Ryder

by Patricia A. Rasey

  Ryder chuckled. “You do have a point.”

  Turning in his stool, Ryder observed several patrons taking to the dance floor, bodies moving seductively to the samba. His gaze toured the room, looking for one woman in particular. Gabriela would no doubt be easy to spot, drawing his gaze like a heat-seeking missile. Fuck, but she knew how to turn up the heat just by entering a room.

  Gunner and Ryder fell into a comfortable silence, watching the array as they sipped from their bottles of Modelo. Ryder would much rather partake from an artery, which he needed to do soon. Find a cute little señorita to dine on and maybe a little horizontal performance as well. He was getting damn itchy for some action. Ryder normally didn’t abstain, nor did he have to back home. He had his choice of donors to have sex with since many of the Sons in Oregon were mating up. Finding a bed partner had never been a chore.

  A long black-haired señorita approached Gunner, her dark eyes looking up at him, even from his seated position. Once he stood, she’d be lucky to be chest high on him. She smiled, her white teeth showing bright in the lights from behind the bar.

  “¿Te gustaría bailar?”

  “I don’t dance.” Gunner responded, surprising Ryder, having no idea Gunner knew the language.

  “It won’t kill you.” Ryder nodded toward the dance floor. “Just follow what they do.”

  The woman gripped Gunner’s hand, urging him out of his seat. Gunner complied, following the cute, much-shorter woman to the dance floor. Ryder couldn’t help but chuckle. Gunner couldn’t move to the rhythm to save his life. Not like he could hide on the dance floor either. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, giving him plenty of room to one-step the samba.

  “What has you chuckling?”

  Ryder turned to find the one woman he had been looking for. For the second time, she had snuck up on him. He really needed to up his game. His flesh heated and his gums ached with the need to emerge. Ryder bit back the vampire in him and shifted in his chair.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure again?”

  “I was hoping to run into you.” Her admission left her blushing. “I only got your name. I had no idea how I might find you again, except go back to the scene of the crime.”

  His hand indicated the barstool Gunner had vacated. “Have a seat.”

  “Are you sure? There’s a half-empty beer—”

  “My friend is busy doing what he hopes looks like dancing.” Ryder chuckled.

  He called over the bartender and ordered her a paloma. Throwing a few dinero onto the bar, he turned back to Gabby.

  “I’m impressed. You remembered.”

  “I’m pretty sure there isn’t much I’d forget about you.”

  She laughed, the sound making Ryder smile. “Do women usually fall for your lines?”

  “Are you kidding? With a face like this?” He grimaced. “I’m lucky if a woman pays me any mind at all. They are more than likely to go for my friend.”

  “Which one is your friend?”

  Ryder nodded toward the dance floor. “The tall one.”

  Her gaze went in the direction of Gunner before returning. “I don’t know what the other women are thinking, but I’m pretty sure I prefer you.”

  One of his brows rose. “Do you?”

  The admittance shouldn’t have pleased him, but it did. Gabriela was his mission, not his fuck-buddy. He’d do well to remember that. But sitting this close and scenting her desire had the vampire in him wanting to devour. If her blood tasted half as good as it smelled, he was in deep shit should he make the mistake of tasting it. He’d likely be an instant addict.

  “Most definitely.”

  “Now who’s feeding who lines?”

  “It’s not a line if it’s true.” She took a sip of her drink that the bartender had left, hiding her grin. “Besides, I came looking for you, didn’t I?”

  “You did.”

  “And…”

  Her pause left him wondering what she wanted. What the hell had her searching him out? A quick look around the club and he spotted Gabby’s friend, now dancing with Gunner. Ryder wasn’t sure what happened to his other partner, but Gunner seemed more into Gabby’s friend, if the hand on the small of her back was any indication.

  “And I found you.”

  Ryder laughed at the way she dodged his question. He still had no clue as to why she’d seek him out. It wasn’t like he was model-handsome like Alexander “Xander” Dumitru of the Sons of Sangue, who had earned the moniker GQ. Someone as gorgeous as Gabriela deserved a pretty boy. Not someone more on the rugged side, who had their share of scars. But damn if his body didn’t care, reacting to her nearness, kicking up his own desire. His jeans became constricting. Much more and he’d be spouting a full-blown erection in pants that had no hope of hiding it.

