Brea rubbed her nape. “Not sure how good it will be.”
He chuckled. “How old are those grounds?”
“Quite a few years.” She reached up and pulled a couple white mugs from the shelf, rinsed them under the faucet and dried them with a towel she found in the drawer. “I guess we are about to find out how well they held up.”
She poured them each a cup, then handed one mug to Draven. He took the coffee to his nose and sniffed.
“Seems passable.” He chuckled. Blowing the steam across the surface, he then took a sip. “Not bad.”
“I need to run to town and get a few supplies.” She took a sip of her own coffee. Not too bad at all. “I think it’s best if you stay here.”
“I’m not leaving you on your own against those goons out there.”
“You’re cute.” She smiled. “I’m actually better off on my own. I’m glad you feel the need to look out for me, but I can actually move faster if you aren’t with me. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Sure. I’ll just be sitting here doing a cross stitch while you’re gone.” He frowned. “Fine. I’ll give you some money. Get what you think we need.”
Brea leaned a hip against the old laminate countertop. “I don’t think we should stay here overlong. Maybe lay low for a few days.”
“How far is Raúl’s place?”
“His home is actually in La Paz. Seeing as how we are just over the border of Mexico, we have over nine hundred miles to cover straight south.”
Draven’s eyes rounded. “And you made me ditch the car? We sure in the hell can’t walk that far.”
She laughed. “Relax. He has a vacation home close to the border. Something tells me he’s there since he’s dead set on finding me. The home is on the coast in Ensenada, which is about sixty to seventy miles. All we need to do is follow 1D and we’ll run into it.”
“I hope you’re speaking figuratively.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Still a hell of a long way by foot.”
“When I go into town, I’ll look for an old beater we might be able to purchase. Enough money down here buys anything.” Her gaze fell to his chest again. She needed to get a grip. “Maybe we should both get dressed.”
Draven set his mug on the counter and stepped forward. He gripped her chin and tipped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”
“I should probably get going,” she whispered, having trouble finding her voice. What she really felt like doing was wrapping her legs around his lean waist and sinking her fangs back into his flesh. Yep, she needed to put lots of space between them. Brea set her mug next to his. “Help yourself to more coffee. Your clothes should be dry by now, so you can get dressed.”
She headed for the bathroom, feeling his gaze on her ass as she walked away.
“My wallet is by the faucet. Take what you need.”
Brea heard his chuckles as she closed the door behind her and leaned against it. There was a reason Joseph never introduced her to Draven before. No question he would’ve known on sight Draven was exactly Brea’s type. The man made her toes curls every time she was near him. Damn Joseph for setting up their meeting upon his death. Her mate was assuring she’d not be alone.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Exactly the kind of selfless act she’d normally expect from him.
Chapter 5
Brea walked into Comercial Mexicana Plaza Rio in Tijuana, looking to get Draven some food for the next few days. She might be able to survive on the blood she had ingested for the next three days or so, but he’d need human sustenance. From the cabin it had been a short ten mile run through the woods, only taking her about thirty minutes. Thankfully, she had talked Draven into staying behind. On foot, it would’ve taken them five or six times as long, if he would have made it at all. Brea spoke fluent Spanish, but she wanted to come across as a tourist rather than draw attention to herself. This close to the border, she was positive most would be well-versed in English.
Gathering a few staples, Brea approached the checkout and laid the items on the counter. “Hello,” she said with a smile. “I only have US dollars. Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, señorita.” The cashier smiled in return. “I can take your money.”
“Awesome. Can you also tell me where I might get US currency changed into pesos?”
Moments later and a short jaunt down the block, Brea left the Santander Bank with enough pesos to hopefully secure them a decent ride to Ensenada. Since she didn’t want to leave a paper trail for her godfather to pick up on, she needed to find a local willing to part with his vehicle. Three grocery sacks in hand, she walked down a few residential streets, not having much luck. Just as she was coming to the edge of town, Brea spotted a young man sitting on a stoop. An older Triumph motorcycle had been parked in the gravel drive.
Brea walked down the road, noting the man’s gaze on her. She turned into his driveway. “Perdóname. Do you speak English?”
He placed a hand above his eyes to shield them from the sun as he looked up at her. “Sí.”
“Is that motorcycle yours?”
“Sí.” He nodded.
She set her grocery bags down by her feet. “I’d like to buy it from you.”
“It’s not for sale, señorita.”
The bike didn’t look like it was worth more than a thousand dollars in the US, but she needed transportation with no questions asked. “Does it run?”
“Sí.”
“I’ll give you forty-five thousand pesos.”
His eyes lit up, obviously knowing what a deal she had offered him. “¿Estas loca?”
She supposed he thought she was a bit on the crazy side to strike such a bargain. “If you have two helmets, I’ll give you thirty-five hundred more pesos.”
The older bike sported two saddlebags in which to carry her groceries. The transportation would be ideal. No one would be looking for them on a motorcycle and the helmets would help conceal their identity.
“I don’t know, señorita.”
“Fifty thousand pesos and not a peso more.”
