Grayson stopped at the edge of the trees as the road opened up to the port entrance and surrounding docks lined with tied watercrafts. From here, the only cover they would have would be a yacht, boat or dinghy. They’d need to be careful not to be seen, though this late at night, the port seemed pretty much uninhabited. Ryder’s bike traveled farther into the harbor where a forty foot fishing boat had been moored to the end of a long thin dock. The vessel was small enough to come and go without notice, yet large enough to smuggle drugs. A freight might draw unwanted attention.
The snitch cut the engine to his bike, stepped over the seat and hung his helmet from the handlebars. He took a quick look around before boarding the fishing boat. A gray-haired man, wearing a black-and-white checked bucket hat, stepped up from the cabin and met Ryder on the bow. The two stood face-to-face, conversing. No matter how he tried, Grayson was too far away to make out the words above the sounds of the ocean waves slapping against moored boats and docks. Anton stepped up beside him. A small security light lent a warm glow to the deck, but the men stayed to the shadows.
Even though Grayson needed to hear the conversation, he couldn’t chance advancing on the men and being seen. There were no other craft between where they now stood and the fishing boat at the end of the long pier.
“What’s the plan, VP?”
“I haven’t a clue. Not like Ryder wouldn’t recognize us the minute we’re spotted. We can’t chance him ratting us out to save his own sorry hide.”
“You think he would?”
Grayson rubbed his short beard, something he had added in the past nine months. “My gut tells me no.”
“He’s your informant. You know him better than any of us. How did you meet him anyway?”
“We both surf.”
“No shit?”
He shrugged. “I have a friend who lives on the beach. He taught me to surf a few years ago. It’s been my stress relief. A way to cope with the day-to-day bullshit.”
“How come you never told me?”
“It wasn’t important. Ryder hangs with the same bunch of friends.” Grayson continued to watch the men on the boat. Judging by their hand signals, the conversation had taken an ugly turn. “He told me he hated the Devils. He wanted out. But no one leaves the Devils. Not alive anyway.”
“And you believe his story wasn’t a setup?”
Grayson looked at Anton. “For what purpose?”
Anton indicated the boat with a wave of his hand. “Perfect opportunity. Let us know his club’s doing business in our state and cause a shit storm between our clubs, if not an all-out war.”
“Maybe.” Grayson shrugged. “But I don’t think so. I’ve known him a couple of years and he seems to be on the up-and-up. Besides, he knows nothing about the Sons’ club business or our desire to see the cartel brought down. When I’m at the beach, I leave club business behind. It’s all about the surf and women.”
Two more Harleys approached, slowly passing their hiding spot. The men wore Devil patches.
“Shit,” Grayson cursed.
This had catastrophe written all over it. If their rival MC planned on transporting a shipment, they wouldn’t have sent only two brothers. The men pulled their bikes to a stop, stepped over the seats, but left the engines running. They quickly boarded the boat as Ryder backed from the captain, hands held defensively in front of him. The ship’s captain retreated below decks, leaving the three Devils alone on the bow. One of the Devils pulled out a six-inch hunting knife, tossing it between his hands, then waved it in front of Ryder’s wide-eyed expression.
Without a warning or hesitation, the man’s first jab went straight into Ryder’s gut, nearly doubling him over, sending Grayson and Anton sprinting down the pier. The second swipe sliced his throat from ear to ear. Grayson growled, vowing to take the life’s blood of all three men. Ryder’s hands covered the wound on his neck. Blood flowed too quickly, running between his fingers and down his arms. The fresh scent wafted to Grayson’s nose, kicking in vampire genes. Just as they reached the end of the long dock, the two Devils hopped on their Harleys and sped past.
Grayson growled, “Leave them,” as he boarded the fishing boat.
Anton grumbled his disappointment, no doubt wanting to behead the two pieces of shit, and climbed onboard behind him. The captain ascended the last three steps to the deck, gun aimed at the center of Anton’s chest.
“Jesus,” he spat. “What the fuck are you?”