  Vampires were sexual beings, damn it. He wasn’t used to curbing his appetite. He needed a change of subject.

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “Why?” She took another drink from her glass as she watched him over the rim.

  “Look at you. You’re dressed in clothes I couldn’t possibly afford. You wear Louboutins.”

  Gabby set down her drink and chuckled. She laid a hand on his knee, shooting heat straight up his thigh to his groin. Much more and the entire club would know he sported a hard-on. Everything about this woman heated his blood, from the soft waves of her hair, to her brown eyes, and full lips. She had killer hips and a nice set of tits, too. It was all he could do not to ogle her.

  “I’m surprised you’ve heard of the brand of shoes.”

  “It’s not like I live under a rock,” he grumbled.

  Maybe he had said too much already. His mouth could sometimes get him in trouble. And this might be one of those times.

  “I meant no disrespect. It’s just, most guys don’t know fashion.”

  “Would you believe me if I told you I have a foot fetish?”

  Placing the perfectly manicured hand that had been on his knee over her lips, she laughed again. “Oh, please … no. You aren’t getting nowhere near my toes.”

  Ryder shared in her humor. “I can think of better things to… Maybe I should shut up while I’m ahead.”

  Gabby drew her lower lip between her teeth and looked down, her cheeks reddening. By the scent of her rising desire, he could tell her mind had gone to the same place as his. He wouldn’t mind suggesting they take it back to his place, but it was better he kept that under wraps for the time being. He didn’t need anyone knowing where he stayed. As for Gabby, he’d bet she wouldn’t be offering to head for her place any time soon. Her uncle wouldn’t be too happy knowing she’d divulge where he hung his coat either. Although, thanks to Brea Gotti, they already knew the location. What they didn’t know was if Raúl happened to be there at the moment.

  And it wasn’t like he could ask.

  “You never answered my question. What is it you do?”

  “I manage my uncle’s restaurant, Salazar’s.”

  “Where I first saw you?”

  She nodded. “It’s a great little place.”

  “I agree. They have the best seafood I’ve found down here.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be sure to let Francisco know.” She tucked one side of her hair behind her ear. Ryder’s fingers itched to touch the silken strands. “What do you do?”

  Ryder rubbed his jaw to keep his hands to himself. “I’m between jobs, at the moment. Looking for work.”

  “Maybe I can help, see if Francisco needs more hands in the kitchen.”

  Oh, man. He really needed to get a handle on his runaway mouth around her. Although, setting it up that he was looking for work played right into his mission. Getting a job washing dishes did not. And right about that time, Gunner reappeared and put in his two cents.

  “Not sure you’re cut out for dishpan hands, bro.” Gunner winked at Gabby. “Although, he can cook a mean omelet.”

  Ryder shook his head and smiled. “As much as I appreciate the offer, Gabby, I
had another type of work in mind. I’m working on some connections. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I find something.”

  “Does that mean you’re sticking around?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Her eyes held his, the interest evident. “Awesome. That means I’ll get to see you again. Are you going to give me your phone number? Or do I have to keep stalking you?”

  Ryder held out his hand. Gabriela unlocked her cell, opened her contact app, and handed him the phone. Ryder quickly typed in his name and number before handing it back.

  “Send me a text so I know your number as well.”

  She took her phone from his hand, their skin making contact. Christ, there was so much heat in that brief touch he felt it clear to his gut. He’d need to get laid, and soon, for fear of sporting an ever-present hard-on around this woman. His phone dinged. Ryder took it from his back pocket and slid his thumb across the screen.

  Next time some place more private. Your place?

  Chapter 8

  My place?

