“If we did this, you’d wind up regretting it, only hating me more. You’d be saddled with a woman you detested for life.”
“I’d at least be getting laid.”
“You know as well as I do, sex would never be enough to sustain whatever this is between us for life. You’d resent me in time, no longer wanting a piece of this.”
Grayson saw a shadow in her gaze. She was hiding something from him. “What’s this really about, Tamera? You want Blondy? Is that it?”
She stared at him, but didn’t deny the accusation. Telling him more than he wanted to know. He picked up her tank and jeans, tossing them to the bed. “Get dressed.”
“What do you want from me, Gypsy?”
“I want you out of my bed.” Red suddenly colored his vision, and it had little to do with her ensemble. “I want you out of the clubhouse.”
“What?” Her jaw hung slack. “This is my bed. It has been for the past nine months.”
“You are lying in my bed.” He straightened his spine. “Pack your bags, il mio dolce rossa. I’m giving you to Blondy.”
* * *
Kane leaned into the curves of the road before hitting the straight away. Ponderosa Pines lining one side of the road but a blur, the smell of the ocean teasing his nostrils on the other. Pulling back on the throttle, he buried the bike’s odometer needle past the one-twenty mark. The tires ate up the tarmac as wind whistled past his ears. Kaleb’s right turn signal flashed just ahead before the taillight burned red. He quickly followed suit and trailed his twin into the marina. The sun peeked over the horizon in the early morning hours, painting the sky a reddish orange with the promise of incoming storms. They had hoped to get in and out before the law arrived, even if his mate was part of that equation.
Cara had the Sons back, and not because she was one of them. She’d had his back long before they ever mated. She once tried to arrest him for the murder of innocent women, but in the end became his ally in the Sheriff’s Office and fought to prove his innocence. His heart swelled at the thought of his mate, even if there were times she tried his patience to no end. The woman loved her job, and though he may wish it weren’t true, she was damn good at it. Now that Joe Hernandez started treating her as his equal again, she wasn’t about to give up her position as detective. She lived for the adrenaline.
It certainly helped having an ear in the Sheriff’s Office, someone besides Sheriff Ducat. In truth, they couldn’t always trust the sheriff one hundred percent, even if they had an agreement. Plus, if Ducat lost an election and another sheriff were elected, their leverage would disappear. If Cara stayed on the job, she’d always make sure the Sons had firsthand knowledge of anything filtering through the office.
Hernandez hadn’t always trusted Cara as a partner, not after she started living at the clubhouse and taking up with Kane. Joe hated the Sons, and didn’t bother sugarcoating the fact with Cara. When he sought to arrest Draven for selling drugs out of the club, working closely with the DEA, he kept the knowledge from Cara. She had eventually earned Joe’s trust by not running to Kane and telling them about the DEA’s interest in the barkeep, thus threatening her relationship with the MC. The Sons needed Draven. Putting him behind bars and closing the Blood ‘n’ Rave would have been detrimental to their source of nourishment and anonymity.
Thankfully, Draven had not only cooperated with the Sons, but the law as well. The DEA knew they could use him to get to the La Paz Cartel, their real target, who used the ports along the coast to bring in their shipments of cocaine from Peru. The same cartel that was responsible for his son Ion’s death. Kane meant to take them down. He’d make sure the feds got their man all right. Dead or alive. Preferably, the former if he had his way. He had promised Cara he’d hand the kingpin, Raúl Trevino Caballero, over alive, though he wasn’t so sure he’d follow through on his promise. The son of a bitch had watched his son burn at the stake, just before taking his head. Problem was … Kane wasn’t the forgiving kind.
Though Draven had never dealt in the drugs the cartel peddled, preferring to sell ecstasy instead, he still used the Devils to get his stash. The rival MC had a European contact from which they had gotten the synthetic drug, but was of no interest to the DEA. The barkeep’s role was to switch the drug he sold from the Rave to cocaine, in the guise of hoping for a bigger profit. Get closer to the Devils, and in turn get one step closer to their supplier. He had his work cut out for him, particularly because the Devils knew that the Sons frequented Draven’s club.
