a table for two in a secluded spot. His brothers and sisters, standing for him. There was no wonder he loved them.
“Well, I feel a whole lot better about this then,” Czar said. “Sometimes, Absinthe, you disappear, and you scare the shit out of me. I understand that you want to get to know this woman just by taking her out and talking with her, but you and I both know, for the safety of the members of this club, you included, it can’t work that way. Especially when she’s as lethal as she appears to be. This woman …”
“Scarlet. She has a name. Scarlet. Fucking use it, Czar. She isn’t this woman. Her name is Scarlet, and she means something to me. I don’t know if I mean shit to her, but she gives me something that I need. That I want. Her name is Scarlet.” Absinthe felt like his chest was on fire, there was so much pressure.
Steele turned in his chair and regarded him with those dark, midnight-blue eyes of his, assessing his physical condition. Absinthe and Steele rarely interacted much. It wasn’t because they didn’t share the Torpedo Ink brotherhood, that unbreakable bond, it was the uneasy past between them that had never been resolved. Steele had been the last person with Demyan, Absinthe’s older brother, when he had died. The two had been tortured together. Steele obviously survived. Demyan hadn’t. He hadn’t talked much about that day and Absinthe had been careful never to touch him, not ready for the details. Not wanting to see how his brother suffered on his behalf, because it had been on his behalf. There was more to it, things Steele didn’t know and Absinthe should have told him, but could never manage to get out. Time just kept creeping by.
“Absinthe, what’s wrong?” Steele asked quietly. “Your blood pressure is rising. Your heart is beating too fast. You’re always calm. You aren’t. I can feel rage in you. That’s unlike you. Where’s it coming from?”
That stopped his pacing cold. Steele was absolutely correct. He kept his emotions locked down tight. He was careful not to touch the others unless he was prepared for the assault on his senses. He forced air through his lungs and made every effort to not only get himself under control, but to quickly assess what was happening. He was pragmatic about the things Torpedo Ink had to do in order to survive. That included investigating their women. That included Scarlet Foley. He might want her to trust him enough to tell him her past, but he couldn’t give her his, not without a true commitment from her. He never would disclose everything to her. He understood if she didn’t. Also, even if he knew, it would still mean as much if she did tell him. So, what the hell was wrong?
“I’m sorry, Absinthe,” Czar said softly. “You’re absolutely right. Your woman does have a name. Scarlet then. Your librarian. I presume she’s extremely intelligent or you wouldn’t be attracted to her. You need a brainiac to keep up with you.”
Absinthe took another deep breath, careful not to look around the room. Rage was present, a living, breathing entity. It was ugly. All consuming. Eating him alive. He knew Czar was giving him a chance to pull himself together and figure it out. Czar was president of Torpedo Ink for a reason. Steele was young, but he was VP for a reason. The two knew if Absinthe was acting out of character, and it wasn’t his rage, it had to belong to someone else in the room.