{Release Day Review} Vengeance Road (Torpedo Ink #2) by Christine Feehan (@AuthorCFeehan @BerkleyRomance)

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…

​Breezy Simmons swore she would never be a part of club life again. Most MC’s treat women like possessions or worse – like slaves. That’s exactly what she witnessed while growing up in the Swords clubhouse.  Her own father was the President and still she was lucky to escape alive. That had a whole lot to do with Steele. 
 
Years ago, she belonged only to him.  And now she was alone and needed the kind of help that only Torpedo Ink could give her.   

She closed her eyes at the brush of his fingers. She’d forgotten how gentle he could be. That whisper of a touch on her bare skin. The moment he did that, every nerve ending sprang to life. She hadn’t wanted a man since she’d left him. She hadn’t thought of wanting a man. She’d avoided them like the plague, first because she’d been pregnant, then because she’d been a single, harassed mother and then because men were disgusting creatures and she’d wanted no part of them. Lastly, and maybe most importantly, if she was honest, it had been because they weren’t Steele. 

Those fingers whispered along her ribs, so gently she thought she might cry. 

“Hurts here?” 
​
He was bent over her, his hair falling toward her bare belly while his hands slid over her ribs. A healer’s hands. A lover’s hands. He’d been both before he destroyed her.

​The best days of Lyov “Steele" Russak’s life was when Breezy was by his side.  Even though she was so young, she instinctively understood what it took to satisfy the monster inside.  She could calm him down or arouse him instantly with just a touch of her hand. 
 
When he sent her away, he told himself it was to keep her safe. But there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t dream of the day when she would return.  He would protect her from everything that was ugly and cruel. She would finally live the full life that she deserved.  
 
So when she walks back into Torpedo Ink, he’s sure of only one thing - that he’s never going to allow the other half of his soul to be torn from him again.

​“When Ink was tatting this, putting my name on you, I thought my world was right. That it always would be because you were mine.” He gave her that because she gave him so much more. He ran the pad of his finger over his name. “I like you belonging to me, Bree. More importantly, I like belonging to you.”

Vengeance Road is Christine at her sizzling suspenseful best!  With the second installment of the Torpedo Ink series, she continues to meld the very best elements of paranormal romance with gritty hard-hitting action. 
 
We get closer look inside the relationships that make up Torpedo Ink.  Each of the brothers show unexpected moments of both tenderness and savagery.  But it’s the sparks between Steele and Breezy that keep the heat burning at white-hot levels to the very end.
 
This is an MC series NOT to be missed.  And we can’t wait to take another ride…

Read An Excerpt From Vengeance Road!

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 hadto 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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