Vlad (Sons of Sangue Book 8)

by Patricia A. Rasey

  “You haven’t touched anything?” he asked Ryder, not bothering to apologize for his gruff behavior.

  The biker shook his head, still in vampire form, apparently yet miffed by Vlad’s accusations. “As soon as I got here, I called. Did you even make it to Kane and Kaleb?”

  Vlad shook his head. Christ, his precautions in his attempt to keep Janelle safe had all been in vain. “After I heard from you, I called Kane and told him to handle it. He and Kaleb are taking care of the situation.”

  “So, what’s the plan now?”

  Vlad growled. “My brother won’t surface until he’s ready. Until then, I want everyone combing the fucking woods for abandoned cabins. He’ll be in one of them, I’m sure of it. Mircea is, if nothing else, a creature of habit.”

  One of Ryder’s dark brows shot up. “You’re sure? Maybe we’ve been playing into his hands all along, looking where he wants us to. Mircea could be holding her right under our noses, here in the city.”

  Vlad hoped Ryder was wrong in his assessment. The state of Oregon was over ninety-eight thousand square miles and he couldn’t bear the thought of combing every fucking mile. No, Mircea would be hiding out in an abandoned cabin; he was sure of it. No one knew his brother’s behavior better than he. And yet Mircea had managed to carry out the one deed Vlad vowed he wouldn’t let happen. The son of a bitch had gotten his hands on Janelle.

  Agony and grief weighed heavily on him. His damn heart felt battered and bruised. Vlad tilted his head to the heavens and bellowed. If anything happened to Janelle, he wouldn’t want to go on. He didn’t even want to think of his future without Janelle. Should he … no, when he got her back, no more secrets, he’d tell her just how damn much he loved her.

  This failing was on his shoulders, no one else’s. Kane’d had the opportunity to take Mircea’s head months ago, but Vlad had forbidden him from doing so. It could have ended there and then. Hell, Vlad should have taken his brother’s head himself instead of foolishly hoping to redeem his brother and incarcerating him. And now this! Damn it, he should have stayed with Janelle until Ryder’s arrival.

  Ironically, Mircea had been the reason Vlad had met her. That he might have lost her to his brother’s evil now was like a slap in the face from fate. He looked at Ryder, who had returned to his human form.

  “She’s it for you, isn’t she?”

  Vlad wanted to scoff at the idea, but couldn’t. Not with the truth mocking him. “She can’t be.”

  “Why?”

  Vlad hung his head, feeling the futility of his words. Because he did love Janelle. “She doesn’t belong in my world. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I’m pretty sure with her job she’s been in a lot of dangerous situations.”

  Vlad rocked back on his heels. “If my brother decides to kill her, there’s not a damn thing I can do unless I can get to them first.”

  “It’s not her he wants.” Ryder rubbed his callused hands together. “She’s only good to him if she’s alive.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Vlad didn’t want to think of the alternative.

  “Kane get one of those asswipes talking?”

  Vlad nodded. “There were about five of them when they arrived. Two had to be dealt with. Kane thought one of the remaining three might help lure Mircea out of hiding in exchange for their lives.”

  The pressure in Vlad’s chest built. While they were frittering time chit-chatting, it was hard telling what his brother was doing to Janelle. Every second counted. Sitting here wasted precious time.

  “We need to get the hell out of here. I can force one of those sons of a bitches into telling me what I need to know. I’ll make them wish for death.”

  “I’ll call Kane.” Ryder pulled out his phone and slid his finger over the glass. When Kane answered, Ryder placed him on speaker. “What’s the scoop, Viper? Janelle is still MIA.”

  “Mircea’s vampires have no way to get a hold of him. Mircea is always the one to make the connection.”

  “So you’re telling me we have nothing,” Vlad grumbled.

  “More than we did,” Kane replied, seemingly unfazed.

  “We’re on our way. I’ll make them tell me my brother’s location if I have to kill every last one of them.”

