Draven

by Patricia A. Rasey

  Raúl stood alone, watching his men do his bidding. Louis and Antonio stayed on the main floor with him, while Francisco took Spike upstairs and secured him in one of the spare rooms. Francisco would make sure the biker stayed put or he’d answer to Raúl. He was no fool. Raúl knew damn well what he was dealing with when it came to his spirited goddaughter. She might be a vampire, but he had a surprise of his own. Rocking back on his heels, his white fangs mirrored back at him in the reflection of the window.

  Chapter 18

  Draven stopped the bike and killed the engine, parking in a barren lot down the coast from Raúl’s monstrosity he called a beach-front vacation home. It was easily the largest dwelling on this stretch of the beach. Night had fallen hours ago. The large full moon cast a beam across the ocean, lighting up the evening sky and not giving them much for cover. Raúl’s men would easily spot them coming from a half mile away. He hoped luck would be on their side and the men he’d taken out at the cabin would leave few here at the coastal home. If they were to accomplish Brea’s goal of getting inside and confronting her godfather one-on-one, then they’d need to catch Raúl and his team off guard.

  Small waves rolled up along the shore, scenting the air with salt water. Seagulls took flight as he and Brea left the bike behind and headed down the sandy beach. A quick glance at her, told Draven the bravado she wore like a badge was beginning to slip the closer they came to Raúl’s. She pursed her lips and blew out a steady stream.

  “You going to be okay?” Draven asked, ready to abort the mission if that was indeed her wish.

  She gave him a quick nod, her gaze trained straight ahead. “He needs to be stopped.”

  “He’s your godfather, Brea.” Draven paused and gripped her biceps, gaining her attention.

  Tears swam in her beautiful dark eyes. “He is, but that does not excuse him from being a bad person.”

  “Maybe not.” He ran a knuckle down her cheek. “That doesn’t make him any less a part of your past either. Your memories of him couldn’t have all been bad.”

  “They weren’t. When I was little, they shielded me from the truth. As I got older, that’s when I realized my youth was nothing but lies, what my father and Raúl wanted me to believe, what every child wants the men in their life to be. They were far from heroes. That’s why I never again contacted my godfather after my father died.”

  “And Raúl thought you would one day return to him?”

  “He did.” She hung her head, toying with the sand beneath her feet. “I never gave him the impression I would. When I learned what kind of a person he was, the murders he was presumably responsible for, I began to hate the man behind the facade.”

  Brea glanced back up, her gaze hardened. “The man I knew as a child is dead to me. I had hoped I could leave behind my past, never see him or his men again. I was wrong.”

  “What exactly do you hope to accomplish, sweetheart?” He needed to know before they stormed Raúl’s home if Brea wanted the man dead or alive. He didn’t need her regrets when all was said and done. “Tell me what the plan is.”

  She sucked in a shaky breath. “I want to talk to him, Draven. If there is no reasoning with him, then I will take him out myself. Any of his men standing in our way, don’t underestimate them. If they work for my godfather, they are cold-blooded killers. Drain them. If you hesitate, they will kill you.”

  He nodded. It went without saying, he would do what he needed to do to keep her alive, just as he had back at the cabin. Draven had never before taken a life, and yet when faced with the need to eliminate the men, he had done so without hesitation.

  He would do so again.

  Brea started down the stretch of beach and Draven fell into step beside her, taking one long stride to her two. They traveled the rest of the way in companionable silence. This time of night, they were completely alone on the beach. A few of the homes lining the ocean front still had lights on, spilling into the night.

  Before long, they stopped about a football field away from her godfather’s. Wrought iron gates lined the perimeter, rising into the night like the gates to Hades. Terraces on the top floor were no doubt strategically placed so his men would have great views from all sides. They’d need to be careful from here on out. It would be hard to spot a man aiming a rifle at their foreheads. He would bet they had shoot first, ask questions later orders.

  “We go in together?”

