as hell—even if the law didn’t condemn him, it didn’t make him less so in his own eyes.
Breezy moved. Those long lashes fluttered. “Steele?”
The ache in her voice was an arrow piercing his heart. “I’m here, Bree.” He stayed right where he was, planted against the door, afraid to move. He’d walked into a room filled with enemies, never flinching, and would do it over and over, but this woman held the power to ruin him.
“I want him back. I want my baby back.”
The little sob was his undoing. She was weeping. It was heartbreaking and so unlike Breezy. She didn’t cry. He’d noticed that before he’d ever been with her. He’d seen her father backhand her, sending her flying. She’d picked herself up without even putting her hand to her face. She’d simply done the task Bridges had wanted, without a comment or sound. He’d wanted to kill her father, and that had been the first time he’d ever had to be physically restrained by Savage and Czar. It wasn’t the last. He’d been the one to make her cry the last time, telling her he didn’t want her, that she was nothing to him. Could he hate himself any more? Yes. The answer was yes, because if he was any kind of a good man, he’d get their child back, give him to her and get her out of the country.
There were Swords overseas, and they’d look for her as well—that was what he told himself. He knew he was just a selfish son of a bitch and he was keeping her because no way in hell, after seeing her like this, could he let go of her twice.
“We’ll get him back.” He poured confidence into his voice because he believed it. He moved to the edge of the bed, every step slow and deliberate, his boots making a whisper of sound on the floor. He didn’t want her to reject him. He needed her in that moment. Zane was his child as well. He might not have known about him, but that connection was already there—through Breezy. Now, someone had his son, his worst nightmare coming true.
She sat up, moving until her back was against the wall and she’d pulled her knees up and held her legs tightly to her chest. There were tear-tracks on her face. He sank down on the edge of the bed close to her and reached out to brush wet strands of hair from her face.
“It’s what we do, Bree. We’re good at it.”
She blinked at him, her long lashes fanning her cheeks. “I don’t understand.”
“We hunt pedophiles and we get the children back. Your father may not be a pedophile, but he kidnapped a child. We’ve been hunting since we were little kids, so for all of our lives. We’ll find Zane and we’ll bring him home.”
She wiped at her face. “I still don’t understand.”
“The man who was the international president of the Swords ran the largest human trafficking ring in the world. He had what we referred to as ‘snuff’ ships. He took women, men and children onto the ships with his very wealthy and sick clients and gave those chosen to them. They used them, got their kinks satisfied and killed them. The bodies went overboard.”
He’d told her all of it before, but in an offhand way, as if he was making excuses for himself—and he had been. This time he wanted her to know what Torpedo Ink was capable of because he would never stop until he had their son back and neither would any of his brothers and sisters.
“Czar joined the Swords and worked his way up to enforcer. He joined that particular chapter because it had been the chapter of the international president. Czar knew if the man came back, it would be to that chapter.”
Breezy lifted her head and looked at him. Met his eyes. It was the first time since he’d last seen her that she really looked at him without anger or hurt. She studied his face for a long time and then frowned. He’d fallen hard for that little frown. He’d traced it with his fingertips more than once just to memorize it.
“You’re MC,” she said with conviction. There was distaste in her voice.
He was. He was Torpedo Ink and he lived and died for those colors and his brothers. He nodded slowly, sensing he was on very shaky ground. “Yes. Torpedo Ink is my club. I’m VP. We’ve always been Torpedo