  Kane’s sigh came through the speaker. Vlad was being unreasonable. “Look, Vlad, I’ll bring them to the clubhouse where you can grill them. I’ve offered them immunity in exchange for Mircea. As soon as the motherfucker calls, they’ll lure him to us. It’s all we’ve got, other than scouring thousands of miles of forest. Regardless, I’ll have the Sons combing the woods, looking for out-of-the-way abandoned cabins. Diablo believes it’s likely where Mircea is holding out.”

  “Who the fuck is Diablo?”

  “The vampire who’s likely going to be your fucking savior,” Kane growled. “He was Mircea’s first turned. I like him, but yes, we’re still working on trust issues going both ways. He’s a self-professed loner, left the Devils back when their empire came tumbling down thanks to Spike.”

  “Diablo’s his real name?” Great, they were putting their trust in someone who probably thought of himself as evil incarnate.

  “No. It’s his biker name. He has history, and no doubt earned the moniker. But that’s neither here nor there. We need him, so play nice. Without Diablo, the others won’t budge on helping us. They’re looking to him for leadership.”

  Vlad’s voice rose. “This is all we have?”

  “You have something better?”

  “Nenorocitule!” Vlad nearly came unglued. He had no other choice than to trust a guy named after the devil. “Bring them in. I’ll meet you at the clubhouse.”

  * * *

  Just shy of yanking the heavy door off its hinges, Vlad strode into the clubhouse with Ryder close on his heels. The short fuse on his temper was ready to blow, the scene before him not helping. Kane, Kaleb, and three other men stood around the bar tossing back shots of whiskey. Vlad wanted to tear some heads from newly turned vampires’ necks. But if he were to have a chance in hell at finding Janelle, he needed these vampires alive.

  Too much time had already been wasted, making him dread he might find her too late. Never in all of his time on this earth had he felt so powerless and out of control. He had failed to keep his promise to keep her from harm’s way. If anything happened to Janelle, he’d never forgive himself for walking out and leaving her alone, even for a second. Mircea must have been lying in wait and pounced on the given opportunity.

  Looking for the one Kane called Diablo, Vlad zeroed in on the taller of the three. The man’s black T-shirt stretched taut over muscles honed from years of working out, no doubt some of those done on the inside of a prison like San Quentin. He looked as though he had seen the inside of a cell, and not because of his appearance but by the way he held himself, alert, vigilant, and wary of those around him. Normally, Vlad could respect a man who instilled fear in others.

  But not today.

  Diablo was on the wrong side of the equation, having been allied with his brother. Lucky for him, though, Kane had offered him immunity. Otherwise, Vlad would have offered him nothing but death.

  Diablo had some black tribal art, not unlike many of the Sons. A black sleeve tattoo started on his hand and traveled up his arm, but it wasn’t the one catching Vlad’s attention. His neck tattoo was particularly telling of Diablo’s dark character, matching that of his moniker. A devil’s skull centered in his throat with glowing red eyes, nose, and mouth. Tribal black tattoos fanned from the skull like fingers of black fire, nearly wrapping his thick throat. His hair was military short, his beard cut much the same way. Vlad bet most men would take one look and not want to fuck with this one, but not him.

  Vlad saw Diablo as the one standing in the way of life or death for Janelle and he meant to get the son of a bitch’s cooperation, one way or another. Moving at the speed of light, he clasped the nenorocitule by his neck and shoved him against the back wall of cupboards, Diablo’s head bouncing
off the wood.

  “Son of a bitch,” the man snarled, his fangs punching through his gums, eyes blackening.

  Diablo’s hands clasped Vlad’s wrists and damn near succeeded in loosening the grip. Vlad was pleasantly surprised by the strength of this one. What fun was a fight if it wasn’t fair?

  “What the fuck, man?” His voice wasn’t the least affected by Vlad’s tight grip around his tree-trunk throat.

  “I take it you’re the king of this ragtag group.”

  “Vlad,” Kane warned, keeping him from crushing the man’s windpipe.

  Vlad bared his fangs at the nenorocitule, feeling anything but friendly. “Where the fuck is my brother?”

