Sinner's Steel

ELEVEN

Sometimes the most difficult problems can be easily fixed with teamwork.

—SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL

Zane usually enjoyed watching Dax work—especially during the first half hour of a torture session. Not because he was into blood and pain—he wasn’t—but because Dax could get even the most hardened of men to talk without laying a hand on them. No wonder the CIA, FBI, and every covert organization in the U.S. had offered Dax a job after he completed his PhD thesis on psychological terror at Yale.

And he turned them all down for a piece of tail.

Zane couldn’t understand it. Sure, Dax’s old lady, Sandy, was attractive in a honey-blond goddess kind of way. And she had to be good in bed since they had five kids—or maybe he was Catholic, although who ever heard of a Catholic Si

“Haven’t had a woman under my knife for a long time,” Dax said as they descended the stairs to the clubhouse basement. “I’m surprised Jagger allowed it.”

“No harm.” Zane skirted around the pool table and grabbed a set of keys from the wet bar in the corner. The vast, poured concrete basement served as a games room and wet bar, as well as housing three cells for prisoners and interrogations. “Terror only. That’s why I’m here.”

Better here than driving the roads around Evie’s house looking for Jacks. Or in his room thinking about her. He’d told her Viper was the kind of man who took what he wanted—as if it were a bad thing. But hell, he was that kind of man, too.

And he wanted Evie.

He had lied to himself last night just as much as he had lied to Jagger after Viper left the bar under a truce born solely by the fact they were evenly matched in both men and arms, and neither club wanted to attract the attention of the ATF. Yes, he wanted to rebuild his friendship with Evie, make up for all that had transpired. But friendship wasn’t enough, just as it hadn’t been enough when they were young, and damned if Viper would get in the way.

“You’re here because you’re a secret sadist.” Dax laughed and lowered the duffel bag he’d been carrying on his shoulder. “You have a fascination for extremes—extreme pain, extreme emotion, extreme desire. You like to see how far a person can be pushed. What you don’t seem to realize is that, really, you’re pushing yourself.”

Dax was always direct. And when it came to analyzing people, he hit too close for comfort. One of the reasons Zane kept his sexual liaisons discreet was because he didn’t think his brothers would understand his need to dominate in a way he couldn’t as VP. He needed the kind of control he hadn’t had over his life. Whether it was because of his abusive father or the girl he loved but couldn’t have, he didn’t know, but Dax had the unique ability to pin him down, and although he knew himself well, he had no desire to have his i

“Save the psychoanalysis for Doreen.” Unable to hold Dax’s searching gaze, Zane turned and unlocked the door. “You’re go

“I never do.” Dax pushed open the door and they stepped into the bare, cinder block room, lit only by a single bulb on a wire hanging from the ceiling.

“I see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding brought a little friend to play.” Doreen swung her bound legs over the side of the camp bed Jagger had provided for the comfort of their female prisoner. “Who’s go

Dax turned slightly to the side as he removed the tools of his trade from his duffel bag, holding each one up as if to assess it under the light. Zane had watched this performance before. Some prisoners caved when Dax pulled out the blade saw, for others the nutcracker was enough. He suspected the nutcracker wouldn’t frighten Doreen, although she had bigger balls than many of the prisoners who had warmed that very bed.

Dax carefully placed his tools on the table—whips, knives, cuffs, gags, a squeaky toy … If he hadn’t known Dax was a torturer, Zane would have thought the guy had a kink. Maybe he did, although Sandy didn’t strike him as the submissive type. And with five kids, when would they find time to play? That was one benefit of remaining unattached. No kids to tie him down or interfere with his lifestyle. No lives to ruin because of his total lack of a role model for being a dad.

“How did it go last night?” Zane leaned against the wall, paying no attention to the prisoner on the bed. After the Jacks had left Riverside Bar the other night, the Si

“Good.” Dax placed a pair of forceps on the table. “The restaurant burned down in a matter of minutes. Too bad for Mario. But then he shoulda thought about what might happen if he let too many Jacks into his establishment.”

“You burned down Lucky Mario’s?” Doreen’s baby blues widened. “That was Viper’s favorite restaurant. He’s go

Dax pulled out a whip and flicked his wrist, the crack echoing in the small space. “Someone’s go

“You can’t hurt me,” she said quickly. “Zane gave me his word. And I got a kid. He needs me.”

“If I know Zane, and I do, he probably gave you his word that you won’t be harmed. But there’s a world of difference between hurt and harm.”

Wasn’t that the truth. His old man knew the difference. Zane’s father was always careful to hit Zane where the bruises couldn’t be seen. But the emotional abuse, the constant accusations that his mother died because of him, that he was worthless and no good and a burden on his dad, caused irreparable harm. If not for Evie and Jagger, Zane doubted he would have made it through school without some serious psychological damage, or landing his ass in jail.

Dax studied Doreen, his lips twisting to the side. Then he put away the whip and pulled a pair of scissors from the bag, holding them up to the light. “That hair’s go

Zane straddled the only chair in the cell and faced Doreen, resting his elbows on the metal back. “So who’s looking after your kid?” He’d never thought about the people their prisoners left behind, and especially not kids, but now that he had one of his own, he wondered how it all worked in the context of his world. What would happen to Ty if Viper snatched Evie and threw her in his dungeon? What kind of boy was he? Would he curl up in his room and cry? Would he dial 911? Would he go to a friend’s house?

Would he call his dad?

His fingers tightened on the chair. Fuck. What the fuck was he doing here when Viper was still roaming the streets? He’d arranged for two brothers to watch their house, but he should be there looking after his own damn family instead of trying to take care of this one.