The young man shook his head and stood, dusting off the seat of his pants. “You have a deal, señorita,” he said, before walking into the small house and returning with two helmets, each having a dark tinted face shield. He handed her a set of keys.
Perfect.
Brea counted out the pesos and gave them to the man. Thankfully, Draven had the foresight to bring a great deal of cash with them so they could stay under the radar, no matter where they traveled. Brea quickly stowed the sacks of groceries and one of the helmets before slipping her leg over the worn black seat and starting the bike. She thanked the man before strapping on her helmet and circling the drive. Joseph had taught her to ride shortly after they had met, so riding came naturally for her.
Luck had been on her side today. She prayed it held out.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled the motorcycle down the thin, overgrown lane heading for the cabin. When the small wooden structure came into view, she spotted Draven standing on the porch, hands in his pocket. Apparently, he had heard her arrival long before he spotted her. Brea pulled the bike to a stop, placed both of her feet on the ground, and cut the engine.
She took off her helmet and grinned. “Check out our new ride.”
He took the two steps down from the small front porch and walked over to her. “Not bad for short notice. Where did you find it?”
“I paid a young man handsomely for it. No title, just cash. It can’t be traced.”
“He saw you.”
Brea shrugged. “It couldn’t be helped. Let’s hope he’s forgetful if my godfather’s goons come around. What are you doing out here? I could’ve been one of the gunmen.”
“You could have.” Though he didn’t look concerned in the least. He shrugged. “I saw the bike through the trees on the bend in the lane, long before you spotted me. You weren’t big enough to be one of those goons.”
She kicked down the side stand and stepped over the bike, placing the helmet on the seat. “You can’t be too safe, Draven. These men aren’t to be toyed with. You need to take them seriously.”
“You forget I was the one shot at.” His face sobered. “I don’t think I’m making light of it.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” She walked up to him and moved the shoulder of his shirt to the side, seeing the wound was healing without infection. “Can you get the groceries from the saddlebags?”
Brea walked into the house and headed for the kitchen, trying her damnedest to get a hold of her emotions. Draven was trying to play down what had happened yesterday, but it still rankled her ire. He could’ve been killed, and all because he had the misfortune of being tangled up in her mess. Another thing she would see her godfather pay for. He had no right to interfere in her life. And even less of a right to kill Joseph.
She wouldn’t give Raúl the opportunity to hurt Draven, even if it meant leaving him behind … even if it meant sacrificing her own life. Draven’s reasoning for going with her had been two-fold. Being there for her was only part of it, she knew running from the Devils had been the other part. Draven had been instrumental in bringing them down. And with his help, the DEA had arrested several key members, thus putting a target on his back with the MC.
“Where do you want these?”
She pointed to the cupboard next to her. “I couldn’t get anything that needed to be kept refrigerated. I hope it’s suitable.”
He pulled out a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread, six bottles of water, some fruit, and a few bags of snacks. “Junk food?”
“The peanut butter is protein.” She turned, leaning her hip against the laminate, and smiled. “I haven’t had to buy real food in a very long time. Besides, I had no idea what you’d like. I figured everyone liked peanut butter.”
“Not if I have allergies.”
Her gaze widened. “Oh my gosh. I’m sorry. I hadn’t—”
“Relax, I’m only kidding.” Draven had a boyish charm to his smile. Brea found she quite liked it. “Peanut butter sandwiches will work just fine, even if I would prefer a perfectly grilled steak. I realize, out here in the middle of Timbuktu, that wouldn’t be very practical.”
“I promise you, I’ll take you out for a real steak dinner when this is all over.”
His gaze sobered. “Like a date?”
Brea’s heart skipped a beat. The thought of going on an actual date with Draven had the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Her gaze dropped to the floor, wishing for normality.
She had begged Joseph for immortality and he had obliged. Now she understood his hesitation. Being a vampire had its drawbacks. Brea could date, she supposed, but falling in love with a human wouldn’t be ideal. While she would live forever, whoever her heart stupidly fell for would eventually grow old and die. She already had one heartbreak. She didn’t want to go through it all again.
A date?
They were better off keeping things platonic. When this whole mess was over, she could disappear without her heart dying a little bit for leaving him behind. And she would leave. Her life belonged to her. The Sons of Sangue and their rules about unmated females be damned.
“Sorry,” Draven apologized, bringing her attention back to their conversation. “I didn’t mean to assume.”
“I’m the one who is sorry, Draven.” She walked over to him and laid her hand against his cheek. “I should’ve never involved you, or led you to believe this could be anything more. You’re a good man.”
Draven stepped back from her touch, sending gooseflesh skittering down her flesh from the sudden iciness of his gaze. She shivered.
“Thanks for the food.”
Draven turned his back on her, opened a few drawers, and found a butter knife, then began making himself a sandwich. He grabbed one of the water bottles and headed for the front of the cabin. The door slapped loudly behind him, causing her to jump. Brea watched him through the screen take a seat on an old wooden rocker, staring into the distance as he took a large bite out of his sandwich and chewed.
How could she have been so thoughtless? After all, he had given up for her.