  “Let go and we’ll talk. Otherwise, go fuck yourself, man.”

  Vlad growled, tightening his grip, causing the man to grimace. Had Kane not laid a hand on his forearm, Vlad might have just taken Diablo out. Instead, he dropped his hold. If Kane didn’t get a handle on Diablo, Vlad might just send the condescending asshole to an early grave once he outlived his usefulness.

  “What do we know about Mircea’s whereabouts?”

  “That we have no fucking idea where he is. When Mircea wants something, he calls.” Reaching into his pocket, Diablo laid a cell phone on the counter. He rubbed the tattooed skull on his throat. “I haven’t heard from him in a couple of days.”

  Kane picked up the phone, aimed it at Diablo’s face to unlock it, then scrolled through the incoming calls. “All unknowns. Not surprised. Anyone have an idea?”

  No one spoke up. Vlad couldn’t help but wonder if they weren’t going about this all wrong. If these vampires had no way of getting a hold of Mircea, they were worthless to him. He walked away from the crew and began pacing the floor. Sooner or later, his brother had to contact him. Mircea didn’t take Janelle for his own entertainment. If he so much as harmed a hair on her head, he’d make Mircea suffer long and hard before he finally ended his degenerate life. In the end, there would be room for only one of them on this earth. His brother’s days were numbered.

  The men chatted behind him about the different hideouts Mircea had used. If they were correct, then Kane and Kaleb had the Sons in the right vicinity scouring the woods. It was only a matter of time before they found him.

  A cell phone rang. Vlad whirled on his heel and strode back to the bar. Diablo’s phone vibrated before it rang a second time. Kane nodded for him to pick it up. Diablo answered the phone, putting it on speaker.

  “What took you so fucking long?” his brother’s voice hissed through the speaker.

  “I was taking a leak,” Diablo said.

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Name it.”

  “I need you to find the Sons of Sangue’s clubhouse—”

  “Already know of it.”

  “Good. Go there and tell them I’m looking for my brother.”

  “And how is he supposed to get a hold of you?” Diablo baited him.

  Mircea gave him the phone number. “Tell him to call me. I have something that may be of interest to him. Where are you?”

  “None of your concern.”

  “Mind telling me what that is in case he asks?”

  A soft cry was heard in the background causing Vlad’s heart to clench. Jesus, it was all he could do not to grab the phone from Diablo’s hand. “Just tell him it’s something he’s going to want back.”

  The call went dead. Vlad had already pulled his phone out and was about to dial when Kaleb stopped him. “Wait a few hours.”

  “You’re fucking kidding, right?” Vlad snarled.

  “Think about it, Grandpa. He doesn’t expect his vampires to be standing next to you. Give them a bit of time to … arrive.”

  “Hawk’s right, Vlad,” Kane said. “Two hours and you’ll call.”

  “Fuck that shit.” Vlad dialed the number and his brother picked up.

  “Wow, that was fast.” Mircea chuckled. “I take it you must have already found Diablo.”

  “And a couple more. We left two for dead.”

  “Ah, well I suppose it couldn’t be helped.”

  “Where the fuck are you, brother?”

  “My, my, such haste. I was correct in assuming this little woman you’ve been safeguarding means something to you.”

  “She better be uninjured.” Vlad heard another cry in the distance, causing him to fist his free hand. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

  “Nothing she can’t sustain, I assure you. Your little love bug will be better than new when you come to get her.”

  “Where the hell are you, Mircea?”

  “You’ll come alone? Leave the calvary or she dies.”

  Vlad clamped his teeth, causing an ache clear to his ear. “I don’t need anyone else to fight you. Where?”

  “Good. But please, bring Diablo with you.”

  “Why?”

  “An exchange, of course.”

  Vlad looked at the large vampire who nodded. “I’ll bring him.”

  “Good.” Mircea rattled off the coordinates of the cabin. “See you in about ten minutes, big brother.”

  The phone went dead in Vlad’s hand. He glanced at the Diablo again. “You know he’ll kill you when this is over. I trust you won’t side with him to try and save your hide?”