The barkeep needed to make sure the Devils believed he kept his extracurricular activities from the Sons in order to pull this off. If the Devils believed Kaleb and his men were involved in any way, they’d shut down Draven, if not kill him outright.
Kaleb pulled his bike to a stop at the end of the long narrow pier. The boat Grayson had described sat by itself, looking pretty much undisturbed. Appearances could be deceiving. If anyone was onboard, the sound of their Harleys had already alerted them to company, long before they arrived. Kane pulled alongside his twin and kicked down the center stand.
Looking at Kaleb who unsnapped his skull cap, he said, “What’s the plan, P?”
Kaleb grinned as he hung the cap on his handlebar. “I like the way that sounds coming out of your mouth.”
“Don’t get used to it.” Kane grinned. “You think we got company?”
“I don’t think the Devils returned, if that’s what you’re getting at. Why chance coming back here? I say they are well across the border. Not their style to stick around.”
Kane and Kaleb had one objective. They needed to make sure the captain disappeared, not chancing Anton might have left behind DNA. The Sons couldn’t be tied to the murder. No, this had to have the Devils written all over it, the reason Kane had grabbed Ryder’s cut on the way out the door. He hadn’t told or asked Grayson. And the vamp had been too caught up in his mate to notice. Hell, the two ought to just get over it and fuck already. Everyone in the clubhouse knew it was an inevitability. You couldn’t miss the scent of their desire whenever they were in the same room.
Time for him and Cara to clean up her home and move out of the clubhouse. Enough time had passed since her coworker had been murdered there. It was time to bring it up, see if she could handle moving back in. The clubhouse was getting too damn full for his liking. And soon, there would be a baby. Hell. No. He was in no way ready for that. Let his twin have all the fun.
“What the hell are you smiling about?” Kaleb asked.
“Nothing.” Kane chuckled. He hadn’t even realized he was. He stepped over his seat, unstrapped the leather cut from the backseat of his bike, using gloved hands to grab it. “You ready?”
Kaleb nodded once, then stepped over his bike and headed for the boat, pulling on his own gloves. They climbed aboard the stern, walked along the port side of the boat to the bow. Kane’s gaze went to the deck where Ryder’s dried blood stained the boards crimson. His gums ached with the need for his fangs to elongate at the heady scent. He tamped down his animal side. Now was not the time for the vampire in him to emerge, especially with the threat of the law showing up at any moment. Cara had promised to try to hold them off, but she could only do so much without her coworkers getting suspicious. The Sons needed the S.O. and DEA’s trust in Cara.
Kaleb quickly went to work, looking for a strong length of rope. Kaleb dropped Ryder’s Devil cut on a bench as if he had taken it off and tossed it to the side. Leaving Kaleb looking for the rope, he headed for the cabin where Anton had said he hid the body of the captain. They needed to get the captain’s body and get off the boat before anyone saw them. Kane hefted the dead weight over his shoulder and ascended the steps.
Meeting Kaleb back on the stern, he asked, “You find some rope?”
He held up a thick chain and an anchor. “Better yet. It won’t rot.”
“Nice. Now all we need is a boat.”
His twin raised a brow. “You know how to hotwire a boat, Viper?”
&
nbsp; “Can’t be much harder than a bike.”
“Then let’s hit it. We’re running out of time.” Kaleb swung the anchor over his shoulder and wrapped the thick chain around his forearm. “I’d like to be long gone before Cara arrives with the cavalry.”
“Agreed.”
Kane followed Kaleb back to the dock. Securing the captain on his shoulder with his forearm across his legs and one hand on the man’s ass, he broke into a run. Both men arrived on another pier a few seconds later, glancing at the docked boats.
“Which one do you want?” Kaleb asked as he looked back over his shoulder.
“Any of these with a small engine will do. Try the one at the end.”
