Steele, the vice president of the Torpedo Ink, MC, had survived the
years in hell that produced the other family members who made up the
club. Men and women he would fight for and die for but the one that
got away would really lead him down VENGEANCE ROAD.
Breezy Simmons had been born into the Sword MC, the worst of the
worst. She had gotten out when Steele had thrown her out. She had
changed, learned how to survive in the outside world but then
something horrible happened and she knew that if she didn't make it
back that Steele must know the secret she kept from him. He stops her
from going to certain death and now that he knows he has a son, he will
not stop until the boy is out of the hands of the very men he had tried
to save Breezy from - her father and the remaining members of Sword.
Nothing will stop him, not even Breezy herself from doing what he
should have done back then.
VENGEANCE ROAD is at times
heartbreaking, to think that the world is this messed up but then seeing
the survivors of the worst make the best lives possible, gives hope.
Steele had fallen for Breezy but then when he realized her age, he felt
guilty and knew what the Torpedos had planned for this particular club
and had her sent away. he thought to protect her. Probably the best
thing to happen to her but it still broke her heart because for the first
time in her life she felt like someone important, not just a possession.
Given a second chance, he isn't about to let her go and finding out he
has a son, there is no way, she will go it alone any longer. Steele has his
work cut out for him to give her back that feeling of importance and
introduce her to a much better club life. This was something she is very
determined never to be a part of again, and after seeing what her, as
well as the other women of that club's life, was like you couldn't blame
her. But it is Breezy herself that could smooth over trouble and make
things right without even trying as we witness when a party is thrown to
inspect some possible new members for the Torpedoes. She managed
to make everyone comfortable, especially the new "old ladies" with
ease and that ability came from being a sweet, caring woman.
In this emotionally charged offering, author Christine Feehan gives us a
deeper look into the personalities of the club, or in this case, really you
need to call them family members. These tortured beings are learning
to live and with each book, we get to see their real personalities come
alive as they learn to assimilate into what is considered acceptable
behavior. None of the Torpedo Ink members will ever be "normal" but
their brand of right should be good enough for anyone. VENGEANCE ROAD is going on my
"read again" shelf along with all the others by this phenomenal author.
Christine Feehan takes romance full throttle in the
second gripping novel in her #1 New York Times
bestselling Torpedo Ink series.
Breezy Simmons was born into a ruthless motorcycle club—and
now that she’s out, she’s never going to be that girl again.
But when her past catches up with her, Breezy must go to Sea
Haven to seek out the man who almost destroyed her. The man
who chose his club over her and left her feeling used and alone.
As vice president of Torpedo Ink, Steele is ride or die for
the brothers he lived through hell with. He never thought
he’d find something as pure as his feelings for Breezy, or
that keeping her safe would mean driving her away with cruel
words that turned her love for him to ash.
Now, Steele won’t let her walk away twice. He’ll do whatever
it takes to make Breezy his woman again—especially when he
learns the real reason she came to him for help, and that
the stakes are higher than he ever could have imagined…
Excerpt
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 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 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 these 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 pulled right back in.
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