  “You’ll get to him first.” The large vampire shrugged. “Besides, I never liked the son of a bitch anyway.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Kane asked.

  “Give me twenty minutes, then you follow, bring the rest of the Sons. If something goes south and there are more of his turned vampires in the area, take them all out.”

  Chapter 22

  Ten minutes, my ass.

  Six and a half minutes to be exact. That’s the amount of time it took Vlad to locate the cabin where his brother held Janelle. To his surprise, Diablo had easily kept up, no doubt due to Mircea’s primordial blood coursing through him. If the vampire even so much as made one move in the wrong direction, he’d send him to hell with his brother.

  They stopped a few hundred yards from the dwelling. Mircea unquestionably had scented their arrival; knew they were in the vicinity. But Vlad hadn’t planned to sneak up on the cagey bastard. Hell, no. He was going in guns blazing. The Grim Reaper had come calling and Vlad was more than happy to hand over his brother.

  Vlad tilted his nose to the breeze. Something was amiss. Although he could scent Janelle within the cabin, her aroma had changed. Christ, had he already arrived too late?

  “Nenorocitule.”

  Diablo raised a brow. “Something I should know?”

  Janelle’s soft cries of anguish carried to Vlad’s ears, giving him the answer to his question. Mircea had more than stepped over the line. The son of a bitch had managed to damn near cripple him, fueling his fury to take his life. He’d no longer find pain in doing so.

  Janelle no longer smelled wholly human.

  Mircea had given her his damn blood and for that Vlad would show no mercy. Death was too good for him. This century-long feud ended now. But first, he needed to see to Janelle, that she would be far away from the bloodshed. Vlad couldn’t chance Mircea harming her further. She needed to be his first priority, even if it killed him to hand her safekeeping over to a man he barely knew.

  “Tell me now who you’re siding with.”

  Diablo narrowed his gaze. “I don’t understand.”

  “When I go in there, I’m ripping Mircea’s head from his shoulders. No mercy. I need to know I’m not facing two enemies when I enter that cabin. If I am, Diablo, it’s my promise you’ll suffer the same fate.”

  “I gave you my word.”

  “Then your word better be gold.” Vlad gritted his teeth. Every muscle tautened, ready for the kill. Christ, she hadn’t asked for this life.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Protect Janelle with your life. Get her the hell out of there and away from any danger. Wait with her at the clubhouse for my return.”

&nb
sp; “What if I encounter other vampires coming to his rescue?”

  Vlad glared at him. “Are there more of you that I should know about?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Those I knew banded together at the cabin where Viper and Hawk found us. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t create more.”

  “Presently, I only smell Mircea, so be damn fast about getting her out of there. Should more vampires arrive, I’ll handle them.” Vlad turned his attention back to the cabin, hearing Janelle’s whimper. “You go through the front. I’ll take the back. Get Janelle the hell out of there, and let me deal with whatever comes my way. The Sons won’t be far behind should I be ambushed.”

  “Got it.”

  “On the count of—fuck that. Go.”

  * * *

  The backdoor splintered from the force of his fist, tinder raining down around him. Vlad stormed into the cabin, fury nipping at the booted heels clomping against the scarred-wood decking. His gaze searched out and found the reason for his rage standing across the room. From the corner of his vision, he saw Janelle thrashing about in agony on a filthy mattress along an adjacent wall, cutting him straight to the heart. Jesus, he wanted to go to her, comfort her and absorb her pain. Tell her that he fucking loved her. She belonged to him, damn it, regardless of who’s blood ran through her veins.

  Vlad had no choice but to trust Diablo’s word that he’d get her the hell out of there. Her whimper of pain nearly unmanned him. Christ, he wished he could leave his brother to Diablo, and protect Janelle himself. To do so, though, would likely leave his brother alive while Diablo’s head was the one to roll to the trash-littered floor. The young vampire was no match for one of Mircea’s maturity, regardless of his brother’s primordial blood running through him.