Kane quickly moved to the boat and climbed down into the smaller vessel. He dropped the captain to the nearest seat, his head bouncing off the marine vinyl. Pulling off the cover of the engine, Kane quickly disconnected the two-piece harness, allowing him access to pull start the boat. With a few quick jerks, the engine puttered to life. Kaleb went to work securing the chain about the man’s waist as Kane led them out to sea.
He could practically taste the sea salt, heavy in the early morning air. Clouds rolled overhead and it wouldn’t be long before the rain set in. Mother Nature was definitely working for them. About a half mile out, Kane turned around and nodded to Kaleb. He quickly picked up the captain, chain and anchor, then tossed them overboard. It didn’t take long for the man to sink. He’d never be found, likely winding up shark bait.
Kane turned the boat and headed back to shore. His gaze went to the fishing boat bobbing in the waves where they had left their bikes. Thank goodness Cara hadn’t yet arrived. He and Kaleb still had time to get the hell out of Dodge.
Moments later, they had the small boat docked and the engine put back as if it hadn’t been touched. Arriving back at the end of the long dock, they both hopped back on their bikes and replaced their helmets.
Kane winked at Kaleb. “Race you back to the clubhouse, Hawk.”
His twin smiled. “You’re on.”
He kicked up the center stand, turned the key on his ignition and used his feet to push off his black denim Night Rod. Kane laughed, then followed Kaleb down the narrow dock and back to Highway 101. Now it was Cara’s turn to make sure the Devils got the blame for whatever happened on that boat. Regardless, they would have no bodies to find, only the corpus delicti, the body of a crime, the physical evidence left behind … minus the body.
Chapter 6
Standing on the old wooden boards of a porch that had seen better days, tears rolled down Tamera’s face. The warm breeze coming off the nearby ocean dried the salty streaks to her cheeks. How had she allowed everything to spiral so far out of control? She had wanted to make love to Grayson. Lord, she hadn’t desired anything more in her life. What she hadn’t asked for was to give him so much of herself but have nothing of him in return, let alone her self-esteem. Without a doubt, had she allowed Grayson his way, then she would’ve been no better than his whore, regardless of the fact they were mated. He’d only request her presence when he wanted a piece of ass. Not exactly how she had envisioned being his mate. In the end, she knew it would’ve been a miserable existence.
The thought of him parading his bevy of women in front of her sickened her. Tamera had forced Grayson’s hand and he had made his decision. The long, torturous wait was over. Grayson had given her to Anton. Tamera would become the blond’s mate. He certainly wasn’t a bad runner-up. On the contrary, most women would kill to be in her position, not only to share his bed, but his eternity.
Anyone but her.
Tamera bit her lower lip. Not living in the clubhouse wasn’t keeping her part of the bargain. Damn, but she suddenly wished she could turn back time, to give Grayson what he had asked for. It would’ve been Grayson as her mate for all eternity, leaving matters less complicated. Tamera didn’t deserve to have Anton. And he sure in the hell didn’t deserve her.
Talk about feeling low.
She could probably slither beneath the belly of a snake at this very moment.
“Tamera?”
Anton stood in front of her, one hand on the opened door. He wore nothing on his top half, and only a pair of running shorts on the bottom. Sweat glistened his chest as if he had just come back from a run. Did vampires even need to exercise? She surely didn’t. Tamera was surprised to see him in anything less than jeans and a T-shirt, which seemed to be pretty much his norm. The concerned look on his face coaxed the sob from her throat. She dropped her suitcase to the floor with a thud and covered her trembling lips. She must look a mess. But rather than look down on her in disgust, he opened his arms and she fell into them.
Anton, being the gentleman that he was, rubbed a soothing hand down her back and kissed the top of her head. Unlike Grayson, he towered over her tall frame. He leaned down and whispered in a soothing voice into her ear. His breath fanned the shell.
“Tell me what has Gypsy done this time?”
Tamera stepped back, ran her hands down her face to dry the wetness and offered Anton a smile. She hated showing any sign of weakness. It was time to suck it up, pull up her big girl panties, and find a way out of the mess her life had become. Without question, he leaned down, picked up her overnight bag, then ushered her into the living area of the farmhouse. An oversized, threadbare sectional couch sat along the bank of windows facing the west. A large screen television sat across from the sofa on a long, black entertainment stand, DVDs strewn about the surface. He certainly had a wide, varied taste. She noticed anything from action to foreign flicks. Even a cheesy vampire movie added to his collection.