  Hell, no, Ryder thought the following day. He needed a safe haven, one where he could lay low should the heat get turned up. If Raúl’s men found out where he was staying, he might wake up with a knife at his throat or a gun to his temple should he further piss off Sergio or any of the other men. Putting his trust in Gabriela wasn’t something he should do, no matter how much he wanted to get her between the sheets. Or up against a wall. Hell, he wasn’t picky, Ryder thought with a wry smile. Banging her, though, wasn’t on his list of to-dos, no matter how much the idea appealed to him. He needed to get her attention, get her trusting him, but he also needed his head in the game, so he couldn’t let his dick do the thinking for him. His pad needed to be a backdoor spot where he could meet with Grigore and the other Sons. Not a place for a booty call.

  Her text could be used to his advantage, nevertheless, finagle him an invitation to her place instead … meaning Raúl’s fortress. Eventually, the kingpin had to make an appearance. It was his home, after all. Following tonight’s meet and greet, he’d send Gabby a text and tell her he wanted to get together, but his place wasn’t going to work since he had been sleeping on friends’ sofas until he managed to secure a paying job. Getting to spend time with her was hardly going to be a tribulation. Truth of it, Ryder found he enjoyed her company. Too bad they hadn’t met under better circumstances. He wouldn’t have minded getting to know her a whole lot better. But due to the situation, he’d need to keep his pants up and his hands to himself.

  Christ, with his vampire genes and her smoking hot looks, that task would be damn near impossible.

  Zeroing in on the job at hand, Gunner sat beside him in the old clunker Grigore had drummed up. The sedan rattled and rumbled down the highway, making Ryder fear the bucket of bolts might fall apart before they ever arrived at their destination. Fucking Grigore. It’d be the last time Ryder put him in charge of finding a vehicle. Hell, he probably would’ve been better off throwing Gunner over the bitch seat on his motorcycle and bungee strapping his ass to the leather, before carting him off to his shallow grave. At least then he knew they’d get to what was to be Gunner’s final destination.

  Ryder glanced across the bench seat at Gunner. “You ready?”

  “Let’s get this shit over with. What I’m ready for is to head north where I can get back to Red and the rest of my brothers.” He wiped a hand across his sweat-beaded brow. “I’m so over this fucking heat already. No wonder I live in Washington, man. No getting away from this humidity.”

  “What’s the matter? Having a bad hair day?”

  Gunner ran a hand through his unruly curls. “Fuck you, man.”

  Ryder chuckled as they pulled into the parking lot of Salazar’s. “No thanks. You might take a liking to me.”

  With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Gunner said, “I like you, man. You’re one crazy motherfucker.”

  Adrenaline coursed through Ryder’s veins, making the vampire in him dance dangerously close to the surface. The power of ten-plus men vibrated through him. Primordial power Ryder was still getting accustomed to, something he had yet to use. Should he unleash the beast, no one inside the tavern would walk out alive. He’d drain every last one of the cretins before they even knew what had hit them. But tonight wasn’t about taking out as many men as he could. Tonight was about earning respect, securing a job, and finding Raúl, no matter how much he’d enjoy wiping the earth of the scum.

  “It’s showtime,” Ryder said. “We have only one chance to get this right. We fuck up, and we’ll both be heading for an early grave that neither of us has a snowball’s chance in hell at coming back from.”

  Ryder parked the car around the side of the building. They had a better chance of concealing Gunner being tossed into the trunk from the view of the road.

  Gunner glanced at him, giving him a wink. “I got this, boss. I hope you have a damn good aim.”

  Exiting the vehicle, Ryder slammed the door, rocking it on its four bald tires. He shook his head. Next time he needed something, he’d rely on his own fucking skills. Gunner followed Ryder through Salazar’s entrance. They stepped up to the bar, Gunner clapping his shoulder.

  “What’re you drinking, man? It’s on me.”

  “Seriously?” Ryder gave the bartender a nod. “Not about to pass up a gift. I’ll take a Modelo and a shot of tequila before my friend changes his mind.”

  The man’s lips turned down as he looked at Gunner. If Ryder was to guess, he’d say they weren’t welcome here anymore than the day Sergio had thrown him out.

  “¿Y tu, gringo?”

  Ryder wasn’t sure if Gunner even understood he had been insulted. “I’ll have the same.”