Brea took a deep breath and headed for the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help her clear her mind. Stopping in front of the cracked mirror over the sink, she took a good long look at the woman staring back at her, hating what she saw.
A bitter, selfish woman.
Chapter 6
Draven stared into the distance and took another bite of his sandwich. Peanut butter. Not that he didn’t like the spread, but he was more of a meat kind of guy. Popping the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, he dusted off his hands on his jeans. He was a selfish bastard. What the hell had he been thinking in there? He wasn’t here to date Brea, for God’s sake.
A date? Seriously? What were they? In high school?
Birds chirped, their wings fluttering through the leaves, drawing his attention to the foliage. A black hawk perched on a nearby branch before taking flight, his wing span massive. He envied the bird’s freedom, something he had given up the minute he had agreed to work with the DEA. Once he returned to Oregon, the Devils would have him on their hit list, no two ways about it. And the MC who could possibly help him, he had hidden a huge secret from—Joseph Sala’s mate.
If he were smart, which he wasn’t since he was allowing Brea to lead him around by his fucking balls, he would’ve taken off, gone overseas, and stayed with friends. Instead, he sat here in the back fucking forty, eating a peanut butter sandwich, and sharing a tiny cottage with a woman who teased his libido with the simple scent of her flesh.
When this was over, and he saw Brea through this crazy notion to visit her godfather, then he ought to think seriously about moving far away. At least until this damn ordeal blew over and all his enemies forgot about him. The Devils and the Sons of Sangue couldn’t hold grudges forever. He shook his head and let out a weary sigh. They were both MCs, for crying out loud. Of course, they did.
Technically, the Sons didn’t even know about Brea, but it was only a matter of time. They had a mutual enemy. Once they found out about her, and the fact he had kept her confidential, his favor with the Sons would come to an end. He may provide them with donors, but truthfully, anyone willing to keep their secret could do as much.
Finishing off his bottle of water, setting the empty next to the leg of the chair, he stood and stepped from the porch, heading down the dirt path leading to the cabin. He needed to clear his head, and that wasn’t going to happen with Brea so close in proximity. Not when he wanted to fuck her in the worst way.
Joseph had been one lucky son of a bitch.
If he allowed himself, Draven could easily see himself falling for the sprite. He had dated and screwed his way through half of Florence, and none of them had captivated him the way she did. It was as if she had cast some ridiculous spell over him, one that had him thinking of very little other than what she’d feel like from the inside. He wanted to take his time, strip her slow, and lick every soft inch of her flesh until he knew all there was to know about her.
Joseph.
Draven swore up a blue streak as he pushed his long bangs from his face. Thinking of Joseph sliding between her slender legs was a huge buzz kill. Maybe that could be his new line of defense. Every time his libido went off the charts, he’d picture Joseph’s ugly mug between her slender thighs.
He hadn’t exactly been one of the better looking Sons of Sangue members, like Alexander. That man had the face of a freaking model. Him he could understand. But Joseph? It was either the man’s good nature Brea had been drawn to or he had one hell of a big cock.
It wasn’t long before his trek through the woods, and off the beaten path, before he found himself back at the cabin, staring at the backside of the small wooden structure. Draven wasn’t ready to make his way indoors, not knowing if Brea had finished with her shower. He had wanted to give her sp
ace, not have her worry about his dumb ass trying to sneak a peek.
Movement in the window drew his attention. Brea passed by the dirty panes, sans clothing. Fuck me! She stopped, her head bent over the sink beneath the cracked glass. Her small but perky breasts were in full view, her light pink nipples begging to be drawn between his lips. His mouth went dry and his cock sprung to life. Draven was frozen to the ground, staring at the gorgeous nymph before him.
Brea glanced up, her baby blues locking on his, her water bottle paused halfway to her lips. Just fucking wonderful. Now he looked like a goddamn Peeping Tom. He quickly averted his gaze, then made a beeline for the front of the cabin. Heat rose up his neck, shaming him. Draven retook his seat on the porch, afraid to go inside and confront her. What the hell would he say? He shook his head and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. Normally, he wouldn’t have given two shits what a woman thought of his ogling. He had eyes and he damn well knew how to use them.
Brea was different.
Her opinion of him mattered.
Joseph had handed her over to his care and he was doing a bang-up job so far. If the vampire could see how he was taking care of his mate, he’d think again about his decision. Draven was the last person Joseph should’ve entrusted her care to.
The screen door’s rusty hinges creaked, alerting him to the fact Brea had joined him. A quick glance back proved as much. She stood stationary, now fully clothed, apparently unsure what to say herself. At least she wasn’t reading him the riot act, even if he did deserve it. The image of her tits was burned against the back of his eyelids. They may have been small, but they had been perfect.
The wood creaked beneath her footfalls. Brea pulled a chair from the back of the porch, the legs screeching against the decking, then took a seat. A small wooden box, upturned for a makeshift table, was the only thing separating them. She set a water bottle on the surface next to him. “Sorry. I guess I should’ve thought to buy you something with a little more kick than water.”
Draven trained his gaze back to the forest. “It’s fine. Even if I could use a whiskey right about now.”
Draven Page 3