Before the man could pull the trigger, Anton placed a hand on either side of his head and twisted hard. The captain, head now in an unnatural position, dropped to the wooden decking. Anton didn’t spare the dead man a second glance. He looked down upon Ryder, who was bleeding out by the second, eyes wide in fear.
“What do you want to do, VP?”
Grayson knew they had a few short minutes before his friend completely bled out. He pulled his shirt over his head and held it tightly to the wound. With his other bloodied hand he quickly pulled his cell from his pocket and punched in Kaleb’s number.
“Talk to me,” Kaleb said.
“There was no deal, P.”
“You want to explain?” Kaleb’s tone turned gruff.
“My informant was made.” Grayson grit his teeth to hold off the need to feed. So much blood. “They lured him down to the docks. Two Devils showed up and damn near decapitated him.”
“Dead?”
“Not yet, though the captain of this vessel won’t be seeing the next sunrise. Blondy took care of him.”
“Any Devils left in the area?” Kaleb asked. He could hear Kane’s answering curse in the background, telling him Kaleb’s twin listened in.
“No. The two fled as we arrived. I was more concerned about Ryder than chasing them down. I’m calling because I need your okay, P.”
“You want to save him?”
It wasn’t even a question for Grayson. The man was nearly dead because he chose to snitch for a surfing buddy.
“You vouch for him?”
“I do.” He looked back to Ryder. His whiskey-colored eyes started to glaze as he stared at the heavens, losing focus. His breath rattled in his throat. “I’ve known him a couple of years, one of the good guys. He can be one of us, P. You’ve said before we need to increase our numbers.”
“You know we need to vote—”
“There’s no time. Kane?”
Silence met Grayson, before Kaleb said, “Kane gives his approval even though technically his vote doesn’t count. Blondy?”
Grayson looked at the tall vampire, Secretary of the Sons, and hoped to hell Anton didn’t hold their scuffle over Tamera against him. Blondy nodded.
“He’s in.”
“Then you have my blessing to turn him.” Kaleb cleared his throat. “He’s your prospect and your responsibility. If he screws us—”
“I’ll kill him myself, P.”
“Then do what needs to be done and bring him back to the clubhouse.”
Wasting not another second, Grayson tossed the cell to the deck. He used his fangs to tear open the artery on his wrist. Blood immediately dripped from the jagged wound. He held it above Ryder’s mouth before his friend had a chance to take his dying breath and growled.
“Drink.”
Chapter 2
Tamera Cantrell hit the END on her cell, carefully laying it on the black lacquer bedside table. A shiver of dread ran down her spine as she glanced around the elaborately decorated bedroom, her heart weighing like a two-ton stone. The space had Grayson’s stamp written all over it, from the deep red satin sheets to the black comforter and window coverings. The entire room screamed seduction, right down to the red sheer scarves tying back the black curtains draped from the four posters on his large king-sized bed. She certainly didn’t want to think about how he used those scarves or the many women who had graced his bed. Two at a time more often than not.
His reputation preceded him, making him somewhat of a challenge to the women vying for his attention at th
e Blood ‘n’ Rave, donors and party-goers alike. But that wasn’t what bothered her. She had known from the get-go what she was getting with the playboy vamp when she had set her sights on him. What got beneath her skin was the fact that she, his mate, had not once got to sample the goods that so many women before her had. Not from her lack of trying, of course. From wearing revealing clothes to flirting shamelessly with his MC brother Anton. Grayson, nevertheless, acted as though she didn’t exist, speaking with everyone else when at the clubhouse other than her.
Many times she had thought to move out in the past nine months, return to her apartment and give him back his space and family. It wasn’t fair, she began to realize over the past months, that because of her he was forced to make a decision on whether to be strapped with an unwanted mate for life, or give her to Anton. How could she have allowed herself to stoop so low and come between the man and his MC brothers? She certainly didn’t blame Grayson for the hatred he directed toward her. She deserved nothing more.
Immortality.
The promise of eternity had been her Achilles heel.
Tamera worried her bottom lip.