  Though they weren’t here to pick a fight with the bartender, the man had certainly set the mood as conversation died down around the room. Without turning, Ryder felt the eyes of the locals glaring into his back. Good thing he wasn’t here to make friends.

  Two beers and shot glasses were set in front of them. Gunner dug into his pocket and laid more than enough dinero on the bar, tipping a man who didn’t deserve their thanks, let alone the extra dinero. The man scooped up the money and walked to the end of the bar. He’d not likely offer to serve them again. It didn’t matter. Ryder wasn’t planning on staying long.

  After picking up his shot glass, he downed the liquid, then chased it with a swig of beer before turning and giving the joint a once-over. Sergio hadn’t missed their entrance. Luis sat on a high barstool to his right. Good. They were both in attendance. Better for Ryder. He was pretty sure he had already earned some of Luis’s respect. Palming his beer bottle, he held Sergio’s stare. He wasn’t about to show any sign of weakness where the man was concerned. Sure, Sergio was deadly, could kill a man without so much as a second thought. But Ryder? He was downright lethal.

  The fucker doesn’t stand a chance one-on-one.

  It didn’t take long for Sergio to push off the wall and head in their direction. Luis watched from his perch. Sergio’s stride was slow, cocky even. He might intimidate a weaker foe, but his swagger didn’t faze Ryder. In fact, Ryder welcomed it, reveled in the day he’d get to drain the motherfucker of every last drop of his blood. Surely, it would be bitter.

  “You really do have a set of cajones muy grande.”

  “Nice to see you again as well.” Ryder smiled. “I don’t believe we were introduced last time.”

  One of the man’s dark brows rose. “We weren’t.”

  “I’m Ryder. This is my friend Gunner.”

  It was Sergio’s turn to smile. “You think I give a fuck? Why don’t you and your amante hit the door? You’re not welcome. This is your last warning, pinche idiota.”

  Gunner rose to his full height, squaring his shoulders. He stood damn near a head above Sergio. Ryder bet had he not had an entire room full of men backing him, Sergio’s bravado might slip. Hell, Ryder’s money was on Gunner, even without his vampire genes. Gunner’s biceps bunched a
s his fists clenched. The muscles in his jaw ticked. He looked ready to pummel Sergio. Ryder would pay to see that. Unfortunately, Gunner would be the one going down tonight, leaving Sergio for Ryder later. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He’d glory in taking down Sergio, Luis, and their fucking boss.

  “You own this fucking joint?” Gunner asked, his tone deep and threatening.

  To his credit, Sergio didn’t show any sign of backing down. “As far as you’re concerned, I do. Ustedes dos idiotas would do well to hit the road and never come back. No son bienvenidos.”

  “Your last name Salazar?”

  Sergio’s brow creased. “No.”

  “Then I think I’ll stay and have another beer here with my amigo. Vete a la mierda.”

  Sergio fisted Gunner’s shirt, his free hand pulling a switchblade and holding it to Gunner’s neck. “You just fucked yourself, Americano. Eres un hombre muerto.”

  Gunner laughed, then spit in Sergio’s face, using the gesture to pull the gun from his waistband and stick the barrel in the center of Sergio’s chest. “Looks like you’re the dead man, hombre.”

  The color drained from Sergio’s face. Several guns appeared from the men surrounding them. Sergio held his arms out to his side in a Jesus-like pose and dropped his knife to the wooden floor, where it clattered.

  “Put down your gun, amigo, and we all walk away,” Sergio instructed.

  “I don’t think so.” Gunner raised a brow as his gaze swept the room. “I drop my gun and your men take me out. Yo no soy estupido.”

  Sergio took several steps back, giving every man in the joint a clear shot. Ryder had to act or fuck up this mission royally with Gunner winding up dead for real.

  Ryder pulled out his Sig Sauer, sticking it against Gunner’s spine. Careful where he aimed, the shot would blossom from the front, looking like a heart shot, when in fact, Ryder would just miss the vital organ. Gunner would crumble to the floor after the bullet traveled through him. If Ryder aimed it just right, it would go straight through the front window, missing any other person.