  Brea looked at him. “Maybe we should split up. You go along the side to the front, and I’ll go through the back. Even though you’re still new to this whole vampire thing, your strength should be stronger than theirs. Any locked door would be easy enough for you to twist the knob and shatter the cylinder. Try to be quiet about it. I have no idea how many of his men are inside.”

  He smiled at her. “There are at least three less.”

  “There are.” She took a step forward, grabbed his nape, and pulled him down for a deep kiss. Had the situation not been so dire, he might have thought about a little sex on the beach. Brea released him just as quickly. “I’ll see you inside.”

  As she meant to jog off, Draven called out. She turned and their twin black gazes met. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

  “And if I do?”

  “Not an option. Not in my plans for you.”

  The white tips of her fangs shown just below her upper lip. “Looking forward to it, barkeep.”

  Draven watched her for a moment while her lithe body easily ate up the sand. To anyone looking, they might think she was out for a late night jog. Finally glancing away and getting his head into the game, his gaze rose to the two terraces facing the ocean. They appeared empty. Had anyone been up there watching, they’d no doubt be leaning into view, trying to get a better view of the pretty young thing running along the shore. What men Raúl did have in residence probably watched the front of the property.

  Satisfied, Draven slipped between two beach homes and around to the front drive. He stayed close the houses, ducking beneath windows, hoping to stay out of sight from Raúl’s terraces. Draven paused, listening for any kind of movement. His keen hearing picked up the soft thud of Brea’s feet hitting cement, at least it was his hope. He doubted any of Raúl’s men were light enough to land as softly.

  So good so far.

  Draven easily leaped the wrought iron fencing, landing on the grass next to the brick paved sidewalk. He slipped around to the ten-foot-tall arched double doors, made of black wrought iron and glass. A light within the house glowed softly, but Draven couldn’t see anyone moving about from his position. He tried the lever style handset to the door, only to find the dead bolt securely in place. He shook his head. Now fucking what? There was no knob to turn to break any kind of cylinder as Brea had suggested. His only option would be to break the glass and turn the dead bolt, which would alert the entire fucking household.

  Plan B. He quickly jogged down the steps and around the side of the estate, hoping to find Brea, praying he wasn’t too late.

  Unfortunately, luck wasn’t always on his side.

  Chapter 19

  The hair raised on Brea’s nape. A sense of unease washed over her. She tiptoed across the concrete patio to the French doors opening into the kitchen. Skirting the oversized patio furniture, she kept to the railing and out of view of the back doors. The layout was an open concept, leaving her very little cover once she entered the premises. Her godfather liked to sit at the dining room table with a cup of coffee or a whisky, depending on the time of day, all while smoking his expensive Cuban cigars. Even now the scent wafted to her nose, telling her he was indeed in residence. The strong pungent smell masked most orders. Even with her enhanced scent, she couldn’t detect if he was alone.

  Testing the door, she found it unlocked. Something was amiss. Her godfather never left a door unsecured, especially at this time of night. Raúl hadn’t gotten this far by being a careless man. The fact the door was unlocked told her he expected company.

  Shit!

  She nee
ded to get to Draven, warn him before he went in ready to kick ass, when it might be very well his own ass getting handed to him. The house might not appear alive with activity but Brea knew Raúl lay in wait. All of her instincts told her that her godfather was well aware of her presence.

  Draven’s scent wafted to her nose just before he leaped over the railing, landing softly beside her. Her heart raced. Brea was not about to put him in the line of fire again.

  “We need to get out of here, Draven,” she whispered.

  Before he could respond, one of the French doors swung inward. Raúl stood on the other side, a large smile pasted on his thick lips. His scent hit her full on.

  Mother of God!

  “Going somewhere?” White fangs hung just below her godfather’s upper lip. “Please … come in.”

  His polite request was nothing more than a thinly veiled demand, backed up by the two other presences she felt arrive behind her and Draven. No doubt assault rifles were trained on their backs. Steeling her resolve, Brea entered her godfather’s kitchen, followed by Draven, who remained blessedly silent. His sarcasm would not be well received here. She prayed he allowed her to do the talking.