Anton, on the other hand, had been the perfect gentleman and a good friend, making sure she wanted for nothing. So why couldn’t she return the blond vampire’s feelings? It wasn’t as if he was homely as a toad. On the contrary, she had seen him shirtless on occasion. The man was breathtakingly gorgeous and had more muscles than a Greek god. But in truth, she loved him like a brother. If Grayson chose to give her to Anton, she wasn’t sure she could be the mate he deserved, not when her every fantasy held Grayson as the star attraction. The man oozed sex appeal in spades. Hell, all it took was someone to bring up his damnable name for her heart to trip all over itself. Even as poorly as Grayson had treated her over the past months, Tamera couldn’t help but hope that in the end he might choose to keep her.
Anton deserved someone who would love him much in the same way. And yet he waited for Grayson to toss her away. Put his own life on hold in hopes she might be his at the end of the long year. Unfortunately for her, the chances of Grayson turning his back on her were far greater than him wanting anything more to do with her. Tamera sighed. Her time to convince him they belonged together was rapidly running out.
How had one moment changed her life irrevocably, so much so that her continued happiness depended on his decision?
She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, as her life seemed no longer her own. Tamera supposed if she decided to leave, Vlad Tepes—if not someone else—would take it upon himself to come looking for her. She got the impression the primordial vampire wasn’t too pleased with her or her actions, even if everyone else believed she drank from Grayson by accident.
A lone tear slipped down her cheek.
She swiped it away. Tamera wouldn’t allow herself a moment of weakness. It was her actions that brought on Grayson’s hatred. She alone was at fault. Tamera needed to stand strong and move forward. The wheels had been set in motion, and she had no other choice than to ride it out. It pained her to remember Grayson’s reaction following her latching onto his arm.
“Get dressed, il mio dolce rossa. Looks like you’re coming with me to the clubhouse … and not for the reason you think. Because, now … you’d be the last person I’d ever want to fuck.”
His comment had cut her far deeper than the broken glass had his forearm.
Talk about a one-eighty.
She hadn’t misread the desire in Grayson’s heavy-lidded gaze as he’d watched her dance among the others vying for his attention that night. He couldn’t keep his eyes from her. With a crook of his finger, she had been only too willing to follow. He had wanted her and her alone. When the playboy vamp wanted to get laid, he was known to take his women in pairs. Rumor had it Grayson kept women at arm’s length, not wanting the ladies to get too attached. He enjoyed women far too much to ever settle. So the fact he chose her to go upstairs to Draven’s office … alone, spoke volumes. He was taken with her, of that she was sure. And had she not done the unthinkable and drank from the wound on his forearm, she would have no doubt been well-fucked by the handsome vampire.
Instead, she had sliced open Grayson’s forearm while helping him clean up the broken glass. Vampire blood pooled to the surface and ran down his flesh. Before he had a chance to cover the wound and allow it to quickly heal, she had latched on like a puppy to a teat. Surely, Tamera had expected him to be pissed. Her actions had been nothing but reckless. But instead of anger, she had earned his loathing. Nine months did little to change his demeanor. Vlad’s demand of Grayson to make a decision to keep her or give her to Anton did little to help his feelings toward her.
It wasn’t as if she disliked the dark blond vampire. On the contrary, she was quite fond of him. After all, he had taken it upon himself, regardless of what anyone else in the clubhouse had to say on the matter, and absolved her of some of the pain the transition into vampirism had caused. Dear Lord in heaven, there were times she had felt as if her body might combust. Had it not been for his kindness, she wasn’t sure she could’ve endured the final hours. And because of his compassion, a rift developed between the one-time best of friends. The MC brothers still resided under the same roof, but Tamera witnessed the friendship deteriorate to the point they rarely spoke to one another without animosity.
All because of her.
Anton wanted Tamera for his mate. She saw it in the way he looked at her, felt it in the way he touched her. Unfortunately, Tamera did not share the sentiment. Instead, she had become obsessed with Grayson, damn near to the point of madness. She wanted him more than any man in her lifetime. Tamera swore if he ever decided to touch her, she’d orgasm on the spot. Her desire for him ran thick and heavy. How could she ever be with Anton sexually and not fantasize about Grayson? Lord, it was one messed up triangle.