Anton reached down and grabbed a pile of clothes that had been haphazardly laying in a heap, and tossed them to the side. She recognized the shirt he’d worn early in the morning when he returned with Grayson. Her nostrils flared at the smell of Ryder’s human blood still on the clothes.
“You’ll have to excuse me. I wasn’t expecting company or I would’ve tidied the place up a bit.”
Tamera tugged slightly on her earlobe, a nervous habit she hadn’t ever been able to rid herself of as she looked around the rest of the room. No pictures graced the walls. She could see the old style kitchen through the doorway to the right of the room.
“No, please. Don’t worry about it on my account.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked, his thumb indicating the doorway leading into the kitchen. “I just put on a fresh pot.”
“You drink coffee?”
His warm smile lit his face like a summer sunset. The man was handsome. There was no doubt about it. She couldn’t help wondering what he would think once she dropped the bombshell on him—that she was indeed now his and he had just been taken off the market for other women. Her nerves kicked up a notch.
What if he no longer wanted her either?
“It’s one of my vices. Like whiskey. Something I never gave up after I was turned.”
Not that it should surprise her about Anton. After all, she drank coffee as well. But she had not once seen him drink anything other than the bourbon the Sons all seemed to enjoy, except for Alexander. He didn’t imbibe at all.
“Sure. That would be great.”
“Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.” He headed for the kitchen, then called back over his shoulder. “Black?”
“Yes.”
Tamera moved aside a few of the overstuffed pillows and took a seat in the curve of the couch. She kicked off her flip-flops and brought her knees to her chest and hugged them. Anton had made it obvious on several occasions he wanted to claim Tamera as his mate. So why did her nerves have her stomach in complete knots? It wasn’t like Anton was about to toss her out on her ass.
He walked back through the doorway, carrying two steaming white mugs of coffee. Handing her one, he then took his own seat beside her, leaving enough room to pass a bike through.
Anton blew the steam across the liquid before taking a sip, and staring off into space. She wasn’t sure i
f he wanted to ask her more or was waiting for her to open up as to why she stood on his stoop carrying a suitcase. Instead of either saying a word, they sat in uncomfortable silence, staring at the large black screen of the television.
Finally, without so much as looking at her, Anton asked, “You want to tell me about it?”
Tamera thought of the last horrific hours she had spent, packing her bags and fleeing the clubhouse. Not to mention her wondering what Grayson was up to and if he had made good on his promise to get it elsewhere.
She turned in her seat and squared her shoulders. “It’s done.”
Anton stiffened. “What do you mean it’s done? What’s done, Tamera?”
“Gypsy made his decision, Blondy.”
“And?”
She unwound her free arm from her legs and tucked her feet under her. Toying with her earlobe, she said, “He gave me to you.”
Blondy choked on the coffee he’d taken a sip of. Setting it on the stand beside the arm of the sofa, he ran a hand down his strong, square jaw. “Are you fucking serious? He just told me to stay away from you this morning. I believe he said something about there being a cold day in hell.”
By his tone, she couldn’t tell if he was happy or pissed about the news. “I guess that’s what happens when you piss him off. He makes snap decisions.”
“What exactly did you do?”
She grimaced, not sure she should be discussing her sex life, or lack there of, with Anton. But he did have a right to know. “I turned him down.”
One dark blond brow rose. “As in Gypsy came to you? Wanted to have sex?”
She nodded.
“And you weren’t okay with it? I’m a bit confused.”
Tamera leaned down and placed her mug of coffee on the oak wood flooring. “Gypsy was reacting out of need. You and I both know he hates me. I decided at the last minute I wasn’t okay with it. If we slept together, Vlad would’ve taken away his choice. I didn’t want him stuck with me because of a moment of weakness.”
Gypsy: Sons of Sangue Page 6