  “Sit, please.” Raúl’s beefy hand indicated the ladder-back chairs flanking his cloth covered one he righted, making her wonder what had gone on before to find the chair upended.

  The two men at their backs followed them into the house, stopping at the entrance to the dining room. While far enough to give them privacy, they were close enough to hear the exchange and take Brea and Draven out if Raúl decided he was no longer in the mood to entertain. And by out, she didn’t mean leave the premises. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe Raúl would keep her from harm if he deemed her no longer worthy. While she took one of the chairs and sat next to Raúl, Draven remained standing, bracing his hands on the polished wood surface.

  “Why the fuck do you even want her, man?” Draven asked. Stirring the hornet’s nest was a bad idea, so was questioning her godfather. “She’s like half your age. Don’t you think that’s kind of gross from where she comes from, grandpa?”

  Dear, Lord, help her. He was going to get them both shot.

  Raúl’s face reddened. A muscle ticked in his cheek. Brea figured up to this point, her godfather was simply humoring the barkeep. Draven should’ve considered himself lucky he wasn’t shot on sight. She hoped her if looks could kill gaze kept his mouth shut from saying anything further.

  Raúl snarled, his razor-sharp fangs filling his mouth. Brea cursed beneath her breath for not having detected the scent of another vampire before he stood before her. The strong aroma of his Cubans had masked his scent well. She was sure he had smoked one for that very purpose, knowing she might attempt to sneak in under the cover of night.

  “You’re living on borrowed time, pendejo.” He pointed a beefy finger at Draven. “I should have you executed now. Are you responsible for taking out three of my good men? Or would that be my little chiquita?”

  Brea hoped to get Raúl off the subject of Draven killing his men. If he suspected Draven was the one behind their throats being ripped out, he’d have Draven killed without question.

  “How long?” she asked.

  Raúl redirected his attention. One of his thick black brows rose. “For what, chiquita?”

  “How long have you been hiding the fact you were a vampire?”

  He chuckled. “Long before you were made one by that dirtbag you called a mate.”

  Brea was dumbfounded. How the hell had this escaped the Sons of Sangue? “Who turned you?”

  “When Kane’s son, Ion, was being held prisoner by my brother and me for his mother’s crimes against us. His mother, Rosalee … pretty woman”—he paused as though envisioning the crazy bitch—“thought she could outsmart us. She found out otherwise. Ion was good enough to give me some of his blood before I staked him.”

  “Surely not of his own accord.”

  “It didn’t matter, you little fool. I took his blood and ended his life.”

  “How did you even know what he was?”

  “When I tortured the poor boy, it didn’t take much for his mother’s uglier side to come out. I admit, I was pretty freaked out when she bared her fangs. It was only a matter of time before I discovered how I could get my own slice of vampire pie. Rosalee begged me not to take her son’s life. I damn near bled him dry. At that point, she was willing to tell me anything.” Raúl shrugged. “Even though she spilled every last detail, I still took Ion’s life. The bitch needed to be taught a lesson. As for Kane, I’m not finished with him by a long shot. The son of a bitch took my brother’s life.”

  “You took his son, you crazy fuck,” Draven chimed in. “I’d call that even.”

  “I’m no more done with him than he is with me. Rumor has it, he’s still gunning for me. What a surprise he’ll get when he shows up and I’ve turned every last one of my men into my own vampire army.” Raúl grabbed the decanter of whisky from the table and poured himself a tumbler. “I’d offer you some, but you won’t live long enough to enjoy it.”

  Brea’s gaze heated. “You would kill me?”

  Raúl ran a hand down his jaw. “I was referring to your friend, chiquita. You, I plan to keep.”

  “I’m not a possession, Raúl. You can’t just decide to keep me. I won’t stay. Draven is my mate—”

  Raúl hissed. “You don’t fucking learn, chiquita. Now you give me no choice but to kill him. No one stands in my way of getting what I want. I thought I made myself clear last time.”

  As if to prove his point, he flipped the heavy dining room table. It crashed upside down on the floor, sending glass shards tinkling against the tile. The aroma of good whisky clung to the air.