Desire at its worst.
Anton desired her. Tamera desired Grayson. And Grayson desired no one.
Since her turning, her emotions were much more acute. Grayson only had to look in her direction and she was crossing her legs, wet with need. He had to catch the scent of her hunger. And surely any other vampire present recognized it for what it was as well.
Talk about embarrassing.
The entire clubhouse had to know she had it bad for the man. Thankfully, the only time Grayson graced them with his presence was when a church meeting was called or Kaleb had requested a tête-à-tête, leaving the playboy vamp no choice but to show his face, saving her from daily humiliation. She might not be getting any from her infuriatingly sexy mate, but she wasn’t the only one going it solo. Grayson had been doing without since Vlad had issued his command. Anton had informed her Grayson feared pissing off the big guy. There were times she could see his nostrils flare when she walked into the room, even though she pretended not to notice. On occasion, he looked at her as though he might be a hairbreadth away from throwing caution to the wind and taking her right where she stood.
Too bad he wasn’t prone to impulse.
She deserved the grief he gave her and more. Grayson hadn’t asked for her. She had more or less forced herself upon him. Some might call that night fate’s way of bringing them together, but Tamera knew better. She leaned against the overstuffed pillows and stared at the ceiling above the four poster bed. Somehow, she needed to find a way to his heart and earn his forgiveness.
She had three months in which to do it.
A knock sounded, startling her. Tamera sat and stared at the back of the door, debating whether or not to ignore the request. She really wasn’t in the mood for company, not after the earlier phone call. She’d much rather bury her head in the sand at the moment. Not to mention she hadn’t fed in several days, making her all the more irritable. Her skin, grayish and translucent, had taken on what the vampires referred to as the death chill. No doubt, Cara or Suzi knew she needed to feed and was at the ready to offer to accompany her to the Blood ‘n’ Rave where she could get much needed sustenance. Tamera
groaned. She sure in the hell didn’t feel up to partying, but looking like death warmed over wouldn’t gain Grayson’s attention either.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Come in.”
Cara Brahnam, Kane Tepes’s mate, opened the door. Instead of the bright smile Tamera expected to greet her, Cara entered, lips turned down. The smell of fresh human blood hit her senses, instantly elongating her fangs. Her stomach growled in protest.
“What’s happened?”
Cara shut the door quietly and approached the bed. “There’s been a bit of a scuffle.”
Her heart leaped to her throat. “Gypsy—”
“Gypsy’s fine.” Cara sat beside her and grabbed her cold hand, mumbling something about he could use a lesson or two.
Tamera let the jab pass without comment.
“Gypsy’s snitch was found out. The Devils tried to behead him tonight.”
“But Gypsy’s okay?” Lord, she needed confirmation to still her heart.
“Other than being extremely pissed off and wanting to chase down the Devils that did this to his friend?” Cara gave her a weak smile. “Yeah, he and Blondy are both fine. Though the poor snitch has seen better days. Kaleb wanted me to let you know for the time being, we aren’t allowed to leave the clubhouse.”
“I haven’t eaten.” Though moments ago she hadn’t been too eager to do so. Faced with the fact her food supply might be cut off was completely different.
“Suzi’s taken care of it.” Cara held up Tamera’s arm and looked at her complexion. “You know you shouldn’t punish yourself for Gypsy being an ass. Going this long without nourishment is just foolish. Suzi called Draven and he’s sending over some of the donors. I want you to be the first to eat. No argument.”
Tamera stood and walked to the large floor-to-ceiling mirror. Her white fangs extended past her upper lip. “Looks like I’m in no position to argue. Just the smell of the poor sap’s blood has me nearly breaking through the door to get to him.” She chuckled as she turned back to Cara. “I bet that wouldn’t earn me any brownie points with Gypsy, not if he’s trying to save his life.”
Gypsy: Sons of Sangue Page 2