  Raúl’s black gaze landed on the two men by the door. “Kill him. The girl comes with me.”

  “Like hell.” In the blink of an eye, Draven leaped onto one of the men by the door, his large fangs sinking into his throat. The man’s scream rent the air as the other trained his gun on the back of Draven’s skull.

  “Kill him, damn it.” He grabbed Brea by the hair and pulled her toward the staircase.

  Brea lashed out, raking her nails down one of Raúl’s cheeks. Blood ran trailed down his dark flesh before the wound quickly began to heal.

  Her godfather struck her across the face, snapping her head back.

  “Bastard!” she cried.

  A gunshot went off behind her, stopping her from further lashing out, and damn near halting her heart. She whipped around. Instead of seeing Draven dead on top of the man he had ripped the throat from, he carried the second one by the throat, slamming his skull against the wall. Plaster cracked and fell to the floor from the impact, loosening the man’s hand on the Ruger. It clattered to the floor. Blood ran down Draven’s shoulder blade where the bullet had struck. Thankfully, it hadn’t been a kill shot.

  Raúl wrapped his beefy forearm about Brea’s neck, nearly cutting off her oxygen, and hauled her against his massive chest. She was no match for his strength. “Let him go, pendejo.”

  Draven glanced their way, his fingers still wrapped tight around the tall man’s throat. Blood coated Draven’s mouth and cheeks, dripping from his chin. Brea’s gut clenched at the vision before her and what she had turned the barkeep into. He had been nothing but kind in his quest to help, and now he looked like a blood-crazed madman.

  “You kill him and she dies.”

  Chapter 20

  A red haze colored his vision. Fury slowly burned up his spine, holding him taut in its grip like the talons of an eagle. Raúl wrapped his thick forearm around Brea’s throat, threatening to take her very life. Her godfather could easily squeeze the breath from her, causing her to pass out. But the lack of oxygen wouldn’t kill her. No, he’d have to separate her head from her body. Draven wasn’t about to test the man’s considerable strength. He had a few more years of vampirism under his belt than Brea.

  Draven needed to weigh his options, assess the situatio
n. Anger would cause him to act in haste, make mistakes. He couldn’t afford a lapse in judgment. He needed to think clearly, formulate a plan. If he dropped his hold on the tall man’s neck, the man would be able to use the assault rifle strapped to his back, put a bullet clean through his heart and finish what the other man failed to do. At this close of range, there wasn’t much of a chance that he’d miss.

  The second option would be to break the fucker’s neck and drop him like a rag doll to the terracotta tiles. Draven much preferred the second option, but he couldn’t chance Raúl’s counteraction. He’d never forgive himself should the kingpin take his mate’s life because he had failed to follow direction. Hell, his life wouldn’t be worth living. If Raúl took Brea’s life, Draven would go out like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. And he’d take as many of these fuckers with him as he could.

  Starting with the piece of shit in his grasp.

  “Draven, my man. You look as if you got your hands full at the moment.” Draven’s gaze followed the sound of the familiar voice. What the hell? Spike strode into the dining room, stopping just shy of the dead man lying at his feet. When Draven turned this black gaze on the Devil, Spike’s gaze widened. “What the fuck?”

  Raúl hissed, tightening his hold on Brea. Her fingernails dug into her godfather’s arm as she struggled against his hold. “I ordered you upstairs. You have an issue with following orders, chico? Where’s Cisco?”

  “Right behind you, boss. I figured you could use the help.” Francisco trained his AK47 on the center of Draven’s chest. “Release Louis.”

  Draven dropped his hold, not seeing much choice in the matter and maybe buying them a little more time to come up with a Plan C. Louis grabbed his neck, wheezing as he gulped in much-needed air. The odds in their favor had just gone down considerably.

  Spike stood in the center of the chaos, looking from Raúl to Brea, stopping back on Draven. “What the hell is in the water? We got some serious ass shit going on. Vampires? Well, I’ll be damned.”